The energy-less sword spun through the air, its trajectory unnaturally precise. It pierced the trench where the core was located.
The sentinel roared — caught off guard by the sudden strike.
It dug into its chest cavity, trying to flesh out the jagged sword.
'I need a plan. Two plans. Plan one, fight defensively. Plan two, repair the cores.'
With thoughts like machines, Arthur established his plans within milliseconds.
He dismounted the four rear-mounted cannons without hesitation. Morphing into a new configuration, it assembled itself with zapping accuracy.
With a click-clack of clockwork precision, gauntlets and greaves fitted over Arthur's limbs with a hiss of pressure.
A tactical gesture, Arthur curled his fingers beckoning the sentinel to come closer.
Yet inside, a frantic repair was currently underway.
"Engineers, replace the couplings and prep the cables, I'll repair the core myself."
A broken core. A hungry predator upfront. Less than a quarter of an hour remaining.
[Core Repair Progress: 1%]
Unmoved by the human's taunt, the titan didn't take the bait.
It threw the sword at a good distance, never wanting to be cut by such ruthless blades.
Suddenly, a smile formed from its humanoid mouth.
Like a starved animal rediscovering its favorite prey.
It sensed something — desperation.
Enjoying what it felt, it decided to play a little game.
The sentinel became smaller, denser — and morphed into the exact shape of the Roosevelt Fortress.
Mirroring each other's stance, the lull was met with only the sound of the engine torch and flowing magma.
Then fist met fist, the reverberation equivalent to a nuclear detonation.
The force catapulted the Roosevelt fortress.
Men connected to Arthur all bled in facial orifices — no one shrank or panicked.
Spitting out blood, the second-in-command spoke calmly.
"Sir, should we call in another shot from Borderwall?"
"No need."
A firm foot skidded the terrain, trenching over dozens of kilometers.
The fortress staggered upright, swaying unsteadily.
The titan pounded relentlessly, each strike hitting harder than the last.
As time passed, the Roosevelt Fortress started moving like a drunkard, unsteady and unable to fight back.
Damage piled up blow after blow, and Arthur was able to feel all the pain of the machine due to the synchronization.
But only the flow of vast amounts of magicules could be heard.
He was as patient as a hunter stalking prey through the night.
[Core Repair Progress: 31%]
He was certain he'd win.
That certainty let him endure each blow.
[Left Greaves: Compromised]
In the end, this is all in a day's work.
Everyone has their own needs — mostly money, others investment and almost none for vain satisfaction.
[Core Repair Progress: 75%]
With a jab, the pauldrons flew off as integrity hits zero.
Yet his face remained cold, stoic — Renegade made him forget pain anyway.
[Core Repair Progress: 97%]
[Power Core Rebooting...]
Confidence could be seen on the sentinel's eye. Its attack grew fiercer as it dented almost every nook and cranny of the fortress.
Arthur had tapped the [Start] button again and again.
[Please Standby]
The message flashed each time, like a bell tolling a funeral rite.
[DANGER!]
[Left Pauldron: Compromised]
[Helmet: Compromised]
The armor fell one after the other.
"Spirit of my fellow men, just one more."
His emotions broke through the spell.
He begged the system to go online.
An overreaching arm.
Arthur ducked low. Fist clenched for a counter.
But the firepower was not enough.
'This is the opportunity. Please let me and my men fight once again!'
The titan shifted for a hasty block — its footing, mediocre at best.
He jabbed the [Start] button again. And again.
[Please Standby]
"Let us fight a little more!"
[Power Core Successfully Rebooted]
VROOOOOOOM!
The apparatus of mankind roared and revved.
Astronomical amounts of magicules poured into the fist.
The fist connected, shattering the rumpled jaw, its cheeks torn from the impact.
Steam and smoke ejected from the arms of the fortress.
"Let's see how you deal with this!"
The scorching scarlet fist had become radiant gold.
With overwhelming thrust units, the vertical punch flew upward.
Rocket punch!
The momentum blasted the malicious creature upward.
The sentinel tripped over the mountain peaks, the crystal sensors of a hundred senses were all in disarray.
Arthur pinned down the sentinel with his knees, jab after jab rained down. Each blow precise, mechanical and as swift as a railgun.
