Steam leaked from Johnathan's safety valves in ragged puffs, each exhale carrying the scent of scorched metal and exhaustion. If locomotives could limp, he'd be dragging his drive wheels. The SYSTEM's damage reports scrolled like a morbid ticker tape: [PRESSURE VESSEL INTEGRITY: 58%... MAIN ROD BEARING(S) E-3 TO E-5 FAILING...]. He tried to broadcast reassurance, but his telepathy sputtered static—the mental equivalent of a steam whistle with bronchitis.
"We won't hurt you Mr. Engineer, we swear on the Three Full Sky Faces of Ranul."
I had no idea who 'Ranul' was, or what their 'Three Full Sky Faces' were, but okay.
"It's fine, really, I just need to rest a bit." Johnathan lied, his telepathy still as clear as if he was talking normally. A rivet popped somewhere near his firebox with a sound like a champagne cork fired from a potato gun—not a great sign, but at least it wasn't anything vital. The fox-child sniffed at his leaking steam valve, her tiny nose wrinkling at the acrid tang of overheating metal.
The sword-girl crossed her arms, armor creaking louder than Johnathan's overtaxed suspension springs. "Engineer-san, this is no time for modesty!"
"M-mrs. Kengo," the fox kid asked meekly, hih so sword-girl last name was Kengo, huh, "He did just save us, so..." She tugged at Kengo's armored sleeve, ears flattening. "Maybe he's shy?"
Johnathan's pressure valves wheezed in protest—if he'd had lungs, they'd be burning. Rivets pinged loose from his overtaxed frame, ricocheting off cavern walls like poorly-maintained coupling pins.
[NO MORE DAMAGE ACCUMULATING; BEGINNING SELF REPAIR: 1% COMPLETE]
The SYSTEM's notification pulsed in Jonathan's vision like a faulty semaphore signal. Rivets reseated themselves with tiny *pings*, hissing steam seals knitting back together as if some unseen workshop crew toiled inside his iron bones. The sword-girl—Kengo—knelt beside his tender, her calloused fingers tracing the fresh weld lines materializing across his frame. "Incredible," she murmured, breath fogging against his still-glowing flanges. "What kind of artisan are you dear Engineer-san? I have never sean a locomotive like this in my entire life—"
Jonathan's boiler clenched. If trains could sweat, he'd be drenching his own brake shoes right now. Kengo's fingers traced the fresh weld-lines along his tender with the reverence of a museum curator—which would've been flattering if she weren't inches from discovering his cab's haunting emptiness.
"Well then if you won't come out we might as well do introductions, I am Kishi Kengo."
The fox-child bounced excitedly, her tail wagging with enough energy to power Johnathan's dynamo. "A-And I'm Inuka, age six-and-three-quarters!"
The twitchy mage slumped forward with a groan, his rune-covered arms trembling as he weakly introduced himself, "I am Dansei, house of Majutsu."
"I am Johnathan Gresley," he broadcasted through the whistle's mournful echo—*toot* *toooot*—each puff translating into words that materialized like steam calligraphy above his smokestack. Kengo blinked at the floating letters, her sword-arm twitching toward this newest impossibility. Inuka's tiny paws clapped together with delight, her fox-ears perking up. Dansei just groaned louder, his nosebleed dripping onto Johnathan's coal hatch like crimson lacquer.
Johnathan's drive wheels creaked as he shifted his weight—*just play along*—while phantom sparks danced along his couplers. "Apologies for the... unconventional transport," his telepathy rumbled, the words vibrating through their bootsoles like idling pistons. Kengo's gauntleted fingers flexed around her hilt, her gaze darting between his empty cab and the still-glowing letters. "Your craftsmanship is... remarkable, Engineer Gresley." The unspoken *where are you* hung between them like uncoupled freight cars.
Inuka scampered up his running board, her claws *tink-tink-tinking* against his rivets. "Mr. Engineer's voice is *shiny!*" she declared, pressing her cheek against his boiler casing. Dansei's bloodshot eyes tracked the steam-words with academic fascination. "Telekinetic inscription via vaporized coal particulates... fascinating..." His trembling fingers sketched runes in the frost coating Johnathan's brake cylinders.
The cavern's bioluminescence pulsed in time with Johnathan's stuttering pressure gauge—*glow* *fade* *glow*—casting Kengo's skepticism into stark relief. Her armored boot tapped the gravel in a rhythm that matched his overtaxed pistons. "Gresley-san," she began, her tone sharper than her sword's edge, "exactly *where* is your cab's access hatch?"
Johnathan's whistle emitted a nervous puff that crystallized midair—the steam equivalent of sweating bullets. [SYSTEM ALERT: IMPROVISATION REQUIRED]. He shifted his tender slightly, the movement scattering coal dust across Dansei's already ruined robes. "Specialized... safety protocol," his telepathy stammered, the words vibrating through Inuka's tiny paws as she clung to his buffer beam. "Triple-reinforced bulkhead doors. Can't risk... unauthorized entry."
Dansei's bloody fingers paused mid-rune. "But maintenance access—"
"Automated," Johnathan interrupted via a particularly aggressive steam blast that sent coal dust swirling into geometric patterns resembling technical schematics. The twitchy mage squinted at the floating particulate blueprints—close enough to legitimate engineering documents to sow doubt.
Kengo's sword tip inched toward Johnathan's smokebox latch. "And your fireman?"
