Cosmic Crucible

Chapter 3: Descent

Mount Bellcrest had been hollowed out, its core housing a sprawling complex of futuristic facilities that drew gasps from hundreds of Augurs.

Squads of Augur soldiers marched past, standard steel blades strapped to their backs—a jarring fusion of antiquity and modernity.

As Augurs grew stronger, conventional firearms proved less effective than cold steel. With many armories destroyed, the Judicator Citadel's ability to equip troops with standardized blades spoke volumes about its resources.

Lucien Vance's group was escorted to a vast plaza encircled by stern-faced Augur soldiers, including female troops watching with rigid focus.

Ten meters above, a transparent observation deck overlooked the space. Several figures leaned against the glass, peering down with idle amusement.

"Hope we recruit some useful talent this round. Even if they fall short of Striders, don't let them be utter trash," grumbled a middle-aged man, his voice thick and raspy.

"Dream on," a sultry woman retorted, lips curling. "Striders don't grow on trees. Those caravan captains—all Striders—were handpicked by the Judicator. We're left scraping the barrel."

A younger man chuckled. "Don't write them off. Escorting tens of thousands across that wasteland? I'll gladly take them off your hands."

"Save your breath," the middle-aged man cut in. "Feng Hong's the drillmaster today. He'll claim the lion's share."

They were Legion Commanders. The Citadel mustered 80,000 Augurs in its ranks, and only Earthshakers rose to command legions—warlords ruling Crimson Fortress beneath the Judicator, Zane Shaw himself.

To the city's millions, the Judicator was a distant figure. Legion Commanders were their tangible gods.

"Word is Frost Witch Yuki-onna from the Azure Enclave is visiting Crimson Fortress," the sultry woman purred suddenly, eyeing the others. "She'll spar with our best. Volunteers?"

Silence hung thick.

"Rumor has it Lumen Paragon declared her unbeaten among Earthshakers. No curiosity?"

Still, no one bit. She smirked and turned away.

Lumen Paragon Bai Xue—"Snow White"—held her court amidst glacial peaks, founding the Azure Enclave. Though ranked among the Seven Paragons, her status eclipsed Zane Shaw's.

Outsiders saw the Seven as equals. Few knew the divide: the Triarchs and the Tetrarchs. Lumen Paragon stood among the Triarchs, while Shaw remained a Tetrarch.

Below, Augurs underwent blood screening. Post-Collapse viruses had mutated lethally—Ghoul strains were particularly virulent. The Citadel had to ensure no infected Augurs slipped through.

Lucien's turn came.

As the nurse stored his blood sample, he shifted. A phantom blur—gone in an instant. None noticed. Only the blood darkened faintly, hinting at violet, before reverting to crimson.

"Lucien Vance? One moment, please," the nurse said with a practiced smile.

He nodded, moving aside.

Screening concluded. All 500 Augurs were cleared.

Soon, a man in deep-gray military attire approached. An invisible pressure rolled off him, hushing the crowd.

Crack!

The concrete split beneath his boot. Gasps rippled through the plaza.

"An Earthshaker!" someone whispered. Awe and terror warred on every face.

The man halted ten meters away. "I am Feng Hong, Legion Commander. Those unwilling to join the Judicator Citadel—step forward now."

Hesitant glances were exchanged. Then, nearly two hundred broke ranks. The Citadel offered safety at the cost of freedom; many refused conscription. Lucien stood among them.

Feng Hong eyed the dissenters. "Join us: sanctuary for you and your kin near Mount Bellcrest. Monthly Bio-Crystal stipends. Combat arts—techniques imparted by the Judicator himself."

"Combat arts?" someone ventured.

"Skills that let you wield twice the power you possess," Feng Hong stated flatly. "Like the Judicator's Tempest Cleave. Few withstand its fury. You witnessed it."

A collective shiver ran through them. They had seen it—sundering Bloodvines, cracking bedrock, bending the sky itself.

"Can we learn it?"

"All are eligible... if the Judicator deems them worthy."

