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What is left of the Keys will die, Jack will die, Jack is dying, Mitra may die. The latter stood with his hands lying on the city reactor’s control panel having rigged it to detonate.
“Will this be freedom?” The android inquired to himself, his voice softening out as his breaths shallowed out by the second. “I’ll die… and that will be the end of it all. I won’t be around to know I’m gone. I won’t be here to know what freedoms I could have had.” The second synthetic being approached the android impaled through the chest on a jutting spike of steel.
Jack gave a hoarse cough. “A lot of innocent people you’re going to kill, Mitra.”
Mitra shook his head, shrugged lightly, and responded in his lower, robotic voice. “I'm definitely going to kill you , number. And I already told you I don’t care about your understanding.”
“I don’t even think you know, Mitra. You’re mad and you want revenge. But look outside. All the warring gangs at each other's throats killing without direction or any idea of what they’re working toward beyond some vague notion of justice, righteousness, and putting their anger where it belongs. But all that blood being spilled doesn't change or fix anything.” Jack winced, the movement from his speech causing a larger tear from the spike into his lungs. “It’s a cycle of death, Mitra. Nothing more. No amount of killing will make you feel any more complete. I know because-” He let out something between a groan and yell, a rogue electrical spike to his brain striking forth with his worsening wound. Metal on metal, Mitra rested his palm on the other’s throat, feeling each weak breath. His voice shook as he uttered his words.
“Stop talking. I… hate you. I hate you so fucking much…” His hand rested on one of his sheathed twin combat knives, he lifted it above the other android’s neck before returning his palm. Jack coughed, then sighed, with burden, directing the code of his brain to put out one last radio broadcast as he spoke.
“This is… Ghostrunner Jack of the Climbers… signing off…” And his head fell to the floor adjacent to a large window. He could gaze upon the rumbling Dharma City.
“Damn number…” Mitra looked at the reactor as its core of exposed, falling plasma erratically shifted from turquoise to white, falling strand of light by falling strand of light. He moved toward the elevator shaft with swift paces and peered down its length. The top floor where he stood: Point A. The ground where he needed to be: Point B. Mitra bolted to the window, leaping in the air and through the glass, dropping into the free, bright air. “Need to get to the bunker…!” He spun around and, as he fell, dug his twin daggers into the building’s shaking walls. His descent slowed until he thrust his legs to jump at a second building, a third, and a fourth. Daggers dragging through the steel and cement surfaces, he reached the street and sprinted away from the reactor.
Jack’s internal speaker crackled and sparked with each word.
“You… were right, Saul. A severed head stays conscious for a few seconds after decapitation. But I guess, with my brain being electrical, maybe I can hold on… a little longer… The radio connection. It cut just now, didn’t it…?” Jack gazed through the glass. “The Climbers… Zoe, Adrian, Kira, Saul… I’m sorry… I couldn’t beat Mitra.” The golden lights of his faceplate dimmed by the moment. “Rahu..? Are you still with me?” He waited. “No response? Your connection got cut off, too, just now, didn’t it? Maybe your consciousness got pulled forever… You’ll never get to live out your future in Cybervoid, and I’m sorry for that.” He let out a long, weary, automated breath he did not need his lungs for. “You were right, too, Rahu. There are different kinds of freedoms. I had the freedom to choose to help all of you fight back against Mara. Against the Architect, Asura, Scions… I had the freedom to take this fight.” The illumination was all but extinguished. “At least now… I’ll be free in death.” The dying light saw a figure through the glass, perched upon a nearby rooftop—a steel being, familiar yet unprecedented, its eyes locked on his faceplate. “No more killing… No more missions… No… more…” No more light.
The ground below began to split from itself. The roads tore themselves apart. The reactor core shook and throbbed. Mitra raced through Dharma City, each foot gliding on the ground as they tapped the pavement as quickly as they left it. Whatever and whoever cluttered the streets blurred together as he ran. He reached a wide, short, dome-shaped concrete building. Mitra quickly typed a code on the number pad on the dull gray wall. He rushed inside as soon as the steel vault door trudged open. By the entrance was a metal lever that squealed as he yanked it down, causing the door to shut. Inside the bunker’s living room was a wooden table in the center. Behind it, a kitchen consisting of a stove, oven, and one cabinet to the microwave’s side. A bookshelf lie in the corner, its two shelves stocked with books in alphabetical order. On either side were wooden doors centered at their walls’ length.
