Knights Apocalyptica
Chapter 165: Storm Giant

Two days passed easy on the road. They were slow days since the Pendragons didn’t want to push too quickly. That, and the streets were cluttered toward Vega, prompting them to rely on off-road ventures more.

Once near the coast, things were supposed to change.

All of this was due to a man named Uther, whom Yniol was more than eager to share stories about around a campfire. As he told it, all the Packs descended from him, and the man had a talent for metal synthesis and a knack for tech. With the two, he’d made a fabled vehicle named Armageddon. The thing had been a monster on wheels, damn near the size of a whole building. With it, the Patriarch housed all the survivors he scooped up along the roads and made them into crew—then, Uther wandered the streets on an eternal ride with them. Nothing stood up to Armageddon, and at the time, that nothing was the road itself. After the end of the world, the roads near the coast were cluttered with discarded cars and monsters. Uther and Armaggedon ran them all over or shoved them out of the way.

Up and down the western ocean, Armageddon cleaned roads. Clearing the blocks in the arteries of transportation. Sᴇaʀch* Thᴇ NovᴇlFɪre .ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

When Uther died, everyone in the crew went their way, taking a piece of Armageddon with them and establishing their packs. The descendant of Uther got to enjoy the labor of his love with the best stretch of asphalt in the world. And they vowed to care for one another, though, there had been some beefs since then. How much of that he believed, Erec couldn’t say. But, the very real nature of the Pack’s relationships with one another was apparent in the small drop-points for resources and food they ran across.

It’d be a simple matter to go quick—as Rochester put it, they could get to the vault in a day of hard driving, if they pushed it. But they took their time, sending runners ahead and calling it early before it got too dark to function. It slowed the pace, but after waiting so long, the Pendragons wanted to arrive to deal with the vault in the best condition they could.

As Erec watched the views of the mountains and road pass by, he kept thinking of Uther. Each moment burned in the car with Yniol and Enide seared into his memory, from how Yniol chortled to Enide's smile and the deep orange-painted sky above.

The views changed on the third day when they came across a giant tower in the distance in the middle of an otherwise craggy landscape. The tiniest raindrops fell from above, and the caravan slowed as they rubbernecked the tower. Erec took off his helmet, staring up at the sky. Rain. So rare on the surface from his experience; then the strange tower. The scouts hadn’t said a word about it; from their report, it was a smooth drive to the next campsite.

[Odd. It’s massive, the size of the Empire State Building, based on trigonometry, and it has no place in the middle of nowhere Nevada.]

It stretched to the sky, a deep pillar of obsidian. The strange thing jutted left and right, like a piece of steel bent out of shape. It was like a god shoved a giant middle finger through the earth's crust to insult the concept of gravity. Near the tip, clouds spiraled outward, and the whole thing brought a profoundly unsettling feeling to his gut. Any reasonable person would be, just in the same way, they could look at a monster and tell it didn’t belong.

The rain was growing thicker, and it wasn’t doing a favor for the road here, which had gaps of mud and dirt breaking apart the smooth asphalt. It didn’t take long for a car to get stuck and bring the convoy to a halt. Rochester called for a complete stop to sort out the car and confer with his scouts.

Seeing a chance to talk to Colin—who he’d been working on fixing his friendship with since the fight with his father—Erec decided to find the boy.

Predictably, Colin was distracted. His eyes were glued to the tower.

“…Hey Colin.”

“Not now.” Colin put a finger to his lips; his eyes had a spark to them.

“…I take it something’s wrong with the tower. Is it causing the storm?” Not a massive leap of logic, given the clouds circling it. And this.

“Of course, you’d have to be a buffoon not to realize it. There’s massive natural magic spewing from it and interacting with it.” There was a note of awe as Colin spoke. “It directs energy from the atmosphere, creates moisture… Then, when the clouds form, it takes their electricity when it discharges and funnels it within. To where, and to do what? That’s the more important question to consider.”

Erec frowned.

“This damn rain is making it hard to see, though.”

The rain was growing heavier. Now the Pendragons were making sure to set their car on a solid piece of asphalt, so the wheels wouldn’t be too far in the mud when they moved. Rochester was still talking with the rest of the leaders, and the agitated Arch-Magi was speaking to them with a weird energy.

Erec chose instead to focus on Colin. To hear the rest of the story about how things have been going with his father. After the conflict, the General had cooled off and seemed proud of his son. Bridging the gap between them, or so Colin claimed when Erec could pry details out of him and steal his attention from the distant dark tower. Personally, he still wanted to punch the Duke’s face, but the fact things were improving for them lessened that desire, just a tad. Colin decided not to hold a grudge over it.

“We must go!” The Arch-Magi called, interrupting their conversation.

