Chapter 230: Target Number Three

The dining table was gone.

In its place, Maeve had installed a holographic projector. The device covered the entire table with a 3d map of the continent. Pale blue terrain shifted and rotated as Maeve controlled the display from her tablet.

The whole team had gathered around it. Emric sat at the far end with his notebook open and a pencil tucked behind his ear. Renna sat on the floor, her bow resting across her knees as she cleaned an arrowhead that was already spotless. Lyra stood beside Holden, her spear leaning against the wall behind her. Cora and Sera stood near the door, their swords at their hips and their attention fixed on Maeve.

Maeve stood at the head of the table, her tablet connected to the projector. Three monitors behind her displayed separate streams of information.

She looked focused and completely in control.

"Target three," she said.

A swipe of her finger sent the map zooming toward the eastern half of the continent. It passed beyond the Kingdom’s borders and the Iron-Blood Empire’s western frontier, settling on an industrial region between the two nations. A neutral zone with no real laws, where governments avoided getting involved because doing so would mean admitting the place existed.

A red dot moved across the map, following a winding line that marked a railway.

"Warlord Drask," Maeve said. "Rank 4, 3-Star. An artificer and the former head of the Iron-Blood Empire’s Weapons Development Division. He defected twelve years ago, taking his research and manufacturing operations with him."

She swiped again, bringing up a dossier beside the map. The photograph showed a man in his sixties, bald with a thick gray beard. His eyes glowed faintly red, and a wide burn scar ran across his forehead.

"Drask doesn’t make ordinary weapons," Maeve continued. "He combines human technology with Abyssal energy. Corrupted firearms, enchanted artillery, dark-magic explosives. He’s one of the main suppliers of advanced weapons to the Abyssal forces. A lot of the weapons used by the Syndicate’s armies came from his workshops."

"So he’s an armorer," Lyra said.

"He’s much more than that. He’s practically a weapons industry by himself, with a Rank 4 cultivation base and an army of mercenary engineers."

Renna raised a hand. "Why doesn’t he just live in a building like a normal person?"

Maeve swiped across her tablet. The map zoomed in on the red dot, which continued moving along the railway.

"Because he doesn’t have a base," she said. "He has this."

The display changed, and the red dot expanded into a 3d model of a train.

Calling it a train felt like an insult to the thing.

The Behemoth was a quarter of a mile long, made up of seventeen connected cars, each roughly the size of a small house. Dark steel covered the sides, while the hologram marked its Rank 3 defenses in deep red. At the front, the engine car looked more like a fortress than a locomotive, its wedge-shaped nose built to smash through anything in its path.

"The Behemoth," Maeve said. "A mobile weapons factory. Drask built it using the same corrupted technology he sells to the Abyss. It has its own power plant, manufacturing bays, crew quarters, and defensive systems. It can keep moving and producing weapons without needing outside support."

"How fast?" Emric asked, already writing in his notebook.

"Three hundred miles per hour."

His pencil stopped.

"Three hundred? That’s far beyond the speed of a standard train. The propulsion system alone would require..."

"Rank 4 enchantments," Maeve finished. "The engine car contains a Rank 4 energy core. It powers the train, the manufacturing bays, and the defensive systems."

"Where is it now?" Holden asked.

Maeve checked her tablet. "Moving through the industrial corridor, heading east-northeast toward the Iron-Blood Empire’s western border. At its current speed, it’ll reach Abyssal-controlled territory in about fourteen hours."

"What happens when it gets there?"

Maeve’s expression tightened. Another swipe brought up the blueprint of a massive cannon. Its barrel looked almost alive, formed from Abyssal flesh. The weapon was designed to gather concentrated Miasma and fire it in a single devastating beam.

"The Abyssal Cannon," she said. "Drask’s greatest creation. It’s a Rank 4 weapon that can fire a beam of concentrated corruption over fifty miles. One shot could reduce a city to ash. The cannon is mounted on the Behemoth’s flatbed car, on its way to the Abyssal Epicenter for final calibration."

"The Epicenter," Lyra said quietly. "Where Vespera died."

"Yes," Maeve replied. "Once the cannon is calibrated, the Syndicate will have a weapon capable of striking cities far beyond its own territory. The Capital, the Academy, the fortress. None of them would be safe."

The room fell silent. On the map, the red dot continued moving toward the eastern border, carrying a weapon that could turn an entire city into a wasteland.

"We stop it," Holden said.

"Obviously," Emric replied. "The question is how. The train is heavily armored, moving at three hundred miles per hour, and carrying a Rank 4 cultivator with a private army. Attacking it from the tracks isn’t a realistic option."

He studied the map and began writing again.

"The Behemoth weighs around twelve thousand tons when fully loaded. If we derail it at that speed, the wreckage would be catastrophic."

He looked up.

"There are three towns along its current route. Around forty-seven thousand people live in them. We can’t risk bringing the train down near any of those towns."

"So we don’t derail it," Renna said.

"We don’t derail it," Holden agreed. "We board it."

The room went quiet again. Everyone stared at him, each person taking a moment to decide whether he’d actually said what they thought he’d said.

"Board it," Emric repeated. "A train moving at three hundred miles per hour."

"Yes."

"From the ground?"

"No. From the sky."

