Warlord Conquering (The Great Insurrection Book 3) by David Beers (bill gates book recommendations TXT) 📕

bitch. He had gotten himself into something bad here, and the only way out was to unleash the gigantes.

He gritted his teeth. It was a risk—a big one. The dumb animals would switch sides if they saw this man fight. Nothing Manius had ever done could compare to someone who moved so fast and was so deadly.

Yet if he didn't release them, this killer would carve his way through the fortress. Could he get out, though? That was the question.

As Manius pondered that, he watched as Alistair Kane, former Titan, rose to his feet. Dead nanotech littered the floor, but his body had healed. He moved to the others in his group, all of them weak in Manius' estimation, and helped them up. Even the gigante rose to his huge feet, though he looked worse than the rest. That healing tech had taken it out of the creature.

"No," Manius whispered as understanding dawned on him. He cursed himself for not seeing it earlier; he'd been blinded by his belief in the gigantes’ stupidity. He had never thought such betrayal possible—their minds simply weren't made for it. Kane and his crew were walking toward the gigantes' lair. The killer had come for his friend, but first, he would steal Manius' army.

The decision had been made.

He had to unleash everything, all at once. Every man, every creature. He could not allow Kane to take the gigantes. The whole fortress would fall.

Manius stood and left the room, attendants rushing to his side. He told them what to do. He would lose every man in this fortress before he lost his empire.

Alistair grabbed Caesar, who was worse off than anyone else. Alistair, for his part, felt only tingles where he'd been injured. The giant had no obvious wounds since the insects had healed him as well, but he looked a lot weaker than Alistair.

"Are you okay?" the Fallen Titan asked.

The giant stopped walking and looked at Alistair. He dropped his eyes to his feet after a moment, appearing to think, then answered, "It is like when you lose blood. It weakens the body."

Alistair nodded, understanding. "Can you go on?"

The giant chuckled. It sounded like two metal barrels banging together in the bottom of a well. "You are strong but not very smart, master. I serve. I must go on. I have no choice. I cannot let you go and remain here."

Alistair took a deep breath. "If we survive this little rendezvous with your old pals, I've got a lot of teaching to do." He took his hand off the giant. All he could do was command him to stay here, but he needed the beast. They had survived this far only because of him. "I want you to conserve that nanotech when we start fighting again. You can't use it indiscriminately anymore, not if you want to live."

"Yes, master," the gigante said as he turned to look down the hall.

The lights had been shut off, and the SkinSuits were practically useless now. They'd taken so much damage during the last firefight that the night vision no longer worked. Alistair's hood wouldn't even retract, so he'd used the Whip to cut it off. His eyes could see a bit in this darkness, and it appeared Caesar might be able to as well. Those behind them couldn't, however. Alistair’s Whip and Servia's laser blade provided enough light to keep moving.

Caesar was winding through the corridors, leading them to the next battle. Alistair's senses were on point, and he didn't have time to consider what had happened to him. If he lived, there'd be time.

"Elevator is further down." The giant pointed, then knocked on a door to his right. "Stairs here. Which way?"

"Stairs," Alistair replied.

The group headed into the stairwell, which was also dark. They moved cautiously, but Alistair heard nothing. He didn't understand what was happening or why there was no attack coming. Whoever governed this fortress knew what was occurring, but they were silent.

Alistair kept descending as he spoke. "I think they're pooling their resources. It's the smart move to simply overwhelm us with everything they've got."

Faitrin spoke from the rear. "I’m still owed a lot, and when we get Thoreaux back, I plan on collecting, Pro."

He couldn't see her face, but he heard the mirth in her voice. "If we get Thoreaux back, you can be in charge of this whole damn thing."

"Not what I want, boss," she shot back.

Two more levels down, Alistair froze. What had once been a door was a melted heap on the floor, still holding some of its heat. A still burning Whip lay on top of it, keeping the metal warm. The color told Alistair who owned it, and he scanned the landing area for her.

There she was, lying on the floor with her head turned almost all the way around. Her eyes were open, and her face looked shocked. Hel vi Thraxus was dead. Alistair didn't know who had killed her, but it took great strength to turn her neck a hundred and eighty degrees.

I’ve got to find Thoreaux, Alistair thought, but he had to calm down. He couldn't go searching for Thoreaux yet. He would die and do no one any good, plus they’d lose the gigantes.

Relm walked over to the corpse and spat on it. "Good-fucking-riddance."

"Stay focused," Alistair said. "Caesar, where are the rest of your kind? They behind that door?"

In one motion, Caesar stepped over the melted door. He didn't say anything for a second but stared down the darkened hall. After a moment, he said, "They're not here."

"What was that, broth?" Relm asked. "You're saying your buddies aren't here? The ones we almost died trying to find? Am I hearing you right?"

The giant took a step into the hallway. He shook his head. "They've been moved."

Alistair hopped over the door and stared down the corridor. He could see doors on either side, though they probably led to cages rather than rooms. All of them were open. Caesar wasn't lying, which changed things drastically.