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76.36% Borderlands: Conquest / Chapter 42: Chapter 42: Hail on Pandora

บท 42: Chapter 42: Hail on Pandora

The morning light filtered through the large windows of the command centre, casting long shadows over the steel walls of Ironhold. Alexander stood before the vast holographic map that illuminated the room, his piercing eyes fixed on the flickering representation of the nearby planets. His thoughts, however, were elsewhere. He could feel Angel's absence, a subtle emptiness left by her departure to Athens.

She had insisted on going alone, her newfound strength and vision driving her to save the Siren she had sensed. Alexander had tried to dissuade her, to keep her close, but Angel had always possessed a fire that even he could not quench. She had promised to return, her soft words laced with the confidence that had always caught him off guard.

And now, with her gone, he had to turn his focus elsewhere—to the looming threat that had been slowly creeping toward them.

Vladoff.

For weeks, he had sensed the tension growing between his Imperium and the Vladoff forces. Their attack on Igneous had been a clear provocation, a challenge to his authority. Xion's death had lit a fuse within him, a quiet rage simmering beneath his calm exterior. Yet, he had attempted to remain diplomatic, seeking to communicate with the Vladoff leadership.

But diplomacy, it seemed, was not something Vladoff valued.

"Felicity, open a direct line to Vladoff's command centre," Alexander ordered, his voice sharp as he turned away from the holographic display.

The artificial intelligence flickered into existence beside him, her form shifting as she processed the command. "Opening the channel, sir. You should know that their recent movements suggest they're preparing for something. I advise caution."

"I don't need your advice," Alexander said, his tone cold but not unkind. "Just get me a connection."

The air in the command centre grew still as Felicity worked, the silence only broken by the hum of the machines around them. After a few moments, the holographic display shifted, revealing a static-filled image of a Vladoff officer. The man's face was hard, his uniform marked with the insignia of their military, and his cold smile sent a chill through the room.

"Ah, Alexander of the Imperium," the Vladoff officer sneered, his Russian accent thick and dripping with sarcasm. "How nice of you to reach out. I was just about to send you a little message."

Alexander's eyes narrowed. "This is your last chance to explain yourselves. Your attack on Igneous was a mistake, one that you cannot afford. Cease your operations and we may be able to avoid a larger conflict."

The officer chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "Oh, I don't think so. You see, we're not interested in negotiations. We're interested in conquest. And you… you're in our way."

Alexander clenched his fist, his patience wearing thin. "This will be your undoing."

The officer's grin widened, his eyes glinting with malice. "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure, Alexander. In fact, I have a little surprise for you."

Before Alexander could respond, the transmission cut out, the hologram flickering back to the map of the galaxy. Felicity's voice echoed in the silence, a note of urgency in her usually calm tone.

"Sir, I'm detecting multiple inbound signatures. Vladoff ships—they've launched a planetary assault on Ironhold."

Alexander's blood ran cold, his mind immediately calculating the implications. Ironhold, his fortress, the heart of his Imperium's operations, was under attack. He turned sharply to the command centre's main console, his fingers flying over the controls as he activated the city's defence systems.

"Prepare all units for immediate combat. Felicity, I want every drone, every soldier, mobilized now," Alexander ordered, his voice steely with determination.

As the alarm bells began to blare throughout the hive city, Alexander's mind raced. Ironhold was vast, a sprawling metropolis that housed millions of civilians alongside his military forces. The Vladoff assault wouldn't just be an attack on his power—it would be a massacre if he didn't act quickly.

Felicity's voice cut through his thoughts. "They've breached the lower sectors, deploying Iron Bears. Civilian casualties are already climbing."

Alexander's eyes darkened, his hand clenching into a fist. "Deploy the vanguard to the lower levels. I'll handle the Iron Bears myself."

Without another word, he left the command centre, his long cloak sweeping behind him as he made his way toward the battlefield. His spear, the artifact that had shown him the future, pulsed in his grip, its weight a familiar comfort as he prepared for the coming fight.

