The courtyard still smoked from the battle. Sparks hissed in the broken fountain, shadows curling back into silence. Mateo stood in the center, chest rising heavily, the ancient device in his hand glowing faintly like a heart that refused to die.
That was when he heard it again — the sound of boots crunching on rubble. Not the clatter of hybrid claws, not the whisper of winged abominations, but something distinctly human. A figure moved between broken arches, their outline sharp against the flickering glow of neon prayer-graffiti.
"Oi," the voice said, dry and suspicious. "That was loud enough to wake every scavenger within a mile. You planning to get yourself killed, or are you just showing off?"
The speaker stepped forward — a wiry young man clad in scavenger gear patched with scraps of armor and dangling wires. His left eye gleamed faintly with a cybernetic lens, and across his back hung a tattered satchel rattling with metal parts. His hands rested on the strap, ready to swing it like a weapon if needed.
Mateo straightened. "I wasn't showing off." His voice carried calm, the kind of calm born not of arrogance but of certainty. "I was surviving."
The youth snorted. "Same thing, in this city."
For a moment, the two stood in silence, sizing each other up. Mateo, worn from his battle yet steady as a pillar. The scavenger, suspicious but curious, eyes flicking to the glow of the device Mateo carried.
Finally, the youth tilted his head. "That thing you're holding. I've seen people die trying to switch one on. You're either blessed or stupid."
Mateo smiled faintly. "Perhaps both."
Jun — though he had not yet given his name — rummaged in his satchel and pulled out a handful of objects: fractured circuits, shards of glassy crystal, half-burned coils of wire. He crouched by the fountain and laid them out on the stone edge like trophies.
"Let's see," he muttered, more to himself than to Mateo. "Two batteries, one half-dead chip, maybe worth a meal if I can fool someone… and whatever this thing is." He held up a crystal lens the size of a palm, its surface veined with faint blue light.
Mateo's eyes softened. "You found more than scrap."
Jun shot him a sharp glance. "You talk like you know what this junk is."
"I do," Mateo replied. He stepped closer, his gaze falling on the lens. "That is no power cell. It is an Analyzer — crafted by the Choir of Engineers in the early days of the fusion between myth and machine. With it, one can see the truth of an object — whether it carries divine resonance, corrupted energy, or simple technology."
Jun blinked, then gave a scoff. "Yeah, sure. And I suppose this rusty wire is the key to heaven's gate?"
"Mock if you must," Mateo said, his tone unshaken. "But hold the lens to your eye and focus on the fountain."
Reluctantly, Jun did so. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the world shifted. He saw the fountain not as broken stone and sparks, but as a thing layered with residue — prayers etched in invisible fire, energy lines pulsing beneath its surface, corruption clinging at the edges like mold. Jun tore the lens away, his breath caught.
"What—what was that?"
"The truth," Mateo said simply. "Most scavengers sell it for food, never knowing what they held. Knowledge is worth more than coin."
Jun stared at him warily now, a flicker of respect buried beneath suspicion. He pulled another object from his satchel: a shard of shimmering alloy, faintly humming.
Mateo's gaze softened again. "Fragments of the Singing Circuit."
"Sounds like a cheap band name."
"It was once a living hymn-board," Mateo explained. His voice grew reverent, as though speaking of a sacred memory. "In the temples of the old city, these circuits amplified prayer. Words of faith became barriers of light, protecting worshippers from both blade and code. Even broken, they still hum. Press it to your chest, and you will feel its song."
Jun hesitated — then did as told. The shard vibrated faintly against his ribcage, a low, mournful note filling his bones. For a heartbeat, the scavenger's sarcastic mask slipped, replaced by awe.
"...It's real," he whispered.
"Faith leaves an echo that no ruin can silence," Mateo replied.
From his own pack, Mateo drew another relic — a compact device etched with silver glyphs that glowed faintly in the twilight. He set it gently on the fountain edge.
"This is the Beacon of Starlight," he said. "My family kept it safe for generations. It steadies portals when the fabric of time collapses. Without it, travelers are torn apart by the Rupture."