"I do that too." His coupling rods groaned as he nudged Inuka gently aside with his buffer beam—just enough to obscure the gaping emptiness behind his smokebox door. The bioluminescent fungi pulsed faster, their eerie glow catching the steam-words he projected onto the cavern ceiling: *Firebox automation requires precise stoichiometric ratios.* Dansei's rune-covered fingers twitched toward his own temples, smearing frozen blood across his forehead as he muttered calculations about coal combustion efficiency.
A stalactite shattered somewhere in the cavern's depths—*clang*—the sound ricocheting between ice formations like a loose piston pin in a condemned engine's final moments. Kengo's blade flashed silver as she pivoted toward the noise, her armored boot crushing a phosphorescent mushroom into bioluminescent paste.
Johnathan's SYSTEM flared: [CREATURE DETECTED: FROSTWYRM LARVA. THREAT LEVEL: 2; PREVIOUS UNDEAD THREAT LEVEL 1]
"Hide in the carriages, now."
Johnathan's words materialized as a sharp puff of steam—visible urgency crystallizing in the frozen air. The three exchanged glances before scrambling into his passenger carriages just as the first icicle-rattle of chitin echoed through the cavern.
The Frostwyrm larva emerged in stuttering segments—each articulated plate screeching like unoiled axle bearings—its segmented body pulsing with inner luminescence that made Johnathan's pressure gauge needles twitch erratically. Kengo's sword tip scraped against the carriage window as she strained to see past the condensation, her breath fogging the glass in rapid bursts.
Johnathan's boiler clenched. No way this overclocked locomotive shell was surviving round two without his passengers catching on. The Frostwyrm larva's mandibles scraped against his buffer beam with a sound like nails on a chalkboard—if chalkboards were made of frozen souls and bad life choices. His SYSTEM helpfully updated: [THREAT ANALYSIS: FROSTWYRM LARVA. WEAKNESS: THERMAL SHOCK.].
Okay, I had no idea how to initiate thermal shock.
But maybe one of the members of the trio did.
"Do any of you have ice or fire powers or something similar, it's this frostwyrm's weakness?" Johnathan's steam-letters swirled above his smokestack, distorted by the larva's freezing exhalations. Inuka squeaked as her breath crystallized midair—tiny snowflakes that clinked against Johnathan's boiler like shrapnel.
"That will do!" Johnathan's whistle shrieked—half battle cry, half steam-kettle impersonation—as the Frostwyrm larva recoiled from the sudden heatwave rippling off his boiler. His drive wheels screeched against phantom tracks, throwing sparks that illuminated the cavern like a derailed firework show.
"Kengo! The weak point's between segments seven and eight!" Johnathan's telepathic shout materialized as steam-formed arrows pointing at the Frostwyrm's chitinous plating—where glowing blue ichor pulsed beneath translucent armor. Kengo vaulted from the carriage window, her blade trailing frost crystals as she pirouetted midair like a runaway coupling pin.
The larva's mandibles snapped shut centimeters from her greaves with a *CLANG* that echoed through the cavern like a shunt buffer collision. Kengo twisted midair—her blade carving a silver arc through the bioluminescent mist—before plunging straight into the pulsing weakness Johnathan had marked. Ichor fountained in a geyser of frozen viscera, splattering across his smokebox door with a *hiss* that sent steam plumes spiraling toward the cavern ceiling. [QUEST PROGRESS: 120/1,000].
Wait, Frostwrym's counted as three regular undead kills kills?! Johnathan's pistons stuttered in disbelief as the SYSTEM pinged notifications faster than an overworked stationmaster's telegraph—[DIFFICULTY IN KILLING = HIGHER TALLY ON TARGET!]
Oh, that made sense, the only reason the undead were as dangerous as they were was because there were so many if them. Frostwyrms were more dangerous individually but could be killed much easier if hit in their weakpoints.
Kengo flipped backward as the larva thrashed, her blade still embedded in its segmented plating. She landed gracefully on Johnathan's buffer beam—her armored boots scraping grooves into the frost-rimed metal—just as the creature's death throes sent a wave of freezing ichor splattering across his wheels. Johnathan's whistle screeched in protest as the subzero fluid flash-froze his suspension springs, the SYSTEM blaring [WARNING: AXLE BEARINGS LOCKING—23% MOBILITY REDUCTION].
"Kengo, grab your sword and hold on tight!" Johnathan's steam-formed words swirled violently as he engaged his sanding gear—spraying grit beneath frozen wheels with a sound like a thousand coffee grinders screaming in unison. The Frostwyrm's carcass slid sideways, its segmented body scraping against his tender as Kengo wrenched her blade free in a shower of crystallized viscera. The SYSTEM cheerfully updated: [QUEST PROGRESS: 123/1,000].
Dansei's bloodstained fingers flickered with dying embers of mana—just enough to melt the Frostwyrm ichor freezing Johnathan's axles into brittle restraints. The twitchy mage collapsed against the locomotive's buffer beam, hissing through clenched teeth as residual frost patterns spiderwebbed across his sleeve. "T-temporary measure," he stammered, breath crystallizing in the cavern's subzero air. Johnathan's SYSTEM parsed the diagnostics with grinding precision: [AXLE BEARING(S) D-7 THROUGH D-12: OPERATIONAL AT 67% EFFICIENCY... RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE LUBRICATION].
Kengo wiped her sword on the Frostwyrm's still-twitching antenna, her boots crunching frozen viscera like gravel under slow-moving freight. "Engineer Gresley-san," she began, her breath misting against Johnathan's warped smokebox door, "your tactical markings were... unusually precise for a likely civilian." The unspoken accusation clattered between them like a loose coupling pin.
Johnathan's pistons hitched—if locomotives could gulp, he'd be swallowing a mouthful of coal dust right about now.