Of all the things Damon had grown to hate about basic training when he joined the army, marching had not been one of them. To just start moving and shut off his brain and push himself, see how far he could go. It wasn’t easy. Focusing on taking one step after the next would seem trivial, but that only worked while his body wasn’t exhausted. When his thighs burned and his lungs hurt? When his feet ached and his gut felt like it was being stabbed? It took an ever-increasing amount of concentration to sustain, until there were no thoughts, only the ground under his feet.

One step, then the next.

Even though this was an alien world, Damon found solace in the burn of his body as he pushed himself up the grassy slope. Thunder rumbled from above. The chill from the rain had long since drenched him, soaking him to the bone. He appreciated the rain. It cooled his body when he’d otherwise be burning up and sweltering.

With the short-sword in hand, Damon slowed as he crested the hill, taking stock of his surroundings. Within the darkness of the storm, the trees glowed ethereally. It was a spectacle he would’ve loved to sit down and appreciate, the tens of thousands of trees glowing a pale blue and green, the way they danced to the wind and rain, turning the mountain into an ever shifting reflection of the starry sky…

No, he had to find Han and Sybil, warn them of the familiar that was hunting them down. And he had to be careful not to get himself hunted along the way. There were sure to be monsters, and Damon did not want to meet any of them. The plan was simple. Once he warned Han and Sybil, his best option would be to immediately return to the village with them. Would they agree?

No time. Damon checked the map. He’d long since passed the last known location for all three of the targets and had yet to spot anything that might betray their whereabouts or possible proximity. The rolling thunderstorm and rain made everything hard to see, anyway. The robot could be right in front of him and he’d have a tough time spotting it.

Damon kept the map in the corner of his eye and went back to his march, turning his focus forward. This was the same relative direction, but would they have adjusted course? He wasn’t sure. They had several hours’ worth of a lead on him, probably still were still ahead of the robot as well.

What was their marching speed? Their destination? The monster lord or-.

[…]

System ‘heads-up’:

Automaton Isthatit has entered detection range

Distance: 300 meters

[…]

There was a blip in his map, a singular red dot, and it wasn’t moving. Dread coursed down Damon’s spine. Was he too late?

He slowed down, adjusting the direction of his steps towards the familiar. Lowering his profile, he tried to use what little trees there were available as cover while looking for any signs of the half-robot creature. Should he circle around? There was no way in hell he would fight the thing. If it had killed Sybil and Han, then what could he even do?

Priorities.

“Sys, if Sybil or Han are dead, can you still detect their location?”

[…]

Query Answer:

If there are active EM tags within detection range, they will be detectable.

[…]

“…” Stopping entirely, he let out a long sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Sys, in the cave, you detected someone that was dead. Was their EM tag active, or did you detect it through some other means?”

[…]

Query Answer:

Deceased entity ‘Arlen’ was detected by EM tag.

[…]

“Please keep an eye out for Sybil and Han.” With a brief dismissal of the confirmation, he began walking carefully.

Once he was a hundred meters away from the robot, he circled around it, trying to see if he could spot the other users, or maybe even the robot itself. Every part of him kept wondering if they were dead, if the droid had killed them yet or not. What would he do if it had? What would he do if it hadn’t? Fighting the familiar was not an option in his cards. It would be suicidal.

With no confirmation of any other EM tags, Damon feared the worst. Maybe the robot just hadn’t found them. But why stop moving? If it fulfilled the mission, it could have just turned back. Or had it picked the spot as a good ambush point for when the others returned from their fight with the monster lord?

And then, the dot started moving.

In his direction.

“Fuck!”

Damon’s first impulse was to run, but he clamped down on it. Run where? No one else within range, and trying to escape wouldn’t work since the familiar was able to cover more ground faster than him. What were his options?

Fighting out in the open was suicide.

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Fighting close quarters was suicide.

At least he could try to change locations. Should he hurry or pretend he wasn’t aware the robot was chasing him? He returned to his marching speed, hastily looking about in search of anywhere that might give him a better chance of survival. The lack of trees in the area would make him an easy target. But with hills and mountains all around, where could he go?

The minutes ticked, his naked steps hammered against the tall grass and mud, and the robot kept moving closer. The adrenaline was compensating for the higher rhythm, his heart hammered against his chest, the exhaustion completely ignored. Damon’s grip tightened on the sword until his knuckles were white. The familiar was not moving as fast as it could have, flying far slower than the previous time he’d fought it. Something wasn’t right, and he didn’t have the time to figure it out. He had to find cover or he’d get the air-cannon.

When he started his descent towards the nearest clusters of trees, the dot accelerated.

The crackle of thunder above, the hammering of the rain.

Fifty meters, the robot was still speeding up. Damon turned his forced mart into a jog.

The faint whirl of the rotor engines of the drone was heard over the deluge.

Thirty meters, he would not make it to the trees, the jog turned into a sprint.

Ten meters, the whirling came with a wheezing sound.

Damon threw himself at the ground, hands moving to cover his ears.

A red-hot glow passed over him, heat searing against his skin.

Then, the thump.

The shock-wave hammered him down against the ground. The rain struck him with solid force. Damon’s head was ringing as he quickly got back to his feet and stared up at the droid.

