The underground factory trembled as the shadows shifted.
From the darkness above, where cables swayed like iron vines, something moved. At first it was only the sound — a metallic rasp, deep and guttural, as if the air itself was being carved by machinery. Then came the light: crimson, burning, cutting through the gloom.
Brimscythe descended.
The Draugr overlord's frame gleamed in fractured pulses of electricity. His armor was a predator's skin — sleek, obsidian black, traced with veins of molten red. Wings unfolded from his back with a hiss, thrusters humming, each blade-like extension longer than a man was tall. His descent was regal, deliberate, like a king stepping onto a battlefield he already owned.
The factory lights flickered, then dimmed, as though the vast machinery recognized its master.
Brynhild's fist clenched, her glove humming with restrained power. "Well," she said, her voice dripping with reckless amusement, "that's new. A Draugr with style."
Runa's sensors whirred frantically, red warnings flashing across her vision. "Grade Nine confirmed," she hissed, her tone sharp with alarm. "We should retreat. Immediately."
Brimscythe's eyes burned brighter. "Retreat? You entered my sanctum, little defect. You don't leave."
Without warning, his wings snapped outward. Compartments slid open along his back — and a storm of missiles screamed into the chamber.
"MOVE!" Runa shouted.
She shot upward, thrusters igniting, twisting through the air as explosions blossomed below. Heat and shrapnel tore across the floor. Brynhild didn't dodge. She planted her feet, glove igniting in a golden flare, and punched through falling debris, smashing aside a steel beam before it could crush them both. The shockwave rippled, rattling the skeletal Draugr along the assembly lines.
Brimscythe hovered above, wings spread like a vengeful god. His voice rolled through the chamber: "You are insects. And insects burn."
The factory had become a war zone.
Missiles whined overhead, detonating in rapid succession. Sparks rained from shattered conveyor belts. Mechanical arms collapsed like dying beasts, spilling half-built Draugr to the ground.
Runa weaved through the storm, her form darting like a hawk. Yet every evasive maneuver left her no time to counter. She gritted her teeth, eyes tracking the targeting systems locked on her. He's not just fast… he's reading me.
Brynhild charged, glove blazing, leaping onto a broken crane. With a roar, she launched herself upward — fist colliding with Brimscythe's descending strike. The impact sent shockwaves through the chamber, shattering glass and buckling steel.
But she was the one who staggered back.
Brimscythe's strength was monstrous. Each blow hammered her, forcing her glove to flare at maximum output just to keep her bones from shattering. He drove her across the floor, his strikes precise, merciless.
Runa's voice cut across the chaos. "You can't match him head-on! Fall back!"
Brynhild spat blood, grinning even as her knees threatened to buckle. "Madness—" she slammed her fist against his armor again, sparks flying— "is what I do best!"
Brimscythe tilted his head, almost curious. "Fascinating. You bleed… and yet you laugh."
Then he struck her with a backhand so powerful it launched her into a conveyor line, crushing steel like paper.
Pain seared through Brynhild's ribs, but she staggered to her feet, glove still sparking. Across the chamber, Runa's fingers flew across an interface projected from her wrist.
"Come on, come on…" she whispered.
Her code dug into the factory's systems. Lights flickered, welding arms jerked to life, conveyor belts roared. With a triumphant cry, she redirected the machinery — robotic arms swinging like clubs, drones snapping their optics toward Brimscythe.
"Now!" Runa shouted.
Brynhild launched forward. The mechanical storm forced Brimscythe to shift, his wings deflecting blows, his attention split. For the first time, he faltered.
Brynhild's glove surged, runes along its surface blazing. She roared, driving her fist into his chest plating with the force of a collapsing building.
The impact rang like thunder.
Brimscythe staggered back, armor dented, crimson sparks spraying from the wound. The chamber shook as his talons scraped against the floor to keep balance.
Runa's optics widened. "We… we hurt him."
Brynhild smirked, blood streaking her chin. "Told you. Madness works."
But Brimscythe's wings snapped outward again, the air vibrating with his fury. "You dare…" His voice dropped to a growl, heavy with malice. "You dare…"
The factory fell silent for half a heartbeat.