There was a muffled yell from Rochester, then another, “Come!” that echoed over the increasing wind and rain with a bit of magical help.

Erec had to practically drag Colin away to listen. The leader had erected a small blue tarp from the hood of a car to some steel poles. The leaders were gathered around underneath the jury-rigged shelter. The rest of the Pendragons were surly, unhappy about the stop, and complaining as they crowded nearby. Rochester echoed that sentiment, pacing and glancing at the tower every half-second. Arch-Magi Olfson wrung his hands, also staring at the tower. Hard not to, he supposed, especially since a thick wall of rain was marching on them from that direction.

It was denser now, and where it blanketed the landscape, it blotted out anything further than half a mile, aside from the tower, which had an unnatural way of penetrating the liquid veil. It’d hit them like a flood for a minute or two at most. Erec hadn’t seen anything like this his entire life. It’d almost be amazing, were not the faces of Rochester and Boldwick grim.

“That’s all of us, then. Shoot right to it, shouldn’t we?” Rochester said.

“It’s best for the Arch-magi to explain. What he’s speaking about is outside of my experience or the reports of our Knights.” Boldwick said.

“Ditto, Olfson, if you would.”

“To put it simply. We must flee. Fast as we can. Your cars must go quick, for where the Storm-Giant’s pillar lands, it feeds. Were it not for my northern contacts, I’d have guessed this to be the result of a rift opened to some dense underground world—yet no, this is the mark of a dreadful creature. Hailing from the land of Sota, where it calls home. A great northern plane bordering massive lakes. For it to be all the way here… Were this vault not so important and bound by the Council’s vote, I’d be headed back to Vega this instant to prepare our defenses. As it is, I can only hope it avoids the city.” The Arch-Magi said, his wild eyes locking with anyone who’d meet them.

“Knights, you can consider this Storm-Giant a Cataclysm-level threat,” Boldwick added before gesturing for the Arch-Magi to continue.

“The tower is its calling sign. An hour before it arrives, it shoots outward from the earth below. It brings storms and collects the lightning from them; that is what the Storm-Giant eats. It must move around to wring the most out of the atmosphere—but until now, it's kept to this Sota—destroying everything around it. For a hundred years.” He took in a sharp breath. “So we must leave now. Before our hour is up—before it appears in a flash of thunder.”

[A cataclysm-level threat, then? You killed that Stag, but… I think this one might be a poor match-up for your group. Not to mention entirely unnecessary for you to slay.]

Erec stared at the black pillar in the distance. Three? Five miles away?

“Can we even move?” Boldwick asked.

“We wrap chains around the tires… But not all of the cars will make it. They aren’t meant to drive through conditions like this.” Rochester screwed up his face. “This thing is that dangerous?”

“It’s a natural disaster, the likes of which you’ve never seen.” The Arch-Magi answered, his voice catching.

“Then… We’ll lose cars. Fuck!” Rochester yelled. “Everyone, you heard the man. Wrap chains on the tires, and we’re going to drive away—stick to asphalt as much as you can. Shove whoever loses their car in yours if you can’t get the car out of the mud. Five minutes at most… And fuck…” he waved it off, too angry to continue.

The rest of the Pack mumbled in outrage and shock, which tracked. To them, losing a car was like losing a limb. Maybe worse. A car symbolized coming of age and leadership for those worthy of being a driver, and for a Pack leader to give such an order meant it was grave. The grave decision one had to make when facing a monster on this level. Yniol set a hand on Erec’s shoulder.

“Boy. You’re in my car. You’re strong, aren’t you?” he grumbled.

“I—yeah.”

“Aye. Well, let's put it to the test. I’m not losing my car today, and if we get stuck in that damned mud, you’re going to push. I don’t care how far you gotta push it. Push it out of the fucking storm if you gotta, just don’t lose me my car.” There was a pleading edge to his tone, a man afraid to admit his fear and trying to mask it.

Erec slammed a fist to his chest in a salute. “You will not lose your car.”

That was all Yniol needed; he firmed up and started rattling off orders. They trudged through the mud, grabbed chains being handed out, and then got to work affixing them to the wheels—extra traction to help with the conditions, but not great for the suspension, long-term. Or so Yniol complained as Erec, Enide, and two others helped out. Holding the chairs taunt and firmly securing them was key…

Mainly, Enide was busy trying to keep her father calm; for the first time, Erec saw her genuinely flustered. Saying they’d make it, not to worry, the car would keep up.

It would be hard not to worry, even for her. These things were like family members; without a doubt, some of their Pack would lose that today.

In too short of time for comfort, Rochester announced it was time to move. And stick to groups of three, a Knight to each; they were to shoot off a flare if all cars in a group were stuck and they couldn’t get out. And then, like that, they had to go.

And hope they could outrun a monster that might kill them all.

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