Weeks after their return from Eridian, a palpable buzz of anticipation hummed through Otherrealm. The first wave of Presidroids, their metal chassis now subtly lined with faint, dormant runes, had returned from Evarran's chaotic tutelage. They stood in the main courtyard, their posture somehow sharper, their presence heavier.
Roy strode out from the Nightshatter's main entrance to greet them, a proud, almost paternal smile on his face. Evarran stood beside the newly-trained group, looking simultaneously exhausted and deeply satisfied, like a master craftsman who had just completed a particularly challenging, and possibly explosive, work of art. FDR, JFK, and Truman stood at the forefront of the returning droids, their optical sensors glowing with a new, almost unsettling color.
As Roy approached, Washington, Lincoln, and Teddy emerged from the ship, leading the other half of the Presidroid contingent who were about to begin their own training. The two groups met in the center of the courtyard, an army of past and future arcane power.
Washington, his movements as precise and commanding as ever, stepped forward and placed a firm, metallic hand on FDR's shoulder.
"Take good care of things while I'm gone, Franklin," Washington said, his voice a low, resonant baritone, carrying the weight of his established command. "Do not disappoint me. Or the Captain."
FDR, with a calm, almost leisurely motion, brushed Washington's hand from his shoulder. He straightened to his full height, a confident, almost challenging grin spreading across his features, a new expression Roy had never seen on him before.
"Careful, General," FDR replied, his voice smooth, confident, and carrying a new, almost musical cadence. "Even before this… enlightenment… I was twice the leader you have ever been. As you stand now, a mere machine of logic and steel, you are not even qualified to lay a hand upon my person." He looked Washington directly in the eye, his own optical sensors shimmering with barely contained power. "Go. Get your upgrade. Then, by all means, come and try to take back command. If you still think you are able."
A ripple of stunned silence passed through the assembled crew. Washington's usually impassive faceplate seemed to register a flicker of something akin to shock, but was clearly excited by this challenge. Teddy and Lincoln exchanged a quick, unreadable glance.
Evarran, seemingly delighted by the unexpected display of robotic bravado, let out a hearty, booming laugh. He stepped over to Roy, clapping him enthusiastically on the back. "See, my sweet, ugly, boy! What did I tell you? Marvelous, are they not?" He then lowered his voice, his expression turning serious. "But, a word of caution, Captain."
Roy leaned in, his own curiosity piqued. "What is it?"
Evarran gestured subtly towards the three Super Elites at the head of the newly trained group. "Those three in particular," he murmured, his eyes glittering with a mixture of pride and genuine concern. "Their capacity for nearly all forms of magic is… extraordinary. Unprecedented, even. Among all the students I have ever trained in my long, long life, all three of them rank easily within the top five. They rival, and in some aspects, perhaps even surpass, the two great heroes I myself have mentored."
Roy's eyes widened. "Seriously? They're that powerful?"
"More so," Evarran confirmed, his voice grave. "Their potential is… terrifying. Wield it wisely, Captain Gunn. Wield it very, very wisely."
With a final, meaningful nod, Evarran turned and, with a grand, theatrical gesture, began to lead Washington, Lincoln, Teddy, and the other half of the Presidroids away towards his workshop. The two groups of metal men exchanged a final, silent, almost challenging stare before parting ways.
Fifteen miles off Otherrealm's coastline, the Nightshatter floated in serene, deep blue waters, bathed in the clean light of a cloudless day. Roy could still just barely make out the fortress's highest towers on the distant horizon, but out here, it felt like the vast, empty sea. It was the perfect, isolated arena for testing dangerous new toys. He stood near the starboard railing, arms folded, one foot tapping a restless, impatient rhythm against the deck as he waited.
FDR, now the acting commander of the trained Presidroids, approached with a new, confident energy. Behind him, a handful of other droids exchanged crackling sparks of raw, playful magic between their open palms, as if warming up for a grand performance.
"So," Roy said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You've spent weeks learning all about runic and arcane enhancements for our artillery. I'm told you're all quite the prodigies. Let's see it. Show me what you've got."
FDR snapped a crisp, almost jaunty, salute. "Yes, Captain. We have prepared a comprehensive demonstration of all major weapon systems, one by one. I trust you will not be disappointed."
