Anthem's Fall

Chapter Eighteen

The boy looked up at the famous Vengelis Epsilon as he stood over him, protecting his life with such raw passion. A hero had come to save him from this nightmare. For a moment the boy froze in awe of his emperor. Then he followed the order. He grabbed the dying warrior on the ground, arched his back, and pulled with all his capacity, carrying the unconscious soldier by his enormous leg toward the barracks.

The woman’s glowing eyes looked from the retreating child to Vengelis with an emotionless gaze. Close now, Vengelis looked into her eyes. Her retinas were a shifting and shimmering blue. He was looking into the eyes of a machine. The Felix’s mechanic gaze looked to Vengelis’s hand on her—its— wrist. The Blood Ring clung with a conflicting opulence to Vengelis’s clenched fingers.

Vengelis wound up with his right hand and punched the Felix with all his might on the side of the head, a perfect temple shot with the strength of an earthquake. The Felix’s head rolled back, and she stumbled a few feet in a daze, her hair flying about. Vengelis could not believe the machine remained standing. The punch had been strong enough to level a mountain. The ringing sound of the impact of his fist with her head resonated like a deep gong, as though her skull was made of iron. Pain radiated up Vengelis’s forearm. He immediately shook it off, clenching his fist without showing the slightest grimace. Nothing was broken. If machines did not feel pain, neither did he.

Once more the woman looked at him with her sapphire stare, her eyes luminous against the shadows of ash and dark flames around them.

Vengelis charged her with another fist, but this time she sidestepped with ease. His fist whistled through empty air. He turned around, furious, and launched several more blows as hard as he could. The muscles in his chest, back, and legs expelled all of their strength to no avail. His fists and legs met only the swirling smoky air as he swung and kicked at the machine. The Felix was impossibly fast, weaving across the street with a velocity he had never before encountered.

In the midst of her elusive turns and sidesteps, the blonde Felix unexpectedly lashed out with an open hand at Vengelis’s face. He ducked, but not fast enough. A long sharp fingernail cut deep into his cheek. Vengelis could feel hot blood trickle down his neck and patter onto his gilded chest armor. Without a second thought, Vengelis erupted into the sky, hoping for an advantage in the air. The Felix was after him immediately, soaring easily in his wake. A few hundred feet in the air, Vengelis turned directions abruptly and attempted the same blow he had delivered to Lord General Hoff earlier that day.

The punch landed with devastating force, pummeling straight into the machine’s face. He watched as the Felix’s body reeled backward through space, spinning round and round with limbs askew. And at that moment, as the Felix fell through the smoky air, Vengelis knew he could win. He could destroy this machine.