The murder-cube flew using the two disks at its sides, a singular glowing yellow eye looking down at him as lightning streaked across the clouds above. Two of its bladed arms were extended, red hot knives made the rain sizzle and boil on contact, steam whipping against the gale winds from its rotors and the storm. Even with the strong winds, the only thing the robot had to do to keep itself still midair was twitch and tweak the direction of its rotors.

Damon noticed the body of the creature adjusted ever so slightly, turning its focus lower, to his right hand.

The hand wielding the sword of its owner.

“Are you actually smart enough to understand me?” Damon frowned. “Because if you are, then you’ll probably be downright pissed. I took this from the knight after I broke his legs.”

The knives sizzled, hotter, the wheezing sound began. The rotors tilted forward, the robot lunged, diving, glowing blades ready.

Damon didn’t care to block and threw himself to the ground again, ducking and rolling out of the way. A sharp whirring sound followed him, he spotted the machine spinning midair right as it let out an explosion of air. The concussive force shoved the machine further away while knocking him almost straight back down to the muddy ground.

Damon turned his back to the robot and sprinted towards the cluster of trees. The familiar didn’t dive bomb him again, swerving its trajectory into a long circle. It took only seconds to put itself in front of him, low enough to make it damn clear it was very much there to block his path.

“Well, fuck you too.” Damon glowered.

With a whirl of its rotors, it approached more slowly than the first two flybys, instead keeping its pace steady. It swung its knives at him, and Damon was forced to step back and out of their range. Each arm moved with severely limited range, each swing fast, but needing a split second to build up before unleashing it, another half a second before it swung again.

Damon swung to meet the blades in a desperate attempt to deflect them. The machine’s blows were incredibly light, sparks leaping out of where the two blades scratched one another. The heat seared against his skin, the steam rising with every attack. The familiar’s unblinking glowing yellow eye staring at him with deathly focus. Each arm moved with intent to cut him down, each blade swung in simple, predictable lines. But the robot would quickly use its rotors to push into his defense and force him back or risk the bite of the weaponry it wielded.

Damon could only shudder at what would happen the moment it brought out more arms.

But it had not done so. He could only guess it wasn’t able to, not while flying at least.

Was it slower flight speed when catching up with him because of it? Not enough output to sustain all glowing blades and flight at the same time? This was an obvious change in strategy from before. Why wouldn’t it… Wait.

Jumping a step back, Damon raised his arm, putting the sword clearly into view of the familiar. “Block this!”

He immediately leapt forward, giving a sideways swing with everything he had, not much different to swinging a bat onehanded.

The robot blocked it with both of its glowing blade-arms.

The instant the attack landed, the familiar’s whole body spun out of control, a spinning top just about ready to crash onto the ground. The engines whirled madly as it tried to stabilize itself. Damon ran after it, swinging his blade downwards savagely, screaming at the top of his lungs. Sparks flew in every direction. The robot canted and the chaotic attempt to regain stability turned into a maddeningly loud shriek of metal against metal. Its right engine burst, and the familiar was sent careening down the hill.

It was like a gigantic six sided dice, rolling and spinning towards the bottom. The whole exchange had felt like hitting a piñata.

“Yeah, your footing is shit when you’re not touching the ground.”

Drenched, Damon didn’t bother to chase after it, turning towards the trees instead. The robot would come after him, and he didn’t have time to waste. Already he could spot it deploying its legs and other arms, and if dealing with two glowing blades might have been manageable, all six was something he didn’t feel he’d have any chances against in open terrain.

Then again, he hadn’t expected one swing had been enough to smash its rotor like that. Damon stopped at the edge of the small grove, looking at the glowing trees, then at the blade in his hand, its metal dented and slightly bent.

He remembered the feeling of killing the rat monsters, how squishy their bodies were, the sensation of everything weighing so little. And how easy it was to chop wood with practically a single swing.

Maybe he was looking at things the wrong way.

Eyes turning back to the small tree, the thing was young, barely twice his torso in thickness and five times his height. With a swing of the blade, the metal dug into the bark and half-way through the trunk. A second swing and he’d cut off a triangle worth of wood from the base, a wedge he put right back in. The storm’s wind pushed, the tree leaned, but did not topple. Damon turned his focus to the next tree, two chops, and the wedge went back into place, then the larger third one.

The glowing red spots at the edge of his vision told him the robot was approaching.

Would the droid be smart enough to realize his intentions? Would it even work?

The sword in his hand had been dented beyond recognition, the previous beautiful straight line now having turned it into something closer to a boomerang. He’d have to make do with what he had, not like he had an alternative. His eyes locked on the familiar, six sizzling red blades at the ready as it approached, moving on four mechanical legs, steam rising in its wake as its weaponry made the raindrops fizzle against its edge.

Its singular yellow eye was locked on him. The creature would not let him go that easily.

“That’s it, just get closer…”

As soon as the robot was close enough, he could hear the sizzling from the blades. Damon kicked out the wedges, keeping the trees standing. The familiar got closer, the trees tilted, groaning under the severe winds of the storm, the first tree fell. And the robot was swallowed in a bush of leaves, its blades swung, igniting the foliage. The trunk clearly had missed, and it moved closer. The second tree missed entirely, falling on the opposite side.

The third tree, meant to fall down the middle, groaned, creaked, and bent. But did not fall.

Damon stared at the tree for just long enough to glare at it.

He went back to running.