Chapter 7: Iron sanctuary

Iron Sanctuary

Smoke still clung to their clothes. Blood still crusted their skin. And the screams of Vandrel still echoed in their minds as the battered remnants of the Requiem Order, civilians, and wounded soldiers arrived at Arkhelm, the colossal city of steel.

It was unlike anything Elian had ever seen—an industrial fortress of rotating platforms, train lines suspended in the air like webbing, and sky-piercing watchtowers laced with artillery turrets. Massive runic engines powered the city, their glow pulsing like a heartbeat under iron floors. Giant chimneys poured smoke into the sky, but beneath the soot and metal, life was thriving. Merchants shouted, kids played, and civilians walked freely, unaware—or in denial—of Vandrel's fall.

Arkhelm had never been breached. Never even shaken. Its defense was built on precision, not power. Its military force, The Scales of Iron, didn't rely on brute strength like the Requiem Order. They were brilliant, calculating, and ruthlessly efficient in tactics, crafting layered defenses that could reroute and counter in seconds. But even here, the fear was beginning to spread.

Elian stepped off the glider ramp, his muscles sore and bandaged, his mind hazy from the transformation. Lyra stood beside him, her eyes scanning the Arkhelm soldiers with sharp suspicion. She had barely spoken since the evacuation. Elian wanted to say something, but he didn't know how. She wasn't just his watcher anymore. She had fought for him, with him, when it mattered most.

Before he could speak, the air shimmered near the landing zone. Several Scales of Iron soldiers raised their weapons. Someone was emerging. From the center of the crowd, a body collapsed—half-naked, burned, bruised, and scarred. But unmistakably human.

The rogue Ancient.

Elian rushed forward as the Arkhelm soldiers aimed rifles and rune-spears. "Stop! He fought for us!"

The man slowly stood, eyes wild, grin feral. He looked like a beast trying to act human. Unkempt dark hair, lean and cut with muscle, sharp features twisted with reckless confidence. He flexed his hands like he was adjusting to having fingers again.

"Whew," he muttered, rolling his neck. "Being a monster gets boring after a while."

The Arkhelm commander stepped forward, barking orders. "Who is this man? Identify yourself!"

The man just smirked. "Name's Kael Vaelstrom. Guess I'm one of you now."

Lyra narrowed her eyes. "You were one of them a few hours ago."

Kael raised a brow and shot her a cocky grin. "And yet I saved your life. Twice, I think? Hard to keep count."

Elian stepped between them. "He saved hundreds back there. He turned on the Ancients. Fought them. Bled with us. Whatever he is, he's not one of them anymore."

Kael chuckled. "Not bad, Four-Eyes. You've got some fire under all that soft."

Lyra frowned. "That 'soft' just carried your half-dead body off the battlefield."

Kael only grinned wider. "Yeah, I like her."

Captain Sheane limped into the hangar, his face pale, arm in a sling. "Enough. We're guests here. And we owe our lives to all three of you."

He turned to the Arkhelm officers. "This man fought like a Guardian. He deserves to live. But keep your eyes on him."

The officers backed down for now, though the tension in their eyes remained.

Later that evening, Elian, Lyra, and Kael were debriefed in the Iron Bastion, Arkhelm's central command. They stood before Strategos Erina Vale, the brilliant mind behind Arkhelm's impenetrable defenses. Her expression was calm but calculating.

"We can't stop what's coming with clever formations and steel walls anymore," she said. "We need monsters of our own."

She looked at Elian and Kael. "You two are no longer anomalies. You are humanity's last weapons."

Kael leaned back, arms behind his head. "Sounds fun."

Elian glanced at Lyra. She didn't smile, but she nodded.

Outside, the streets buzzed with machines and murmurs. The world was watching Arkhelm now.

And war was coming again.