Outside the gates of Dornheim stood the "Freak"—the moniker Darwin had gleefully dubbed it. It was a monolith of black iron bound tightly by writhing, living roots, resting precariously on four massive, reinforced wheels.
"Load it up," Iron barked.
Walter and Marek hoisted heavy boulders into the rear bay. Elyria’s roots groaned under the strain, contracting tight beneath the crushing weight. This crude arrangement was their suspension.
Iron sat motionless in his wheelchair, his eyes locked onto the pressure gauges of the magical core. The needles trembled violently. Deep within the iron chassis, the accumulator thrummed with a low, menacing vibration, right at the edge of human audibility.
"Do it, Captain. Punch it."
Walter squeezed into the cramped cabin, his massive shoulders barely fitting between the crude control levers. He threw his weight into the main steel handle, pulling it back.
The machine lurched. A sharp, violent grind of metal tore through the quiet morning air. Then the wheels caught, tearing up massive chunks of turf from the earth. The "Freak" leaped forward ten yards, shuddered to a violent halt, and choked itself out in a thick cloud of foul, bluish smoke.
"Stop! Kill it!" Darwin screamed, sprinting forward with a heavy wrench raised high. "The left axle! It's shearing off!"
He threw himself into the mud, sliding beneath the chassis. The rhythmic, heavy strikes of his hammer echoed through the hollow settlement, waking the rest of the town.
Twenty minutes later, Darwin crawled back out from the underbelly, wiping a streak of black grease across his face with a rag.
"Should hold now. Mostly."
Wayland stepped forward, clad in a heavy travel cloak with a massive greatsword strapped across his back.
"It is time," the Count said, his cold gaze settling on Iron.
"Right. Let's hope your theories hold, Count. Safe travels."
"We will return as swiftly as we can," Wayland promised.
"Good. And don’t forget to try to look for Yan."
"We won't forget," Walter muttered, taking his place in the driver's seat. Wayland climbed in beside him, slamming the heavy iron door shut.
The Captain engaged the lever. This time, the motion was smoother. The mechanical roar reverberated off the bunker walls as the Freak gathered momentum, barreling down the southern trail. A thick curtain of dust hung over the empty road long after they had vanished from sight.
Dornheim fell suddenly, profoundly quiet.
Iron spun his chair around. Standing behind him were Noah and Elyria. They were already at each other's throats; the nature spirit's nostrils flared with rage, while Noah casually cleaned his fingernails with the tip of a short trench knife.
"So," Noah said, tossing a chin toward the gates. "The adults are gone. You're the boss now?"
"I have always been the boss," Iron replied, adjusting the blanket over his useless legs. "Though looking at you two, I expect the town will starve before long."
Elyria whipped around, her eyes flashing a violent, luminescent emerald.
"Tell that to him! Ever since we survived, he acts like he's some vital piece.Tell that to him! Ever since we survived, he acts like he's some vital piece. So high and mighty. I can't take a single step without his running commentary."
"And you need to stop acting like a petulant child," Noah countered, never looking up from his knife. "Your damn roots are everywhere. Yesterday, one of your tendrils crawled into my quarters. Do it again, and I'm using you for kindling. You're getting more annoying by the day."
Iron slammed his palm against the armrest. The heavy thud cut them both off instantly.
"Enough. You two used to work together. What changed?"
"Ask him," Elyria muttered. "He's insufferable."
"Ask her," Noah shot back. "Her childish tantrums are going to rip this town apart at the seams."
Iron let out a slow, heavy sigh.
"Here is how it's going to be," his voice hardened, dropping into a cold, commanding register. "Today, you two are heading into the woods together. The objective is meat. Boars, deer, mutants—I don't care. The town needs rations."
Noah opened his mouth to protest, but Iron slammed the door on it.
"It's an order. And it comes with terms. If you come back empty-handed because you couldn't cooperate, or if I hear a single drop of whining out here in the square... Noah, you lose your tactical training privileges for a week."
"And you, Elyria," Iron's gaze locked onto the spirit. "I will seal the energy nodes in the northern sector. No more loose roots roaming where they shouldn't. You will be confined to a single tree, living like a common garden shrub. Understood?"
His voice softened just a fraction.
"You both want to mend fences; your pride is just too thick to admit it. Now move out and prove you're a team."
Noah spat onto the cobblestones. "Little bastard."
"Gear up. I want you past the perimeter in ten minutes."
"Fine, fine," Noah grumbled, turning toward the tree line.
Elyria stuck her tongue out at Iron before drifting after him. Iron watched their retreating figures, a wry thought crossing his mind: Why the hell do they even listen to me? Still... can't complain if it works.
Deep within the forest, Noah led the way, his steps ghosting over dry twigs without a sound. Twin daggers gleamed with a dull, lethal sheen in his grip. A few paces behind him, Elyria floated silently through the brush.
"You could try to tread lighter," Noah muttered without looking back.
"I am the forest," Elyria hissed, the small leaves woven into her hair rustling with agitation. "You are the intruder here."
