Jonny lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his body still weakened from the fever that had nearly taken him. He had been recovering slowly, each day a little stronger, but the exhaustion clung to him like a fog. His thoughts, however, were sharp, unrelenting.
André’s offer lingered in his mind—an invitation to join the knighthood and fight against the Darkborn. A noble cause, Jonny told himself, to fight for humanity’s survival against the monstrous threat. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t the whole truth. This wasn’t just about duty. It wasn’t just about protecting the village, the kingdom, or anyone else.
It was about vengeance.
Helena’s face, her gentle smile, her eyes filled with warmth and strength—those memories haunted him now. Rylkoth who had taken her life was already dead, but Jonny’s anger lingered like embers buried deep, quiet but unfading, ready to ignite at the slightest breath. It had spread, festering like a wound. The Darkborn as a whole were the enemy. They had taken Helena from him. They had taken everything.
The room felt too small, too suffocating. Jonny’s fists clenched at his sides as the weight of his own feelings pressed down on him.
It's dead, he thought, his jaw tightening. But it’s not enough. Not while there are more of them out there. I won’t rest until they pay.
He forced himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed. His muscles ached, still tender from the strain of illness, but he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. The path ahead was clear. He would join the knighthood, fight the Darkborn, and make sure they were erased from the world. Part of him wanted to believe it was for the greater good, but deep down, he couldn’t lie to himself.
It was selfish. It was all for him. Helena had given everything for him. He couldn’t let that go to waste.
---
The cottage felt hollow as Jonny gathered his things. Supplies were sparse, but he packed what he could—dried meats, bread, water, and tools for the journey ahead. He could no longer rely on Willow, his trusty mule, another reminder of the loss he suffered from the attack.
His gaze flickered around the cottage one last time. It had been his home, their home. The place where Helena had taught him how to live again, how to be human after so many years of surviving alone. Her presence lingered here, in every corner, in every shadow. But now, it was time to leave.
“She was my everything,” Jonny whispered as he closed the door behind him.
Outside, Gavin stood waiting. The machine was a silent sentinel, his metallic frame reflecting the afternoon light. Jonny stopped for a moment, taking in Gavin’s strange form. In this world of swords and magic, not overtaken by human technology and development, Gavin was a stark contrast—a reminder of the dystopian world they both had once come from.
Gavin didn’t belong here. Jonny knew that. The people of this world wouldn’t understand what Gavin was. Fear, suspicion, danger—it would all follow if anyone got a good look at him.
Without hesitation, Jonny grabbed a cloak from his pack, wrapping it around Gavin’s shoulders. It covered most of his metallic body, but his face still stood out—cold, unnatural. Jonny rummaged through his things again, pulling out an old, wide-brimmed hat and placing it on Gavin’s head. It wasn’t perfect, but from a distance, it might work.
“This’ll have to do,” Jonny said, adjusting the hat. “As long as no one gets too close, we’ll be fine.”
Gavin, as always, said nothing. But there was a slight tilt to his head, almost as if he were processing Jonny’s actions with quiet acceptance.
With Gavin in a makeshift disguise, Jonny and Gavin secured the last of their gear. The weight of the journey ahead pressed on Jonny, but he was resolute. There was no turning back now. The road to Calaedria was long and dangerous, but the thought of facing the Darkborn—of fighting them—was the only thing keeping his feet moving forward.
Jonny began his trek toward the path ahead of him, his body still aching from the fever, but he pushed through the pain, unwilling to slow down. Gavin walked beside him, his movements mechanical but graceful. The cool breeze brushed against them as they left the cottage behind.
---
Days passed as they traveled through dense forests and rough terrain. The wilderness around them felt vast, endless, and Jonny found himself struggling to keep pace with Gavin’s efficient strides. His legs trembled at times, the remnants of his illness still clinging to him like chains.
“You should slow down,” Gavin said one evening, his voice as emotionless as ever. “Your body is not fully recovered.”
Jonny shook his head, refusing to listen. “I don’t have time to slow down, Gavin.”
They camped by a small stream that night, the flickering firelight casting long shadows across the trees. Jonny tended to the fire and checked the supplies while Gavin stood by the fire, staring into the flames. His disguise had worked so far—they encountered only a handful of others along their path, and no one had gotten close enough to notice what he really was. But Jonny’s mind wasn’t on that.