“As good a place as any to watch this…” Mitra stood by the steel slab and gazed through the reinforced glass. The reactor building began to crumble. The shockwave was executed. The buildings innermost to the center surrounding the reactor fell first, leading the way for everything outside. The blast tore through Dharma City, ruin swallowing every structure, vehicle, and person. Chunks of concrete and steel bombarded the entrance. Trucks, cars, debris, and scrap launched throughout and landed upon and around the bunker and its door. But it held. Various screams and the shadows of running people could be seen and heard among the rubble and dust as further wreckage swung at them and piled on top of the scene. A wave of dust soared in and above what was once a city, blocking out the sun.
“Now you’re all free…” The final building had fallen. There were no more vehicles to be crushed. The last scream was silenced. As the destroyed pieces of the former society crumbled and settled into place and the dust waves began to shallow, Mitra looked down to steel piercing his abdomen. It belonged to a blade. His body’s last action was to quiver. The blade waved, down then up. The halves fell to the floor. The waves had now settled into a thick, stagnant sheet of beige air grasping the floor of the expired city. The steel being stood over the corpse.
“This is U_N. reporting from Channel Zero. This is a reconnaissance attempt to contact any surviving Keys. My location is: Dharma City Bunker Units. Any Key hearing this must report back immediately. Maintain the order.” The steel one flicked the katana, discarding most of the blood coating it. “Timed System Shutdown remains intentionally unavailable. Seeking new objective.” The steel one moved to the kitchen, took on the faucet, and ran the water-resistant blade under the stream. It took a dishrag and wiped the remaining blood then resheathed on the right hip. It executed a mental command, expanding a written message into view. It reread a portion.
‘深路徑, Sichuan, China…’ ‘Bai Wuchang…’
The steel one remained still, going over these lines a number of times. “This is U_N., seeking permission to—” It stopped sharply. “Request retracted; no personnel present to confirm or deny.” It took a long pause, hearing nothing but the whirring electric inner workings of its form.
“Objective selected.” It approached the lever and pulled it up. It was jammed. The steel one analyzed the outside beyond the reinforced glass. Rubble piled high enough to block the door.
“Enable Surge.” It unsheathed the katana which began to glow bright red. Swinging the blade in wide, rapid arcs, red plasma crescents launched forth, tearing through the door and any debris behind. It halted. Its thermal sensors detected thousands of life forms above. They moved fast and erratically, searching the rubble. It charged the katana again before slowly stepping through the hollowed-out cave, the walls singed. The steel one leaped above the indent and onto the fallen city. Large metal shards, wires, and plastic tubes glowing bright green jutted from their pale skin that creased, lumped, and tore like wet paper. They rushed and bounded around, tearing into any lesser-damaged materials and what remained of the many corpses occupying the ruin. Instantly, the creatures ran, jumped, and crawled at the steel one, baring their rotted teeth and metal claws.
“Enable Blink.” After a split-second of taking a piercing stance, for a fraction of a second, it disappeared. A blur of red and black followed. When the fraction ended, the steel one had returned to a resting speed above the volatile dome of converging creatures leaping and bolting toward where it so recently stood. Along the line where it Blinked, the creatures fell, dead. Creating a mental pathing from beast to beast, the steel one Blinked repeatedly, cutting paths into the air and more to return to the ground. Point A to Point B, as many times as would be needed. The masses of attacking creatures would gain outlines of blood that would then be erased just as quickly, each strike and stroke trailing further from art. After the outlines had converged into a coating of red that continued to grow thicker and expand still, the creatures began to pause. Their heads followed the pen and their eyes widened as they traced. Their bodies began to shake as they consumed the writing. One by one, they began to run. Away, this time. They ran, jumped, and crawled away until the space surrounding the steel one was devoid of life for miles. It flicked the katana again, shaking off most of the blood. It expanded the written message once more, rereading another portion.
‘Scions… You’ll become pretty well acquainted with them.’
It enlarged a map into its vision, creating a route from the ruin to its destination. Then it ran. Less than a mile from the ruin, the steel one looked back at the image of tens of thousands of creatures moving amongst the ravaged site. It had arrived at an outpost’s tall, metal gate. The Keymaster’s mark embellished all of the base’s structures. A number pad sat on the wall. It accessed the relevant file in its memory and typed two, zero, seven, seven. The gate opened and it entered.
