Chapter 5
Rex, the giant wolf, had been locked in a standoff with the strange mount for some time.
The gray-black beast was massive, its layered scales like armor plate. Rex's attacks had trouble finding purchase.
But now the mount was unsettled. Heavy breath blasted from its nostrils. The scene in the tunnel—several of its own cut down in moments—had planted a quiet panic in it.
Rex moved low and wide, prowling in arcs. More than once he tried to slip to the flank and tear at the throat or the back of a knee, only to be forced back by hammer-heavy hooves or blocked outright by that huge body.
Then the tunnel exploded.
The blast rolled out with a roar, throwing stone and dust in a dirty plume. The mount's eyes dimmed all at once. Its breathing turned harsher; it shifted back half a step, as if it had just felt the signal that its side was gone. Its forelegs trembled. In that split second of distraction, an opening appeared.
Rex cut a glance toward the tunnel mouth and gave a low growl. His deep blue fur flared, bristling in an instant like blue-black fire. Claws tore into the sand. His body drew into a full bow and launched forward, airborne, straight for the mount's throat. His fangs flashed cold in the gray light.
The mount snapped its head up. Scales across its body scraped hard against one another, shrieking like torn metal. Its forelegs came high, one last desperate try—but it froze the moment Rex's growl rolled through the air.
Those fangs stopped just centimeters short of its throat.
Hot breath struck scale with a faint hiss.
The mount's huge body shook. A low, rough whinny dragged up from deep in its throat. Its forelegs slowly lowered. Knees bent. Its head dropped. Gray-black scales rasped across the sand, carving a long track.
Rex hung there for a heartbeat before landing.
The growl still rolled in his throat, but he did not strike.
He sheathed his claws. His tail swept the ground, lifting a curl of dust, like a formal claim of victory. The mount stayed bowed, motionless, breathing hard and obedient.
Who would have guessed it? A mutant horse plated like a tank, forced into submission by the giant wolf's bloodline dominance.
Inside the tunnel, dust thinned.
Victor walked beside a rabbit. Nova rode on its back, legs swinging. Both were gray with ash as they headed for the mouth. Victor's steps wobbled. He muttered, "Looks like the Fireproof Mantle still needs another round of optimization..."
Before the words were out, a bandit lurched up from the rubble beside them—chest charred black, bone showing, a growl squeezing up his throat as he staggered in.
Nova yelped. His small hands clamped tight on the rabbit's ears, eyes round.
Victor's arm clicked once and transformed into a giant hammer.
The head was nearly waist-high, surface mottled with rust, with a bold "10T" stamped on the side. He gripped the handle with both hands and hauled with gritted teeth, shoulders shaking as if he were lifting a ridiculous amount of weight.
The bandit saw that absurd monster of a weapon, stumbled short, eyes wide. The growl in his throat died on the spot.
Victor swung down.
"Thunk!"
The hammer head hit the mutant's skull and caved in at once, then popped apart like a burst balloon. Fragments flew everywhere.
It had been fake.
The mutant stood there, stunned, eyes rolling white, then went limp and collapsed without another movement.
Victor shook off the broken handle shards still in his hand and shrugged.
"Classic gag."
Nova's eyes sparkled. He patted the rabbit's back with one hand.
"Where'd you steal this one from this time?"
The rabbit twitched its ears, dust shedding in little showers. The two kept moving as if nothing had happened.
At that same moment, outside the tunnel mouth.
When the earlier explosion rolled through the rock, Stalrik barely had time to curse. His chain mace had not stopped for a second. Now more gravel still whispered down from deep inside. No shouts from his men came back. Only the stink of burn and char mixed with cold wind pouring from the opening, like someone breathing ice against his ear.
Most of the men under him were dead in there.
Shock hit him like ice water down the spine, then flipped to rage in a blink. No men meant no footing in the Iron Bones. His teeth ground hard. Blood vessels burst red in his eyes.
He had to end this fast. He had to smash this bastard's head to pulp and bring it back.
"Where are my men?!" Stalrik roared, voice raw. The chain mace paused in mid-air for a beat, iron ball whining with blood-hungry weight.
Eren gave him only a few words through his teeth.
"Go down and ask them yourself."
"I'll gut you!" Stalrik bellowed. Veins bulged under gray-black cracked skin. No more talking.
The iron ball came down in close, straight for Eren's head.
Murder and a grin twisted together on Stalrik's face. He was certain Eren's left-side blind spot had become a dead angle, left defense gone.
Eren could only barely slip aside. The ball scraped his left shoulder. His bracer caved in with a dull bone-crack thunk. Eren still braced against the tunnel wall, no room left to retreat.
Triumph flashed in Stalrik's eyes.
He snorted once, drew the chain half a step back, but did not open distance. Instead he drove in.
He wanted to execute this man up close—the one who had cost him his whole squad.
Eren's left side was going numb. Breath came heavy.
Stalrik saw Eren throw an empty left-handed punch and took it for useless struggle, nowhere near a vital line.
In that instant, gray lines under Eren's left arm pulled tight. Dark yellow surged up beneath them, like embers buried in ash, and burning pain followed.
He bit down hard.
A short electromagnetic hum trembled through the air.
Above the left side, in the shoulder blade of a mutant corpse, the nailed war hammer jolted with a sharp hiss. It tore free with ripped flesh and splintered bone, spun faster and faster, and slashed back from the side like something alive.
Eren twisted at the waist and caught the spinning haft in one hand.
With that same turn, he drove the head in a brutal arc straight into Stalrik's right ribs.