The streets of Ironhold were chaos. Smoke billowed from the lower levels of the hive city, the sound of gunfire and explosions echoing through the air. Civilians ran in every direction, their faces twisted in fear as they sought shelter from the Vladoff forces.

Alexander moved through the city with purpose, his presence commanding and unshakable. As he reached the front lines, his soldiers stood at attention, their weapons trained on the advancing Iron Bears—massive, hulking machines of war that tore through the city's defenses with ease.

But Alexander was not afraid. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned flames from the ether, his pyromancy burning brightly as he launched a wave of fire toward the nearest Iron Bear. The flames engulfed the machine, its metal exterior glowing red-hot as it struggled to continue its assault.

With a leap, Alexander closed the distance, his spear driving into the weakened armour of the Iron Bear. The artifact hummed with power, amplifying his strength as he tore the machine apart piece by piece. In moments, the hulking beast lay in ruins at his feet.

The battle raged like a storm. The deafening roars of Vladoff's Iron Bears echoed through the lower streets of Ironhold, their heavy footfalls shaking the very foundations of the hive city. Alexander's boots thudded against the steel walkways as he moved with inhuman speed, his body a blur of motion. Ahead of him, the towering forms of the Iron Bears loomed, hulking war machines that looked more like walking fortresses than soldiers.

They tore through the city's defences with brutal efficiency, massive Gatling cannons on each arm spitting hot lead and plasma at anything that moved. Civilians screamed in terror as buildings crumbled beneath the relentless assault. The scent of burning metal and flesh mingled with the acrid smoke that choked the air. 

Alexander narrowed his eyes, taking in the carnage. The Iron Bears were advancing faster than expected, pushing deeper into the heart of Ironhold, where his command centre lay. His soldiers were giving their all, but they were hopelessly outgunned.

His gaze locked onto one of the towering machines—an Iron Bear bristling with heavy weaponry, its shoulder-mounted rocket launchers glowing with the unmistakable heat of primed ordnance. In a few short seconds, it would fire upon a group of his soldiers pinned behind a crumbling wall.

With a surge of power, Alexander extended his hand toward the massive war machine, his fingers crackling with energy. Flames erupted from the tips of his fingers, a swirling vortex of heat and destruction that tore through the air with a deafening roar. The fire wrapped around the Iron Bear's thick armour like a ravenous serpent, the metal hissing and glowing red as it began to melt under the intense heat.

The machine groaned, its limbs faltering as Alexander pushed forward, his spear held aloft. He dashed toward the hulking monstrosity, flames dancing along the length of his spear, which glowed with the energy of the artifact. As he closed the distance, the Iron Bear raised one of its massive arms to swat him away like an insect. The shadow of the mechanical limb loomed over Alexander, but he was ready.

With a swift motion, he leapt into the air, his body twisting gracefully as he narrowly avoided the crushing blow. His spear pierced the weakened joint between the machine's shoulder and chest plate, sending a pulse of energy through its circuits. The Iron Bear shuddered violently, sparks flying from its cracked armour as its systems overloaded. 

It collapsed to the ground with a resounding crash, the weight of the machine shaking the earth as it fell. But there was no time to rest. Another Iron Bear—a behemoth nearly twice the size of the first—was advancing, its twin plasma cannons glowing as it prepared to unleash a deadly barrage.

Alexander landed lightly on the scorched ground, eyes narrowing as the enormous war machine lumbered toward him. The Vladoff soldiers that followed the Iron Bears swarmed the streets, clad in heavy armour, their rifles barking out rapid bursts of gunfire that shredded through the city's defences. His soldiers, many of them young recruits, were struggling to hold the line.

With a wave of his hand, Alexander sent a blazing wall of fire roaring across the battlefield, cutting off the advancing infantry. The Vladoff soldiers scrambled back, their armor glowing white-hot as the firestorm lashed at them. Some were engulfed completely, their screams lost in the crackling inferno.

But the Iron Bear wasn't deterred. Its plasma cannons hummed with lethal energy, and in the blink of an eye, it fired. Two blinding orbs of blue-white plasma streaked toward Alexander, tearing through the air with a deadly hiss. 