“This is U_N. reporting from channel zero. This is a reconnaissance attempt to contact any surviving Keys. My location is: Desert Outpost One. Any Key hearing this must report back immediately. Maintain the order.” The steel one approached a large storage unit that allowed it access through another number pad; one, nine, eight, four. Inside were nineteen motorcycles, each with solar panels on their sides. The roof of the unit consisted mostly of large, wide windows. It accessed the program in its files, which were responsible for linking with the vehicle, and started its engine.
The path would not cease with driving through the desert sands. It rode through what used to be known as British Columbia and its coastal mountains, Rocky Mountains, and interior plateaus. Through what used to be Yukon and its Saint Elias and Ogilvie Mountains, boreal forests, tundra, rivers, and valleys. What was previously Northwest Alaska and its Brooks Range, coastal tundra, and permafrost soil. What was once the Bering Strait and its shifting sea ice.
The de-evolutions of the world were clear upon entering what was Northeast Russia and its Verkhoyansk range. Massive orbs of thin, transparent haze many hundreds of miles wide would occupy landscapes including the taiga forests and tundra and their own permafrost. The steel one avoided these confrontations with impossibility, driving around their borders. It could see inside them. These impossibilities were villages, towns, and cities reformed within these areas. One variable stood out most prominently. The existences within the villages, towns, and cities: people. Walking, breathing people. People went about their day in these spheres as they lay scattered throughout China and its Yinshan, its Qinling, and rolling hill grassland plains. From there, into the bright day upon Sichuan. The steel one reviewed a piece from the written message.
‘We believe the burst created more than just the chaos we know. We don’t know entirely what they are, but we have an idea. Places where time’s stagnance isn’t taken seriously. Yeah. Temporal anomalies.’
The young woman hunched at a wooden table next to a robed man in his later years. On the stone walls were small, beige banners and hung wood planks. She held her changdao in one stiff grip, a whetstone in the other, pulling them apart, grinding them, then pulling them apart again.
The man spoke in Chinese with a hint of raspiness somewhat wearily. “Have you been safe out
there? There’s been talk of a war coming. Hundreds of the Feathered spotted gathering around the village. Our warriors have been few since the last battles.”
The woman nodded and sipped her tea, which was still nearly boiling with excessive steam leaving its surface. She felt fire lighting up the tunnel, running away down its reaches as if it had been laced with oil. She shuddered and winced softly, gripping her hilt that much harder. She set the wooden cup back down and began sharpening her blade once more, letting the whetstone run down its length.
“I know. Have you discovered any new information?” She stared him down.
“About her? Or you? Unfortunately not. You know if I did, I would contact you immediately.”
She nodded again.
The robed man refilled her cup with more tea just below boiling. She took it and it vanished in seconds. The woman gave another shudder and flinch, pressed her leather vest to her chest for a few seconds, then returned to sharpening.
The man sighed as he placed the large water jug back on the floor. “...I really do not believe doing this to yourself will prevent the illness’s spread in you.” She did not nod this time. Rather, she stood up, placed her changdao in the leather sheath on her back, tucked her whetstone into her pocket, and turned to leave the village hall. Walking toward the exit, many people suffering from the Feathering met her peripheral. They were in various stages of transformation; their skin was a pale, deep blue; some in spots and blotches, their entire body for others. Around their mouths, the skin was peeling off, leaving only purple, rotting flesh. Avian skulls had begun sprouting from their throats; some so large that their original jawbone had snapped. The hair on their heads had grown darker and longer. The bone of their fingers had pushed past the skin, forming into thick, wide claws. Heavy retching could be heard throughout the room before one of them vomited black onto the wood floor. The majority had their limbs submerged in buckets of ice or their faces taking long escapes under the water before reeling back. She moved past all of the infected, her eyes locked only ahead. She slid the doors’ wooden barrier to the side and exited, walking behind the hall to the village, seeing it losing itself as it had been.
Under several thatched huts of straw and bamboo, countless more people affected by the Feathering gathered. Below one was a group of small children huddled around an ice water bucket, all with their hands or legs dipped inside. The woman approached the hut and knelt beside the children, her eyes focused on one girl, maybe twelve years old, with misty eyes, transforming skin in blotches, and a skull resembling a crane’s beginning to emerge from her mouth. The rest of them were in lesser stages of the infection’s development.