Roy nodded, turning to glance over his shoulder. Eryndra waited on his right, calm, watchful, her arms crossed over her dark armor. Warrex, his earlier injuries now fully healed, paced behind them, his eyes gleaming with a familiar, bloodthirsty anticipation. Further down the deck, Lutrian and Father Skeleton strolled up, the latter sporting a garish, bright red baseball cap with the crudely stitched words "I LUV BIG BOOMS".
"Alright," Roy said, raising his voice to carry over the gentle whisper of the wind. "FDR, let's start with something… moderately small."
FDR clacked his metal fingertips together, a showy bit of theatricality he had undoubtedly picked up from Evarran. "Aye, sir. We shall begin with the depth charges."
Within minutes, a team of Presidroids loaded a black, metallic cylinder into a launch tube. The cylinder itself was now covered in intricate, curling runes that glowed with a faint, pulsing inner light. With a casual wave of FDR's hand, the charge was launched, arcing high into the air before plunging into the distant, calm sea. They only had to wait a few heartbeats before a deep, gut-wrenching whump tore through the water, followed by a searing flash of light. The ocean's surface erupted in a colossal geyser, a pillar of churning water that shot easily two hundred feet into the air, its droplets sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight. Warrex let out a fierce, primal roar of approval, banging a massive fist on the railing. Father Skeleton, not to be outdone, cackled with pure, unadulterated glee and hopped from foot to foot.
"Beautiful!" the skeleton rasped, his voice rattling with delight. "Simply magnificent! Imagine fishing with that!"
Another depth charge followed. This time, the spout of water soared even higher, a temporary mountain of seafoam that crashed back down with a thunderous roar that rattled the ship itself. Roy braced himself, blinking saltwater from his eyes as a fine mist washed over the deck. Eryndra shielded her face with her forearm, her expression a mixture of profound fascination and mild, maternal concern. Lutrian simply whispered, "Incredible," as the salty rain pattered down around them.
Roy's gaze dropped to the now-turbulent sea. For a fleeting instant, the explosion had parted the water so cleanly he could glimpse the rocky seabed far below. "That's… quite an upgrade," he murmured, his heart pounding with a mixture of awe and a healthy dose of fear at the sheer, untamed force he had just witnessed.
FDR, his posture radiating pride, beckoned forward a second group of Presidroids. "Now for the main cannons, Captain. We have enhanced every shell with a variety of runic properties. They are ready to fire at your will."
The three massive cannons on the Nightshatter's deck swiveled into position. Even their standard version was intimidating. But now, each turret glowed with shimmering lines of arcane script, the energy swirling around barrels now loaded with shells that seemed to pulse with an inner, magical luminescence. Warrex balled his fists in anticipation, while Lutrian, having learned from previous, ear-splitting demonstrations, quickly and discreetly jammed plugs into his ears.
"Fire!" FDR commanded.
The cannons thundered in perfect, deafening sequence. The shockwave slammed through the deck, a physical blow that shook Roy so fiercely his teeth clacked together, biting his tongue. Streaks of brilliant, incandescent light arced across the sky like miniature comets screaming towards the horizon. Father Skeleton whooped, wrapping his bony arms around Warrex's bicep. Warrex responded with a savage, joyous holler of his own. "Ha—YES! BLOW IT ALL TO HELL!"
Each shell vanished over the horizon. In the ringing silence that followed, Roy realized his ears were throbbing painfully. "Gods. We really need to work on some kind of runic ear protection, or runic sound suppression," he muttered, shaking his head to clear it. Eryndra, looking slightly dazed, just shrugged.
"That's magic I know!" Warrex yelled.
An instant later, a series of far-off explosions rippled the ocean surface, the water foaming and churning in the distance like a boiling cauldron. Warrex pounded the railing in pure, unadulterated glee. Lutrian, his hair disheveled from the blast wave, gave a shaky thumbs-up, his eyes gleaming with a thrill he couldn't quite hide. Roy couldn't help but let a wide, unrestrained smile spread across his face. The power was simply staggering.
