The breeze carried the scent of damp soil and wildflowers, nothing like the dry, iron-rich air of the demon territories. The ground was soft underfoot, dotted with brush and patches of moss. Kaiden hated how natural it all felt.
His leg pulsed with dull heat — the rushed field patch from earlier already weakening. Each step sent an uneven thud through the earth, the weight of the mechanical limb threatening to throw off his balance.
"Still dizzy?" Sylen asked, crouching near a bent tree limb.
"No," Kaiden said, though his vision still swam if he turned too fast.
They followed Sylen's lead. As the squad's scout, she was quick and precise, her small frame flitting through the foliage with practiced ease. Despite her youth and slight build, she moved with a confidence that came from surviving too many close calls. Behind her came Rav — tall and broad-shouldered, the squad's heavy lifter and oldest in appearance — and Kess, the youngest, short and wiry, but sharp-eyed and deceptively fast.
Sylen stopped at a ridge and signaled for them to crawl forward. They reached her position and peered over.
Nestled in a shallow basin below was a walled town — larger than expected. Watchtowers loomed along stone walls reinforced with mana conductors and steel braces. Mana lamps lined the main road, flickering with a steady blue glow.
"It's not just a town," Rav muttered. "That's a garrison hub. Military buildings, supply depots… see the barracks on the east side?"
"And the patrols," Kess added, pointing toward the silver-armored soldiers pacing the walls. "Heavily armed. At least two squads on rotation."
"We'll never get through dressed like this," Sylen said.
Kaiden exhaled sharply. "We don't have a choice. We can't risk staying out here. If the scouts catch us or my leg gives out again…"
"Even if we get in, someone's going to notice your face is half clockwork," Sylen said, her voice tight. "And the rest of us don't exactly look human either."
Kaiden scanned the others. Demonic features — pale, almost gray-tinged skin, faint glowing lines along their veins, and slightly angular eyes — marked them all. No town would welcome them without question.
"That's why we fake it," he said.
He tore part of his cloak free. "We use cloth. Salvage what we can. Sylen, do you still have that rune shard?"
Sylen nodded, producing a cracked mirror shard faintly laced with illusion glyphs.
"Perfect. We'll cover up the most obvious features. Kess, your eyes—dull them if you can. Rav, cloak up. We'll look like pilgrims or caravan guards. I'll talk."
"You?" Kess raised a brow.
Kaiden turned, eyes cold but focused. "I've lived on both sides. I know what to say."
They moved quickly. Rav found a collapsed storage crate — cracked civilian armor, belts, and layered fabrics that could pass for trade gear. Sylen focused on activating the mirror's runes, suppressing the glow of Kaiden's exposed mechanical eye and subtly muting the sharpness of their inhuman features.
Kaiden wrapped gauze over his jaw to hide the metal and added layers around his shoulders to bulk out the uneven shape of his frame. The others used cloth and ash to darken their skin tones, and Sylen helped draw false freckles and blemishes over the glowing lines along their arms and necks. With their cloaks pulled low and hoods tightened, they looked like a weary, ragtag band of wanderers.
By the time they reached the outer gate, twilight had settled. Torches crackled along the ramparts. The town gates — reinforced with steelwood and glowing ward sigils — loomed before them.
Three guards stood watch, halberds in hand. One stepped forward — a tall man with a worn breastplate and a well-trimmed beard.
"State your names and business," he barked.
Kaiden stepped forward, back straight despite the strain in his leg. "Travelers from the north roads. Mercs. Lost our guide during a skirmish two days back. Heading south, looking for work."
The guard narrowed his eyes. "You sound northern. But dressed like lowland scavengers."
Kaiden didn't blink. "Better scavengers than corpses."
A tense silence followed. Another patrol rounded the corner behind them, their boots echoing off stone.
Kaiden held his breath.
Finally, the guard gave a reluctant nod. "No sudden moves. Stay to the main roads. Step out of line, and the watch will cut you down."
The gate creaked open.
They stepped into the town.
Kaiden resisted the urge to look back. The others followed, silent and hunched.
The town buzzed with late-evening life. Merchants shuttered stalls, children dashed between buildings with sticks in hand, and cloaked travelers passed under lantern-lit signs. Everything smelled like baked bread, oil, and too much safety.
Act human, Kaiden reminded himself.
But the stress in his joints — the grinding bite of misaligned gears — reminded him of how little time he had. The leg wasn't going to last much longer.
They ducked into a quiet alley between two abandoned smithies. Kess knelt beside a notice board, peeling off an old flyer that displayed a rough merchant's map of the district. It was weathered and torn, but enough to get them oriented.
"We'll need someone who understands etheric interfaces," Kaiden said. "Someone discreet."
Sylen tapped a small marking on the far side of the district. "There's a workshop here. No signage. Locals call the guy a recluse. But he fixes mana cores, automata, and even smuggled implants. Might be our best shot."
"Won't come cheap," Kess said.
Kaiden reached into his satchel and produced a dull silver ring — plain to most eyes, but etched inside with mana-binding runes. "This should buy silence and skill."
They made their way through side roads, eventually reaching the unmarked building. Smoke trickled faintly from a chimney. The door creaked open before they knocked.
A man stood inside — lean, older, with a monocle of glass etched in rune symbols. His eyes flicked over them, resting on Kaiden's limp.
"You brought me a corpse with a twitch," he said flatly. "Or is that thing still aware?"
Kaiden stepped forward. "It's still aware. And it's paying."
The engineer's brow arched. "You're not human."
Kaiden didn't answer.
The engineer stepped closer, peering at the broken leg. "You want this fixed without reports, questions, or attention?"
"Yes."
He leaned back slightly. "Then tell me something — before I touch this rusting thing. What exactly are you people running from?"