“Is there anything you can do?” the girl whimpered. The child broke down into a mess of tears as soon as she spoke a word. “Make… it stop…” The child pointed to her mouth—forced open. The woman rested her palm on the girl’s shoulder.
“I can set back the skull’s growth. But nobody knows if we will ever find a cure. You have to choose. I can be here for you as much as I can to continue setting it back, but the process will be painful, too. The pain has even been known to result in madness. Somewhat commonly, too. Or you can choose to embrace the transformation. Once you become one of them, you will not be able to think as clearly as you do now. You will not be able to live among people. But I cannot imagine you will feel this constant pain. I will never attack you if you choose to transform, and I will try my best to convince the village’s warriors to do the same. You can be free among the Feathered or free to hold your hope here.”
The child winced at the gnawing sharpness in her throat. “What should I… choose…?”
“Do you need time to decide?”
The child nodded feebly. The woman returned her nod, then stood up and headed back around the main hall and down the village’s stone entryway steps as tears pooled in her eyes.
She would be rid of them.
The volume and regularity of non-fallen structures and non-deceased people increased proportionately to the line drawn from the ruin to Sichuan. The steel one conducted a thorough search of its database for any potential accounts of people not only surviving outside clear, designated boundaries but also rebuilding their societies. No results were yielded; no digital records of these had surfaced anywhere. Yet here, in this clearing easily visible from the Qinling mountains’ heights, its flora burnt to ash, newly disposed-of people littered the ground it stood over. All of them were male, and armored, though barely. Each wore bamboo shoulder plates and guards on sections of their arms and legs along with light leather helmets, and leather tunics covering skin marked with painted symbols—nothing more. Weapons laid next to their hands. Long poles with a curved blade at the end. Sizable, broad sabers. War hammers and maces. By the state of the bodies, they were at least three weeks old. Next to them was a trail of footprints of varying sizes and indents. They led past a barrier. They led past an obstacle. The rim of a many-miles-wide wall of clouds, its sides’ curvature faintly visible.
Flesh tearing was heard in the distance. The steel one jolted its head to the side, seeing, many yards away, a towering man. At least thirteen feet tall, with long, sharp claws on the visible limbs. Its mouth was decayed, exposing the muscle as it ripped and tore into a deceased warrior’s corpse with vigor.
“Enable Sensory Boost.” The steel one blurred again, though for a much shorter time and distance. Concealed in the thick forest brush, it unsheathed the katana and began to advance on the creature.
Not twenty feet away, the beast’s neck jolted toward its exact location in the leaves.
A crane-like skull sprang from the man’s mouth and from its throat came a violent, directed spray of pitch-black liquid. The steel one blurred out of the cone’s vicinity, took its piercing stance, and Blinked with the katana aimed at its target’s throat.
With a clamp, the skeletal beak trapped the blade.
The metal began to charge with red plasma—it melted through the bone, rushed forth, and diverged the creature. The halves fell to the ground. Two more of the beasts descended from the trees. Its beak a diving spearhead, one bit down on the katana’s hilt and ripped it from the steel one’s grip. The other opened its mouth wide, its throat soaked with black. The steel one blurred again, instantly darting behind it and throwing its arms around the creature’s neck. The creature flailed its claws on its hands and feet, digging them into the other beast trying to get behind. The second creature let out a wail from the continuous cuts. The steel one managed to get a firm grasp on the side of the choking creature’s beak. It yanked to the side. The beast fell limp. With the blade still in its claws, the remaining creature swung it. The steel one ducked and entered several consecutive Sensory Boosts, delivering three simple, high-speed punches to the creature’s torso. The beast was knocked back with each, dropping the katana from the impacts. The steel one had grabbed it as soon as it freed from the claws, having a perfect angle to cleave from below. Another clean tear. The creature dropped to the ground, life leaving it by the second. The red ground belonged to the fallen feathers. It recalled a line from the written message.
‘We don’t know much about the creatures you’ll encounter. Practically no records, and the ones we got aren’t descriptive. But I trust you can handle them. Stay safe.’