It was not a dull flesh impact. It sounded like metal striking metal.
The faceted ridges were just about to bite into skin when that iron-hide body tanked it hard. Sparks burst and scattered from the hammer head. The iron band at the haft butt shuddered twice, as if it wanted to tear loose.
Stalrik's pupils shrank to pinpoints. He tried to do something. Too late.
Eren did not let up.
Under the gray lines at his left eye, dark yellow churned. Teeth clenched, he poured his entire arm into the haft. Muscles in his shoulders and back surged. His heel carved a deep half-groove in the sand.
Only two sounds were left in the air: the low rasp of both men straining against each other, and the fine tearing creak of hardened skin giving way.
"Not one left."
The words came from between Eren's teeth.
Crack.
Iron skin burst open at the strike line. Fractures spread through it like broken glass. The whole armored plate blew apart. The hammer head punched into flesh. Blunt teeth drove through meat and bone. A full row of ribs shattered. Half his chest caved in and collapsed out of shape in an instant.
Stalrik flew sideways like a torn sack and slammed into the sand.
Flesh and bone fragments scattered. Dust exploded up. His body bounced, then bounced again, and only then stopped.
After stopping, he still spasmed a few times. A wet gurgle bubbled in his throat. Blood surged out in a flood. His eyes stayed wide open. Then nothing moved again.
Eren did not step away.
Wind and sand swept low across the ground, feeding the stink of blood into his nose wave after wave.
The sounds of battle narrowed and narrowed: only distant wind, the last sinking aftershock inside the tunnel behind him, and Lila's weak breathing on the rock.
He swept one look around. No enemies still standing.
His gaze went empty for a moment.
He looked down, unwound the old belt from his knuckles one loop at a time, wrapped it back around his left forearm, and snapped the buckle closed with a hard click—slightly tighter than before.
Corpses lay scattered over the sand. Blood soaked into dust. Wind hissed low.
Just like he said—Not one left.
When Victor and Nova came out of the tunnel, the first thing they saw was Eren still on his feet.
Gray dust covered him head to toe. A blood line cut across his side. He stood in the middle of the sand by sheer will, breathing rough.
Nova halted, about to speak.
Eren said nothing.
He only raised a hand and pointed toward the cliff.
Nova followed his finger, looked up, and his eyes flew wide.
"Lila's out cold!"
He slid off the rabbit's back, small hands climbing rock cracks fast, up to the high point in two, three moves. Rex followed at once, sure-footed paws planted on the rock face.
Nova grabbed Lila by the arm and carefully dragged her down.
Rex turned and gave the strange mount a low growl.
It moved immediately, stepping into position below, lowering its head, taking Lila steadily onto its broad back.
Nova jumped down from the rock, patted the mount's neck, and shot Rex a stunned look.
Rex tossed his head in pure show-off.
Victor crouched first to check Lila's shoulder and leg wounds, then glanced up at Eren.
"Bones probably aren't broken, but she's hurt bad enough. Maybe some concussion too. She'll need time. Eren, how are you?"
"Not dead yet." Eren's voice came rough; he forced himself fully upright.
He lowered his eyes to Stalrik's body, moved over, and dropped to one knee in the sand. From Stalrik's waist he pulled out a small pouch, ripped it free from the belt with cord and all, and shook it once.
Metal clinked inside.
"What's he carrying?" Victor stepped closer.
"Later."
Eren stood.
His gaze lifted off Stalrik, swept across the sand, and stopped at another corpse.
An ordinary man.
Coarse short jacket. Iron pick lying a few feet away.
A slanted cut ran from left shoulder to right chest. One arm was still fixed in the pose from before death, raised in front of him.
At that moment, staggering footsteps came from the riverbank sand heap.
The village woman they had saved crawled out, child clutched tight in her arms.
She looked up once. What she saw first was not Eren.
It was her man.
When the sound burst out of her throat, it no longer sounded human—wail and sob fused together.
She dropped to her knees in the sand, one arm locked around the child, the other reaching out for her husband's face.
Eren lowered his eyes and said nothing.
Victor let out a breath, walked over, and crouched beside her.
He did not touch her.
He waited a moment, then spoke low:
"Take the child home first."
His voice dropped even lower.
"For what happened here, bring people from the village back once, then let your husband be buried properly."
The woman's shoulders shook uncontrollably. It took her a long while to manage a single nod.
"Thank you..." Her voice was raw. "Come back to Kalmi Village with us. The Iron Bones won't let this go."
Eren nodded, then raised his eyes to her.
"Who runs the Iron Bones?"
She shook her head.
"I... don't know. I only know they come every so often to collect money and grain."
At Victor's side, Nova asked in a small voice, "Is that guy their boss?" He pointed at Stalrik's body on the ground.
Victor shook his head.
"If he were, we wouldn't have seen only this many today."
Eren only gave a low "Mm," then drew his gaze back from the north.
They settled unconscious Lila onto the mount. Nova then gave Eren a push up, helping him into the saddle.
Eren let Lila lean diagonally against his chest. One arm locked around her shoulders and back. The other hand held the reins tight. His chin rested lightly against the top of her head, afraid she might slip.
At Rex's low growl, the strange mount started forward.
Its hooves pressed into the sand, one heavy step at a time.
Victor helped Nova onto the rabbit, tightened the cargo straps on its back, and the group set out toward Kalmi Village.
As the horse moved, Eren's body swayed with the rhythm.
His eyes were lowered, but his thoughts had drifted far away.
Bridge-Pier Village. The notice board in Railton. Many faces and many voices rose through gray fog.