Reborn as a Hated Noble Family, We Start an Industrial Revolution

Chapter 226: Chapter 226: LEVEL 4 — THE CORE (PART 1)

​The ancient elevator plummeted with a screech of grinding metal—Krit... kreet...—the friction of rusted iron forced to work after millennia of silence. The cabin walls vibrated violently, shaking ancient dust from the ceiling. Rianor stood at the front, his fingers resting against the cold, damp elevator wall while his other hand gripped a crystal tablet. His eyes were fixed on the fluctuating numbers on the screen.

​”Hmm, the temperature has climbed eight degrees since we entered,” Rianor murmured, his voice flat but laced with sharp caution. ”And we haven’t even reached the bottom yet.”

​Arvid, standing beside him, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the edge of his grimy robe sleeve. Sret. He regulated his breathing, which was starting to feel heavy. ”The deeper we dive, the closer we get to the earth’s geothermal heart. They must be tapping into that energy to power this entire massive facility.”

​Thorne, in the rear with his twenty infantrymen, remained silent, but his grip on his weapon tightened. He noticed the elevator walls beginning to change; the dull grey concrete was replaced by pitch-black metal panels pulsating with blue veins—the natural glow of minerals reacting to extreme heat.

​”This place... feels increasingly alien,” Thorne whispered.

​”Of course,” Rianor replied without looking back. ”We’re no longer in a mining area or a laboratory. We are directly beneath the city. Deep in the belly of the earth.”

​THUD!

​The elevator stopped with a violent jolt that nearly sent several soldiers tumbling. The metal doors before them slid open slowly, hissing with rising steam—Shhh!—filling the cabin in an instant. Rianor stepped out before the doors were fully open, calmly walking through the fog of vapor.

​His vision was immediately greeted by a suffocating grandeur.

​The Core. The heart of the entire massive Legion project.

​The ceiling was so high that their helmet lights could only touch a vast, dark void. The black metal walls pulsed slowly with a blue glow, resembling giant veins carrying the energy of life. The air was heavy, hot, and thick with the scent of ozone that stung the olfactory nerves. A constant low hum filled the air—not the sound of a machine, but the echo of pure, uninterrupted energy flow.

​And in the center of the room stood a giant, frozen like a statue of death.

​The Annihilator.

​It stood eight meters tall, far surpassing the Juggernaut they had faced before. Its four arms hung static, yet each held a different instrument of destruction. The first arm held a plasma sword glowing with a blue-orange hue—its heat could be felt on the skin from fifty meters away. The second arm was a wide-barreled energy cannon. The third arm ended in a three-bladed metal claw, sharp and strong enough to tear through tank armor. And the fourth arm was a bare hand capable of crushing granite.

​”By the burning flames...” Thorne whispered, his throat bobbing. Gulp.

​Rianor stepped forward slowly, his eyes narrowing at the metallic executioner. ”This isn’t just a guard,” he hissed. ”This is a life-breaker. They placed it here so that not a single soul could ever touch the Core.”

​Arvid approached a panel on the left side, his fingers trembling as he touched the glowing metal surface. He tried to decipher the ancient symbols carved there. ”This is it... the control center. From this point, they control everything—defense, energy, and communication for the entire facility.”

​”And the access key is him,” Rianor pointed toward the Annihilator.

​Thorne immediately gave the signal. The infantry fanned out, forming a loose semi-circle with weapons fully aimed forward. Dom and Khulafa moved quickly, seeking positions on a low platform attached to the wall. Meanwhile, Riven stepped to the very front; his mechanical axe was silent for now, but his fingers were ready on the ignition.

​”No one move yet,” Rianor ordered. ”I need to understand its energy patterns.”

​He walked slowly, observing every inch of the robot’s design. Its hydraulic joints still glistened with thick, ancient lubricant. In the center of its broad chest, behind layers of Adamantite plating, Rianor caught sight of something.

​”A cockpit,” he whispered. ”Just like the Juggernaut, but far more protected.”

​Arvid nodded from a distance. ”The pilot must be buried deep inside. Almost impossible to reach from the outside.”

​”Hah, every machine has a flaw,” chimed in Riven, who was now standing beside Rianor. ”Look at the chest plate. It shifts slightly while idle. Probably to vent heat.”

​”Or maybe it opens when he exerts full power to attack,” Rianor added. ”We need that moment. One shot exactly when that plate opens.”

​”Then who’s going to be the bait?” Thorne asked, his brow furrowed.

​”Me.” Riven smirked, then pulled the lever on his axe. VROOOM!

