Kin of Jörmungandr

Ceph slammed the piece of junk onto the table.

She winced as the metal tube left a gouge in the hard wood, before twisting her body to shake off the flash of regret. This room was given to her; not only temporary, but for her to do with as she wished. If she wanted to blow a hole through the wall, that would be absolutely fine… but it meant she would need to get someone in to fix it.

Ceph’s hand-cannon lay still on the desk. An ever so slight crack ran down the barrel’s length. It may be small — barely noticeable to her eye — but it ruined the weapon. One side of the cannon still glowed along lines and symbols she didn’t understand, while the other was as dim as the grey metal beneath.

She’d taken the weapon to a mage specialising in inscriptions, hoping to increase the explosive power of it, but the scammer’s ‘improvements’ had done nothing but destroy her Hopes and Dreams. Well, only Hopes was destroyed, she had yet to activate the inscription on Dreams… and now she didn’t dare.

The hand-cannons were admittedly not all that effective in battles where she needed to be at her best — Glaus would never leave her alone about them — but she believed they had potential. Her blades were always there as backup, so why did it matter that she tried to focus herself towards what was obviously the future. If she could just increase the firepower of the weapons, she was sure they would be as, if not more, devastating than her knives.

Every unenhanced soldier across the known lands, from her pact nations to Henosis Empire in the east, were now outfit with guns. They had been technically around for centuries, but it wasn’t until recently that their effectiveness at punching above the user’s weight was truly integrated in war. After all, supplying a million troops with a metal pipe and an explosive inscription was far cheaper than raising them to an equivalent enhancement level. Those resources were better suited channelled toward the elite.

Everyone knew a single elite could cause far more bloodshed.

Still, the trend was there. And Ceph believed these weapons would gradually make their way up the chain. If she adapted first, she would be in the best position skill-wise.

Though right now, Glaus was right; Hopes and Dreams were nothing but toys.

She snatched up the cannon and stormed out of her room. Despite the relatively small size, the things were heavy. She’d made them herself with a mix of steel and shards of ranked stone. The latter of which was supposed to grow through the metal over time, making it harder and stronger, but it couldn’t fix a break. The mage who’s faulty inscription had ruined the exorbitantly expensive Hopes would regret his sloppy craftsmanship.

As she stomped out into the open air of the mountainous landscape, Ceph pondered whether this was actually such a bad turn of events. The pair may be more expensive than most people could afford with a decade’s salary — what with the price of ranked stone — but she had been promised a portion of that serpent’s scales. Surely she could figure a way to make better ones with something harder than ranked stone.

Well, only after reforging her blades. They were still her primary weapons.

The snake’s shed skin had been a nightmare to extract. Ceph’s team had tried to tear it apart themselves at first, but despite it being nothing but discarded scales, they had little success hacking away at it. They would sooner blunt their own weapons then tear that beast apart.

So instead, they’d returned in the hopes of dragging along a veteran Beith who could help. Unfortunately, most Beiths stationed here were in much the same situation as Ceph and her team; newly promoted. The only ones strong enough to do more than Glaus and her, were mages, and the benefits of hard scale was never worth having a mage light up in the underground.

Ceph didn’t even consider the Mercenary Order’s Inner Circle. There was probably one tasked with looking over the cavern entrance, but the bureaucracy would never allow their elite to help with such a task.

Ceph’s eyes rolled within her spherical torso, turning to watch the massive hundred metre wide hole into the earth. She still struggled to believe the monster who’d vaporised so much ranked stone had been defeated. The leader of New Vetus must be a beast if he could beat the tyrant not even the Inner Circle could stop. Then there was that one she’d heard referred to as Incendia; what kind of fire mage could create such widespread firestorms a she could?

All along the rim of the entrance were odd, moving structures. Like wind up toys from her childhood. Buildings made solely of stone that had so many moving gears that made her eyes spin. Some platforms contained massive whirling blades that poked into the hole, while others had devastatingly strong repeater cannons.

It was those huge cannons that made her believe her Hopes and Dreams weren’t misplaced. These centzon; the creators of these contraptions arrived from across the Titan Alps alongside the mermineae. They were able to design these massive cannons that shred creatures from the sky with explosive projectiles designed following a completely separate design philosophy to what Ceph was familiar.

What she would do to get a look at their blueprints.

But no, the pact nations had been very quick to shut down any trade of information with the centzon for anyone but them specifically. Ceph could understand; allowing the Henosis to get hold of those contraptions would lead to tragedy on immense scale. But she didn’t have to like it.

As far as Ceph knew, the wall of contraptions circling the hole was a gift by the bulky visual cousins of the mermineae. Because of that gift, she and the rest of the mercenaries tasked with guarding the place had a much easier time than they probably would have considering damn near everything down in those caves seemed to want to rush toward light.

One would think that because they came from the homeland of the mermineae, they would be at least civil with them, or even allies. No. When she’d first come here, she’d got a good look at all the centzon. Each one wore coats made of mermineae hide. They didn’t hide what those jackets were — not that they could considering it allowed camouflage — and the mermineae treated them with the hostility such an act of desecration deserved.

Things have calmed since the centzon left. A surprise; we of the pact nations killed countless of their kind in the past war. But apparently, freeing them of their tyrannical leader was enough to earn gratitude. Despite now residing across the entire Lower elevation of the Titan Alps and reaching down into the Steppes, they were more welcoming than we have been in return.

This small city, despite residing in what was now considered mermineae territory, refused to allow those very mermineae within its confines. It hasn’t caused much friction because the mermineae prefer to live out under the stars, but it shows a level of animosity on the side of the pact nation races that Ceph doesn’t believe the mermineae deserve.

