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; Stormweaver: Iron Prince
***
Reidon Ward will become a god.
He doesn't know it yet, of course. Reidon was born weak, sickly and small. Afflicted with a painful disease and abandoned by his parents because of it, he has had to fight tooth and nail for every minor advantage life has granted him.
His perseverance has not gone unnoticed, however, and when the most powerful artificial intelligence in human history takes an interest in him, things began to change quickly. Granted a CAD—a Combat Assistance Device—with horrible specs but an infinite potential for growth, Reidon finds himself at the bottom of his class at the Galens Institute, one of the top military academies in the Collective. Along with his best friend, Viviana Arada, Reidon will have to start his long climb through the school rankings, and on to the combat tournament circuits that have become humanity's greatest source of excitement and entertainment.
So begins the rise of a god. So begins the ascent of the Stormweaver.
***
PROLOGUE
Early December, 2461
Astra System – Astra-2 – Sector 22
“Progress in CAD technology over the last two centuries has proven itself the single most valuable advancement humanity has made in our war efforts. When firearms and the largest portion of our other ballistic weaponry lost all value against the enemy’s reactive fielding and adaptive armor capabilities, all that remained to mankind was to chase after the same sort of armaments. It took decades, but from the moment Devices and their Users start heading for the front lines, we found a foothold once again in what had long been thought a lost battle.”
Essentials of Simulated Combat in Military Training
Lieutenant Colonel Hana von Geil, Ph.D.
“And THERE IT IS, ladies and gentlemen!” the match announcer shouted with what could only be described as genuine glee, his voice crackling over the worn speakers of the Matron Kast’s ancient pad. “The Iron Bishop’s Repulsion has sent Alex Rightor flying! Will she—YES! Valera Dent is chasing, following up with a vicious barrage of strikes. The Defense spec of Captain Rightor’s Carnus is no joke, but the Bishop is peerless in finding vulnerable attack points with her Kestrel. Two blades are always better than one and—OH! Rightor lands a heavy kick, and it’s the chief warrant officer’s turn be sent sailing! I must say, this is a fight for the ages!”
In the small hands of an 11-year-old boy, the borrowed pad vibrated lightly with every exclamation the announcer made. It didn’t bother the child. It made the fight that much more enrapturing, and even if he hadn’t been able to see the two S-Rank CAD-Users going at it he thought he might have been able to imagine the details of the bout just from the descriptions.
Fortunately, the Matron kept the clear smart-glass tablet in good condition, and so it was with wide eyes in a dark room that the boy watched Valera Dent and Alex Rightor break against each other like titans made of flashing light and carbonized steel.
As an exhibition match in commemoration of Valera Dent’s retiring from the professional SCT circuit, the field had been randomly selected. The two Users fought in 30 yards of open grassland—the standard size of any competitive Dueling ring—their movements completely uninhibited by obstacles or deterrents that were commonplace in other zones. No trees. No buildings. No scattered stockpiles or crates. It allowed for a truly unfettered view of the fight, and the child who had snuck into Kast’s office to watch didn’t think for a second he was the only one pleased with the choice.
Captain Alex Rightor’s Carnus was a breathtaking Device. As an S-Rank, his CAD covered every inch of his body, forming an intricate battle suit whose interlocking plating shimmered and shifted with every movement the man made. The standard tricolor, it was mostly gold and green steel with accents of light blue vysetrium, and it complimented its User’s stellar Strength and Defense specs with its bulk. Rightor was a Mauler-Type, the initial form Carnus had manifested as undoubtedly having been some basic design of the massive two-handed hammer the man was now whirling at his smaller, lighter enemy. As the Device and its User had grown in ability, though, so too had Carnus upgraded and evolved. To the boy taking in the captain now, Rightor reminded him of lion, powerful and graceful despite his massive size.
On the other hand, when it came to grace, Alex Rightor was outmatched twice over by his opponent.
Chief Warrant Officer Valera Dent moved with the speed and elegance of some great raptor of war. Kestrel’s externals—suspended over both her shoulders—completed the illusion almost too well, the eight angular modules floating like the broad, red feathers of metallic wings. They served a purpose, of course, allowing Dent to channel her CAD’s electromagnetic energy freely, granting her the ability to skate over the twisting grass of the plains without so much as a hint of effort. Her Device was the antithesis of Rightor’s. It was spare and dignified, a mirage of minimal red plating over a skin-tight blue under-layer, detailed in glowing white. All of Dent’s vitals were armored, but Kestrel sacrificed S-Rank Defense for the Speed and Offense that had made short work of so many of the Iron Bishop’s opponents in her years on the circuit. Even the woman’s weapons could not have been more different, a pair of identical, narrow sabers whose handles and blades matched the colors of her armor, ivory vysetrium forming long, florid edges.