​The roar of the axe’s engine echoed loudly, bouncing off the metal walls. And exactly as suspected, the executioner awoke.

​The Annihilator moved.

​Its speed was unnatural for something of that size. Its four arms rose simultaneously, its red eyes blazed bright, and a mechanical baritone voice boomed from its internal speakers:

​”DEFENSE SYSTEM ACTIVE. INTRUDERS DETECTED. PROTOCOL ACTIVE: ELIMINATE!”

​”Scatter! Now!” Thorne screamed.

​The Annihilator showed no mercy.

​The plasma sword in its first arm swung down—WHUUSH!—striking the floor exactly where several soldiers had been standing. The metal on the floor melted instantly, creating a puddle of glowing liquid that splashed wildly. One soldier was too slow to react; his foot caught on elevator debris, and before he could rise, the tip of the plasma sword had already pierced his chest.

​There was no scream. Only the hiss of burning flesh and metal—Cshhh!—then his body collapsed, charred in an instant.

​”Eh? Someone’s down!” a soldier shouted, his voice nearly breaking in panic.

​Thorne ran toward the spot, but his steps faltered. He knew the soldier was already gone. ”Stay focused! Don’t let his sacrifice be in vain!”

​Rianor clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. One life gone. And that was just the beginning. ”Dom! Khulafa! To the left! Pressure him!”

​Dom leaped nimbly from platform to platform, followed by Khulafa, who carried a Gauss Rifle. They took positions on a low balcony directly facing the Annihilator’s back.

​However, the Annihilator was no mindless machine.

​The metal claw on its third arm shot toward the balcony. Khulafa, who was aiming, jolted. Sret! The claw tore through his shoulder before he could fully dodge. Fresh blood sprayed, soaking his combat vest. He was thrown backward, his weapon clattering to the floor.

​”KHULAFA!” Dom grabbed his comrade’s body before he could fall from the balcony. ”Your shoulder is torn!”

​”Gulp... I can still... I still have one hand...” Khulafa tried to rise, but his hand trembled violently from the heavy blood loss.

​”Enough! Fall back behind the pillar!” Dom dragged him away. ”Let me finish this!”

​Below, Riven was already locked in combat. His axe clashed with the plasma sword, creating giant fireworks in the darkness. He moved in a zig-zag, dodging energy cannon blasts that shattered the walls. ”Rianor! Hurry! I can’t dance with this monster forever!”

​Rianor was ready. He pulled out a portable Mana Laser—a prototype he had prepared specifically for this moment. He only needed one angle. One opening.

​”Dom! Force him to raise his sword!”

​Dom pulled his trigger. Thung! Thung! Thung! Three consecutive shots hit the Annihilator’s face sensors. The robot let out a mechanical roar, turning its head angrily toward the balcony. And just as it raised its plasma sword high to strike the balcony, its chest plate slid wide open.

​”Now!” Rianor screamed.

​He squeezed the trigger of the Mana Laser. A concentrated blue beam shot out—Nggiiiing!—piercing the hot air and striking exactly into the open chest gap. The Adamantite metal there melted instantly under the concentrated heat. Blue electricity lashed out wildly from the destroyed circuits.

​The Annihilator shuddered violently. Its four arms convulsed. The plasma sword died and fell, its energy cannon exploding from within. It staggered, spinning uncontrollably, and then—

​CRASH!

​The giant fell face-down. Dust and steam enveloped the room. Silence fell instantly, leaving only the sound of ragged breathing from everyone still standing.

​Rianor lowered his weapon, his hands trembling slightly from the adrenaline surge. He walked toward the Annihilator’s cockpit, which was now partially melted.

​”Casualty report!” Rianor’s voice was hoarse.

​”One dead,” Thorne answered heavily. ”Khulafa is severely wounded. Needs medical attention immediately.”

​Rianor nodded, then focused on the gaping cockpit before him. He peered into the cramped, destroyed space. And there...

​It wasn’t just a skeleton.

​An old man, so thin that his skin appeared transparent over his bones, sat embedded there. His body was fused with cables and fluid pipes connecting him directly to the robot’s nervous system. His chest—a real human chest—still moved up and down with great effort.

​”You... you’re still breathing?” Rianor whispered, his eyes widening.

​the old man—The First Subject—slowly opened his dry eyelids. He stared at the faces before him with a vacant gaze, before finally, his cracked lips moved.

​”Are you... humans?” his voice was but a raspy hiss. ”Not... not those traitors?”