As he sank down by the fire, exhaustion settling into his bones, his thoughts drifted once more to the Darkborn in another futile attempt to focus on something else other than the pain of his loss. He knew the knighthood fought for the kingdom, for humanity, but his own reasons were darker, more personal. He wasn’t just fighting to protect others. He was fighting because he wanted to see the Darkborn suffer.
Is it wrong to feel this way? Jonny thought, clenching his fists. Does it even matter if it is?
The fire crackled softly, and Jonny closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the flames wash over him. He had to keep going, no matter what. Even if it was selfish. Even if his motives weren’t pure.
---
Gavin, meanwhile, had been quietly working on himself. His internal systems, long neglected, had begun to repair bit by bit. His movements grew sharper, more precise, as he approached 40% of his original functionality. But there was something more to him now—something that wasn’t just mechanical.
Jonny watched as Gavin moved with efficiency, adjusting their camp and rationing supplies. He noticed how Gavin’s actions mirrored Helena’s old lessons—small, practical things she’d taught him to survive. He couldn’t help but smile.
“She's still here,” Jonny said one morning as they packed up camp. “We haven't lost her, not completely. I can see her... in the way you're taking care of me. It's the little things.”
Gavin paused, turning his head slightly. “Efficiency is necessary for optimal survival."
Jonny chuckled, the sound starting light but quickly shifting, as if a weight had settled over him. “Yeah. That’s what she always said.” His laughter faded, his face shadowed by the raw loss that still lingered. Anger tightened in his quiet expression, a reminder of the unhealed wound Helena's absence left behind.
---
The road stretched on for weeks, and Jonny felt his strength returning with each passing day. His body had recovered from the fever, and now, with every step, the fire inside him burned hotter with renewed determination.
But that fire wasn’t just for the greater good. It was for him. His rage was a force that wouldn’t let him rest, and no matter how much he tried to justify it, he couldn’t deny the truth.
Now that Jonny's strength had returned and Gavin's conditions had improved, Gavin began helping Jonny with his swordsmanship in the evenings.
---
"Your grip is too tense," Gavin observed one night, holding a stick as a makeshift weapon with effortless precision. He moved closer, adjusting Jonny's hand on the hilt with a mechanical yet careful touch. Jonny resisted at first as the adjustments felt unnatural, but Gavin's steady patience proved fruitful.
Each evening, Gavin sparred with him, his movements smooth, precise, and relentless, forcing Jonny to stay sharp. Gavin's silent guidance became the rhythm of their nights, his motions fluid as he demonstrated attacks and parries, turning their clearings into a makeshift training ground. Gavin's proficiency made Jonny painfully aware of his own limits, but it also sparked something deeper within him—a fierce determination to grow stronger.
Over weeks of travel, Jonny's swings became surer, his stance firmer, his mind clearer. In those moments of focus, he could almost forget the rage simmering inside him. Almost.
One evening, as they finished a sparring session, Gavin paused, looking at Jonny with what almost felt like approval. "Your form is improving," he said simply, his voice calm.
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Jonny gave a small nod and offered a slight smile. With each passing day, Jonny felt his sword becoming an extension of himself, but the purpose that pushed him forward remained rooted in Helena's memory and his relentless drive toward vengeance.
Gavin’s repairs had reached their limit for now, and the machine walked beside him, a silent companion in this long journey. Jonny glanced at him, knowing that Gavin had been the one constant in his life now. A machine, yes, but something more. A partner, a mentor, a reminder of where he came from. And together, they would continue forward, toward Calaedria, toward the knighthood, and toward the fight against the Darkborn.
***
The two weeks had passed like an endless series of laboring nights and long days. Jonny and Gavin traveled across uneven terrain, following roads that turned to dirt paths, and finally, they were far enough from any civilization to feel truly alone. Their campfire crackled quietly under the cold sky, stars gleaming above them, as if watching over their small circle of warmth and light.
Jonny sat close to the fire, legs crossed, absentmindedly twirling a twig in his hands. He had spent that day training, sparring with Gavin, pushing his body further than he ever had before. But it wasn’t just the exhaustion that weighed him down this night. The fire reflected in his eyes, and his mind wandered back once more—back to a time long before he’d set off on this journey, before Helena’s death, before the pain that had become his companion.