Indecision gripped the dissenters. Most shuffled back into line. Only fifty stood firm. Lucien remained resolute.

Feng Hong flicked a wrist. "Escort them out."

As Lucien exited Mount Bellcrest, he cast a final glance backward. This place won't know peace for long.

Outside, survivors and rogue Augurs swarmed the group.

"Need property? Best rates in the sector!"

"Guides here! The outer ruins swarm with Ghouls—get lost, you're dead meat!"

"Weapons? Blades? Bombs? Got 'em all!"

"Map?" Lucien asked curtly.

A shifty-eyed Augur shoved competitors aside. "Ten Bio-Crystals, friend."

"Ten?" Lucien arched a brow. "One Crystal evolves a baseline human."

"This ain't no tourist pamphlet," the man hissed. "Shows Ghoul hives and monster dens south of the walls. Your hide worth ten Crystals?"

"Three. Take it or walk."

"Deal! For friendship!" The man snatched the rice-grain-sized white Crystals. He leaned in, pressing a pill into Lucien's palm. "Bonus gift. Enjoy."

Lucien stared at the Vigor Capsule. Post-Collapse herbs brewed potent aphrodisiacs. This was valuable—worth more than three Crystals. Where'd this rat get it?

He scornfully tossed it aside and scanned the map. His gaze locked onto the southern wastes. There. Hope the trail's still warm.

At Mount Bellcrest's summit command center, a war council convened. The head seat stood empty. To its left sat a scar-faced man in uniform; to its right, a bespectacled young woman. Legion Commanders filled the chamber.

Zane Shaw entered, claiming the central throne. His eyes swept the room, settling on the woman. "The expansion plan?"

She adjusted her glasses. "Phase One projection: two months, 2,000–3,000 Augur casualties. Reclaiming the entire pre-Collapse Crimson Fortress zone? Triple the losses."

Shaw frowned. "Push north. Link to the capital within months. A unified front can reclaim our lands. We cannot lag."

"Judicator," the scarred man interjected. "Breaking intel: India birthed a Skyforger. The Ascetic."

Shock rippled through the commanders. Only seven Skyforgers existed across the known territories. India had produced one?

Shaw's gaze turned glacial. "The Ascetic? Full dossier. No one should breach Skyforger within the first year."

"Understood."

"Other matters?"

Another commander froze, staring past Shaw. Others followed suit, transfixed.

Shaw whirled.

Outside, dozens of meteors streaked across the twilight—fiery talons tearing the heavens. One plummeted toward Crimson Fortress.

BOOM!

The impact tremor rattled the war table. South of the city.

Thousands gaped at the celestial fury.

Beyond the walls, Lucien saw it too—the crash site terrifyingly close to his position in the southern wastes.

A shockwave scoured the sky, shredding clouds. The earth fissured like broken glass.

Lucien slammed aside a tumbling steel beam with a kick, eyes locked south. He streaked toward the epicenter.

Above Crimson Fortress, Shaw surged skyward—only to jerk to a halt. "Judicator! Ghoul tide! East wall!"

Shaw wheeled. A black sea of Ghouls crashed against the sealed gates. Survivors trapped outside screamed their despair.

Shaw hefted his siege axe. "OPEN THE GATES! I'LL HOLD THE TIDE!" He dove, axe cleaving earth, bisecting the front Ghoul ranks.

South of the city, dust plumed skyward from a kilometer-wide crater. At its heart lay a steaming white orb—two meters wide, warping the air with heat haze.

Lucien crouched in a derelict factory, peering through splintered planks. His breath hitched. Sooner than I predicted. A drop pod.

A hydraulic hiss. The orb's hatch cracked open. A hand emerged, paused, then a young man stepped out. Short-cropped hair, white light-armor, combat boots. He stretched, joints popping audibly.

"Trials are trial enough. Why pick this backwater rock? And make us fly ourselves? Brutal."

He retrieved a shortsword and a wrist-terminal, tapping its interface. Beep. Beep. His head snapped toward Lucien's hiding spot.

"Contact!"

He leapt, blade flashing. A crescent of force bisected the factory vertically.