[Booting…]
[Memory Partition Syncing… 17%… 49%… 81%]
[Playing Video Fragment: Timestamp – Unknown]
The screen flickered.
Static.
A blur of claws. Smoke.
A red-eyed boy, expression blank, cannon glowing blue. A scream it was mechanical. Inhuman.
Then black.
~~~
Calen's eyes snapped open.
Pain bloomed through his body like a slow-burning poison. His limbs were heavy, his chest tight with bandages, and the air smelled of dirt, sweat, and roasted herbs.
Canvas fluttered gently overhead.
He was in a covered wagon.
Pillows had been stuffed around him, a blanket tucked to his chin. He blinked, disoriented.
"…Where—?"
"You're awake," came a soft, female voice.
Calen turned his head.
A girl, maybe eighteen, sat by the edge of the cart. Her arms were crossed over her knees, her black hair tied back in a messy knot. She didn't smile, didn't frown. Just nodded at him.
"You've been out two days."
"…Two…?"
"Don't talk too much. You lost a lot of blood."
He blinked. Looked down.
Bright blue stains marked the inside of his wrappings.
The girl followed his gaze, but said nothing.
He sat in silence, feeling the ache. Bones creaked. His Æther Gauntlet lay beside him, half-disassembled, the cannon crusted with soot and dried coolant.
A gentle breeze pulled the canvas back.
Beyond, the forest passed by slowly—trees turning sparse, the air lighter. The sun gleamed low on the horizon. The caravan was moving.
~~~
[Echo Online — Reboot Complete]
[System Diagnostic: Damage – 78% Repaired]
"Calen?"
Her voice was faint. Hesitant.
Then sharper.
"Calen?!"
"…I'm here."
"Oh thank the stars—you had me terrified! You—You could have died, you know that?!"
"I—"
"Don't say 'you're fine.' You're not! You threw your body into an unknown predator and bled out in the dirt!"
He closed his eyes.
He didn't remember.
Just fragments.
"Echo Protocol," he whispered.
A pause.
"…What?"
His brows furrowed. "My HUD said that, before I blacked out…"
But Echo sounded genuinely confused.
"There's no record of that… no system by that name in any of your code architecture. Nothing I can access, at least."
Calen's voice dropped. "I wasn't in control. Not entirely."
"…You mean… something took over?"
He didn't answer.
The girl outside stood up. "You can talk to yourself later. They're waiting to see you."
Calen sat up slowly. Bones cracked. Pain stabbed through his ribs.
He slid from the wagon, boots thudding into dirt.
Nine pairs of eyes turned toward him.
Six men. Three women. All dressed in light armor or cloaks. Mercenary sigils on their belts. Weapons nearby, but sheathed.
One of the older men—a stocky figure with gray-flecked hair and a sun-split nose—nodded.
"Good to see you standing."
Calen nodded back, cautious.
No one asked questions.
No one looked surprised by the blue stains on his bandages, or the unnatural flicker of his eyes.
They just accepted.
There was something unspoken in their stares.
The girl tossed him something.
He caught it.
His mercenary badge.
[Alias: D.E.L.T.A]
"I found it on you," she said. "Didn't know your real name, so we'll just stick with that."
"…Thanks."
"You're traveling south, right?" the gruff older man asked.
Calen nodded again.
"To Twilight?"
"…Yeah."
"Well, so are we. You're welcome to ride with us. No charge. We make coin through trade and contract, not hospitality."
Another man grunted. "And besides… kid like you shouldn't be walking around that forest alone."
A quiet murmur followed.
They'd seen the aftermath.
They hadn't asked. But they'd seen.
A scar of scorched earth. Black smoke twisting unnaturally. Something wrong that had been slain.
A Wraith.
One of them.
None of them said the word aloud.
But all of them understood.
This boy—quiet, caramel-skinned, white-haired, hazel-eyed and far too small—had come out of that battle alive.
That was enough.
No one asked what he was. Only who he was.
And even that, barely.
~~~
That night, Calen sat near the fire. Wrapped in a thick coat, his bandages itched, and the aches had settled deep in his bones.
A tin cup of soup warmed his fingers.
The mercenaries spoke in low voices.
One carved wood. Another tuned a stringed instrument. The youngest girl—a child really—curled up against a woman's side, half-asleep.
No one pressed him.
They gave him space.
But he felt it—that quiet gravity that came with earned respect.
~~~
"Echo…"
"Hmm?"
"…I don't know what's happening to me."
"You're growing. You're evolving. That's how life works, right?"
"…I don't think this is growth."
"Then it's change. And maybe not all change is good. But it happens to the best of us right?"
"Propably."
A beat passed.
"Hey, Calen?"
"Hmm?"
"You have to promise me something. Swear it."
He looked toward the stars. Quiet.
"...What is it?"
"Never—ever—do what you did back there again. You threw yourself away like a broken tool."
He frowned.
"I did what was necessary, I think."
"No. You gambled with your life."
A pause.
Then she softened.
"I'm scared. You're the only thing I have."
He blinked.
Then nodded.
"I swear."
Her voice lit up.
"Besides. If you die, I'll be forced to die with you! There's no way you want me to die, right?"
Calen gave a small smile.
~~~
And the fire crackled gently into the night.