Chapter 1022 – Star Sanctum 2 – The Starforger


    “You could have at least tried to understand how it worked,” Scarlett’s voice rung out of the communication crystal. “A device that plucks Abyssals out of the real world and teleports them to a barrier a state away? The military and economic applications are endless.”


    That was not quite the reaction John had hoped for when he reported that they had ended the reach of the Death Zone. It was, however, expected from the pragmatic technomancer. “Even if I managed to understand it, I doubt we’d have the materials to keep it running.” The Gamer kicked one of the many pieces of rubbles lying around. Metra had taken out as much of her rage on the inanimate object as she could, reducing it to little more than fist-sized stones and metal scrap. The mountain left behind wasn’t as inanimate as the original object. Lorylim matter kept pouring down the tubes. “Needing four Metracanas as operators aside, we don’t have access to this kind of fuel.”


    “Every technology, sufficiently understood, can be adapted to my needs.”


    “You’ll have to do your own research on the matter,” John just told her off. Now that the Starkiln was destroyed, the time pressure was removed. Despite that, the Gamer didn’t feel like he was justified in engaging in idle banter at this time. There was too much still to be done. “Relay the update to the generals.”


    “I already have,” Scarlett answered. “Can you retreat? Might be smarter to pull out before you fight the literal god.”


    “The barrier is still under his, or presumably his, control,” answered the Gamer. He had steadily been pressing against it, to no avail. “I have no choice.”


    Silence followed. John didn’t take it as a sign of her uncertainty. They both knew more than they should say about this situation. “Lee says good luck.”


    “Tell her I love her.”


    “And what do I get?” Scarlett asked.


    “You’ll see when I come back,” John promised and ended the communication there. Minorly worried, he looked up to the pipes. Their end point, the massive glass bubble, was removed so the Lorylim matter just kept falling as a steady stream of sludge. “We should get moving before this place fills up.”


    “We should find my idiot siblings so I can cave their fucking heads in,” Metra growled.


    “I thought you pride yourself in not breaking contracts?” Salamander asked, while they moved back to the gate they had come from. They moved at a moderate speed, always keeping their senses sharp. From the tactile feedback of her attacks, Siena was quite certain that she had landed several hits on Thresta, but there was no telling if the damage she had taken had been too much to hinder the Metracana. There was also no telling whether she teleported out with Seminaris and the others.


    “None of my contracts were about aiding a threat to existence and enabling the murder of other Metracanas,” the First of Wrath returned.


    “Dunno about that first part, Mat,” Rave said, her words underlined by Thana’s growling. “Remember when ya worked for the Nazis as an emotional limiter?”


    “Not my proudest decade, but I do my work,” Metra stated decisively.


    “So do they,” John retorted. “You’ll either have to admit that your current principle of serving whoever contracts you is immoral or that they aren’t doing anything wrong. You can’t have both.”


    Metra went quiet, pressing her lips together. “I’m too pissed to have that conversation,” she ultimately growled. Everyone respected that. Certainly, it hadn’t been an easy day for any of them, but for the ancient weapon all of this had a personal note in addition to the life-threatening one.


    “Once we’re out of here, we’ll look into whether or not the materials of Tiamat within you can be replaced,” John shifted the topic drastically. “If Jeremiah and Ehtra are anything to go by, she still has some connection to them. Evidence suggests she can’t take advantage of it while it’s still inside you, but that’s another risk factor I want to see eliminated.”


    Metra, however, was not in the mood to take jokes, especially not from them. Raising Rex Magnar, she hurled the spiked side of the halberd at Xerxes. Both tried to react, neither was fast enough to do so. “Stop!” John’s voice echoed through the large corridor and Metra’s weapon seized in front of the shoulder of her target.


    Taking a slow breath, the First of Wrath pulled back and let out a long sigh. “Yes, my king,” she obeyed and stepped back.


    ““King?”” the Metracanas asked in unison. The single word caught their attention more than the altercation and they all inspected John with a critical eye.


    Leryala was the next to speak up. “He is Sargon’s heir?”


    “He is my candidate,” Metra made sure she was understood.


    “Yet you call him by the title already?” Xerxes added another question.


    John wasn’t going to regurgitate the entire debate he had with Metra over his refusal to declare himself a monarch. “Keep your questions for another time,” he told them off. “You’re here to bring us to Enki, right?”


    Kerelex nodded. “Our master has demanded your presence. As you are surely aware, he isn’t psyched about you destroying the Starkiln or threatening our siblings.”


    Rage surged from Metra’s mind again, so intense that it almost managed to rouse John’s own temper by proxy. Suppressing her influence, he kept a calm mind and said, “Lead the way.” There was a lot to clarify about this situation and he would rather do it with the master of the Sanctum in the room.


    The three Metracana turned away and gestured for John and his group to follow them. Even now, they didn’t let their guard down. Leryala tried to strike up a conversation with Metra on several occasions, her tone indicating a considerable level of veneration for the first of her predecessors. Under normal circumstances, Metra would have likely reciprocated with a casual conversation. Currently, with violence being unwanted by the Gamer, the First of Wrath opted to stonewall.


    John kept mapping out the upper floor in his mind and came to the quick and easy conclusion that its layout was dominated by several layers of rings. Approaching the innermost one, they passed through several open stone gates. The last one only swung open when they were in front of it. The process was crawling and covered by silver light, as if to tease the reveal of what was behind.


    “Pompous prick.” Metra’s growl confirmed that suspicion.


    The core of the Sanctum was a massive hall, about 250 metres across. It was a hoard of ancient treasures and artwork, piling high along the stone walls, which themselves bore colourized depictions of history. The ceiling was a large dome, a large star set in the middle of it and basking the room in pleasant, silver light.


    Most impressive of all treasures was a giant chalice of sandstone and metal, dominating the centre of the room. It was the second Starkiln and, despite being smaller than the original, emanated more power. Part of that was doubtlessly thanks to its more finely attuned runes. However, the entity that lay on top of it, where the glass bubble had been on the other Starkiln, was the true source of its might.


    He was a dragon. In terms of what John had seen, a rather small one, about the size of a truck. One half, the left, was breathtakingly beautiful. A silver-scaled, sleek body, claws and wings were midnight blue and beset with silver and golden dots that sparkled even while the god laid still. Three white horns extended, smooth and only mildly curved, backwards from where the serpentine neck shifted to the lizard-esque head. His left eye glowed with celestial might.


    The right was a black pit surrounded by lead. Attached to a blackened body, Astrotium plates attempted to nail together flesh that was half rotten and half burned. As much as the maker had tried to symmetrically copy the features of the beautiful, intact half of the god, the lead grey appeared soulless. The bones of his legs visible between plates, the skeleton of his right wing rebuilt from scratch with a membrane formed from silver magic, the segmentation of his tail, none of these artificial repairs harmonized properly with the radiant being that he had once been. Worse yet was that this new skin wasn’t complete. Amassing this much Astrotium must have taken thousands of years and it still wasn’t enough to fully cover half of the dragon.


    ‘All within expectations,’ John thought.