Next, they tested the CIWS autocannons. With the new runic synergy, each tracer round now glowed like a streak of molten, otherworldly steel. The moment the guns opened up, the ship vibrated with a rapid, deep-throated, growling hum. The familiar rat-a-tat of the Gatling guns amplified a thousandfold, like an angry thunder god furiously rattling his chains. The tracers whipped across the sky with absurd speed, and each bullet that struck the water's surface produced a sharp, violent flash of superheated steam.
Roy gulped. "If that can punch holes in the waves that easily, I'd hate to imagine what it would do to a sea monster."
"Brutal," Eryndra agreed softly, her lips curving into something that was halfway between a grin and a grimace.
Finally, they turned to the Missile Launchers. A pair of smaller warheads, now bristling with freshly inscribed runic boosters, roared off the rails in swirling, beautiful arcs of shimmering flame. They streaked away from the ship, trailing faint, ethereal ribbons of magical luminescence, then detonated miles out in the open sea. Twin pillars of water and fire shot skyward, an eerie, almost beautiful spectacle against the clear blue sky.
"Serenity," Roy said, raising his voice to be heard over Warrex and Father Skeleton's continued, raucous cheering. "Give me the numbers on that mana drain."
The AI's calm, measured tone filtered in over the ship's intercom: "Approximately zero-point-zero-zero-one percent of your total reserves were consumed, Captain. The runic enhancements have resulted in a remarkably efficient expenditure of power."
Roy let out a low whistle. "That's it? For all that chaos?"
"So what's next, boss?" Warrex asked, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "That's all the big guns, right? Time to head back?"
Roy felt a familiar, mischievous twinge in his gut. "Almost." His gaze drifted to the launch pod that contained the ship's nuclear arsenal. "We… could always try an arcane nuke." The idea, once spoken, seemed to hang in the air, turning several heads.
Silence fell over the deck. Eryndra's eyes narrowed. "Is that truly wise, Roy? This close to Otherrealm?"
He shrugged, the adrenaline still coursing through him. "We're fifteen miles out. A small yield, properly contained… We'd be safe. But you're right, the runic synergy might… well, it might amplify it more than I'd like. The curiosity is killing me, though."
Eryndra inhaled sharply, choosing her words with care. "We shouldn't risk a catastrophic miscalculation with no pressing need. If you want a display of raw power, we've just witnessed plenty."
Roy clenched his jaw, wrestling with the tantalizing temptation. Finally, with a slow, reluctant sigh, he relented. "Fine. You're right. Not this time."
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Roy spotted a jagged, imposing mountain range far on the distant horizon. Something about it, perhaps its unassuming slope or the way it broke the clean line of the sky, snagged his attention. A small, almost predatory grin formed on his face. "Alright, maybe no arcane nuke today. But how about just one little shot from the amped railgun?"
Eryndra groaned softly. "Roy, come on. Didn't we just see enough earth-shattering explosions for one day?"
"Trust me," he said, his eyes gleaming. "This'll be quick." He turned to FDR, who immediately snapped a salute. "Align the railgun with that distant mountain chain. Full runic power."
Serenity's voice interjected, a note of genuine caution in her tone. "Captain, recoil at that power setting could be… intense. It may cause significant structural stress to the ship."
"Do it," Roy said, his voice firm, his decision made. He steeled himself, grabbing the deck railing with both hands. "Everyone, brace!"
A heavy, bone-jarring hum permeated the deck, building rapidly from a low, deep rumble to a high-pitched, keening whine that seemed to vibrate in Roy's very teeth. The runic lines inscribed on the railgun's support structure blazed with a brilliant, almost blinding light. The pattern stretched across the whole ship as the Presidroids placed their hands on the deck.
"Firing in three," FDR called out, his voice sharp and clear. "Two… one… FIRE!"
The railgun erupted. It wasn't a boom; it was a ferocious, silent flash of pure, white-hot energy, crackling arcs of power dancing along the length of the barrel. The entire Nightshatter was thrown backward, skidding across the surface of the sea as if yanked by some giant, unseen hand. The recoil didn't just jolt Roy; it felt like it was trying to rip his skeleton out through his teeth. He slammed against the rail, his vision greying out for a split second, the air driven from his lungs in a single, violent gasp. The deck thundered with a sonic boom so loud his vision blurred.
