Iron Giant Flying Novels & Stories

And there, winding through the narrow canyon, was the train. The Iron Behemoth. It was massive—twenty cars long, armored in black steel, carrying the glowing red ore that would power the end of the world. "Target acquired!" Vane yelled. "Three hundred feet! Two hundred!" "Level out!" Tristan screamed, pouring power into the lift runes. The ship groaned, the wood flexing dangerously. The descent slowed. They leveled out, skimming just above the canyon walls. They were flying parallel to the train, matching its speed.

Erys whispered. In a small clearing of the trees, there was a majestic griffin preening itself. Its golden feathers shimmered with red iridescence from the Hellish sun. It spread its wings, red and indigo feathers glistening in the light. "It's so beautiful!" Kanna gasped, in awe. "Yeah, now let's eat," Erys grinned, his jagged teeth showing. "Let's get it! Do you have a plan?" "Charge full speed!" "Wait, Dad. You can't fly. What if it takes off?"

It spread its massive wings that were 170ft long each and flew at full speed towards Xara. She channeled mana into one of her blades and a 4 ft tall, fat golem that looked like a Gnome with 4 wings on its back came into being. It flew into the sky, met the 100-meter tall cobra, and punched it right between its eyes. The cobra roared in pain from the impact as it flew in the opposite direction, falling out of the air like a shooting star and crashed into the ground.

I screamed, the sound tearing the lining of my throat until the silver-grey blood began to mix with the rain on my chin. The Alpha didn't use his wings because the real-world gravity wouldn't let the air carry his iron mass. Instead, he used the momentum of his own weight, his charcoal-black body lunging forward like a locomotive that had jumped the tracks. His shoulder hit the chest of the lead enforcer with a dull, wet crunch that sounded like a hammer hitting a sack of raw salt. The man didn't fly backward; his cybernetic chassis collapsed inward, the silver plating along his jaw snapping out of the bone as Dante’s iron fingers closed around the barrel of his anti-material rifle.

The sky was a chaotic tapestry of grey wings and screaming metal. The transport plane, nicknamed "The Black Coffin" by Sterling engineers for its boxy shape and stealth coating, shuddered violently as another gargoyle slammed into the fuselage. These weren't the cute grotesques found on cathedral gutters. These were biological siege weapons bred by the Fenrir Council—creatures of animated granite and ancient sorcery, weighing half a ton each, capable of flying at transonic speeds.

I only had a core. Then the second rod fell. Then the third. The 'Iron Rain' hammered down in a merciless, rhythmic drumbeat from the upper atmosphere. The GBCA bypassed explosives entirely, relying on raw gravity. They dropped pillars of dense metal to bludgeon the city into dust. Every strike sent a tectonic shockwave through my frame, driving me an inch deeper into the obsidian floor.

You'd think I'd be intimidated but meh,I'm flying above them as they run,trapped on the ground by gravity. I also have a bunch of really big rocks obeying commands from my mind over their heads so nope,I'm much scarier.My hands are still up in the air,my giant stones patientiently waiting.With a quick, downward slash of my arms and a cocky smirk,I release them and reign terror on the seekers of my death. Fig you Gargol.

All the Eagles went pale upon seeing a familiar hammer flying out of the hole. “NO!” hundreds screamed, recognizing Mjolnir and the realization once it struck the adamantite. All eyes fell shut. Ping! Nothing happened, no explosion. The giant adamantite didn’t have a scratch on its surface. When the Blood Eagles opened their eyes, Marseille and Deborah passed over them, riding on a flying wheel. All the warriors from the company’s last row had wings sprouted on their backs. They must be the tengu braves. They were about to prevent the two from escaping. The enemies didn’t notice that I got out of the hole and slammed my fist against the ground. The tremor knocked most of them off their feet,

Time didn’t work here the way it was supposed to. And then we heard it. A sound like thunder. Like a mountain learning to walk. We stopped as one. It came again. Closer now. "Tell me that's not—" Spitfire began. It stepped into view from behind the burned out church. The Giant of Kandahar. Easily fifteen feet tall. Skin the color of dried clay. Beard matted with bones and barbed wire. Eyes hollow and burning. It looked like war given form. It turned. Looked at us.

"So we can't fly in, and we can't boat in. How do we get on the rig?" ​"We drop from twenty-five thousand feet," Julian said smoothly, looking at Lyra. "A High-Altitude Low-Opening jump. We glide into the blind spot of her radar array using carbon-fiber wingsuits." ​Lyra’s fingers froze over the keyboard. She looked at the structural model of the offshore platform—a towering web of steel jackets, drilling decks, and high-voltage power lines suspended over a churning, freezing ocean.