Night fell cold and fast over Blackridge, pulling shadows long across the trenches. The forge still pulsed steadily, but there was a quiet unease threading through the camp—a waiting tension no drills could shake loose.
Riku stood at the southern gate, watching the night patrols rotate. Their footfalls were steady, measured. No one spoke. Even the wind that normally stirred the steam vents was still tonight.
Sira approached from the lower ridge, her face grim. "We found someone near the ash trench. Just outside the last sentry line."
Riku's jaw tightened. "Survivor?"
"Too clean for that. Lone traveler. Drifter gear, but something feels wrong."
He motioned for her to lead the way.
They crossed the southern trench and descended into the ash flats, where the night steam rose thin and sharp. There, beneath the broken spire, sat a lone figure, arms bound behind his back, head bowed. His gear was travel-worn but functional, dusted with volcanic grit.
Riku approached slowly. "Name?"
The man looked up. His face was young, sharp-eyed, but hardened by survival. A faint scar ran across his jawline, half-hidden beneath cracked goggles.
"Call me Hal," the man said, voice rough but steady. "Just a wanderer caught too close to your walls."
Sira folded her arms. "No wanderer gets this close without tripping a dozen of our traps. You walked through the vents like you knew where they were."
Hal gave a faint smile, weary and thin. "Maybe I got lucky."
Riku crouched in front of him. His eyes caught something others might've missed—a faint brand along Hal's collarbone, partially hidden beneath his coat. A jagged forge sigil, burned into the skin.
Nightforge.
So they were probing after all.
"Luck doesn't leave burn marks like that," Riku said coldly.
Hal's smile faded, replaced by a quiet resignation. "Guess you're smarter than the last camp."
Riku stood slowly, weighing his next move. Nightforge hadn't attacked directly. This was a scout, maybe an expendable one, sent to map defenses. But what Hal had seen could be valuable—or dangerous if he escaped.
"Why send you alone?" Riku asked.
Hal shrugged, the motion stiff with the ropes binding his arms. "They don't trust maps. They trust survivors. If I came back alive, they'd know where the weak spots are."
"And what would they give you in return?"
"Another week of breathing," Hal said, voice flat.
Silence stretched between them, thin as a knife's edge.
Kael arrived, his armor half-dusted from the forge. He glanced at the prisoner, then at Riku. "What's the call?"
Riku didn't answer immediately. He looked at Hal, studied him like another piece of the world's broken machinery.
Finally, he spoke. "Cut him loose."
Kael blinked. "You sure?"
"We'll send him back with the wrong story."
Hal's brows rose slightly, surprised but not foolish enough to argue.
Riku leaned in close, his voice low and cold. "Tell Nightforge this place is barely holding together. Tell them we lost half our defenses in the Blood Moon. And tell them if they want the rest, they'll have to come get it themselves."
Hal stared at him, caught between suspicion and relief. Slowly, he nodded.
Sira cut the ropes with a sharp flick of her dagger.
"Head west," Riku ordered. "You've got until dawn before the next patrols stop asking questions."
Hal rose slowly, rubbing his wrists. "Guess I owe you a thanks."
"You owe me nothing. You're already a dead man walking," Riku said quietly.
Without another word, Hal vanished into the mist, footsteps light and fast.
Riku turned back toward Blackridge, the weight of the night heavier than before.
Kael fell into step beside him. "He'll report back. They'll come sooner now."
"I want them to," Riku said. "It's better to know where they strike than wait for the blade in the dark."
That night, as the camp settled back into its uneasy quiet, the forge whispered again.
In the workshop, where the broken sentry drones were still being repaired, a faint pulse of energy flickered through the scrap piles.
By morning, where there had been three working drones, there were six—each fully armed, quietly patrolling the outer trenches.
No one questioned where the extras had come from.
Riku just made a note in his private log and left it at that.
The hunt had already begun.
But this time, they weren't the prey.