Chapter 12
More Than One
[Three minutes earlier]
"The intercontinental bridge collapsed?" asked Eilor, eyes wide open. His voice cracked halfway through the sentence.
The silence between him and his uncle weighed heavier than usual. Laios didn't answer immediately; he inhaled slowly.
"Rather… something fell from it," he finally said, his voice grave.
Eilor stood up slowly, swallowing hard.
"The monsters… were the other crew members?" he pressed, bringing a hand to his forehead. He closed his eyes for a moment.
"Yes," answered Laios. This time without emotion, only with a look of disgust.
The memory struck him suddenly.
"But what we saw fall earlier, from the corridor…" Eilor stammered, staring at his uncle.
Laios lowered his head, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned pale.
"It seems another giant creature fell from the bridge. Which means there are two giant monsters in the water."
The silence that followed spread like a stain. The murmur in the hall, once constant, seemed to die out. Many who had been listening didn't react at first, but upon hearing "giant creatures falling from the bridge," more than one jerked their heads up abruptly.
"Then the cryptids I saw climbing and slipping through the ship's hull…" said Eilor, breaking the silence.
That was information no one could ignore.
"What…?" escaped from Laios, incredulous.
Eilor noticed the immediate change in the atmosphere. Several heads turned toward him; people's eyes shone with restrained fear. The air grew denser.
"When I was hanging outside," he continued, his voice lower now, aware of the stares, "I saw dozens of those monsters climbing and slipping through gash-like openings in the ship's hull…"
His uncle didn't answer. No one did. The words hung in the air like a knife over their heads.
A scream of pain tore through the silence from the far end of the hall. The tension broke into motion: some rushed to help the wounded, others settled the groaning onto improvised stretchers, while a group of alchemists hurriedly organized the salvaged equipment.
To the side, the alchemist in a blue robe ground ingredients with a mechanical expression, two others assisting at his side by handing him flasks and containers. The bitter smell of reagents mixed with the sweat of survivors.
Then Laios spoke suddenly, without taking his eyes off his nephew.
"Did they have six limbs?"
The question caught Eilor off guard. It took him a second to react.
"No."
Laios' sigh of relief was immediate and so intense he leaned forward, covering his mouth with his hand. He hunched over, as if he had just understood something he didn't quite want to accept.
Eilor watched him silently, uneasy. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced back at the alchemists. He remembered the proposal of the man in the blue robe: to drink a potion he hadn't even had time to ask what it was for. He almost stood up, but something held him back: the atmosphere of uncertainty, or perhaps the fear of the answer.
That was when his uncle suddenly raised his head, eyes wide open.
"This is horrible…" he muttered.
Eilor tensed.
"Why?"
Laios hesitated. He took a few seconds, as if each word weighed a ton. Finally, he spoke.
"Do you remember there's a city that stretches across the bridge?"
"Yes…" the boy replied, though his voice faltered.
"People rest there because the trip on foot or by transport is very long…"
Eilor's expression changed immediately. He could sense where his uncle was going.
"And therefore…" Laios continued, his voice graver each time, almost like an executioner pronouncing the sentence, "…there are thousands of people every day on the bridge."
Eilor's face lost all color. His lips parted, but no words came.
Laios looked at him, with an expression that was a mixture of weariness and resignation.
"Yes," he confirmed, acknowledging the magnitude of what they both understood.
---
[Present]
"Uncle!"
The man turned calmly. He didn't look surprised; his gaze conveyed that he already knew what was coming.
"I'm going too," said Eilor, his voice firm though his lips trembled faintly.
Laios sighed, weary, and instead of answering him directly turned toward the burly man, as if he didn't want to give his nephew's plea any more weight.
"How many limbs did the creature have?" he asked.
"Six," the burly man answered bluntly.
The impact showed on Laios' face. He stiffened, drew a sharp breath, was about to shout something… but the burly man cut him off, raising his voice with a hand gesture.
"It wasn't the one I fought on the deck!"
The words stopped him cold. Laios closed his eyes, covering his face with his hand. His breathing turned heavy. For a few seconds, an expectant silence reigned, until a bitter laugh escaped his chest. It was a dry, brief sound that shook the tension in the hall.
Everyone looked at him, surprised.
"Then… there's more than one," he said, removing his hand from his face. His tired gaze seemed to sink into itself. "No… maybe even more."
At that moment, something glimmered beneath his uniform, on his left shoulder. Laios' expression softened suddenly. He slipped his hand under the fabric and pulled out a glowing stone, similar to a medal of honor, shining with a warm tone in the dimness.