They broke into a small clearing. In the center, rooting near a fallen, decaying oak trunk, were three wild tuskers. They were massive monstrosities, their spines armored with jagged bony ridges, their tusks as long as a man's forearm.
Noah dropped into a low crouch, muscles coiling. "I take the flanks. You take the big one in the center."
Elyria narrowed her eyes, the green embers in her gaze flaring. "I don't need your instructions."
Noah exploded forward. He blurred across the undergrowth, his blade tracing a lethal arc toward the first boar's throat—until the earth beneath the beast erupted. A thick, gnarled root tore through the soil.
Instead of impaling the beast, the root simply catapulted it into the air.
Caught entirely off guard, Noah launched directly under the airborne carcass, his shoulder smashing violently into a rotted stump. The boar hit the ground five yards away with a sharp squeal, rolled, and tore off into the thicket.
"Oops." Elyria pressed a dainty hand over her mouth. "My hand slipped. It happens."
Noah rose slowly, a raw scrape from the rough bark marring his cheek. "Slipped? Are you fucking kidding me?"
The second boar immediately charged Elyria on the spot. She raised an arm with serene confidence, the earth trembling as it prepared to unleash a web of choking vines. But before the first shoot could catch the beast's hooves, a dagger whistled past her ear.
The steel sank clean into the boar's eye socket, burying itself up to the hilt. Driven by sheer momentum, the massive carcass plowed through the mud, grinding to a halt mere inches from the spirit’s feet.
Noah stood a short distance away, casually brushing dirt from his sleeve. "Look at that, I 'slipped' too. Was aiming for a tree, but hit your target instead. It happens."
"You...!" Elyria seethed. "That was my kill! I had him!"
"Yeah, and you would've spent thirty minutes suffocating him with your glorified weeds. The town needs meat, not a theatrical performance."
They stood dead-center in the clearing, glares hot enough to incinerate each other. The boar at Elyria's feet gave one final, bloody shudder and went still. The third beast had long since vanished into the deep brush.
"You are utterly insufferable," Elyria hissed. "You posture like a king, but you're just a tedious bore."
"And you're a child. To put it in terms your little green brain can grasp: you're a sapling someone forgot to prune. All noise, no yield."
Suddenly, a sound echoed from the depths of the woods. It wasn't the squeal of a cornered beast or the whistle of the wind. It was a low, guttural growl that sent an instinctual chill down their spines. The dense briars at the edge of the clearing shuddered.
"Mist hounds," Noah said, his tone instantly shifting from petty to dead-serious. His fingers tightened around his remaining blades. "Four. No, five."
Elyria tensed, the emerald aura enveloping her tightening into a dense shield. "I see them. They're flanking us."
Massive, mangy monstrosities with eyes like burning coals slank out into the open. They moved with terrifying synchronicity, weaving a tight perimeter around the pair.
The first hound lunged at Noah. He slipped the strike, but a second beast intercepted his dodge mid-air. Noah managed to snap his blades up in a desperate guard. Before the jaws could snap shut over his face, Elyria whipped her hand through the air—a heavy root tore from the earth, snagged the hound's hind leg, and yanked it violently backward. The opening was all Noah needed; he drove his dagger deep into the beast's throat.
Noah stuck the landing, his chest heaving.
"Don't flatter yourself," he spat, his eyes scanning the brush. "I had it covered. You just looked so pathetic trying to weave a spell that I took pity on you."
"Look who's talking!" Elyria snapped. With a vicious flick of her wrist, she brought two converging tree trunks together, crushing the skull of a third hound instantly. "You were a second away from being turned into kibble. I only saved you because Iron would throw a fit if I brought back a useless corpse instead of livestock. You're a liability."
"Right, of course," Noah grinned darkly, rolling beneath the snapping jaws of a fourth beast. "Less talk, more killing, sprout. Try hitting the wolves next time, not me."
They fought as separate entities, trading venomous barbs and hindering each other's flow, but gradually, the kinetic rhythm of the battle began to fuse. Where Noah exposed his flank, a protective barrier materialized. Where Elyria’s incantations required a precious second of focus, Noah's flashing steel kept the teeth at bay.
What the hell—for every beast they cut down, two more seemed to crawl out of the black depths of the woods.
"There's too many of them, weed!" Noah gasped, his back hitting the rough bark of an ancient pine.
A fresh gash scored his black cloak, revealing pale skin already knitting itself shut beneath a superficial scratch. His hands were a blur, his daggers tracing defensive figure-eights, but the hounds pressed in a relentless pack, choking out his room to maneuver.
Elyria occupied the epicenter of the clearing, ringed by a thrashing hurricane of thorns and roots that batted the leaping monsters out of the air. Her face had gone stark white, her emerald brilliance flickering unsteadily.
"I see them! I'm not blind!" she shrieked, bringing a massive overhead branch crashing down onto a hound that had breached her perimeter. "They're swarming from the south! Must be a nesting ground!"
The pack recoiled to regroup. Five alpha males, scarred and massive, bared their fangs, tensing for a coordinated strike from multiple angles.