Jun crouched to examine it, his cybernetic lens whirring. "Looks like a busted stabilizer core. You're saying it's… magic?"
"It is both," Mateo corrected. "Science built its frame, but prayer gave it purpose. Without both, it is nothing."
Jun dug again into his satchel and produced a black, pulsing crystal sphere. Its glow was sickly, oily, alive.
Mateo's expression darkened. "Put that down."
Jun frowned. "Why? It's just a relic core. Found it in the bones of some old guardian machine. Powers my lamp just fine."
Mateo's voice sharpened with urgency. "That is a Corrupted Relic Core. It feeds on lifeforce. Every time you use it, it drains you, piece by piece, until you are hollow."
Jun looked doubtful, but when he glanced at the sphere again, his hands trembled slightly. For the first time, fear crossed his face. He shoved it back into the satchel.
"You talk like some old prophet," he muttered, trying to mask his unease.
"Or perhaps," Mateo said softly, "like someone who remembers what others have forgotten."
They walked through the market ruins together now, their steps echoing on fractured stone. Mateo pointed to a row of broken drones tangled in vines. "These were once guardians. They sang psalms while circling the temples. Their wings carried both hymn and flame."
Jun raised a brow. "Now they're scrap."
"Even scrap has memory," Mateo countered. "If you touch their cores, you'll hear a whisper of their last song. But beware — sometimes sorrow lingers longer than praise."
Jun gave him a sidelong glance. "You've got a story for every piece of trash, don't you?"
"Every fragment carries history. You only need eyes to see it."
A sudden gust tore through the street, scattering ash and loose paper. Neon graffiti glowed brighter in the wind, shifting shape like living scripture. Mateo paused, reading the lines.
Jun frowned. "You can read that mess?"
"They are fragments of the Covenant Code," Mateo murmured. "Once, they were prayers encoded into walls, forming protective barriers. Now, they flicker uncontrolled. But even fading light can guide the way."
Jun shook his head, half mocking, half impressed. "You talk like the city's still alive."
"It is," Mateo said firmly. "Every ruin breathes. Every broken thing remembers."
As night deepened, they paused under the cracked shadow of a chapel. Its cross still glowed faintly, electricity pulsing along its edges. Inside, pews lay scattered, but candles still burned — offerings left by unseen survivors.
Mateo knelt, tracing a faint circuit etched into the stone floor. "The ancients built with faith and wire alike. This line here — it would have carried the hymn's power to the altar, amplifying prayer across the district."
Jun leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "And now?"
"Now it carries only silence," Mateo replied. He set the Singing Circuit shard upon the line. The air vibrated faintly, and for a moment, the chapel seemed to breathe. Light flickered across the walls, and a ghostly echo of song trembled through the air.
Jun's eyes widened. "You just—"
"I only reminded it of what it was."
Silence stretched between them again. The ruined chapel felt less like rubble now, more like a place holding its breath.
Jun finally broke the quiet. "So what are you, really? A priest? A scientist? A scavenger with a silver tongue?"
Mateo met his gaze, calm and unwavering. "I am a witness. I carry what knowledge remains, because knowledge is the only map through ruin."
Jun gave a humorless laugh. "A map won't stop claws or teeth."
"No," Mateo agreed. "But wisdom can keep you from walking into their jaws."
A distant howl echoed through the ruins. Both men stiffened. The city stirred again, restless, hungry. Shadows shifted on the walls, and the faint buzz of machines drifted from the undercity.
Jun slung his satchel over his shoulder, muttering curses. "Great. More of them. You've got answers, old man, but can you keep moving?"
Mateo retrieved the Beacon of Starlight and slipped it back into his pack. His eyes shone with steady resolve. "I have walked longer roads than these."
Jun studied him a moment longer, then sighed. "Fine. Stick close, and maybe we'll both make it through the night. Name's Jun."
"Mateo," came the reply.
No handshake passed between them, no oath of trust. But as they moved together into the fractured city, side by side, something unspoken settled between them — a recognition that knowledge and survival would have to walk hand in hand.
And in the silence of the ruined streets, the artifacts in their packs glimmered faintly, as though the city itself had acknowledged a new alliance.