As dawn broke through the forest canopy, a faint voice seemed to echo Ehrek’s name. But he was too groggy and drained to respond. The call grew faint, blending into the forest’s gentle rustling until, with a start, Ehrek’s eyes snapped open. He found himself lying in a modest bed, the warm sunlight filtering through a nearby window. The heaviness of his limbs, and the sudden absence of his armor, jolted him fully awake.
He sat up abruptly, disoriented, instinctively summoning a wormhole and reaching for his sword—but his body gave way beneath him, and he collapsed onto the wooden floor with a sharp wince.
“I don’t know what you fought that managed to wear you down like this,” came a calm yet oddly unsettling voice. Merkmal was seated at a workbench across the room, his back turned as he carefully worked on Ehrek’s battered armor. “Half the helmet was completely shattered, and both the gauntlets and chest piece were pierced clear through. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
Ehrek looked over, still catching his breath. Merkmal didn’t turn to face him, his focus fixed on the repairs, his hands moving with precise, almost clinical motions.
“I did what I could to patch you up,” Merkmal continued, his tone casual but laced with a strange intensity. “Your wounds had already frozen over on their own, but any deeper damage… well, there could still be some. I used the Trait of Love on you to help stabilize things, so you’re in a far better condition than when I found you.”
For a moment, silence settled over the room. Merkmal finally looked up, his expression softening just slightly. “Look, I know you went out for personal reasons, obviously. But finding you in this state… it’s not something I’d care to repeat.” His voice dropped, and the concern, though subtle, was evident.
Ehrek sat back on the bed, still feeling the weight of his body. He cast a glance at Merkmal, who returned to his work with a faint sigh.
“You’re awfully quiet. Nothing to say?” Merkmal went on, not breaking his stride. “While you were out, I took the opportunity to make a few upgrades. The armor’s molecular structure has been enhanced. I incorporated stronger alloys, restructuring it with reinforced tungsten carbide. It should improve both blast resistance and impact dispersion considerably.” He gave Ehrek a sidelong look, a glint of pride in his eyes. “Visually, it’ll look as good as new, but I can add this reinforcement throughout the entire armor once I’ve tested these improvements.”
With that, Merkmal conjured a radiant red hammer surrounded by a royal blue hue, and began hammering away at the armor. The rhythmic strikes echoed in the quiet space, but Ehrek’s attention was drawn to the intense, otherworldly essence that seemed to emanate from the hammer, a cosmic energy that filled the room.
Ehrek’s question hangs in the air, his voice sharp. “How many conduits are out there?”
Merkmal, still bent over the armor, glances up in surprise. “That’s the first thing you ask?” He scoffs, thinking it over. “Well… I don’t know exactly. There’s gotta be at least five or more of us out there. They’re worried about you too, you know. You can head out there and give them a reason not to be.” He returns to his work, sparking subtle cosmic energy into the metal with each strike.
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Ehrek’s lip curls as he looks down at himself. “Looking like this?”
Merkmal turns, a slight smirk creeping onto his face. “You came from space looking like that. Changed that much already?”
Ehrek’s gaze narrows, and in an instant, he’s across the room, reaching into a wormhole and pulling a blade to Merkmal’s neck. “Watch that mouth of yours,” he growls.
Merkmal’s eyes flash royal blue, a mischievous light glinting in them. “A rematch so soon? Your armor’s not even ready.” His smug grin challenges Ehrek, who eventually releases the blade, stepping back with a warning glare.
“I won’t let you off as easily next time,” Ehrek mutters, striding towards the door. As he opens it, the sight that greets him is unusual—a ruined cathedral, now bustling with activity. People are eating, drinking, sharing laughs in makeshift seats around tables scattered across the broken floor, the place taking on the feel of a chaotic tavern. As Ehrek steps forward, a chill follows him, frost tracing patterns on the stone floor and walls as heads turn to look at him.
He scans the crowd, picking up on familiar presences: Gong-gi and Schein, their cosmic auras making them unmistakable among the others. But another presence, one Ehrek hasn’t felt before, draws close behind him. A mechanical, cold voice breaks the murmurs around him.
“Scans show you are incredibly similar, yet not identical. State your identity now.” The robotic tone sends a chill, though Ehrek doesn’t turn fully, just enough to reveal his ice-cold gaze.
“If you’re eager to die, we can take this outside,” Ehrek growls.
The one-eyed, red-plated robot—Legion, by the look of him—seems unfazed. “Perhaps, as a nonliving being, I should teach you the meaning of lifelessness. Calculations show your chance of success without your armor is in the low thirties. Shall we test my accuracy?”
The room goes silent, all eyes on the standoff. Ehrek rises slowly, walking out of the cathedral without a word, feeling the intense stare of the others on his back. Once outside, in the quiet of the forest, he lets out a frustrated growl, slamming his fist into a nearby tree, uprooting it with a thunderous crack as it crashes to the ground.
“Every time I think I can have a moment of peace…” he mutters, looking up at the darkening sky, his thoughts spinning. The cathedral doors creak open behind him, and the faint glint of metal catches his eye.
Legion steps forward, his sleek red armor gleaming, one katana unsheathed and his glowing eye fixed on Ehrek. “What have you done with the lifeform: Ehrek, Conduit of the Cosmos? Any unsatisfactory answer will be met with deadly force.”
Ehrek meets Legion’s unyielding gaze. “Look, machine—I am Ehrek. Maybe you should go search for your own version before I put a hole in that head of yours.”
Legion’s eye flashes as it processes Ehrek’s words. “Your response is noted as insufficient. Either you are afflicted by memory loss, or you are a threat requiring immediate neutralization.” The eye shifts from orange to a cold, deadly red. “The fact that you do not know my name is proof enough. I am Legion.”
Without further warning, Legion lunges, katana flashing in the dying light. Ehrek catches the blade with his bare hand, frost creeping over the metal.
“You’re right,” Ehrek says, his voice low. “I’ve been abandoned, left to rot, forbidden to even exist. And yet here I am, in this twisted world. If everyone wants me to be the villain, so be it. I’ll slaughter every single one of you conduits in every timeline until I have enough power to take my revenge.”
With a surge of strength, Ehrek grips the frozen katana, swinging Legion into the air and throwing him into the forest. As Legion crashes through the trees, Ehrek starts toward him, each step radiating a furious, unyielding resolve.