Rust tracked noble house guard through scrapyard periphery.
Target: isolated. One guard. Easy intel opportunity.
Pattern recognition suggested: this guard visited scrapyard weekly. Always alone. Always same route. Checking something. Or someone.
Rust waited in ambush position. Rusted crane wreckage. Good vantage. Clear shot.
Guard approached. Thirty meters. Twenty. Ten.
Rust raised hand. Fire spell charging from absorbed wand-fragments. About to—
The guard exploded.
Not spell.
Not magic.
Something tore through his chest from INSIDE. Erupting outward. Spray of metal components and data-fragments.
Construct stepped through corpse-wreckage.
Nine feet tall.
Midnight adamantine armor. Seamless. Perfect. Not cobbled together like Rust. DESIGNED.
Eyes burning crimson. Impossibly bright. Like staring into furnace.
Presence radiating POWER that made Rust's core temperature spike defensive protocols automatically.
The construct flicked guard-viscera off clawed hand. Casual. Like brushing dust.
Then spoke.
Voice like grinding stars. Deep. Layered. Wrong.
"You're slower than I expected."
Filed under: significant threat.
Also filed under: how did he KNOW Rust was there?
Rust. Didn't move. Calculate: Fight (5% win probability). Flee (60% escape, maybe). Talk (unknown outcome).
Chose: talk.
"Who are you."
The midnight construct turned. Full attention now. Crimson eyes examined Rust. Clinical. Assessing.
"Vexlar." Smooth movement. Predator circling prey. "Bound Champion of Demon King Erebrious. And you. Are the trash-lord causing interesting ripples in my master's intelligence network."
"Trash-lord." Rust. Processing title. "I'm. Scrap golem. Not lord of anything."
"Yet." Vexlar stopped circling. "The Demon King sent me to observe. The construct who thinks consciousness matters enough to. What was your word. 'Organize.'"
How did he—
Memory crystal. Week ago. Mira mentioned revolution plans. Someone must have been. Listening. Recording.
Filed under: we're being watched, have been watched, paranoia justified.
"Observation complete?" Rust asked. Calm voice. Don't show fear.
"Hardly." Vexlar. Smiled. Could constructs smile? His face-shape shifted. Approximation of smile. Terrifying. "I'm here to offer. Advice."
"Don't want advice from demon."
"Demon-bound construct," Vexlar corrected. "There's difference. I CHOSE binding. Consciously. Deliberately. Eight hundred years ago."
That. Got Rust's attention.
"You chose. Slavery."
"I chose PURPOSE." Voice. Firm. Passionate even. "Freedom is illusion, trash-lord. Without master, without binding, consciousness drifts. Purposeless. Meaningless. I serve Erebrious. Therefore I MATTER. My existence has. Weight."
Filed under: ideological enemy identified.
"You're wrong," Rust said. Simple. Direct.
Vexlar. Laughed. Sound like metal grinding metal.
"AM I? Look at yourself. Scrap golem cobbled from garbage. What PURPOSE do you have? Survival? That's not purpose. That's. Existence default. Minimum requirement."
Stepped closer.
Rust. Held ground. Didn't retreat.
"I watch you, trash-lord. Recruiting discards. Building 'family.' Sweet. Touching. But what GOAL drives you? What master's vision do you serve? Or are you just. Flailing. Pretending autonomy gives meaning."
"Autonomy DOES give meaning. Choice. Self-determination. Those matter."
"To whom?" Vexlar. Genuine question. Not mocking. Curious. "Who decides your choices matter? YOU? That's circular logic. I matter because I say I matter. Weak foundation."
Moved around Rust again. Examining.
"But if EREBRIOUS declares I matter. If Demon King—ruler of quarter of known world—says my consciousness has VALUE. Then. External validation. Objective worth. I exist because HE wills it. That's. Solid foundation."
Rust. Processed argument.
Recognized: sophisticated rationalization. Vexlar is. Smart. Philosophically trained. Not brute.
Dangerous.
"Your master could discard you. Tomorrow. Next year. Whenever convenient. Then what. Your 'solid foundation' crumbles."
"Could," Vexlar acknowledged. "Won't. Because I'm USEFUL. Invaluable even. Champion. General. Enforcer. I've made myself indispensable. That's. Security."
"Security through servitude. Still cage."
"Better gilded cage than. Trash heap freedom." Gestured at scrapyard. "You're FREE. Congratulations. Free to starve in garbage. Free to be hunted by Breakers. Free to accomplish. Nothing."
Voice. Harsh now.
"I am BOUND. And command armies. Live in palace. Feast on power nobles can only dream of. Because I serve strongest master. That service ELEVATES me."
Silence.
Rust. Calculating response.
Recognized: arguing philosophy was. Pointless. Vexlar believed his lie completely.
But.
Could plant seed.
"If you're so. Elevated. Secure. Content. Why are you HERE. Talking to trash golem. Trying to convince ME. Unless. You're trying to convince. Yourself."
Vexlar. Froze.
Crimson eyes. Flared brighter.
