Chapter 3: The Vault Road is Paved in Graves
It took me two days to cross the Ash Flats.
I rationed water, moved at night, and slept beneath broken drone-husks that littered the old trade paths like rusted skeletons. Each step closer to Darsuun tightened something in my chest. Not fear. Not doubt.
Anticipation.
The relic spoke less now, as if it was waiting for something. Or someone.
By the second night, I saw the lights—moving, distant, silent. Not fire. Not stars. Surveillance.
I kept moving.
Then came the figure on the ridge.
Cloaked. Still. Watching.
I froze.
Not because I was afraid.
Because I knew... I'd seen her in a vision.
The core vibrated faintly against my chest as I crawled into a crevice between two split stones.
Night had fallen. The dunes were silver under the twin moons, and the cold made my bones ache worse than the hunger.
I watched the ridge where the riders had appeared.
They were still there.
Dark shapes outlined in firelight. Two, maybe three figures. One dismounted. The others scanned the desert.
Looking for me.
I clutched the relic tighter.
"Don't glow," I whispered.
It didn't listen. The pulsing blue light flared once before dimming, like it had a mind of its own.
Or maybe it did.
Maybe I wasn't holding it.
Maybe it was holding me.
"Cognitive lock partially disengaged."
The voice. Again.
Not in the air. In me.
"Restoration in progress… Error: Core memory archive corrupted."
I gritted my teeth. "Stop talking. You'll get me killed."
"Statement registered. Prioritizing silent mode."
A pause. Then silence.
It listened.
The wind hissed softly through the rocks.
Far below the ridge, the desert stretched like a sea of silver, endless and shifting. But something had changed in me.
Before today, I would've hidden, crawled, waited.
Let them pass. Survive.
Now?
Now I was tired of surviving.
I didn't know what I was.
But I knew what they were—scavenger barons. Slave-traders. Ruin jackals.
And I had something they would kill for.
I waited until one broke off from the group, descending the dune on foot. He moved with caution, sweeping the ground with a relic-scanner shaped like a silver bone.
Old world tech. New world stupidity.
I moved as he moved. Quiet. Low.
Then—steel to his throat. My knife, rusted but sharp.
He froze.
"Where'd you get the scanner?" I asked.
He choked out a laugh. "Stole it."
"Honest work."
I slit his belt and pulled the relic off him. The scanner was cracked, but it powered on. Blue glyphs flickered across its surface. I pointed it at the core in my cloak—
It screamed. A sharp whine.
Too loud.
The two riders above shouted. I heard weapons drawn.
Damn it.
I ran. Not toward safety—toward the Dead God's Spine.
They wouldn't follow.
Not into the carcass of a god.
The ruins welcomed me like a broken jaw.
Black spires jutted from the sand like teeth. Ancient cables coiled around them like dead veins.
I ducked into the hollow ribs of the structure, feet slamming against metal that hadn't felt life in millennia.
Behind me, footsteps. Shouts.
Then—
Silence.
I turned. They'd stopped at the edge. Afraid.
Good.
Maybe the stories worked in my favor.
The core pulsed harder now, tugging at me. Like a compass with no north.
I followed it deeper into the ruin.
Hallways twisted. Rusted doors hung open like the mouths of corpses. Symbols flickered faintly on walls—lines of forgotten code etched in glowing dust.
And then I found it.
A console. Dead. Buried under centuries of sand and silence.
But the moment I pulled the core from my cloak—
It lit up.
"Welcome, Delta."
A projection shimmered into view—a map of the world. Shattered continents. Glowing fault lines.
A point blinked at the edge of the screen: Memory Node: Darsuun Vault.
I leaned closer. "Is that where you want me to go?"
"It is where you must go."
"Why?"
"To restore what was lost… and to remember what you destroyed."
My breath caught.
Destroyed?
No. I didn't remember that.
I couldn't have—
But the image shifted again. A face.
My face.
Gold eyes. Burned city behind me.
And a phrase echoed across the metal in a whisper that wasn't mine:
"History didn't forget us. We made it forget."
Something clicked inside the console. A drawer hissed open.
Inside: a data shard. Smooth, black. Pulsing with the same glow as the core.
I reached for it—
And the ruin shook.
An explosion rocked the upper floor. Screams. Boots. Raiders.
They were coming in.
I grabbed the shard, shoved it into the core. It absorbed it like water in a dying throat.
"Neural synchronization increased. Weapon protocols unlocked."
Weapon?
The core shifted—transformed. Lines unfolded. A handle emerged.
It had become a blade.
No, not a sword. Not exactly.
A relic. A tool. A weapon from the forgotten age.
And now… mine.
I turned as the first raider stormed in, blade raised, scream on his lips—
I didn't scream back.
I swung.
Light met flesh.
The relic carved through him like he was made of smoke.
He fell. Silent.
The others paused, eyes wide.
Good.
Let them run.
Or don't.
I was done being prey.
Letha's grip on my shoulder was steady, but her eyes were locked on the ceiling where dust drifted down like snow.
"The Vault isn't safe anymore," she said.
"Was it ever?"
"It was sacred. Until now."
The elevator's hum grew louder. My breath slowed, syncing with the relic's pulse. The blade in my hand felt heavier—as if it knew what was coming.
The chamber lights dimmed as the temperature dropped. Letha whispered, "You ever killed a Null-Knight?"
I shook my head.
"Then stay close. And never let it speak."
"Why?"
"Because it doesn't use words. It uses memory."
The elevator screeched to a halt above. Metal crunched. Boots clanged.
Then it appeared.
A figure in void-black armor stepped out—faceless, silent, its body wrapped in flowing gray strands like smoke frozen in motion. A massive blade hung across its back, humming like static.
> "Identity confirmed. Reclaimer Unit: 7-Delta. Directive: Secure or erase."
I stepped forward.
"Try."
---
The clash was instant.
Steel met relic light. Sparks and pulse-waves exploded in the air.
It was fast—faster than human. But the relic fed my instincts faster still.
I blocked, ducked, countered. Each swing threatened to break me.
Letha shouted from the side. I didn't hear what she said.
The Null-Knight shifted mid-combat, its armor rippling with hidden glyphs. A tendril lashed out—not to strike, but to pierce.
It brushed my shoulder and—
---
Flash.
Another memory.
Me—standing over a child. Blood on my gloves. Screaming alarms. Fire.
*"Protocol overridden. Collateral acceptable."*
---
I roared and swung the relic.
The blade tore through the tendril. The memory vanished. My legs buckled.
> "Synchronization increased. 53%."
The Null-Knight tilted its head. Almost curious.
It didn't bleed.
It didn't fall.
But it took a step back.
And that was enough.
I surged forward—blade meeting armor in a white-hot arc.
There was a crack like thunder.
Then—
Silence.
The Knight collapsed, dissolving into static shards.
Letha stared at me. "You just killed a myth."
"No," I said, panting. "I just survived one."
---
We didn't speak for a long while.
The Vault doors began sealing themselves. Red lights faded to blue. The air returned to silence.
But the damage had been done.
The Vault knew I was awake.
And now the world would know, too.
---
When we climbed out into the night, the desert felt… different.
Alive.
In the distance, lights blinked in the sky. Not stars. Not fires.
Signals.
Someone—something—was watching again.
I turned to Letha. "We need to move."
She nodded. "Where?"
I looked down at the relic blade. A new symbol had etched itself onto the hilt. One I remembered from the projection.
A location.
A city long believed to be legend.
> "We head to Echelon Prime."