With a grunt, Alexander thrust his spear into the ground, a barrier of energy erupting from its tip. The plasma collided with the shield in a dazzling explosion of light and heat, the force of the impact sending shockwaves through the city. Buildings crumbled in the wake of the explosion, their supports buckling under the intense force. 

The shield held, but barely. Alexander felt the strain in his arms as he maintained the barrier, the heat from the plasma scorching the air around him. His cloak whipped violently in the shockwave, and sweat beaded on his forehead, but he stood firm, unmoving, his face a mask of cold determination.

As the light from the explosion faded, the Iron Bear reared back, its cannons smoking. The machine took a single step forward, preparing to fire again—but Alexander was faster. 

With a powerful thrust, he hurled his spear toward the Iron Bear, his artifact glowing with fierce energy. The spear cut through the air like a bolt of lightning, striking the machine square in its chest. A massive explosion rocked the battlefield as the spear detonated, unleashing a surge of raw power that ripped through the Iron Bear's armored hull. The war machine staggered, its systems failing as electricity arced across its metal frame.

Then, with a final, groaning creak, the Iron Bear toppled backward, crashing into a nearby building and sending plumes of dust and debris into the air.

Alexander didn't waste a moment. He recalled his spear with a flick of his wrist, the weapon materializing in his hand once more as he strode forward. The Vladoff soldiers still standing faltered, their advance slowing as they saw their monstrous machines reduced to scrap.

But the fight was far from over. A sudden rumbling beneath the ground caught Alexander's attention. The earth trembled beneath his feet, and before he could react, a section of the street collapsed, a massive drill-like contraption emerging from the depths.

It was another Vladoff war machine, this one a subterranean vehicle designed to breach cities from below. The drill spun violently as it tore through the steel foundations of Ironhold, sending chunks of debris flying in all directions. From the breach, more Vladoff soldiers poured out, heavily armoured shock troops armed with heavy weaponry.

Alexander's lips pressed into a thin line. This was more than an assault—it was a calculated invasion, and they had caught him unprepared. 

The shock troops raised their weapons, targeting the remaining civilians who had been too slow to escape the lower levels. Panic filled the air as people scattered, their terrified cries mingling with the cacophony of war. 

Alexander's grip tightened on his spear. His soldiers were overwhelmed, and the city's defences were crumbling under relentless pressure. He couldn't be everywhere at once.

But he could make a stand here.

With a deep breath, Alexander's body crackled with energy, his power building until the air around him hummed with tension. His flames, once controlled and precise, now roared to life in a massive inferno, swirling around him like a living entity. The Vladoff soldiers hesitated, their weapons faltering as they watched in awe.

In a single, decisive movement, Alexander raised his spear to the sky. The flames surged upward, forming a towering pillar of fire that illuminated the entire city. For a brief moment, it was as if the sun had risen within the heart of Ironhold.

Then, with a wave of his hand, Alexander unleashed the inferno upon the Vladoff forces.

The flames cascaded down like a tidal wave, engulfing the advancing soldiers and their war machines in a sea of fire. Metal melted, and the screams of the dying filled the air as the heat consumed everything in its path. The shock troops, once so confident, were reduced to ashes before they could even raise their weapons.

The drill-like vehicle screeched as its metal frame buckled under the intense heat, its engines failing as the firestorm tore through its systems. Within moments, it was little more than a smoking heap of slag, buried beneath the rubble it had created.

The battlefield grew silent, the only sound the crackling of flames as the last remnants of the Vladoff invasion force burned away.

Alexander stood in the centre of the destruction, his chest heaving with exertion. His soldiers, battered but alive, gathered around him, their eyes wide with awe at the display of power. But Alexander's mind was elsewhere, already calculating the next steps.

He had won this battle, but the cost had been high. The Vladoff forces had penetrated deep into Ironhold, and civilian casualties were in the thousands. His city had been ravaged, its defences shattered, and its people left in mourning.

As the fires began to die down, a small sound caught his attention. He turned, his eyes narrowing as he saw a figure emerge from the shadows—a young girl, no older than ten, her face streaked with dirt and tears. She stood alone amidst the wreckage, her eyes wide with fear as she looked up at him.


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