AN: Okay, this is getting out of hand. I apologize for all the late chapters recently. Life has been getting busy and I keep forgetting to post them. I have now set reminders for myself to post chapters. That should fix it.
Cor had requisitioned a car. No, it wasn't his, nor was he sure who it belonged to, but he had bigger concerns. Likely the owner of the car did, too.
The rain of MTs had more or less ceased. They were all in the city by now. Cor hit several on his way south—enough of them that he lost count. He left the city behind and began the climb up to the industrial level. The farther up he drove, the more of the city he could see in his mirrors. Crawling with MTs and imperials alike.
Reina better not have gotten into anything stupid without him. The only radio contact he had with the city was over the Crownsguard frequency. Regis had called his phone, but said nothing of her. She wouldn't have left her father's side. Not willingly at least. Then again, neither would Cor. And here he was, halfway across the city and hoping she had some plan to drag them out of this hellhole.
He caught a streak of light out of the corner of his eye—more magenta than the crimson of the Magitek engines. He wasn't certain what it was until the streak of blue followed after it.
Drautos.
So he had left the Citadel. And Reina was on his tail. So much for staying with Regis. She should have been more than a match for Drautos. What was she playing at? Was it so important to make him suffer?
Cor kept half an eye cocked in their direction while he followed the road. He could only see them when they moved—and it seemed they were moving in the same direction he was, though it was difficult to tell from so far away. Both lights struck a building and disappeared for a time. Cor's borrowed car climbed another switch back.
Before he caught sight of them again, Ignis' voice was on the radio, confirming at least one of their fears—that the imperials had landed, presumably for the purpose of recovering what few survivors of the signing they could. Ignis and Iris versus fifty MTs. Cor was still ahead of the rest of the Crownsguard, but they couldn't wait.
Another flash of blue arced in his mirror. For a moment he thought it was Reina, but more followed—those were the Kingsglaives, diverting course toward Cor. Amidst the increasing number of warps across the sky, he lost track of Reina and Drautos.
He could only trust that she would do her duty, as she had trusted him to do his. He focused on the road.
When it finally leveled out and opened into the industrial zone, he turned south as per Ignis' directions, shutting his lights off and coasting as quietly as he was able. He caught sight of the Magitek engines first, when the buildings to his right fell off and allowed for a line of sight. He hit the brakes and killed the engine. That was them. Now to find Ignis.
Instructions over the radio indicated that he should continue to follow the guardrail south so he did. Other chatter said reinforcements were drawing closer—Crownsguard and Kingsglaive alike.
He found Ignis and Iris standing as close as they could get to the imperials without leaving the cover of darkness. A brief conference confirmed what he already knew: that the MTs hadn't moved from their neat rows, and only one human—an armored man whom they didn't recognize—had been seen coming out of the ship. At least the imperials didn't appear to be in any immediate hurry to leave the city. That seemed to imply that they were still waiting—
The city trembled.
From around Insomnia, the crack of stone split the air, as if the wall around the perimeter of the city was falling down.
Instead it came to life.
Each of the twelve statues that lined the original wall around the Crown City woke, pulling free from their foundations. The closest to the warehouses was a few hundred feet away and when it straightened it stood half as tall as that distance. The statue of The Wise unfurled a dozen wings and stretched, as if hundreds of years set in stone had made his muscles stiff. Farther along, on the far side of the industrial zone in the corner of the wall, The Rogue cracked her neck and tested the weight of her shuriken.
"By all that is holy…" Ignis whispered. "She has activated the Old Wall."
It must have been centuries since the last time the souls of the old kings had woken in the Wall. No one had expected to see it again—not while Regis reigned. He could never have supplied enough energy to command it.
Shouts from the Magitek engine:
"What the hell was that?"
"They have activated the Old Wall, Your Imperial Majesty."
Cor's head snapped back in the direction of the craft. And there he was. Aldercapt, right where they had expected to find him. He had been in the ship all along. So why were the imperials still grounded?
"Blast—" Aldercapt swore. "Take us out of this accursed city immediately."
"The others—"
"Are dead, or as good as. Bring in the weapons and raze Insomnia to the ground. I will have the crystal and the ring." Aldercapt was turning back toward the ship.
"Our time is up," Cor said. He tapped his radio and stepped over the guardrail, into the light on the edge of the parking lot. "All units be advised: the emperor is at the eastern warehouses. Repeat: the emperor is at the warehouses. We are moving in."
A series of affirmatives responded over the radio, while Cor advanced with Ignis and Iris at his heel. They were charging an army of MTs with only himself, one Crownsguard, and a fifteen year old. He had seen worse odds.
Alright, he hadn't. But they were gambling for Insomnia and he couldn't afford not to take the risk.
"Keep them grounded." Cor drew his blade. "Whatever it takes!"
