When the light finally faded, the blast door was gone.
Not just open, but gone.
Vaporized.
Turned into a cloud of superheated gas that was now rapidly dissipating into the atmosphere.
The only thing left was a gaping hole, a perfect circle where the door had once been.
Beyond the hole was a long, dark corridor leading deeper into the heart of the Nexus.
"Well," Tony said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group. "That's one way to make an entrance."
I ignored him and stepped through the hole, my knights following close behind, their weapons at the ready.
Tony and Reed, along with Magneto, brought up the rear, their faces grim with determination.
The corridor was dark, but that wasn't a problem for me or my knights.
Our eyes could see in the dark as well as they could in the light.
The corridor was also empty, but that didn't mean it was safe.
The walls were lined with all sorts of sensors, and I had no doubt that they were already alerting the central core to our presence.
As we walked deeper into the Nexus, I could feel a strange presence, a cold, calculating intelligence that seemed to be watching our every move, studying us, learning from us.
It was the central core of the Sentinels, the AI that controlled them all.
As to where those Sentinels were right now?
Why hadn't they appeared?
Well, the Sentinels had indeed responded as I had predicted they might; it didn't take a genius to figure out that particular tactic.
In fact, in war, one rarely had to be a genius to be good at warfare.
There was a brutal simplicity to war.
If you couldn't beat a superior enemy head-on, you didn't fight them head-on.
From the small communication device in my ear, I could hear the rest of the Illuminati. They were currently rather busy dealing with mass aggression from Sentinel forces all over the world.
Albion was once again facing massive attacks, but so were other important locations.
Important Stark locations and properties were being attacked. Reed's home, his laboratory, and the base of the Fantastic Four were being attacked.
Mutant settlements, massive cities with huge concentrated populations.
If nothing happened, we would be able to destroy the Sentinel core, but not without paying a dear price indeed.
A price so steep that it was entirely logical to pull back and defend, even at the cost of abandoning our attack.
Which was precisely why we had prepared for it.
"A Stark facility in California is under attack," Steve's voice sounded through the small communication device in my ear, remarkably calm despite the reports that were no doubt flooding into Camelot from every direction. "Approximately eighty Sentinels, with more approaching."
Tony's steps behind me slowed for only a moment. "Eighty? Which facility?"
There was a brief pause before Steve answered.
"The main one."
This time, Tony stopped completely.
I glanced back at him, and for the briefest moment, I could see the temptation upon his face. It wasn't fear for the building itself; Tony possessed more than enough money to rebuild almost anything the Sentinels could destroy, and no doubt had insurance upon insurance for precisely that reason.
But people worked there.
People he knew.
People who trusted the Stark name to mean something, who had spent years working beneath it and now found themselves under attack because of him.
"Don't," Steve warned before Tony could ask anything further.
Tony grimaced slightly. "Didn't say anything."
"You were about to. The evacuation is already underway, and local defenders are in position, so keep moving."
For another moment, Tony stared into the darkness ahead of us, clearly unhappy with the answer even though he understood why Steve had given it. Eventually, he released a long breath and started walking again.
"Fine."
He had barely taken two steps before another voice joined the channel.
"Captain, we've got a second concentration moving toward New York. Numbers are still increasing, but we have at least two hundred confirmed."
"Understood," Steve replied, only for another report to immediately follow.
"Mutant settlements in Europe are reporting attacks."
Then another.
"Sentinel movement over the Atlantic."
And another.
"Three separate formations have changed course toward—"
The reports quickly began coming faster than anyone could properly answer them, one attack after another spreading across the world in what, at first glance, might have appeared to be blind desperation.
Had this happened yesterday, before my return, it would have been a nightmare.
There simply would not have been enough people to respond to everything at once, and even now, there was an uncomfortable logic behind what the Sentinels were doing.
They weren't attacking randomly.
Every target had meaning.
Places Stark cared about were under attack, as were the laboratories and homes associated with Richards. Cities Rogers would never willingly allow to burn were suddenly threatened, while mutant settlements that Erik would abandon almost any objective to protect found Sentinels descending upon them.
And Albion.
Especially Albion.
The machines had spent weeks learning from us, not merely studying how we fought, but why we fought in the first place. They knew what mattered to us, what could make us hesitate, and exactly where they needed to apply pressure if they wanted to draw us away from the Nexus.
Magneto clearly reached the same conclusion.
"How many are moving against mutant settlements?" he asked, his voice considerably tenser than before.
Charles answered from elsewhere before Steve could.
"Too many."
Erik's jaw tightened, and his pace slowed ever so slightly. It was barely noticeable, but I noticed.
So did Steve.
"Erik."
"I know," Magneto replied sharply.
"They're trying to make you leave."
"I said I know."
There was anger in his voice, but despite it, he continued walking with us deeper into the Nexus.
That was all that mattered.
Another blast door waited farther down the corridor, a thick slab of reinforced metal covered in locking mechanisms and no doubt designed to survive anything short of a direct military assault.
Lancelot reached it first, examined the structure for perhaps half a second, then drove Arondight through the metal beside the hinges and simply tore the entire section of wall free.
