Sector 7G - The Iron Mud (Atlas's Domain)
The sound was the first thing you noticed. It wasn't the smooth hum of the Centurion's steam engine. It wasn't the roar of the Radial Engine. It was a flat, wet, rhythmic farting noise that vibrated in your teeth. BRRR-BRRR-BRRR-BRRR.
Atlas stood in his workshop, wearing ear protection made of stuffed moss. On the workbench sat a metal tube, six feet long, glowing cherry-red. There were no pistons. No crankshafts. It was a Pulsejet Engine. The simplest jet engine in existence. A hollow pipe with shutter valves at the front. Fuel goes in, explodes, pushes air back, vacuum sucks new air in, repeat. 50 times a second.
"It's ugly," Cavedweller shouted over the noise. "It sounds like a dying duck!" "It's cheap!" Atlas shouted back. "No moving parts! It runs on low-grade ethanol! It's the Argus As 014. The beating heart of the V-1 Flying Bomb."
Atlas cut the fuel. The engine sputtered and died, the red glow fading. "System. Status."
[Item: Pulsejet Tube (Rank E)][Thrust: Medium.][Durability: Low (Will melt after 30 minutes).][Cost: 10 Origin Points per unit.]
"Perfect," Atlas grinned. "It only needs to fly for ten minutes."
He looked at the pile of "Airframes" Cavedweller had constructed. They weren't complex Gyrocopters. They were essentially cruise missiles with wings made of stretched canvas over wooden ribs. Inside the nose cone: A warhead of Napalm-B. Inside the fuselage: A simple Vacuum Tube Autopilot. Logic: Keep wings level. Fly straight. After 5 miles, dive.
"We have the engines," Atlas said. "We have the logic. But we don't have the hands. Cavedweller, how long to assemble one drone?" "Two hours, Master. I have to glue the canvas, wire the tubes..." "Too slow. The Mimics are knocking on Khan's door. I need fifty drones by sunset."
Atlas looked at his [Global Chat]. It was filled with misery. > User_Farmer_John: My wheat is gone. I can't bake bread.> User_Pixie_Girl: Trading my Silver Sword for a sack of rice! Please! My fairies are starving!
Atlas smiled. "Labor shortage solved."
The Bread Line (Border of Sector 7G/7H)
The air-bridge connecting Atlas's Mud Island to Zhuge's Cloud Palace was usually empty. Today, it was a refugee camp. Hundreds of players—mostly those with "Humanoid" populations like Elves, Dwarves, and Halflings—were camped on the bridge. They looked gaunt. Their "Stamina" bars were flashing red.
Zhuge stood at the gate, his Sylphs holding the line. He looked exhausted. "Atlas," Zhuge said as the Warlord of Industry rode up on his Gyrocopter (taxiing slowly). "You caused this. You bought all the sugar. You bought the grain. Now they are here begging me for food because I'm the 'Good Guy'."
Atlas hopped out of the cockpit. He held a megaphone (crafted from a cone of tin). "Citizens of the Void!" Atlas shouted. His voice boomed over the starving crowd. The refugees looked up. Some recognized him as the "Scavenger" from the leaderboards.
"I have heard your cries!" Atlas announced. "I have food! I have silos full of fermented mash! It tastes like gasoline, but it has calories!"
A cheer went up. "Food! Give us food!"
"But!" Atlas raised a hand. "I run a business. I don't give handouts. I give Jobs." He pointed to his muddy, smog-choked island behind him. "I need assembly line workers. I need people to glue canvas. I need people to hammer rivets. I need people to load explosives." "The pay is 1kg of Nutrient Mash per day. And safety within my perimeter."
A Dwarf player stepped forward. "You want us to work in that... factory? Ideally, my Dwarves are craftsmen, not sweatshop workers!" "Then starve," Atlas said coldly. "Or get eaten by the Mimics who are currently eating Sector 7J. Choice is yours."
Silence. Then, the Dwarf stepped forward. "I'll take the job." "Me too!" An Elf shouted. "And me!"
[System Alert: Temporary Workforce Acquired.][Population Boost: +200 (Contract Laborers).][Production Speed: +500%.]
Atlas turned to Zhuge. "Send them in. Cavedweller is the Foreman. If they steal any copper, shoot them."