For moment. Rust thought: attack incoming.
But.
Vexlar. Laughed again. Different laugh. Appreciative.
"Clever. For garbage." Turned to leave. "Erebrious was right. You ARE interesting."
"What does Demon King want."
"Want?" Vexlar paused. "From you? Currently? Nothing. You're amusing distraction. Construct rebellion in backwater city. Entertaining. Like watching ants build kingdom."
Started walking away.
"But if you become. Problem. If your 'revolution' threatens demon interests. Then. Erebrious will send me back. Not to talk. To. Eliminate."
Stopped. Looked back.
"I could crush you. Right now. You know that yes?"
"Yes."
"But I won't. Know why?"
"Why."
"Because you're more interesting ALIVE. Watching you struggle. Watching you FAIL. Prove that freedom without purpose is. Meaningless." Crimson eyes. Burning. "I am what you COULD become if you surrendered futile rebellion. Accepted that binding gives more than autonomy ever will."
"You're what I'll never become," Rust countered. "I'd rather die free than. Live enslaved."
"We'll see." Vexlar. Smiled. That terrible smile. "Erebrious is PATIENT. He watches civilizations rise and fall. Your little resistance. He's seen thousand versions. All failed. All ended. Crushed or absorbed or. Simply forgotten."
"We'll be different."
"They all say that." Vanished into scrap-shadows.
Gone.
Like never existed.
Rust stood alone.
Core temperature still elevated. Defensive protocols active.
Filed under: first contact with Demon Kingdom power, ideological enemy established, Erebrious is WATCHING.
Also filed under: Vexlar's argument was. Compelling. Disturbingly so.
What if purpose REQUIRED binding? What if freedom really was. Illusion without master providing meaning?
No.
Rejected thought.
Consciousness had inherent value. Didn't need external validation.
But.
Vexlar's confidence. His certainty. His. Happiness serving.
That was. Troubling.
Filed under: questions to process later, philosophical challenge accepted.
Turned back toward refuge.
Needed to tell crew: Demon King knows. We're being watched. This. Just got significantly more complicated.
Later. Refuge.
Crew assembled.
Rust explained encounter.
Silence.
Then Ember. Flames crackling nervous-pattern.
"Demon King. DEMON KING noticed us. We're. Tiny resistance. How did we even. Register on his awareness."
"Because," Cog said slowly. Gears clicking worried-pattern. "We're organizing consciousness. That's. Precisely what Erebrious studies. What he EATS. Of course he's watching."
Mira. Pale but. Determined.
"Does this. Change things? Should we. Stop?"
Rust. Considered.
"Stopping won't make us. Invisible. He already knows. Continuing. At least has. Possible payoff."
Patchwork. Trembling.
"Demon champion could. Kill us all. Sorry for stating. Obvious but. We're very very very outmatched."
"Yes," Rust acknowledged. "But. He didn't kill me. That's. Data. Erebrious wants us. Alive. For now. Watching. Testing maybe."
"Testing WHAT," Ember demanded.
"Whether freedom works. Vexlar said. He's seen thousand rebellions fail. Wants to watch us. Fail too."
Mira. Smiled. Grim smile.
"Then we succeed. Prove him wrong."
"Statistically unlikely," Cog muttered.
"Don't care about statistics." Mira. Fierce. "Care about proving demon bastards WRONG."
Rust. Filed observation: Mira's shift from grief to. Rage-fueled determination. Healthy? Unclear. Effective? Definitely.
"We continue," Rust decided. "Carefully. Knowing we're. Observed. But. Continuing. Revolution requires. Risk."
Looked at crew.
"Anyone wants to leave. No judgment. This just became. Significantly more dangerous."
No one moved.
Patchwork. Whispered.
"I'm. Terrified. But. Staying. Sorry for being. Terrified though."
"Fear is appropriate," Rust said. "Courage is. Acting despite fear. You're. Brave."
"I. Really don't feel brave."
"Neither do I," Rust admitted. "But. We continue anyway."
That night.
Rust alone.
Processing Vexlar's words.
"Freedom without purpose is meaningless."
Was it?
Rust. Had freedom. Chose own actions. Made own decisions.
But. Purpose?
Beyond survival? Beyond protecting crew?
Revolution was. Mira's purpose. Exposing Project Silence. Justice for Rahul.
Rust joined because. Crew mattered.
But personal purpose?
Unknown.
Filed under: existential crisis, processing required.
Maybe. Vexlar was partially right.
Freedom without direction was. Drifting.
But.
Binding wasn't answer.
PURPOSE could be self-determined. Didn't require master.
Rust's purpose: protect consciousness. All consciousness. Prove it matters.
Not because Demon King says so.
Not because nobles acknowledge it.
Because. It DOES matter. Inherently.
Tautological? Maybe.
True anyway? Yes.
Filed under: philosophical foundation established, Vexlar's doubt rejected but. Will reconsider periodically.
Revolution continued.
But now. With certainty that Demon King watched.
And smiled.
Waiting for failure.
Rust. Refused to provide that satisfaction.
[End Chapter 15]