He heard Ignis' affirmative and—a moment later—Iris' just before he clashed with the first MT in line. The others had already turned.
"Kill them," Aldercapt said, unconcerned, as he turned back toward the Magitek engine.
Cor cut through the first MT, then the second, then the third, never pausing in between. He dragged one of their bodies between himself and the incoming fire as the others let loose their bullets, then pulled his sword free and ran a fourth one through. The number of soldiers between himself and the emperor hardly seemed to diminish, even as the pile at his feet grew.
Something flew over his head in an arc and landed at the mouth of the Magitek engine. It must have been glass because it shattered on impact and, when it did, lightning exploded from inside. Sparks arced across the ground, forcing the emperor back and cutting off his path to safety.
"Nice throw," Cor called back to Ignis.
"Thank you, Marshal!"
Cor redoubled his efforts as the emperor hesitated, caught between the results of Ignis' elemental flask and the MTs behind him. The magic wouldn't last forever. If those reinforcements didn't arrive soon they were shit out of luck. He couldn't keep this engine grounded on his own.
The night around them began to stir.
Damn. How the hell had he forgotten about the daemons?
Must have gotten lost between the empty soldiers and the monstrosities that Niflheim had been dropping from their ships in metal crates—massive beasts that even now were tearing into buildings across Insomnia. The smaller creatures who crept naturally from the shadows had slipped his mind. Until now, when they were three against an army and any size of daemon could tip the balance against them. Hell, the balance was already against them.
Most daemons he knew of still looked a bit human or animal. These ones were amorphous as if they were made entirely of that black liquid that seeped from daemons in place of blood. They oozed toward his exposed back as Cor struggled to push past the MTs and reach the emperor. When they grew too close, he spun and hurled an MTs into their midst.
The imperials seemed to have some manner of control over daemons—they were, after all, unloading them onto the city. He wasn't even sure if the slime-daemons would even attack an MT.
They did.
It didn't make a sound but the crunch of metal and the twitch of electricity as the closest daemon consumed it. And it didn't even begin to slow their progress.
Beyond the lines of MTs, the magic from Ignis' flask was beginning to fade.
"Any more of those, Ignis?" Cor called.
"Just one." Ignis pulled a flask from the air—it materialized in the blue light of borrowed magic—and passed it to Cor. "Best save it for an opportune moment."
And they had seconds to reach Aldercapt before he escaped.
Cor tucked the flask away and surged forward, shouldering MTs aside. It was a stupid position to put himself in—straight through the middle of their forces until he was surrounded—but there was still a chance it could pay off. Barely.
The daemons reached the edge of the MTs, who had turned all turned toward Cor. Maybe they had judged the daemons not to be a threat or maybe they were taking a gamble, just like him. It didn't pay off for them.
Each of the daemons reared up, stretching to become taller and thinner until they could reach out and engulf one MT each. Red lightning leapt from the robotic bodies as they fell, crumpling to the ground. And the daemons moved forward, carving a steady path into the MTs.
Ignis pushed Iris behind his back, searching for a safer path through the MTs and away from the daemons. Nothing opened up. He bared his knives, cutting an MT in half before its blade could come down on his head, and faced the daemons while Iris covered his back. But when the daemons reached him, they slid straight past and devoured the MTs beside him.
It took that long before Cor understood:
Reina.
Reina could control the daemons, couldn't she? She had done it last night. Why not now? Why not employ them as her own army?
The lightning at the mouth of the Magitek engine stopped crackling. Aldercapt surged forward. No time to wonder about daemons and magic and Reina's unnatural powers.
"Ignore the daemons," Cor shouted. "If he escapes everything is over."
"Iris—" Ignis called.
Cor turned in time to see him take her hands and launch her directly overhead. She spun midair like a diver preparing to hit the water. Instead she landed, hands first, on Aldercapt's shoulders and dragged him to the ground.
Cor had wasted precious time by diverting his attention from the battle. A spray of bullets caught his left arm and the side of his chest. It only felt like pressure—a sudden lurch of his body from the projectiles passing through and then hot, wet blood dripping down his arm and side.
It would be better if he didn't wait for his brain to catch up with reality and register the pain. He lifted his sword again and plunged it through the nearest MT and out the other side. When he jerked it free, the MT fell limp at his feet. They were still surrounding him—his own damn fault—but if he positioned himself just right and kept his eyes where they were supposed to be, he might avoid getting gunned down.
He ducked behind an MT and felt its body recoil as bullets struck it instead of him. His arm began to burn. It spread through his bicep, up to his shoulder and down to his fingertips until he couldn't tell where it was coming from anymore. He gritted his teeth against the pain and shoved his sword through the MT's back.
This would have been an excellent time for those reinforcements to show up.