"I thought you'd be there already!" Jacob's voice came through the radio, distorted with static. The signal had to travel through multiple drone relays due to the extreme distance and terrain, making the interference difficult to ignore. Even so, Solomon could hear the relief in his voice. After Solomon and Katherine's squad tore through the undead ranks with overwhelming force, the undead army had begun pulling back toward the mountain peak, accelerating the pace of the rear forces.
"Want to witness this moment in person, Jacob?" Solomon squinted against the howling snowstorm atop the summit, peering ahead at the dense, shifting horde of undead soldiers. They couldn't truly stop him—but without explosive guns, it would be time-consuming to clear them. Considering ammunition reserves, Solomon pulled out a Fireball Wand, augmented with metamagic techniques and his own aesthetic preferences—the resulting explosions were particularly spectacular.
"I don't mind at all. In fact, I think it's necessary," Jacob replied, his voice becoming clearer after a few crackles. "The Divine Source has changed. I still haven't figured out why. If not for that, I doubt my alchemy alone could've caused this. Or maybe I should just say your alchemical product was a bit unstable?"
"That's the Philosopher's Stone, Jacob. Did you use it to transmute gold?"
"How else do you think this city was built? Refugees don't have gold to gild statues."
"So my product isn't bad, after all," Solomon said with amusement. That meant, eventually, he really might be able to create the fabled Philosopher's Stone—a dream for all alchemists and a ticket to being immortalized across magical history in multiple dimensions.
The battle ahead didn't trouble Solomon. Having faced far greater challenges, he already had his own combat routine. He instructed Katherine and her squad to hold position, then cast Invisibility and Levitation, gliding toward the only access point to the Soul Chamber—a narrow, ancient stone bridge. The undead had established a blockade there: front ranks of shield-bearing swordsmen and pikemen, rear ranks with bows at the ready. Their faces were gaunt, their flesh withered, their veins void of blood. They moved, not by bodily strength, but by the fire of tortured souls constantly burning inside them.
Their tactics were straight out of ancient warfare. Against medieval tech, they might have stood a chance.
Solomon softly chanted a spell. Inky tendrils of shadow surged upward, blocking their retreat. The black ooze extended beneath the soldiers' feet, coiling around the archers in back and squeezing them like puppets. With their formation disrupted, Solomon cast again—slippery oil formed in the middle of their ranks, sending shielded soldiers crashing down like dominos.
Only then did he signal the Sisterhood.
Katherine's squad launched from the open dome of the lecture hall twenty meters below. Their steel wings flared wide. Like meteors, they plunged straight into the front lines of the undead army. These soldiers specialized in close combat. While not averse to ranged firepower, they preferred the satisfying rip of chainsaw swords slicing through flesh and metal.
Especially armored enemies. To Katherine, nothing beat the screech of rotating teeth cleaving through steel and the blood beneath.
Solomon didn't know what had changed in Katherine's alchemy engine, but he welcomed it.
"Make room for Daddy, girls," Solomon said with a grin, raising his hand adorned with the Suspension Ring. A chain lightning spell leapt from undead soldier to soldier, roasting the flesh beneath their metal shells and filling the air with the stench of charred meat.
The undead quickly recognized the true threat. Longspears were raised, and they charged across the bridge toward Solomon and the Sisterhood.
Then came the gunfire.
The undead, like cavalrymen in the age of muskets, collapsed beneath a hail of bullets. The .50 caliber explosive rounds from their guns were louder than pistols, stronger than rifles, and more destructive than either. The bullet design, paired with futuristic propellants, gave them unmatched stopping power and penetration—"penetration" meaning total disintegration. Without powered armor, normal humans couldn't even wield these monstrosities.
Katherine, though, looked displeased. She reluctantly pulled the pistol from her hip and took aim.
A moment later, with a thunderous crack, a stream of blue plasma erupted from her gun. It tore a glowing path through the dense ranks of undead, releasing a cocktail of ozone, molten steel, and seared flesh. She glanced at the heavy guns in her comrades' hands and sighed. Like her preference for chainsaw blades over force blades, this weapon simply didn't make enough noise. As squad leader, she needed something that could break through defenses, something bigger than even an explosive gun.
Thanks to Wakanda's scientific division, their latest plasma weapon had finally reached a stable production phase.
The cyborg girls pushed forward steadily.
Meanwhile, in other parts of the city, slain undead soldiers were reanimating from within the Soul Chamber. They came unarmored, grabbing crude weapons and charging toward Solomon's team. But just as pressure mounted, a new sound pierced the air—engine roar from above the clouds. An assault transport craft screamed upward from the mountain base, executed an impossible maneuver, then dive-bombed the bridge.
Its rear ramp lowered.
A five-woman fireteam dropped out mid-flight, landing with precision and locking into position atop the bridge. Their powered boots magnetized to the stone, servo-motors whirred, and five heavy-caliber explosive miniguns, fed by belt packs, opened fire just as Katherine's squad ran dry.
The resulting metal storm and micro-explosions turned the bridge into a warzone. The roaring gunfire shattered the nearby ice, causing minor avalanches. Even the Divine Source couldn't resurrect corpses fast enough. Soul-forged flesh took time to reconstruct.
When the guns finally fell silent, the bridge held no intact bodies. Severed limbs and mangled armor layered the stonework like a grotesque carpet.
"Ever since you lot showed up, I've felt redundant," Solomon said.
"Please don't say that, Your Majesty. Humans can't be compared to machines," came the soft, filtered voice of Orla through the encrypted comms. Unlike Dana, the first of the artificial girls, Orla's development had not been micromanaged by Solomon. He had only set baseline parameters, allowing for natural variation. Personality, physique—each construct was subtly unique.
Like why Orla needed custom chest armor. No one knew, but her gentleness made her a familiar sight outside Solomon's office. She worked as his aide, coordinating with both Dana and Tita. Even the Witch knew her name.
"All units, activate steel wings. We're entering the Soul Chamber directly. Move fast, don't let those bastards revive again." Solomon smiled. "I'm dying to unwrap my present."
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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