Holden looked around the table, taking in Emric with his notebook, Renna with her bow, Lyra with her spear, and the Twins with their swords. Maeve stood behind the holographic display, waiting for him to explain.

"We take a jet over the train and drop onto the roof. From there, we fight our way to the engine car, kill Drask, and destroy the cannon. Then we get off before the train crosses the border."

Emric’s pencil hovered above the page. His expression suggested that every lesson he’d ever learned about planning was telling him to object.

"At that speed, the train will be moving at roughly 134 meters per second. We would have almost no time to correct our landing. Miss the roof, and we could hit the side of an armored car or fall straight to the ground."

"Then don’t miss," Holden said.

"That’s not a tactical plan. That’s a motivational poster."

"It’s both."

Lyra considered the map. "I can use a frost-tether. I’ll anchor myself to the jet, then swing down onto the roof. The tether should give me some control over the landing and keep me from falling if I miss."

"Good. Emric and Renna, I’ll carry you both. Cora and Sera can use their grappling hooks."

Emric turned toward him. "You’re going to carry us while dropping onto a moving train?"

"I carried three people through a collapsing dimension. A train is a train."

"The dimension wasn’t moving at three hundred miles per hour."

"Details."

"The Twins can attach their grappling hooks to the jet’s roof mounts," Lyra said. "They can swing down and secure themselves to the train."

Cora glanced at Sera.

"We’ve done harder," Cora said.

"Agreed," Sera replied.

Maeve cut in before the discussion could go any further. Her voice was sharp and focused, the tone of a tactician laying out the limits of a mission.

"I’ll stay here. I can track the train through satellite feeds and relay its position to your earpieces. I can also try to access the Behemoth’s communication system, provided I can find a signal I can use. The jet should be able to help bridge the connection."

"You’re our eye in the sky," Holden said.

"I’m your lifeline," Maeve corrected. "If things go wrong, I’ll arrange your extraction. So don’t make me do that."

"I’ll try."

"Try harder."

Holden looked around the room. Six people would board the train. The pilot would get them there, while Maeve handled the operation from the Capital. They would be attacking a moving fortress with fourteen hours left before it crossed into enemy territory.

"Gear up," he said. "Full combat equipment, light packs. We leave in two hours."

The team began to disperse. Emric went to check his shield, while Renna headed off to count her arrows again. Lyra went to prepare her frost-tether, and the Twins left to sharpen their swords. Maeve picked up her tablet and went to contact the pilot.

Holden stayed by the table, watching the red dot crawl across the map. The Behemoth was carrying a weapon that could change the course of the war with a single shot.

Two hours later, the stealth jet was in the air.

The cargo hold was filled with six people in combat gear, their weapons secured and their equipment checked. The pilot followed Maeve’s coordinates toward the point where their flight path would cross the Behemoth’s railway.

Holden stood beside the cargo door. Wind howled through the gaps in the seal, carrying the cold bite of the upper atmosphere. Below them, forests and industrial land stretched across the dark continent. The scattered lights of towns looked like stars fallen to the ground.

He turned toward the others.

"Listen up."

All six looked at him. Emric had his shield ready, Renna held her bow, and Lyra had her frost-tether secured. Cora and Sera stood with their grappling hooks fastened to their gear.

"This is a quick strike. We land on the roof, clear the rear cars, and push toward the engine. We kill Drask and destroy the cannon. No unnecessary damage and no heroics."

He paused, making sure they were listening.

"Emric, Renna, Cora, Sera. You take the rear passenger cars. Clear them and hold the area. Don’t let Drask’s mercenaries get behind us while Lyra and I move toward the engine."

"Understood," Emric said.

"Got it!" Renna replied.

"Yes, Master Voss," the Twins said together.

"Lyra and I will reach the engine car, find Drask, and deal with the cannon."

Lyra nodded, her frost-spear already in hand. Her expression was calm, her eyes steady.

"The train is moving at three hundred miles per hour," Holden continued. "The wind on the roof will be strong enough to knock a Rank 1 cultivator off their feet. Stay low, keep your footing, and watch where you step. One mistake could send you flying off the side."

He looked at each of them in turn. His team, his family, and the two blades Vespera had left behind.

"This is the most dangerous mission we’ve attempted. Drask is Rank 4, 3-Star. The train is a fortress, his mercenaries are professionals, and the weapon we’re going after can level a city. We’re dropping onto his roof and taking it all apart."

A familiar, crooked smile appeared on his face.

"So, who’s ready to rob a train?"

Renna’s hand shot up. "ME! I’ve never robbed a train before. This is going to be the best field trip ever!"

Emric sighed. "Statistically, this is the most dangerous field trip in the Academy’s history."

"That just makes it more fun!"

"Fun isn’t a metric I track."

"You should start. It’s important!"

Holden turned toward the cockpit. "How long until we reach the intercept point?"

"Forty minutes, General," the pilot replied.

He faced the team again. Weapons checked, armor secured, and everyone ready to jump onto a moving fortress.

"Forty minutes. Check your gear, drink some water, and stay focused."

Holden took a seat as the jet continued through the night. Somewhere below them, the quarter-mile-long Behemoth carried a weapon that could change the fate of the continent. Six academy fighters were on their way to stop it, armed with a plan that Emric still seemed to consider a motivational poster.

Holden closed his eyes, a faint smile on his face.

The war was just getting interesting.