“Oh!” The announcer’s narration came through again loudly. “Captain Rightor has thrown his hammer in an attempt to bring Dent down! This can only mean one thing—YES! Magnetic Hunt! An Ability both of these fearsome opponents share! As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, Carnus will hound the Bishop across the field until it takes her out or Rightor recalls it! Magnetic Hunt is a high-level Ability, and cannot be maintained long by your average combatant, but then the captain is anything but average!”
“No! Go! Run!”
The boy didn’t even hear himself shout, too mesmerized he was with watching Valera Dent hurtling a foot above the ground around the edge of the simulated grassland, attempting to shake the massive hammer that was now careening after her as though attached by an invisible chain. She was skating backwards, trying to keep an eye on both the weapon and Rightor himself, the glowing white eyes in the red plating of her helm flicking between the pair at an astounding rate. All the same, Rightor saw his moment coming, and when the time was right he bent low—not unlike crouch of the lion he so embodied—preparing to pounce.
Then, with the crunch of shifting ground, the captain lunged.
There was no Ability triggered, no trick to the move. Alex Rightor’s Strength and Speed specs were simply so significant that the man was able to clear 15 yards of distance in a blink, catching Valera Dent in the moment she looked away from him. His heavy gold and green form collided with the lighter User, slamming her into the invisible perimeter wall of the Dueling field with a crunch that made the simulation shiver and flicker for a moment before stabilizing. From the pad the boy heard the “Ooooh!” of the audience lucky enough to be watching the match in person, but the excited shouting of the announcer was lost as Rightor reached out with a one armor-clad hand, the other pinning Dent to the wall by her throat. To her credit, the chief warrant officer didn’t so much as struggle, not even when the massive hammer that had been chasing her flew into its User’s waiting grasp with a satisfying clunk. Instead, she calmly brought a sword up in a thrust at Rightor’s faceplate. A flick of the captain’s head kept him from being run through the eye by the glowing blade, Carnus already lifting, ready to come down on the Bishop.
Unfortunately for him, even that brief dodge cost him his focus long enough for his opponent to turn the tides.
The second sword slashed in an upward arc that only someone of Valera Dent’s caliber and skill could have achieved from the awkward position of being pinned to an intangible wall. The bright blade caught the arm that held her in place under the elbow, between the gold plates of Rightor’s armor, passing clean through. The limb remained intact, of course—CADs in simulated combat matches were always phantom-ca
lled—but the arm went immediately limp, along with the hand and fingers around the chief warrant officer’s neck. At once she took advantage, and with a lateral blast of electromagnetic energy skated sideways along the solid boundary just as the hammer impacted where she’d been a moment before with another static jolt in the physical projection.
“And Valera Dent strikes the first true blow of match, severing her superior officer’s neural connection to the better part of his left arm!” The announcer’s voice came back to the boy as relief at Dent’s escape washed over him. “Fear not, new viewers! The captain will regain full function not long after the match is over, but for now he’s down a limb! Not a good place to be for a Mauler!”
It was true, of course. Rightor wasn’t among the exceedingly rare Users who could manipulate their CAD’s weapon configuration using Arsenal Shift. Unfortunately for him, that meant wielding Carnus to the Device’s optimal function was going to be difficult, now. With its evolution over the years had undoubtedly come an increase in the two-handed hammer’s weight to improve the CAD’s Offensive spec, so the captain was likely to have difficulty even lifting his weapon with only one hand, much less swinging it.
Unless…
There was a flash, and the blue accents in Rightor’s armor blazed. Ion fire of the same color flickered between the plates of his CAD, and when he whirled the azure eyes in his red-and-gold helm were glowing almost-blindingly.
“OVERCLOCK!” the announcer bellowed across the excited roar of the audience. “A common enough Ability shared among many Users, but in the hands of someone with the captain’s skill, a truly terrifying turn of events!”
Sure enough, Valera Dent—who’d changed course to come at an angle for her opponent’s flank—was suddenly withdrawing with all speed. It was fortunate she had, too, because Rightor spun in a blink, the hammer ripping through the air exactly where the woman had been not a heartbeat before. She continued to retreat, but the captain crouched once more, armor still glowing, his massive weapon held stoutly in one hand.
Then he lunged again, and the Iron Bishop was suddenly dancing between raining blows that came so fast, Carnus’s colors became a mirage of gold, green, and blue.
It was breathtaking, and the child sitting in a chair that was too tall for his feet to touch the floor couldn’t help but gape. Rightor was a terror, and as long as he could maintain the Overclock he was likely one of the most dangerous Users in the Astra System, if not the entirety of the ISC. With one hand he brought the hammer down again and again, and before long the field—pristine at the start of the match not 3 minutes prior—was cratered and pocked from a score of impacts and glancing blows.
Glory to the Brave (Ascend Online Book 4) Page 101