The Siege of the Bone Fortress (Sector 7J)
Warlord Khan was dying. His island, a fortress made of giant monster ribs and stone, was swarming with grey. The Mimic Brood had bridged the gap. Thousands of Grey Gnolls, Grey Spiders, and Grey Warriors were pouring over the walls.
Khan stood at the gate of his Keep, swinging his axe. He was alone. His elite guards were dead. His army was consumed. SPLAT. He cleaved a Mimic in two. It regenerated instantly, biting his leg. "Get off!" Khan roared, kicking it away. He was covered in bites. His stamina was at 5%.
"Where are they?!" Khan screamed at the sky. "Where is the Alliance?!"
The sky was dark. The Mimic Spire Towers on the neighboring islands were launching acid mortars, melting Khan's fortress walls. Khan fell to one knee. A massive Mimic—an imperfect copy of an Ogre—raised a club to crush him.
BRRR-BRRR-BRRR.
The sound cut through the screams of battle. Khan looked up. A low, vibrating hum filled the air. It sounded like a swarm of angry hornets the size of dragons.
From the clouds, they emerged. The Swarm. Fifty winged tubes. Their tails were spitting pulses of blue fire. They flew in a crude V-formation, wobbly and unstable, held on course by primitive vacuum tubes and prayers.
[Unit: V-1 'Buzz Bomb' Drone][Payload: 50kg Napalm-B]
On the lead drone, Atlas's voice crackled through a radio speaker strapped to the fuselage. "Khan! Duck!"
Khan threw himself flat on the ground.
The first wave of drones didn't aim for the ground troops. They aimed for the Mimic Spires. The Vacuum Tube logic clicked. Distance Reached. Dive.
The drones tipped their noses down. The pulsejets screamed as gravity accelerated them. Impact.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The horizon lit up in orange. Ten Mimic Spires were vaporized instantly. The Napalm splashed over the grey bio-structures, sticking to the flesh-walls and burning them to ash.
Then came the second wave. These drones didn't dive. They Air-Burst. Atlas had rigged the detonators to trigger at 50 feet. Snap. The drones exploded in mid-air above the invading horde. It wasn't a bomb. It was a Rain of Fire.
Sticky, burning jelly rained down on the thousands of Mimics climbing Khan's walls. The grey tide turned orange. The screeching was deafening. The Mimics, who could regenerate from steel cuts, could not regenerate when their cells were boiling. They flailed, melting into black tar.
Khan watched as the Ogre-Mimic standing over him caught fire. It thrashed, dropping its club, before dissolving into a puddle.
[Battle Report: Air Strike Successful.][Enemy Casualties: ~1,500.][Origin Points Gained: 450.]
The Aftermath
The buzzing stopped. The drones were gone—all 50 had been expended. Atlas descended in his Sky-Rat Gyrocopter, landing on the only clear patch of ground in Khan's ruined courtyard. He hopped out, checking his fuel gauge.
Khan was sitting against a pile of charred bones, breathing heavily. He looked at Atlas. He looked at the burning devastation. "You..." Khan coughed. "You sacrificed fifty flying machines? The cost... must be insane."
"Scrap wood and canvas," Atlas shrugged. "Built by refugees paid in rot-gut wine. The only expensive part was the fuel." Atlas walked over and offered Khan a hand. "Sector 7J is secured. But we didn't kill the Source."
He pointed to the deep void, where the Main Hive (Sector 8A) was still pulsating. "We cut off the tentacles. Now we have to kill the head."
Zhuge arrived a moment later, riding a wind-platform. He looked pale. "I saw the explosion from my tower," Zhuge whispered. "Atlas... that wasn't war. That was an extermination."
"It's pest control," Atlas said. He pulled out a map. "The Mimics are adapting. Did you see the Spires? Next time, they will have interceptors. Flying Mimics that can catch my drones." "We have maybe 24 hours before they evolve Fast-Movers."
"So what do we do?" Khan asked, gripping his axe. "We can't invade the Hive. It's an island made of flesh. If we step on it, it eats us."
Atlas's eyes glowed red behind his mask. "We don't step on it." "I have 600 Origin Points now. I unlocked the Diesel Age fully." He looked at the massive amounts of wreckage from Khan's destroyed bone-ships. He looked at the unlimited labor force of refugees back at his base.
"System. Access Memory: [Mortal Engines]." "Project: [The Land Dreadnought]."
"We're not sending soldiers," Atlas declared. "We are going to build a Tank the size of a building. And we are going to drive it through their Hive."