PART 36: TOO LATE
ADMIRAL
I’m not entirely sure that capturing these adventurers wandering into the debris field is the best idea. I don’t even think it’s fundamentally a good option.
But now it’s too late. There’s no going back—one of them has seen a droid. Maybe I should have thought this through more, found a way to buy time? Like when I lured the dwarves toward the human army earlier today. I acted too hastily.
He’s running, shouting to his comrades, who immediately tense up. I don’t understand what he’s saying, but it’s clear he’s alarmed—and curious, too curious. Like the ones trying to pry open a cryopod. They won’t manage to override the security with their swords and bows… but they could still damage the module. And I can’t let that happen.
I have to trap them, herd them into a snare like prey led into a net. From what I know of hunting, you drive the prey into its own downfall, forcing it toward a specific point, cutting off all escape routes. This time, it’s reversed—I’m the prey, or rather, my droid is. But that’s what they think. They’re charging straight toward a small fortress of metal, where my droids are hidden in the shadows, behind the charred trees and the jagged metal walls.
Soon, it will be time to capture them all. For what purpose? I don’t know. I just hope no one comes looking for them anytime soon. There’s really no turning back now. Those keeping watch at the rear, covering their tracks, will also be caught in the infernal trap Leia and I have set. No, mostly Leia. She planned everything, refined the final suggestion, arranged an enclosure to corral them like cattle.
Pff, I’m pathetic, trying to shift the blame onto an AI… I feel completely strung out right now. And I am—I injected myself with amphetamines, or I’d already be passed out from exhaustion. My mind is racing at a hundred miles an hour, and I hear booming in my head like war drums punishing me. It’s almost more exhausting than sleep itself.
I clutch my head, forcing myself to focus on the hunt.
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ALBION
I shout at everyone. They drop what they’re doing, stop murmuring, stop scavenging.
“There’s someone here! They’re the ones watching us! HUNT THEM DOWN!”
Adventurers may be nothing more than a band of bitter opportunists driven by coin, but when you set them on a chase, some of them become as relentless and competent as hunting hounds!
I start running toward the shape, leaping over debris with practiced ease. Lyrel is quick to my side. More than a dozen of us give chase, while the rest cover our rear at a steady pace.
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“That bastard is fast!” one of the men shouts.
But no matter how fast he is, he can’t outrun our encirclement. The mages, like Groboln, are casting minor spells to enhance our agility, and we’re simply too many.
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ADMIRAL
Shit! I didn’t expect them to be this fast! Must be their magic… But they also move like trained hunters. They’re professionals. This is bad—really bad. They are like a pack—efficient, fast, coordinated. Too fast. My droid doesn’t have time to reach the strategic point, doesn’t have time to lead them into the trap Leia so brilliantly planned. They’re already on him, closing in before I can react.
Through its sensors, I see them: silhouettes darting between debris, faint flashes of light flickering around them like sparks, speeding their movements. I’ve never fought magic before. My mind is racing under the drugs, but it’s not enough to find an immediate solution.
The droid makes one last sprint, but an agile figure cuts off its path—an elf, as quick as lightning, sword poised to strike. It swings its metallic arm to defend itself, but she dodges at the last second. Another adventurer lunges from the side, grabbing hold. The droid is trapped. Fuck. They caught it before I could lead them into the trap.
And now they’re no longer hunting. They’ve captured it.
“Admiral, the plan may be compromised,” Leia states calmly.
“Oh, really? You think so?” I snap, exasperated. That’s all she has to say?!
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ALBION
I throw myself at the figure, Lyrel right behind me. Our hands grip what should be flesh. But it’s not. It’s metal! The thing struggles, but I drive it into the burnt earth, slamming it down hard.
Victory electrifies us. We’ve finally caught it. But this isn’t a simple human scout—not an ordinary sentry. It’s a machine. A fucking machine. Its movements are fluid, almost organic, but there’s no doubt—it’s not alive. This thing is made of metal, not stone, not flesh or scales.
Behind us, the other adventurers catch up. Salina is the first to arrive, breathing hard, her eyes locked on the thing with a mix of shock and excitement.
“What the…?” She doesn’t finish her sentence.
The droid still moves, seeking an escape. Lyrel, quicker than all of us, drives her sword into one of its joints, hoping to pin it down. It groans under the impact, its metallic body searching for a solution. Yet, even with all her force, the blade barely scratches the joint. This thing is way tougher than it looks.
Three of us pile onto it. Groboln arrives, panting. The damn thing keeps struggling with relentless energy. We’re going to tire out before it does! Its face is buried deep in the dirt, yet it doesn’t seem to need air.
“A Bavil!” our old mage exclaims.
Exactly what I thought—one of those humanoid golems from the distant East. But what the hell is it doing here? Alone? …Wait, maybe it’s not alone at all!
The Bavil thrashes even harder. Even with three of us holding it down, we can’t keep it pinned!
A massive adventurer with a war axe moves in too aggressively, thinking to finish it off. But the droid reacts instantly. It retaliates. A leg swings backward, hitting me square in the back. Pain explodes through me—I might have broken something. I collapse onto the ground beside it.
In a fraction of a second, the bastard is back on its feet. I see its face. It doesn’t have one. Not like ours. Its mouth and nose are mere impressions—there’s no opening. So that’s it… this thing doesn’t even need to breathe or eat?!
The fight erupts instantly.
“It’s still active!” someone shouts.
My hand clenches around my blade, instinct taking over. I try to push myself up. We captured the beast, but it refuses to die quietly. And it’s not alone. Around us, shadows stir within the ruins.
More Bavils—whatever they are—step into the light.
And they attack.