Then Brimscythe moved.
The drones Runa had hijacked sparked once, then went dead. Brimscythe's systems surged, overriding her intrusion effortlessly. Machinery ground to a halt as though bowing to him.
Runa's eyes widened. "No—"
He launched upward, then dove like a spear. Missiles fired in precise swarms, each one tracking Runa's heat signature. She twisted desperately, but three detonated near her, blasting her from the air. She crashed against the ground, skidding across steel until her body slammed into a wall.
"RUNA!" Brynhild's scream tore through the chamber.
But Brimscythe was already upon her. His movements blurred, impossibly fast. Every strike carried lethal precision, predicting her dodges, countering her attacks before she could make them. His claws ripped through machinery, each missed blow gouging scars into steel thicker than a man's torso.
Brynhild swung her glove, but he caught her wrist mid-punch. His grip tightened, metal groaning as cracks spread across the glove's frame.
"You are strong for flesh," he said almost thoughtfully. "But strength without purpose is dust."
With a twist, he flung her aside.
Brynhild crashed into a heap of half-built Draugr, bones aching, vision blurred. Brimscythe turned toward her — but Runa rose again.
Her body sparked with damage, coolant dripping from a gash across her shoulder, but her eyes burned with determination.
She extended her arm, ports opening, and connected directly to a data spike driven into the floor.
"Direct link established," she whispered through gritted teeth. "Engaging override…"
Brimscythe froze mid-step. His eyes flickered, his wings twitching erratically. His voice glitched, words stuttering.
"You… dare… infect…"
Runa's processors roared at maximum capacity, her entire body trembling with strain. Code poured into Brimscythe's system, layer after layer unraveling.
"I almost have him!" she shouted, voice cracking. "Another few seconds—"
Then Brimscythe roared.
His body convulsed once, then steadied. His crimson eyes flared brighter than ever.
"You… DARE!"
The hack collapsed in an instant. Runa screamed as the feedback surged through her, sparks ripping across her frame. She fell to her knees, smoke rising from her body.
Brimscythe's gaze locked onto her with lethal focus.
"You tried to infect me. You will die first."
His wings ignited, missiles unfolding, claws poised. He dove straight for her, speed like lightning.
Brynhild staggered forward, glove sparking violently, intercepting him with a desperate roar. She met his claws head-on, sparks exploding as the glove cracked under the pressure.
"Run, Runa!" she screamed. "MOVE!"
But Runa couldn't. She was too drained, her systems flickering.
The battle spiraled into despair.
Brimscythe smashed Brynhild into a conveyor, pinning her down with crushing weight. Metal bent and groaned beneath them. She gasped, ribs threatening to snap, her glove flickering uselessly.
Runa lay battered on the ground, struggling to rise as Brimscythe's missile ports glowed with crimson light.
"This ends," Brimscythe declared, voice like a death knell.
Brynhild's vision blurred. She tasted blood. So this is how it ends? Not with glory… not with triumph… but crushed under some tin god's heel…
Then the world exploded.
The roof of the factory tore open in a blinding shower of light and steel. Sunlight flooded the chamber for the first time in decades.
Through the breach, a figure dove.
She moved with impossible grace, armored wings shimmering with radiant tech. Her form cut through the smoke like a blade of light.
Brimscythe turned, launching missiles upward — but the figure twisted between them, each movement a blur of elegance and speed.
She hit the ground in a crouch, then surged forward. In one smooth motion, she seized Brynhild under one arm, Runa under the other, and launched skyward before Brimscythe could react.
The factory roared with fury as Brimscythe unleashed a storm of fire, but the figure weaved through it, climbing higher and higher until the underground chamber was left behind.
Wind tore past them as they burst into the open sky.
"Styrkar received your signal, Runa," the figure said, her voice calm despite the chaos. "He sent me. My name is Elin Ragnarsdóttir."
Brynhild, bruised and bloodied, forced her eyes open as the wind whipped against her face.
She stared at Elin — her strong jawline, her focused eyes, her beauty framed by the glow of her wings.
Despite the pain, Brynhild smirked faintly. What beauty… I hope she doesn't die fast.