Chapter 51: The Ashen Maw
The subterranean temple reeked of sulfur and old blood.
Below us, the high priest raised his jagged purple crystal staff, preparing to condemn the terrified factory worker to the starving juvenile Slag-Crawlers in the pit.
The chanting of the cultists reached a fever pitch.
They thought they were the predators in the dark.
It was time to correct that misconception.
I did not waste time with a grand entrance or a heroic speech. I engaged the pneumatic valves in my left shoulder. The heavy brass plates of my Vanguard Arm hissed softly.
Hssssssss.
Steam pressure flooded the internal chambers.
I looked around the ledge and spotted a discarded, rusted iron gear the size of a wagon wheel lying in the muck.
I grabbed it with my mechanical hand.
CLANG!
The brass fingers dented the solid iron upon impact.
I hoisted it up, feeling the immense weight vanish under the sheer power of the [Kinetic Charge].