"Listen to me," Noah barked, cutting his eyes toward her. "If we don't sync up right now, we are fucking dead. Do you have anything big enough to wipe out the whole clearing?"
Elyria hesitated for a fraction of a second, straining to hold her failing ward.
"Yes. Forest Wrath. The roots will burst from the earth and form a crushing canopy, obliterating everything inside. But I need time. Ten seconds of absolute concentration."
"I'll buy you your ten seconds," Noah said, his voice flat and deadly. "Just don't mess it up. And do not miss."
"I know what I'm doing!" Elyria drew a ragged breath and closed her eyes.
The emerald radiance erupted from her form with blinding intensity; the ground beneath her began to churn as roots wove into a complex, runic mandala. Her protective barrier dissolved completely.
Sensing her vulnerability, the pack charged as one.
Noah met them head-on. He lunged, a flash of steel carving a deep red furrow across the flank of the lead hound. He threw himself into a low roll beneath the next, driving his blade upward into its underbelly.
One. Two. Three.
Three seconds bought. The beasts faltered for a heartbeat, thrown off by his suicidal aggression, before descending upon him with renewed fury.
Four. Five. Six.
Cruel claws ripped across his thigh. Noah hissed through his teeth, stumbling, but kept his footing through sheer force of will. Then a massive hound struck him from behind, driving him face-first into the dirt.
"Elyria, anytime now!" Noah choked out, straining against the suffocating weight of the beast pressing down on his spine.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
Elyria’s eyes snapped open—pools of blinding, unadulterated emerald light. She slammed her palms into the earth.
"WRATH OF THE FOREST!"
Knotted, colossal roots the size of ancient siege engines erupted from the soil, twisting and locking together above the clearing to form a massive, pulsating dome. The air filled with the horrific crunch of splintering bone, the muffled yelps of dying monsters, and the deep, resonant thrum of raw natural magic.
Noah, flung to the periphery of the clearing by the concussive shockwave, lay on his back, chest heaving as he stared at the carnage.
Within a minute, the tempest subsided. The wooden dome receded back into the earth, leaving behind nothing but ruined soil and a mangled heap of dead hounds. Elyria collapsed onto the grass, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her brilliant aura had dwindled to a faint, exhausted glimmer.
Noah slowly stood up, limping toward her on a bleeding leg. He stood over her for a moment before extending a hand.
"Don't get cocky, weed," he muttered, looking away. "I only stepped in because you looked utterly pathetic out here. And... well. Thanks. For hitting the right targets."
Elyria looked up at him, then down at his hand. A faint, crooked smile touched her lips.
"Look who's talking. You were nearly breakfast. I only kept you alive because Iron would be annoyed... well, you know. And... thank you. For buying the time."
The sun was setting, bleeding across the horizon in shades of clotted gore.
Noah trudged along, hauling the massive boar carcass by a makeshift rope fashioned from his ruined cloak. Behind him, Elyria used a lattice of weak roots to drag three of the mist hound carcasses. Noah's face was painted with dried mud and blackened blood; Elyria looked nearly translucent, her life-force reduced to a flickering ember.
Iron was waiting at the gates, ensconced in his fur-lined wheelchair, turning a brass gauge over in his hands.
Noah dropped the boar at the engineer's feet with a heavy, wet thud.
"Your pet weed nearly crushed me under a mountain of logs," he grunted, wiping his hands on his trousers. "Next time, send me alone. She's a bigger hazard than a dozen monsters combined."
"Look who's talking," Elyria sighed, slumping onto the dirt beside the haul. The roots holding the carcasses went slack and died. "If I hadn't intervened, you'd be a sieve. You were only taking stupid risks to show off how fast you are. It was pathetic."
"Pathetic? I was buying you the seconds you needed while you were busy growing your little flowers. Without me, you wouldn't have even raised your arms."
"Yes, yes," she murmured, waving a dismissive hand as she closed her eyes. "Save it for Darwin. He's the one who likes bedtime stories about heroes."
Iron watched them with a practiced, analytical eye. He didn't miss how Noah, despite his vitriol, subtly nudged the boar's carcass closer so Elyria had a place to rest her back. Nor did he miss the thin, glowing vine the spirit had stealthily guided toward Noah's torn thigh. The sprout pulsed with a faint warmth, knitting the jagged claw marks back together.
Children. The both of them, Iron thought.
"You didn't bicker like this before," he observed aloud. "Find some common ground out there in the dark?"
"We just realized we're both intensely irritating," Noah said, pulling a flask from his belt. He took a long swig and extended it to Elyria. She took it without a word, drank, and handed it back. "But she's manageable."
Iron nodded.
"Noah, carry her back to the bunker," Iron commanded. "Then drop the kill at the storehouse. Tomorrow, the real work begins. Wayland is gone, Walter is gone, and our workload just doubled."
Noah didn't argue. He scooped Elyria up, slinging her unceremoniously over his shoulder.
"Don't let it go to your head," he muttered into her ear as they turned toward the threshold. "I'm only carrying you because you look like absolute hell."
"Just move, you 'vital piece'."
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