Across the fire, Gavin sat silently, his mechanical frame barely moving. The flickering flames reflected off his slightly exposed metal exterior, casting long shadows over the sharp angles of his body. His eyes, faintly glowing, watched Jonny in silence.
Jonny broke the quiet first, his voice low, as if speaking more to himself than to Gavin.
“When I found you... you were broken.”
Gavin didn’t respond, not at first. He simply observed, waiting for Jonny to continue.
“You were barely functioning, but you kept moving.” Jonny’s hand clenched around the twig. “And I was... well, I was broken too.”
His voice wavered slightly. He hadn’t spoken about it before, not to anyone. The memories from those days were too painful. But tonight, with only Gavin and the fire to hear him, he needed to ask.
“You... I followed you, Gavin. I needed to know what kept you going. What kept you moving when everything about you looked like it was falling apart?” Jonny tossed the twig into the fire, and the flames flared briefly as it caught.
Gavin’s eyes shifted slightly, narrowing in thought. The whirring of his internal mechanisms was the only sound he made as he processed the question stretching their silence into what felt like eternity. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, unfeeling—mechanical, but with a hint of contemplation.
“At the time,” Gavin began, “I had a purpose. A mission. I was built to fight... to protect humanity. Even when my body failed, my purpose did not.”
Jonny looked up, frowning. “A mission?”
“Yes. I was designed for a singular task that time—fighting an enemy, an enemy of humanity.” Gavin’s head tilted slightly, a human-like gesture that didn’t match his machine nature. “Even when my body could no longer function at full capacity, I continued.”
Jonny leaned forward, his voice quiet, but insistent. “Was that enough? Just... a mission?”
Gavin was silent for another long moment, the fire between them crackling softly. Finally, he responded, “It was all I knew.”
Jonny’s eyes lowered, the fire’s glow casting deep shadows under his brow. He let Gavin’s words sink in, but something gnawed at him. A machine could keep going, following programming, he supposed. But a person? A person had to have more than that.
And yet, weren’t they the same?
“What kept you going when there was nothing left?” Jonny asked again, his voice now a whisper. “Was it really just the mission?”
Gavin didn’t answer immediately. His glowing eyes flickered briefly, his posture rigid but somehow more vulnerable now in the firelight.
“I don’t know why I didn’t stop,” Gavin finally admitted. His voice was softer, not physically—machines didn’t need to soften their voices—but something in his tone had changed. “Perhaps it was simply because I could still move.”
Jonny swallowed hard. He understood that in a way. This was something beyond pain or fear—something beyond reason.
Jonny stared into the fire, watching as it licked at the wood. “But... you didn’t stop. You should have, but you didn’t. Even now... you’re still here.”
Gavin’s gaze remained fixed on Jonny, his eyes glowing steadily. “Now it’s different.”
Jonny looked up, startled by the shift in Gavin’s voice. There was an unfamiliar weight behind the words, something deeper.
“I move because of you,” Gavin said simply. “Your journey is my journey. It’s no longer just about a mission or even survival. I want to understand what it means to be more than what I was designed to be.”
Jonny’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected that. Not from Gavin, not from the machine he’d found half-broken in that alley all those years ago. But now, hearing Gavin say those words, it made sense. They were both lost—both searching for something beyond survival.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The fire crackled quietly between them, the night stretching out around them like a blanket of silence.
Jonny’s voice broke the stillness this time, quieter now, almost hesitant. “I guess... we’re both trying to figure out what keeps us going.”
Gavin’s glowing eyes flickered in acknowledgment. “Yes. But it’s no longer just about fulfilling my purpose. I, too, am learning.”
Jonny felt a weight lift off his shoulders, just slightly. It wasn’t a resolution, but it was a beginning. He wasn’t alone in this—not anymore. Gavin’s journey mirrored his own, and somehow, knowing that made the uncertainty ahead a little less daunting.
But the quiet moment didn’t last. Gavin’s head shifted, his glowing eyes narrowing as his sensors picked up something beyond the campfire’s light. Jonny didn’t notice at first, still lost in thought, but Gavin’s sudden stillness made him freeze.
“Jonny,” Gavin said, his voice low, the mechanical whirring of his internal systems growing louder. “We’re not alone.”
Jonny’s hand instinctively went to the sword lying by his side. “How far?”
Gavin paused for a moment, his sensors processing the information. “Half a mile. Moving toward us. Slowly.”
