Ace was fighting on borrowed time.
Imperial boots pounded against the warped floorboards of the cabin, each impact sending dust drifting from the shattered beams overhead. Smoke clung low to the ceiling, stinging whatever passed for Ace's senses. He stood between the soldiers and the hidden entrance, his back nearly pressed against the stone wall that concealed it. Behind that wall were Emily, Tom, and the others. Behind them was Rowan, stubborn to the end, bleeding but alive. Ace would not let the line break.
He could survive what no human could. That was the cruel miracle of it.
Ace no longer had flesh to bruise or bones to splinter. His body was a mutable shell, plates of steel and stone sliding and locking around a glowing Aetherium core embedded in his chest. Pain barely reached him now. Not because the damage was light, but because sensation itself had become distant, muted, like hearing a battle through thick walls.
A Stellan soldier lunged, spear aimed directly at Ace's core. Ace did not bother dodging. He stepped into the thrust, let the spear punch through his torso, metal tearing and grinding as the tip burst out his back. Before the man could even register his success, Ace's sword arm unfolded and swept sideways. The blade cleaved through helmet, skull, and collarbone in one brutal arc. The body collapsed, twitching, still impaled on Ace's chest.
Ace grabbed the spear shaft, ripped it free, and flung it aside. The hole in his torso sealed itself with grinding clicks as fresh plating slid into place.
Another soldier screamed and charged. Ace met him head-on, letting the man hack into his shoulder. The blow sheared off chunks of metal and stone, sparks spraying across the floor. Ace answered by driving his blade straight through the man's abdomen and pinning him to the wall. He left him there, choking and kicking, because there was no time to finish everyone properly.
He fought wrong. He fought like something that did not need to live tomorrow.
Swordsmanship manuals meant nothing to him. He did not guard his neck or his gut. He welcomed strikes that would cripple anyone else, trading pieces of himself for bodies on the floor. If his core remained intact, he could keep going. An arm lost meant nothing. A leg gone was inconvenient, not fatal.
Still, something inside him was wearing down.
Days blurred together in a loop of violence. Attack, repair, attack again. His joints screamed with rust and strain even though he had no muscles to fatigue. His thoughts dragged, heavy and slow. He felt tired in a way that had nothing to do with the body. His consciousness itself felt scraped raw.
Two more soldiers burst through the smoke, blades raised.
Before Ace could meet them, both men jerked violently. Blue light punched through their chests, vaporizing armor and flesh alike. They collapsed into heaps of steaming ruin, the stone pillar behind them scorched black and cracked.
Ace's core flared brighter, pulsing like a relieved heartbeat.
Figures stepped through the ruined doorway.
One wore a tattered imperial uniform, black fabric torn and burned, stained dark with old blood. The other moved with calm authority, clad in a charred coat, his face hidden behind an obsidian visor.
Relief was not something Ace felt often anymore, but if he still had a face, he might have smiled.
The cavalry had arrived.
—
Jake entered the cabin with his spear already moving.
The interior looked like a grave. Half the roof had collapsed, crushing the second floor and spilling beams and splintered wood into the living room. The air was thick with smoke, dust, and the copper stench of blood. Bodies lay everywhere, some intact, others reduced to scorched fragments.
An imperial soldier rushed him from the right. Jake stepped forward and drove his spear straight through the man's eye socket. The tip burst out the back of his skull. Jake wrenched it free and spun.
Marquis did not even slow down. A flick of his hand sent fire crawling over the nearest soldier, flames eating through armor and flesh alike. The man screamed until his lungs gave out.
Another soldier staggered back, clutching a bleeding wound, shouting in the Stellan tongue, "You traitorous bastard! Have you no shame siding with these freaks?"
Marquis turned his visor toward him.
"Did you have shame when you burned Amy alive?" Marquis said calmly. "Did you hesitate when you split Rita in half?"
Lightning slammed into the man, jerking his body off the floor. He hit the ground convulsing, then went still.
Jake was already on the last soldier. The man raised his short sword to block. Jake shifted his grip mid-thrust and slashed instead. The spearhead opened the soldier's throat from ear to jaw. Blood poured down his chest in thick sheets as he collapsed, hands clawing uselessly at his neck.
Jake did not finish him.
Good, he thought. Choke on it.
He turned, breath heavy, and finally really looked at Ace.
His mechanical friend was barely holding together. One leg was gone below the knee, the joint ripped and twisted. His left arm was missing entirely, torn away at the shoulder. Gaping holes punctured his torso and neck, jagged edges still smoking. The Aetherium core in his chest was fully exposed, blazing like a small blue sun.
"How long?" Jake asked quietly. "How long have you been holding them?"
Ace raised what remained of his arm and pointed toward the wall.
Jake ran to the hidden entrance, keyed in the sequence. Stone shifted and slid apart, revealing the stairwell. He took the steps two at a time.
A trembling voice echoed from below. "If you don't back up I'll shoot you, pendejo!"
Jake stopped. His throat tightened.
"Tom," he said. "It's me."
Silence. Then a shaky laugh. "Jake? Oh man… you made it back. Does that mean the others are with you?"
Jake closed his eyes.
"Only Lucy and I," he said after a moment. "And… I need your help."
—
Snow fell quietly over the memorials.
Jake knelt before the two markers, brushing away the thin white layer that had settled on the stone. A week had passed since the expedition. A week of wounds stitched, bodies burned, and silence where laughter used to be.
He had thrown away the imperial uniform the moment he returned. It made his skin crawl. Marquis still wore his, claiming fashion and spite as his reasons.
Jake lifted Luna's battle axe, its edge blackened and chipped, and set it carefully at the base of her memorial. As he wiped away more snow, his fingers froze.
An engraving sat near the bottom. A small heart, carved carefully. A single letter inside.
J.
Jake stared at it. His breath caught, then escaped as a hollow, disbelieving laugh.
"You really had no shame," he whispered.
The laugh broke apart, turning into something ugly and raw. His shoulders shook. Tears spilled freely, soaking into the snow. His chest ached like it was being crushed from the inside out.
"Why didn't I act sooner?" he choked. "Why did I wait?"
He had felt it too. The quiet glances, the unspoken understanding. He told himself there would be time. There was always time.
Now there was only stone and silence.
—
Marquis stood inside the cabin, helmet in his hands, staring at his reflection in the obsidian surface. He barely recognized himself. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken, skin pale as if sickness clung to him. The Emperor had taken everything from him. His people. His future.
He would collect that debt.
A broken sob drifted in from outside.
Rowan moved toward the door, but Marquis stopped him. "I'll handle it."
He stepped onto the patio, the cold biting through his coat. Jake knelt by the memorials, shoulders hunched, grief pouring off him in waves.
Marquis placed a firm hand on Jake's shoulder.
"I can help you take revenge," he said.
Jake did not look up. "How?"
Marquis held out the object in his other hand. A glowing blue crystal, pulsing with restrained power. The wolf's core.
"With this," Marquis said. "It will be dangerous. Integration always is. But if it works, you will be able to use magic."
Jake was silent for a long moment. Then he stood. He set Luna's axe properly in place. He drove Lucas's blade into the frozen ground beside the other memorial.
When he turned back, his eyes were dry. Hard.
"Do it," Jake said. "Whatever it takes."