"You know?" he said, raising it between his fingers. "When all this is over, I want to go to Nexoria."
His words floated in the air with an unexpected tone.
"They say it's a very prosperous city. They call it 'the most comfortable city'…"
The hall, busy with healing and organizing, paused for an instant. Some nodded while covering the wounded, others watched him with curiosity. The mere name of Nexoria seemed to drag along memories and emotions.
The murmurs began, scattered at first, then swelling like a chorus.
"My brother came back from there with clothes finer than a noble's, more… contemporary…"
"Mine brought a mechanical animal, like a living pet made of copper…"
"My father insists we move there, he says he'd never come back…"
"Mine… died on the trip."
That last comment swallowed all the others. Silence fell abruptly, harsh, uncomfortable. No one wanted to meet each other's eyes.
The alchemists carried on with their work, not lifting their gaze, as if words were a dangerous distraction. The smell of reagents filled the air while Körper remained unconscious, watched over by a caretaker in a white coat who checked his breathing with ritual patience.
In a corner, a young woman with tired eyes stared at Laios' glowing stone. Her fingers brushed her own, hanging from a choker against her neck. Her lips trembled faintly, and she stood slowly, as if gathering strength to speak.
But Laios' voice cut through the air before she could say anything.
"You can't come," he told Eilor without looking at him, cutting off the attempt at its root.
The boy's mouth fell open, incredulous.
"What? But…" He stopped himself. He already knew what the answer would be.
The words he didn't speak hung in the air. Eilor clenched his fists, frustrated, because he understood too well: the six-limbed monsters were stronger than his uncle. If he, with barely half his strength, joined… he would only get in the way. Or die in his place.
Laios was about to leave, but before that he pointed toward Körper.
"You take care of him now. It was supposed to be me, but… ironic, isn't it?"
Eilor lowered his gaze, unable to respond.
The burly man clicked his tongue and muttered.
"Him? Take care of Körper? Seriously?"
Laios turned to him briefly, his expression serious, almost sharp.
"Not really. He's not capable enough to help. But it would be worse to leave him with nothing to do. And Jenna…"
"We got separated in the machinery levels," the burly man nodded, understanding.
"I see…" Laios frowned, his voice hardening. "That thing was able to crush Körper. And if there's more than one…"
"Hey, I've got a theory," interrupted the officer, raising his hand.
Laios and the burly man looked at him immediately. The first arched an eyebrow, expectant; the second crossed his arms, his expression grim.
"At first, I thought it was just coincidence that we didn't transform into those things," said the officer, measuring each word. "But now I have no doubt."
A muffled murmur rippled through the air. The three exchanged tense looks, as if they all already guessed what he was about to say.
"These runes…" he continued, raising his own, the 'Rune of the Brave.' The engraving glowed faintly on his skin, pulsing like a living heart. "They're what keep us from transforming."
The silence was absolute. Only the drip of a broken flask could be heard somewhere in the hall.
Laios thought for a moment. Then nodded slowly, seriousness hardening his face.
"Now that you mention it… on the deck, only the crew without runes transformed."
"Exactly," the officer affirmed firmly. "Everyone still here, everyone still alive… has one."
The burly man let out a disbelieving snort, as if he had just realized something too obvious he had overlooked. He stared at his own rune, tracing the ridges on his skin with his fingers.
The three men nodded almost in unison, sealing a silent agreement.
"That means…" concluded the officer, "it's not enough to survive. We can't be separated from our runes. Not even by accident."
The words hung in the air like an unwritten order. No one argued. No one dared.
Suddenly, a grotesque screech tore through the air from the corridor. It wasn't a human cry: it was sharper, wetter, a sound that clawed at the ears like twisted metal.
The three tensed instantly. The burly man turned toward the source of the noise, muscles rigid, fingers already seeking the hilt of his weapon.
"New weapon?" he asked in a thin voice, trying to rationalize what he heard.
"I found it in the room of a transformed one," said Laios, raising what he held in his hand. The stone still glowed faintly in his palm.
The screech came again, louder, closer. This time it was joined by uncontrolled footsteps: wild, irregular, pounding against the metal of the corridor like a storm of hammer blows. The echo resonated through ceiling and walls, making the hall vibrate.
A flask rolled and shattered on the floor; no one dared to pick it up.
The three looked at each other. None of them smiled. None of them spoke.
They simply got ready.