Jonny’s heart began to race, his muscles tensing. They hadn’t encountered anyone on their journey this far away from civilization, and now... travelers? Or something else?
“We need to hide Nox,” Jonny said, quickly fastening the blade to his waist and pulling his cloak over to conceal it. His fingers tightened on the hilt beneath the fabric. “We don’t know how valuable it is.”
Gavin gave a brief nod. “Agreed.”
Jonny looked around, scanning the dark edges of the clearing. He turned back to Gavin. “You can’t be seen either. You’re...”
“A machine,” Gavin finished, already moving further into the shadows beneath the trees. “I’ll stay out of sight. If anything happens, I’ll be nearby.”
Jonny’s mouth tightened into a grim line. “Stay close.”
Gavin retreated into the darkness, blending with the deep shadows, only the faintest glow of his eyes visible from where Jonny sat, but even that was obscured by his wide-brimmed hat. Jonny crouched near the fire, his hand still resting on the sword, the blade hidden from sight but ready. His ears strained to pick up any sound, his eyes flickering toward the treeline.
The faint sounds of footsteps began to reach him, quiet but unmistakable. Whoever, or whatever, was approaching wasn’t in a hurry, but they were coming closer with every passing second.
The fire continued to burn softly, casting long shadows across the clearing as Jonny stood waiting, the distant figures slowly emerging from the treeline.
***
Gavin had sensed them long before they arrived—three figures, steadily making their way toward the camp, their footsteps careful but not unnoticed by him. The tension in the air was palpable, a familiar feeling before unknown encounters. Jonny’s hand rested near the hilt of his sword, ready, but not yet drawn.
The night was calm, almost unnervingly so. The crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of leaves in the wind were the only sounds until the faint crunch of footsteps broke through. They were close now.
Emerging from the dark forest into the firelight were three figures. They moved cautiously, their eyes scanning the camp with sharp wariness. Leading them was a tall man, his broad shoulders draped in a worn cloak, a sword strapped across his back. His gaze was assessing, alert, as though he was ready for trouble but didn’t expect it.
“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” the man said, raising a hand in a gesture of peace. “We saw your fire and thought we’d introduce ourselves.”
Jonny’s eyes swept over the three strangers, his mind racing. Behind the swordsman was a slighter man, his hands never far from a pouch at his waist. His demeanor was more nervous, though there was a sharpness to his eyes that spoke of calculation. The third figure, a hooded woman, stood a step behind the others, her features mostly concealed, but Jonny caught the faint glint of a staff in her hand, which she gripped loosely.
Jonny didn’t respond immediately, his posture relaxed, but his senses alert. These weren’t ordinary travelers. Their equipment, their poise—everything about them said they were trained, and probably not here by accident.
“Not another soul around for miles, not for days or even weeks,” Jonny remarked, his voice even, betraying nothing of his own thoughts.
The tall swordsman offered a small smile. “We’re heading east,” he said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “Heard rumors about ruins past the eastern border. Some say it’s untouched. Full of ancient relics and lost materials.”
Jonny’s hand stilled near his sword. East. Toward Darkborn territory. He felt a familiar sensation as if Gavin had noticed something, though his companion remained silent, hidden in the shadows. Jonny knew that if there were something important to know, Gavin would share it when the moment was right.
The eastern border was a well-known line not to cross—beyond it lay Darkborn territory, a region where even seasoned warriors didn’t venture lightly. Jonny deduced the kingdom of Calaedria had long been responsible for keeping the Darkborn at bay, preventing them from crossing into human lands. Anyone who ventured east would likely encounter more than just forgotten ruins and relics.
The swordsman continued, “Name’s Cal. My friends here are Daven and Mackie.” He gestured to the others—Daven, the slighter man, offered a quick nod, his eyes darting around the camp as if constantly assessing. Mackie, the hooded woman, remained silent, her face still mostly hidden.
Jonny’s hand lingered on his sword, though he didn’t draw it. Something about their manner didn’t sit right with him. They weren’t hostile, but their story felt... incomplete. He could sense they weren’t lying about everything—there was truth in their words—but there was more they weren’t saying. Perhaps it was the way they spoke so casually of traveling east, as though Darkborn territory were merely an inconvenience.
But Jonny had learned to read people, and he knew Gavin was doing the same in his own way.