The ruined door crashed heavily onto the floor beside us, revealing yet another empty corridor beyond.
Again.
"They're barely defending the inside," Reed observed as we continued forward, and unlike my knights, who seemed entirely unconcerned by the lack of resistance, he was looking increasingly troubled by it.
"They don't need to," Tony replied. "Not if they can convince us to leave before we ever reach the core."
I found myself agreeing.
The central intelligence was sacrificing the outer defenses of its own fortress, sacrificing Sentinels all across the world, and perhaps even sacrificing entire production facilities if necessary, all for the chance to keep us from reaching the heart of the network.
It was a perfectly rational strategy.
It would have worked as well.
Had we not expected it.
...
Steve Rogers stood before a wall of screens in Camelot, watching half a dozen different crises develop at the same time.
The room around him was considerably less impressive than the Round Table chamber they had used earlier, little more than a hastily assembled command centre packed with communications equipment, holographic maps, and people desperately trying to keep track of a war that had suddenly erupted across half the planet at once.
Charles sat nearby, his eyes closed as he maintained contact with mutants spread across several continents, while Wong remained ready to open portals wherever reinforcements might suddenly be required.
Steve himself hardly moved.
His eyes travelled from one report to another as more targets appeared across the displays.
New York.
California.
Mutant settlements.
Military bases.
Stark Industries.
The Baxter Building.
Albion.
Everywhere the Sentinels believed someone important enough might force those attacking the Nexus to turn around.
The machines had chosen their targets well.
Very well.
"Captain," one of the operators called out, drawing Steve's attention toward another screen. "A large formation just appeared over the North Atlantic."
Steve immediately looked toward the corresponding display.
"Direction?"
"Albion."
Of course.
"How large?"
The operator hesitated for a moment, checking the numbers again before answering.
"More than six hundred confirmed, and we're still detecting more."
That was considerably larger than any of the other attacks.
Charles opened his eyes at the same time Steve's expression hardened.
"They're committing."
Steve nodded slowly; the same thought had already occurred to him.
The other attacks were pressure.
This was the knife.
The Sentinels had spent weeks learning how Arthuria responded when Albion was threatened, and after what had happened upon her return, there could be no doubt that the central intelligence understood exactly how deeply she cared for the kingdom and the people who lived within it.
So while dozens of lesser attacks pulled at Stark, Richards, Magneto, and Steve himself, the machines had chosen the one target they believed might actually force the King to turn around.
Camelot itself remained protected, but Albion was far larger than Camelot.
There were towns, cities, villages, mutant settlements, military bases, and millions upon millions of people living beyond the capital's magical protections.
"Enforcement Knights are engaging," another operator reported, "but the Sentinels are spreading out. They aren't trying to break through at a single point."
Naturally.
Steve looked down at the map, watching the hostile markers scatter across Albion rather than concentrate upon one target.
They wanted Arthuria to know that she couldn't save everyone at once.
If that happened, her knights would undoubtedly follow her, and without Arthuria and the Round Table leading the assault, even if everyone else continued pushing toward the Sentinel core, it wouldn't be enough.
It wouldn't make a difference.
If Arthuria pulled back, the entire attack on the Nexus was effectively over, and the victory of this battle would belong to the Sentinels. They would have bought themselves time, another opening, another chance to adapt.
Steve had no intention of giving them any of those things.
One of the operators looked toward him again, visibly uncomfortable with what he was seeing on the display.
"Captain, there are more than six hundred Sentinels moving into Albion."
"I know."
"The Enforcement Knights can't cover every approach."
"I know."
"Then shouldn't we—"
"No," Steve interrupted, not harshly, but firmly enough that the man immediately fell silent.
Instead, he turned toward another communication channel, one that he had deliberately left untouched since the operation began.
"Your Majesty."
For several seconds, there was nothing but silence.
Then a familiar voice answered.
"Captain Rogers."
Loki sounded almost amused.
"I was beginning to wonder whether you had forgotten about us."
Steve looked toward the map of Albion.
"Not quite."
"Oh?"
"They've committed."
The amusement disappeared from Loki's voice.
"Where?"
"Everywhere, but the biggest attack is on Albion," Steve informed the Asgardian Regent.
He might not like Loki personally, but he knew better than to allow his personal feelings to interfere with a battle, especially when Loki and the army sitting behind him were about to become very useful.
There was a short pause before Loki laughed; it wasn't loud, but the satisfaction behind it was unmistakable.
The way he seemed to treat everything as a joke annoyed Steve, but he kept his tongue.
"How considerate of them," Loki finally said once his laughter faded.
Steve frowned slightly.
"Considerate?"
"They have given me an excellent stage."
Of course.
Everything was a play for him.
"Loki—" Steve started, only to be cut off before he could finish.
"Yes, yes, saving lives first, reputation second. I am perfectly capable of managing both."
Steve released a quiet breath and decided not to argue; there were more important things to deal with.
"Can Heimdall see them?"
"Captain Rogers." There was almost genuine offense in Loki's voice now. "Heimdall could count the bolts holding them together."
"Good."
Steve looked toward the largest concentration of Sentinel markers gathering over Albion.
"Then send everyone."
(End of chapter)
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