The steel one returned to the footprint trail. The indents were of varying ages. Some weeks old, others days. It followed the path; a straight line until it reached the same obstacle wall. It stood a foot behind the barrier for ten seconds. The bright haze outshined the sun from this distance. It stepped inside and followed the trail. To thin, stone steps leading to a large wooden building. It heard footsteps in the distance and concealed itself in the brush. It looked back to see two men carrying large backpacks and long swords. They climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. The sound of wood sliding across wood could be heard, and then an Asian man looking to be at least seventy years of age pushed open the large, twin doors with two slim men in full leather and bamboo armor by his side. He inquired in Chinese.
“What might you two be here for?”
One of the men in a backpack answered. “We are merchants. Our wén is running dry and we are seeking out neighboring villages for potential trade. We have a supply of yanmaodao, liuyedao, zhanmadao, and changdao. We believe you could make use of them against the Feathered.”
The aging man smiled and nodded. “You have yourself a deal.” The interaction unfolded as the steel one observed. It concluded, the men said their goodbyes; the door was closed and resealed. The steel one leapt into the trees and onto the building’s roof. It peered through any cracks and fallacies in the craft, seeing the aging man; and many others occupying the room and halls. It crawled to the reverse side of the roof and saw the degrading village.
A group of bamboo-and-leather-armored men with painted symbols on their skin matching the dead warriors’ was dragging a man thrashing and yelling toward the stone steps. He possessed a distinctly avian skull protruding from his mouth. Half of the bone had been crudely cut off somehow. His skin was dark, pale blue.
“Let me cut it out! You cannot do this to me!! I do not want to die!! Please!! Please!!!”
The men discarded him down the steps; onto a growing pile of those burdened with the condition. As he began to run back, they positioned their changdao in a defensive position. The steel one watched as he attempted to convince, deceive, and push past the men, only to be discarded again for doing so.
Throughout the village, containment units had been erected; natural resources transformed into small walls and roofs housing many decaying people. They retched, coughed, vomited black, scratched at their fading skin, and tried anything to remove their enlarging skeletal beaks.
The machine squeaked out a whisper. “Maintain… the order…”
Its optic lenses fell on a girl with an encroaching skull. Maybe twelve years old. She was speaking to a man. Maybe forty years old. He bent down and touched his palms to the girl’s cheeks. “I trust you to make the decision you are most content with. Either way… you will always be mine.” His tears sought their freedom, flowing down onto the grass. The girl threw herself into a hug with the man, her own tears passing by her slight smile on their departure.
“I love you, father.”
“I love you, too.”
The machine stared down at them for some time. Later, its optic lenses were not focused on the path ahead trailing into a deep, pitch-black cave. They were not focused on the light, barely visible footprints leading into it. They were not focused at all. From moment to moment, its head would twitch, the sound of electricity crackling everywhere throughout its steel body. The steel one had begun to diverge.
It would be rid of this.
A still-steaming wooden jug slammed against the cave wall, beating a thick, wavy echo out of it. The woman felt the rest of the boiling tea twist through her body. She dragged her grip back and forth above her head, holding the hilt of the blade severing the emerging skull from her throat.
The woman yowled and cried, banging her fist to the stone floor.
Motion by motion, the infection’s progress was lost. She removed the changdao and let the black vomit spill out as she retched. She placed the changdao back between the rim of her throat and the bone and made the final few cuts. The skull, chipped innumerably, dropped onto the ground. The woman shuddered and laid with her hands and knees trembling on the stone for many moments. She wearily stood up and wiped a cloth against her mouth. She walked a few hundred feet and looked down from the mostly closed-off, heightened section of the cave. She sat down and rested on a large relatively flat rock overlooking the small children playing with wooden blocks painted red.
The children looked up at her with smiles. “The Miss is back from her break!”
“Will you join us this time?” another added.
The woman gave a small smile and gently shook her head.
Then swiftly stood up and turned behind her, in the same motion raising her changdao in a defensive position; all from one sense.
A gray, human-like creature. Twitching with every movement as it raised its unrecognizable blade coated in red light just in front of the woman’s throat. She ducked to the side, swinging her changdao at its torso. With a supernaturally fast, blurry movement, it had moved its body to barely block the strike. It shifted into a lunge position and thrusted a direct pierce toward her. Barely, her blade blocked, but the force behind it sent her falling from the elevation. The woman shifted easily to land on her feet with her knees bent.
“Children! Go! Leave, now!!” she yelled. Toppling their blocks as they hurried, the children ran as fast as they could for the cave’s entrance. The machine stared from above.