“East...” Jonny said, his tone measured. “People don’t just travel into Darkborn territory.”
Cal’s smile wavered for a fraction of a second, and Jonny caught the subtle shift in Daven’s posture—a slight stiffening, as though he hadn’t expected Jonny to bring up the danger so directly.
“We know,” Cal replied, more seriously now. “That’s why we’re traveling light and keeping a low profile. We’ve been preparing for this for a while.” He gestured to Daven and Mackie. “We’re not exactly untrained.”
Jonny raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He glanced toward the fire, letting the moment stretch, forcing the strangers to offer more if they wanted to gain his trust.
“Most people we’ve talked to wouldn’t even consider heading east,” Daven said, his voice quick, as though eager to fill the silence. “But we’re looking for something specific. Rumors of a city—an old one, untouched by the war. There could be relics, things from before the Darkborn claimed the land. Ancient materials. Maybe even some... forgotten knowledge.”
He stopped short of saying anything too grand, but Jonny could see the gleam of ambition in his eyes. It wasn’t just about the relics. There was more to their journey, though they clearly didn’t trust Jonny enough yet to reveal it.
Jonny didn’t speak, weighing his options. He and Gavin knew they would eventually head east themselves, though their reasons were their own. And while Jonny wasn’t exactly keen on trusting these strangers, the prospect of exploring ruins of a lost city held some appeal. If there truly were relics out there, materials from before the collapse of the great kingdoms, it could be what Gavin needed to continue his repairs. And Jonny was nothing if not practical.
After a long moment, Jonny nodded slightly. “Kurt,” he said, introducing himself with the alias he’d prepared while waiting for their arrival. “That’s Wells.” He gestured toward Gavin, who remained just out of sight, obscured by the shadows. There was no need for these newcomers to know the full truth about Gavin. Not yet.
Cal nodded in acknowledgment, though Jonny could see him glancing toward where Gavin stood, trying to make out more of his companion. “Good to meet you, Kurt. And Wells.” His eyes flicked back to Jonny, a hint of curiosity there. But he didn’t press.
“So,” Cal continued, his tone casual again, “you heading east too? Maybe we could join forces. It’d be safer that way. Strength in numbers.”
Jonny didn’t answer immediately. He let the fire crackle for a few more seconds, watching how the three reacted to the silence. They were careful, guarded. It made sense—venturing into Darkborn territory was no small task. But there was something else there, something they weren’t saying. Yet they weren’t entirely deceptive either. Jonny could feel the truth in their words about the possibility of relics. But why would they be so desperate to go east, knowing the risks?
“Ancient relics, you said,” Jonny answered after a pause, his voice measured. “Could be worth a lot... if you can make it back alive.”
Daven’s eyes gleamed. “Exactly. And if we do find anything, well, it’d be valuable beyond measure. Materials that haven’t been seen in centuries. Maybe even some of the knowledge lost in the old wars. It could change everything.”
Jonny glanced at Gavin again, though Gavin remained silent. The city could hold what Gavin needed, ancient materials that might help him repair the damage he’d sustained. Jonny didn’t know the specifics, but he understood the value of the past. And he understood the danger they were walking into. Darkborn territory wasn’t a place for hopeful adventurers—it was a death sentence for most. But these three seemed determined. And for now, their goals aligned with his.
“All right,” Jonny said finally, making his decision. “We’ll go with you. At least for now.”
Cal’s smile returned, more genuine this time. “Good to have you with us, Kurt,” he said, extending his hand. Jonny took it, his grip firm but controlled, his eyes locking onto Cal’s with a silent message: I’m not an easy mark.
Daven looked relieved, while Mackie remained silent, though Jonny didn’t miss the subtle way she shifted her weight, as if ready for anything. She was clearly the cautious one of the group. Her eyes met Daven's for the briefest moment, a flicker of shared understanding passing between them.
As the night deepened and the fire burned lower, the strangers settled into their places around the camp. Jonny remained alert, watching them from the corner of his eye, while Gavin kept his post in the shadows. They would have time to talk later, to strategize. Gavin would find a moment to share what he’d learned about these newcomers.
For now, Jonny and Gavin would follow. They would see where this path led—toward ruins and whatever secrets may be held. And they would be ready for whatever dangers awaited them beyond the eastern border, deeper within Darkborn territory. Perhaps Jonny's quest for vengeance would begin sooner than he had planned.