The city itself is nothing impressive, but built in the black stone gorge carved into the land by the Titan Cipactlteteo years past left the place unlike anywhere else she’d been. This far up the Titan Alps, it felt like she could see all the pact nations. Thousands of cities, millions of people, all going about their days dozens of kilometres below her. As she walked through the main street, her eyes trailed the Titan’s black path as it spread all the way down the slopes, splitting mountains down the middle and melted what were once unbroken glaciers, until it ended beyond the ever so slight curve of the horizon.

She finally reached the door of the mage’s shop. Kicking open the door, she strode up to the counter, making sure each of her six limbs slapped against the wooden floorboards. Most people would feel intimidated by a little show of enhancement.

The khirig sitting at the back of the room inclined his head, raising an eyebrow through the cage of antlers that grew from his spine. The fact that he had very little growths besides those necessary or for extra fingers made it clear he wasn’t a fighter, and yet he stared at her as if unimpressed.

“Your inscriptions broke my weapon.” Ceph dumped Hopes before the khirig, the heavy weapon snapping a thin tool out of his antlers and sending it across the room.

“So?” he said, barely acknowledging the loss of his tiny scalpel. “I told you your… weapon couldn’t handle it.”

“How could it not?” Ceph exclaimed, tossing three of her limbs in the air with exasperation. “They’re the best materials you can get.”

“hardly,” the khirig said, slowly rising upon his leg antlers and steps around his counter to retrieve his lost tool. “A bit of ranked stone isn’t a replacement for a sufficient base metal. Ignoring that, the barrel could hardly be considered a quality forge.” The mage picks up the scalpel and turns to Ceph. “Whoever crafted it didn’t know what they were doing. It’s like they made a gun from sight rather than learning the proper method.”

Ceph did her best not to flinch at that. She could hardly use cheap mass manufacturing techniques; they were ineffective at surviving stronger forces she needed.

“Well, at least give me a refund for defective work,” she tried.

Unfortunately, the mage simply laughed. “No. I gave you plenty of warning before engraving. Now go bother someone else.”

Ceph curled a tentacle beneath her in frustration before letting out a disappointed sigh. “Please at least remove your inscription from the other cannon. I’d like at least one of them intact.”

The craftsman gazed at her for a moment, and turned to collect Dreams. First, he scratched at a line with his sharp carving scalpel, then his slender finger-like antlers glowed a bright silver. Veins of mercury flowing over the surface of the digits. Metallic hyle. It was a rare branch of earth hyle, though rather appropriate considering the khirig’s career.

The Markings circling each finger spread down the tool and collected into the surface of her cannon. Ceph watched as the material flowed like water back up the khirig’s scalpel as he slid it across the surface, collecting into a small glass tube he held.

“There,” he said, handing the weapon back to Ceph while obviously struggling with its weight.

She grabbed it and twirled in the tip of her tentacle, both shamelessly showing off and checking the slightly adjusted mass. She could now see the lines carved through the cannon. Without the material to fuel the inscriptions they couldn’t activate, but the surface was no longer as smooth as it had once been. She would need to fill in the millimetre deep grooves when she finally got back to her workshop in Meja, but for now it wasn’t an issue.

Ceph grabbed her weapons and holstered them on the inner edge of her tentacles where they connected to her torso. Safely hidden away next to her half-dozen knife scabbards. Unfortunately, the longer blade’s Glaus had been teaching her couldn’t be hidden so easily, so they rested in the nook between tentacles on both sides of her body.

She glanced at the craftsman one last time, slightly berating herself for not holding to her anger, and turned to leave. She knew she was never getting that money back, but she could have at least pushed back a bit more.

“See you next week Ceph.”

She did her best to hold back some retort. Just because she’d already come to him for a few other works in progress, didn’t mean she would come back again.

Slamming her limb into the door — which was already damaged from her last visits — she moved out into the black-stone streets. Ceph hadn’t made it a single step out of the building she froze.

A crack, like shattering glass, ripped through her body with power. It stung at her, cut through the membrane of her skin with ease and pierced her innards. Her muscles locked, refusing to move. A flood of terror washed through her, clamping down on her with a grip stronger than she’d ever experienced.

Ceph had felt the pressure of some beasts, and had even been able to output a little herself, but never had it been this overwhelming. The earth beneath her trembled, as if the world itself cowered from whatever being unleashed this power.

Just as her body felt like it would cut into itself, the pressure released. It was only an instant. Something massive shattered, carrying with it an unimaginably powerful roar. The howl was imperceptible, but it had been there. Whatever that was, it could only be a Titan.

Ceph snapped out of her reverie and turned to find the street in shambles. Windows were shattered wherever she looked, having broken without her knowledge, too overwhelmed by the ethereal crack. The door she’d walked through a moment ago laid broken. Her eyes raised to the building itself, where all the timber used in its construction had deep fractures running all through it, like it had been exposed to immense weight, but hadn’t been given the space to snap outward.

The mage lay collapsed over his now broken workbench.

She was by his side in an instant, checking his vitals. He was thankfully alive, but the stress of the pressure left him unconscious. A horrid stench filled her mouth, and she spotted a puddle of inks and liquid metals pooling on the floor between the mage’s desk and the rear wall. Every last bottle had shattered.

Ceph wasn’t an expert with inscriptions, but she knew enough to know how toxic many of the components they worked with were. She picked up the khirig in a tentacle and leaped outside; far from the fumes beginning to circulate.

She stood, watching through the city as only the mercenaries still stood with any sort of awareness. The unenhanced had either collapsed, or were still frozen in terror. Just what was going on?

The ground trembled, and every building in the city collapsed. Falling into a pile of debris within Cipactlteteo’s trail. Hundreds, if not thousands, buried within.