The woman screamed, “What are you?!”
The machine’s optic lenses glowed a deep red as they ran a fast, thorough analysis of this person. Confirmed and potential movements and combat knowledge, predicted strength and stamina, and effectiveness of confirmed and potential strong combat traits. In the split-second of retrieving its stance, the woman saw this and raised her blade. The machine became an even faster blur, simply disappearing altogether this time. A perfect parry. Though the rush’s force knocked her back again, this time further away from the elevated rocks’ length. While the gray creature recovered from the parry, the woman used this full second to bolt toward the elevation and leapt to hang on its edge. The creature’s sword began to glow again, and with another quick blur, a line of red fire soared forth and caught the rock wall as the woman raised her legs and climbed back onto the elevated rocks. In one jump, the creature met its target on the length.
“I am order.”
The woman lowered her blade to her side. She gave a listless shake of her head. That was when the machine noticed a thin piece of metal on a ground coated in liquid. The analysis: oil.
She struck it and sparks made a bonfire.
The woman had already bounded to the rigid walls of the cave, crossing between them and easily evading the flames. The machine’s first solution was to jump in tandem—it was instantly knocked down. An alert shot into its view.
‘OVERHEATING. ADVANCED FUNCTIONS OFFLINE.’
Parts of its steel began to melt. The hilt of the katana caught fire. The machine was brought down to its knees.
“Before you die… WHAT ARE YOU?!?!”
It leapt. Not to the walls. Directly up. Directly under the woman’s legs. It grabbed them and pulled with every ounce of strength remaining in its damaged metal frame. The woman fell to the burning ground.
“I am… order…”
The elder’s face. “Miss… are you feeling okay? You have burns everywhere. We found you in the cave by the village. We took you to the nearby outpost. Please, continue to rest.” Instantly, the woman sat up in the bed. She ran her hands throughout her body, feeling the mix of first-, second-, and third-degree burns. Her motions unsteady, she stood up and limped to the door of the wooden hut.
It was still nighttime. Perhaps a mile away were hundreds of the transformed swarming the village grounds. She grabbed her changdao propped upright against the bed. She reached the doorframe and steadied herself, pushing past her limp into a run.
It laid down on the stone floor. Its optic lenses powered back on and saw this was not the cave. It was a dungeon. Its head pressed against the stone ground, it focused its attention beyond the bamboo bars. Beyond the cell’s ceiling. To the sound of beasts screeching. Of wings thrashing. It focused in further and planted a metal elbow to the ground, then the other, now laying back-down with support against the stone. The sound of screaming in terror. Of feet sprinting across the grass. It crawled backward until it sat up against the wall. Its software was aflame with alerts. Motherboard Damage. Overheat Repercussions. Frame Degradation. Circuitry Damage. But one alert superseded them all, its bold, bright red text stating:
‘MAINTAIN THE ORDER.’
“What are you?”
The woman stood in front of the bamboo bars, arms crossed. It bent one knee with the support of the wall. Then the other. It slowly removed its palms from being supported by its knees. The sound of calling for help. Of claws rushing through the dirt.
‘MAINTAIN THE ORDER.’
“What are you?” she asked again. It limped toward the bars, putting its hands on two adjacent stocks. It began to pull. At first, the weakened metal accomplished nothing more than moving them an inch. But it continued. Everything left in its motoric strength was right here, right now. And would be—until the stocks began to tear. Finally, the free bars had created just enough space for it to pass through. The alert grew larger in its vision.
‘MAINTAIN THE ORDER.’
Briefly, it disabled its optic lenses. Its vision was dark. Beasts screeching. Wings thrashing. Screaming in terror. Feet sprinting across grass. Calling for help. Claws rushing through dirt. It reactivated them. The woman was gone. The alerts had disappeared.
The Steel One stepped through the cell.
It grabbed its katana on the opposite wall and darted down the stone hall with what strength it had left. At the end of the corridor were stone steps leading behind the village. It stepped into a clearing with its blade at the ready and rushed into the village. Two of the Feathered dived on the Steel One, and it entered a Sensory Boost to move past them. It continued to run, dodging and weaving through the transformed until it reached the village center behind the main hall—where the woman was leading a group of people into the forest while defending them from attacks. She took careful precision in her strikes not to cause lethal harm to any of the Feathered. Her movements consisted mostly of blocking and parrying as she ran with them through the brush.