Off on the distant horizon, a single, blazing streak of light slammed into the mountains. For a split second, there was an eerie, absolute silence. Then, with a low, deep rumble that grew into a deafening roar, half of the entire mountain ridge collapsed inward, sending a colossal plume of dust and shattered stone billowing thousands of feet into the sky. Warrex whooped, his voice raw with disbelief and awe. Lutrian's mouth hung open. Father Skeleton let out a triumphant, rattling cackle. The shockwave roared back across the sea, a physical blow that rattled Roy's skull.
His chest heaving, Roy managed to pry himself off the rail. "Damn," he muttered, his voice hoarse, his entire body trembling. "That was… insane."
Eryndra, her hair windblown, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and reluctant admiration, planted her feet firmly on the deck. "We nearly gave ourselves whiplash that time."
"Totally worth it," Warrex grinned, rubbing a sore shoulder.
Then Father Skeleton, his baseball cap askew, lifted a single, bony finger. "Um… Captain? I do believe… something is moving in all that dust."
They all turned. Through the swirling, grey-brown haze that now completely enveloped the mountain's broken side, a massive white shape shifted, dislodging boulders the size of houses like they were mere pebbles. Even from fifteen miles away, Roy could see the colossal, unidentifiable form trembling, stirring, rising from beneath the fractured, obliterated earth.
A cold, unwelcome chill rolled through him. "What in the world…?"
Warrex hissed softly, his combat instincts prickling. Lutrian looked at Roy, his face a mask of sudden, dawning alarm. Eryndra squared her shoulders, her expression grim. "It seems we woke something up, Captain."
Roy's heart, which had just begun to slow to a normal rhythm, began to thunder anew. "Then we're going to check it out and kill it if it's dangerous." He turned, his own earlier giddiness replaced by a sharp, focused intensity. "FDR, keep the ship on standby. Warrex, you stay here. If something monstrous, something truly world-ending, emerges from that dust cloud, you give the order to blast it back to whatever hell it came from with every one of these new, fancy, city-leveling weapons. Got it?"
Warrex gave a stiff, solemn nod. "Gladly, Captain."
Eryndra was already turning on her heel. "Let's go, then. We'll take the chopper."
Minutes later, the heavy cargo helicopter thumped into the air, its rotors beating a powerful, rhythmic tattoo. Roy, Eryndra, and a small, hand-picked team of Elite Presidroids strapped themselves in, their eyes fixed on the mountain's still-rising, ominous cloud of dust. Father Skeleton stood at the very edge of the flight deck, enthusiastically waving his "I LUV BIG BOOMS" hat as if they were off on some grand, exciting safari.
As they lifted higher into the clear sky, Roy glimpsed the Nightshatter below. Faint, angry-looking scorch marks now streaked the railgun's reinforced housing. Despite the visible strain, the ship itself looked utterly undaunted, the newly inscribed runic lines along its hull glowing with a soft, steady, almost smug light. All the shelling, all the explosions, all the raw, destructive power they had unleashed had barely cost him a fraction of a single percent of his mana. An electrifying, terrifying sense of near-limitless possibility filled him… and a deeper, more profound pang of cold, gnawing worry. If they could now reshape mountains so casually, so thoughtlessly, what other, far more terrible things, could they accidentally unleash upon this unsuspecting world?
He clenched his jaw, his earlier exhilaration now a cold, hard knot in his stomach, and steered his gaze forward. The helicopter banked north, carrying them across the glittering water, towards the dusty, broken, and deeply ominous ridge where something huge, something ancient, and probably something very, very angry, now waited for them beneath the fractured earth. Another unforeseen, and likely catastrophic, consequence of pushing their power to its absolute maximum. Roy refused to let the dawning apprehension show on his face, but inside, he found himself wondering if this time, his insatiable curiosity might finally bite them back in a way that even the mighty, arcane-infused Nightshatter couldn't handle.
He gripped the doorframe, the wind whipping at his clothes. The chopper sped across the water, a tiny, insignificant speck against the vastness of the ocean, heading directly towards whatever sleeping giant they had so foolishly, so carelessly, so gloriously, awoken.