He forced the titan to spin its head from side to side.
Each crunch sent fresh cracks spiraling across the titan's body, the steel and stone behemoth couldn't even distinguish left and right anymore.
It tried curling into a fetal position — but to no avail.
The sentinel's angry mind spun, looking for a way out.
A realization struck his mind like a bolt from the blue.
The human… He was targeting my sensing crystal!
Dirt, debris, impurities — the titan didn't care anymore.
Tons and tons of materials swirled to protect its sensing eyes.
"Cunning human! You will — "
Another blinding light.
This time from the left arm.
The sensing crystals — Shatter!
"HUMAN!"
The last of its poorly guarded sensing crystal fractured and turned to dust.
The titan thrashed violently as it was robbed of its senses, its body flailed like a cicada out of season.
"My kind will eat all your machine and — "
Pile driver hands plunged to the titan's chest.
The hydraulic mechanism roared as Arthur dug out its core.
With a forceful tug — Crackle!
"Hu… Man…"
Its lustrous onyx skin crumbled piece by piece until only a convulsing husk remained.
The world finally fell quiet. What remained of the titan was a radiant core — spectrum colors blinking from transparent to opaque.
Inside, no cheers erupted. No cries of victory.
Just the heavy breath of soldiers still gripping their stations.
Once again, a godlike entity had fallen to their hands. Arthur looked down at his own hand, its trembling never ceased.
Many had praised his strength, yet he couldn't help feeling — small and unimportant.
"More. We need to kill more."
As the battle's fervor faded, pain surged through Arthur's body.
The spell wore off, he felt nothing, and that thing scared him.
Because if he felt nothing, he was sure the spell took something again.
'What did it take this time? I hope it's just something around love for food.'
Arthur wasn't certain what it took away, he could only smile wryly as he still felt his love for his grandson.
"That's the only thing that mattered."
A sudden buzz could be felt on the wrist of Arthur and his men.
[Time: 16:40]
He lingered a little more on his screen, a man with a beaming smile, his face was strikingly similar to his own.
Sharp green almond eyes, a chiseled face and a mischievous grin, pride was clear on the face of the man as he carried the infant.
He simply raised his lips, his logic-dictated heart shoved away the melancholy within.
As the display timed out, he looked outside to check the state of affairs.
Seeing some men dawdling and getting overwhelmed by the victory, he started to bark orders.
"Dust-offs in twenty. Dayshift, pack your shit. No overtime-pay today, you already got bonuses from that battle. Recover and rest, that's an order."
"Graveyard shift, start the repairs at seventeen hours!"
With a squint the Borderwall gates came into Arthur's view as it opened. Men in uniform out for safety regulations.
Behind them were haulers kicking up dust, the businessmen, their eyes gleaming with excitement from the prospects of profits.
Tons of ore and titan power core. The soldiers checked radioactive values, while the men in suits tabulated monetary values.
That evening, under the starlit sky, Arthur stood at the edge of the gaping walls, sounds of repair clangs throughout.
Further down, the money emissaries still bid and haggled with the Second-in-Command Julius.
"Julius, a thousand platinum paid within a decade for the core, how does that sound?"
"Five hundred upfront, we'll take it right now. Here's the contract."
"Shameless. I was here first! Does my face mean nothing to you?"
Each of them skillful at pushing the price, but their goal was the same — drive it down.
A cold breeze swept down from the summits. Arthur removed his Fortress Master coat and draped it over a child's small shoulders.
He had survived another battle. Before, it didn't mean anything, now it meant — something.
He flinched under the weight, too big for him. Still, the toddler didn't cry. He looked up, raised a finger, and asked pointing towards the mountainous carcass.
"Grandpa, is that titan strong?"
"Strong enough. But not strong where it counted."
Arthur looked at his fingers tremble again, then he continued.
"Cain, in this world of men, gods, and monsters..."
He paused, crouched down, and looked into the child's eyes, resting his hands gently on the boy's small shoulders.
"The only reliable thing in this world is yourself. Grandpa won't be here forever. You need to be strong, on your own."
Looking up, his rageful glare stared at the sky as if looking at another pair of eyes.
"Don't let these gods watching over us play you."