When she returned several minutes later, she came face to face with the Steel One. The transformed circled the skies, continuing their constant attacks on their prey. Her eyes widened. Her grip on her changdao tightened as she raised it.
“Do not hurt the child…”
The Steel One remained still. It then set the teary-eyed boy it carried on the ground while the small, wooden house behind them collapsed in a storm of planks, thatching, and Feathereds’ screeches from the ongoing assault.
“You did not…”
The Steel One gave a gentle nod.
The boy's hand found the woman's as he ran to her. “The Feathered. Humans become them through an illness.”
The Steel One uttered softly, “I know.”
“I promised never to kill anyone who transformed. They had a reason to do so. You will not kill any of them. Do you understand?”
A quick nod.
“Hurry,” she stated, “We must rescue as many as we can.” She pointed a finger toward the forest. “That way is a small outpost they can use until the attacks cease. Escort them there.”
They parted as they rushed toward separate buildings in ruin. After the survivors had been evacuated, they moved on to the next home. To the next thatched hut. To whoever needed them. Human by human, the sounds of screams of terror, feet sprinting away across the grass, and calls for help were answered. The woman called out, looking at and running toward the Steel One.
“Have you seen a little girl? She was the only one her age with the infection progressing as far along as it had, with the skull.”
The Steel One muttered under its breath, “I saw her hours ago in the village… I haven't seen her since...”
The woman locked a tight fist and clenched her eyes shut for a moment. An instant later, they returned to their task. With the last group of survivors they could find, the woman and the Steel One sprinted back toward the outpost. After the group had hurried inside the small, wooden building, the woman slammed the door shut from the outside, collapsing against it. The Steel One reached out to help her up, but as she gripped its hand, the Steel One dropped to its knees as well, leaning on the ground and wood of the hut.
From the storm of the transformed ravaging the village’s remains, one single Feathered glided a path toward the two immobile warriors. It was smaller than most of the Feathered. Only six feet tall, perhaps. It landed a few feet away, its claws tearing up the dirt upon their arrival. It let out a high shriek and approached them.
The Steel One turned to the woman, its lenses blurring or blacking out every few seconds. “Thank… you… Bai Wuchang…”
The woman’s eyes widened and she gave a soft gasp. “You… knew my name. I didn’t remember… my name.”
The Feathered lowered its large body and bulky hair across the two. A barrier between them and the outside. But its rotting mouth still drooled. Its claws still scratched at the space around them. So it quickly bashed its head into the hut’s wall and fell limp. The Feathered settled on top of them.
Bai smiled weakly and turned to the Steel One. “We do not die here. She would not allow it.”
The Steel One reached out to touch the Feathered’s long, dark hair. “She's… her own.”
“I have something I want to ask you… The reason I did not know my name is because I have amnesia. But you saying it helped me remember. Thank you. And you saved countless lives today. Thank you. But I must ask, do you know anything of my sister's whereabouts? Do you know anything about her? She is why I fight. Why I must stay Human. I will find her.”
The Steel One turned its head as well. “I… do not. I'm sorry. But I have something I need to request.” It thought once more of the written message. Its clear objective. Why it came to this place to find her. “I need your help. I came here from a different time—the future. I need you to help me take back a place that used to be called Dharma City.”
Bai gave a sigh that turned into a feeble chuckle halfway through. “Do you think all the pain laid waste to my hearing? Did I truly hear you right?”
“Yes. Bioengineered organisms called Scions reproduce by collecting metal and flesh. I killed their leader, but thousands of them remain in the ruin of the city after he exploded the reactor. And throughout the world are temporal anomaly spheres. Inside them are places where the past is the present.”
Bai had a puzzled look. “Bioengineered. Reactor. Temporal. What are those?”
“I’ll explain everything. What I think you should know is we can save more lives by taking back the city.”
She let out a long, deep sigh. “After seeing the Feathering, I have no reason not to believe you. Once I find my sister and the transformed are no longer a threat… I would not be opposed to the idea.” Through the gaps in the covering created by the Feathered, the two could see the night was beginning to fall. The hundreds of transformed had concluded their rampage and taken to the skies, soaring overhead—never being able to see them.
Bai gave another tired smile. “You never told me your name… Do you not know it, either?”
It let itself relax completely. Under the sky. Under the hut. Under the Feathered.
“No. But I will.”