Jake's head hung low as he stared at the splintered wooden planks beneath his boots. The wagon groaned softly with every bump in the dirt road, its age apparent in the way each board complained under even the slightest shift of weight. Leaning against the seat to his right was his spear, Tom's handiwork, its metal faintly gleaming whenever moonlight slipped through the canvas covering.
It had been roughly three hours since they had left the village behind.
The captain, now confirmed to be an Imperial captain, had informed them in his maddeningly casual tone that it would take until morning to reach the base they would be stationed at. No explanation beyond that. No reassurance either.
"They really cheaped out on us, didn't they?" Luna muttered, picking absently at a brownish stain on the dirty white cloth lining the inside of the wagon. She pinched it between her fingers, grimaced, and wiped her hand on her pants. "For a magic wielding captain, I kind of expected something more. Cushions. Enchantments. Anything."
Jake snorted quietly. "At least we're not walking."
"That's a low bar," she shot back.
There were only two Imperial soldiers riding up front, both silent, their armor clinking softly as the wagon swayed. No escort. No banners. If Jake did not know better, he would have thought this was some back alley mercenary transport rather than an Imperial operation.
"The things pulling the wagon are pretty cool though," Jake added, glancing forward.
The constructs hauling them along looked vaguely horse shaped from a distance, but up close the illusion shattered. They were hollow metallic shells, jointed and angular, with exposed seams and plates riveted together like armor. At their centers, visible through narrow slits in their chests, floated single Aetherium crystals glowing softly with pale blue light.
They did not breathe. They did not snort. They did not tire.
They moved with mechanical precision, hooves striking the dirt in perfect rhythm.
"They're creepy," Luna said. "But yeah. Kind of cool."
Jake watched them carefully. He had noticed something unsettling the longer they traveled.
They did not react to danger.
If a branch scraped against their sides, they did not flinch. If a rock cracked beneath their hooves, they did not adjust. If something were to strike their core hard enough to shatter the crystal, they would simply stop.
Ace came to mind.
Jake swallowed. Ace was not just metal. He was not just durable. He was aware. Sentient. Whatever his gift had done to him, it had not stripped him of himself.
Ace was not just nigh immortal.
He was nigh immortal and still alive.
Jake's thoughts were interrupted by voices drifting back from the front of the wagon.
"Do you know why the captain dragged us all the way out to some backwater countryside village?" one of the soldiers muttered. "What's that troublemaker up to this time?"
"Careful," the other replied. "Don't say that around Amy. She'll kick your ass."
Jake blinked.
Troublemaker. Amy. Captain.
He was glad he had put effort into learning the Stellan language. Even fragments like this told him more than official briefings ever would. The captain clearly had a reputation, and Amy, whoever she was, sounded close.
Before Jake could think further, the wagon jolted violently.
Wood cracked.
Metal screeched.
"Ah, shit!" one of the soldiers shouted. "I broke the goddamn wheel!"
"You idiot!" the other barked. "Go tell the captain!"
Moments later, one of the soldiers appeared at the back of the wagon, pulling aside the canvas.
"It appears we've been sabotaged," he said flatly. "Likely an ambush. What should we do, captain?"
The captain glanced over his shoulder at the four beyonders, then shrugged.
"I suppose we should all get down and stretch our legs."
He stepped out first, one hand resting casually on the hilt of his sabre.
Lucas followed immediately, blade already drawn, his expression sharp and focused. Lucy was next, calmly stepping down with what looked like a bizarre revolver in hand. Long barreled, bulky, and unmistakably not Imperial standard.
"Well," Luna whispered as she grabbed her sword, "guess it's time to kill someone."
Jake sighed, tightening his grip on his spear as he hopped down after them.
Night had fully settled in. The forest around them was eerily quiet. No rustling bushes. No snapping twigs. Just the soft hum of Aetherium crystals and the distant chirping of insects.
Too quiet.
One of the soldiers glanced at Lucy's revolver, his helmeted head tilting slightly. "Is that some sort of crossbow?"
"In a way," Lucy replied calmly. "It just doesn't shoot bolts. It fires compressed Aetherium energy."
Jake already knew how it worked. Tom had explained it in detail, probably more detail than necessary. The revolver's cylinder was replaced by a reinforced glass capsule containing a floating blue Aetherium crystal, suspended by two thin arcs of ethereal energy connecting it to the hammer and barrel.
"Mind firing it?" the soldier asked. "Anywhere's fine."
Jake smirked internally. Clever. Either they learned how it worked, or they scared the ambushers into revealing themselves.
What the soldier did not realize was that Lucy could see them already.
Lucy stepped forward, lifting the revolver and aiming into a distant cluster of bushes. She pulled back the hammer. The crystal vibrated violently, light intensifying.
She pulled the trigger.
The crystal flashed.
A streak of blue tore through the air, obliterating leaves and branches. A heartbeat later, a body tumbled out of the bush and hit the ground with a wet thud.
Chaos erupted.
Figures burst from the forest on all sides, weapons flashing in the moonlight.
Jake barely had time to react before a thin dagger streaked toward his chest.
He twisted aside just in time, coming face to face with a hooded, slender figure, female judging by her build. Her eyes burned with focus.
Jake lunged, thrusting his spear toward her chest.
She sidestepped instantly.
He was ready.
The thrust turned into a sweeping slash, the spear's tip slicing across her shoulder. Blood sprayed. She did not scream.
Instead, she grabbed the shaft near the blade and yanked.
Jake stumbled forward.
The dagger flashed upward toward his skull.
He jerked his head aside, feeling air brush his cheek, and drove his left fist into her ribs. He followed with a sharp side kick, creating distance.
Before she could recover, Jake thrust again.
The spear pierced her chest cleanly.
She gasped, choking as blood bubbled at her lips. She collapsed, clawing weakly at the wound.
Jake did not hesitate.
He wrenched the dagger from her hand and drove it straight through her throat.
Her body went still. Her eyes dulled.
"It was me or you," Jake murmured, pulling the blade free. "I'm not cruel enough to let you suffer."
He tucked the dagger into his waistband and looked around.
The fight was already over.
Luna stood over a fallen brute, chest heaving, her sword dripping crimson. Lucas and Lucy were unscathed.
Smoke filled the air.
Jake turned to see the captain holding a ball of fire inches from another cultist's face.
"Tell me who sent you," the captain said calmly.
The figure reached for his sword.
The fire surged forward.
The man's head burned away in an instant.
The captain knelt, rifling through the corpse until he found a silver necklace bearing a scale.
"Cultists," he muttered. "Disgusting."
He stood. "Search them. Keep what's useful. Bring me the rest."
Jake found a letter in the woman's satchel and skimmed it, his blood running cold.
He handed it to the captain without a word.
The captain nodded once.
Later, Jake rested a hand on Luna's shoulder. "You okay?"
"I think so," she said quietly.
"I'll be here if you need me."
She smiled weakly. "Thanks."
Back in the wagon, Jake leaned his spear where it had been.
"I suggest you sleep," the captain said casually. "It will be a while."
Jake did not argue.
As the wagon creaked forward once more, he closed his eyes, knowing one thing for certain.
Whatever the captain was planning, it was not sanctioned.
And Jake was already far too deep to turn back.