Tracking someone with the potential to destroy the hunter at any time was hard; it was made even harder when that target had to cheat by riding a vehicle. It was a good thing those motorized wheels were slow. An old truck model, much like those that roamed around his hometown long ago. That meant the boy did not have to run at full speed while keeping away from that holy serving lady's sight. Maybe she felt he was around, but no snapping twigs blew his cover this time around.

  He was led to a rundown place compared to the two cities the woman in religious garb was in not long before. Dilapidated houses, streets that smelled of moldy wood and piss, and the sounds of shouting matches and loud clatter. A prayer place sat near the town center, and he knew that the woman would be going there. He didn't bother following her any further. This community felt much like the place where he spent his earlier childhood, only it was much warmer, and there was at least more food around.

  That food wouldn't be free, and he had to help himself to get it.

  The boy sneaked inside a busy restaurant kitchen. Their fault. Flimsy lock that could be picked with a piece of wire. Some targets were in sight: a leg of ham, and two loaves of bread in a basket. He crept under the counter, beyond the attention of two dull waiters and the lone chef. One swipe: basket gone, with the ham and bread now in it. He quickly returned the way he came and even closed the door behind him. The chef must have realized what happened and screamed.

  "Damned thief! Come out. I'll make meat out of you!"

  That big, scary cleaver wouldn't be killing anyone. The boy disappeared into another ruined, vacated house. He invited himself in through the window. This room was mostly intact: four walls, through there was a hole near the door large enough for an arm to go through, a dresser missing a few drawers, a chair, and a bed. The mattress smelled slightly of mold. It wasn't so bad, but that city near the sea had better weather. All that sprinting while following the strange church lady drew much of his strength, but the ham and bread were more than enough to regain his vigor. He missed that church stew, hoping to have more of it soon. Not a crumb was wasted; the boy sucked the flavor of ham and bread from his fingers. He yawned and stretched, putting himself to sleep once again.

  ????

  A fiery scream erupted nearby, shaking the dust and dismounting the lone faded picture frame hanging on the wall. It was almost instant; heat rushed into the house and almost overwhelmed the place in a cloak of black. He heard people around the block were startled by the explosion and instantly fled; irregular footsteps convinced him whatever they were running from was something dangerous, or even life-threatening.

  The boy sprang into action; he peered out the window, and in an acrobatic leap, got to the roof for a better view. The nearby warehouses were on fire. Rapid gunfire cracked rhythmically, as if accompanying the crunch and hum of the flames consuming whatever they touched. He leaped from one rooftop to another. The jumps were harder to do in this town; some roofs had holes large enough for him to disappear into.

  He heard firefights radiating from the blazing compound. On one side were men, scattered in all directions, seeking cover among abandoned houses and broken walls. The boy's attention poured onto a group that found a largely intact house to hide away in.

  "Bastards! What are those things?"

  "B-b-b-beats me. I don't think they're- human." A man managed to sputter words while catching his breath.

  "I swear I shot that thing. Dead center." Another fighter spoke; his hands were shaking while he inserted a clip into his rifle. "Bounced off... I can't believe it. Something was glowing in it."

  "Whatever it is, we'll kill it when it gets too close." The sound of metal sliding out of leather came right after a third person spoke.

  "It's coming!" cried a fourth member of the runaways. "I didn't sign up for this. I don't want to die!"

  There was a keen, funny noise, followed by heavy footsteps. A figure emerged from the shadow cast by the flames. Round eyes that covered more than half the creature's face gave off a green light.

  "Get the tin bombs! Aim for the head."

  Rifle fire erupted from the windows; none of the rounds managed to halt their enemy's advance. The fire illuminated the creature's profile. It was neither human nor animal, yet it was made to stand on two legs. It was armored all around, giving it a rotund, bulging form. One of its arms had a long barrel fitted onto it; underneath was a crystal spike that glowed red, barely exceeding the length of the muzzle. It aimed, but instead of gunfire, a roaring torrent of flame was unleashed by the strange attachment. Fire leapt through the windows, washing its occupants away in searing heat. Something blew up inside the house, turning the ruins into the hapless men's tomb in an instant.

  "What is that thing... some kind of monster? How?"

  The boy was taken aback, almost losing his balance. His temples vibrated, immediately switching to the special sight that drew him to that church lady. He was used to seeing people with 'the gift' bearing a strange glow all over their bodies. Whatever this thing was, that light was centralized to what looked like a core at its chest.

  It did not take long before he was spotted by the murderous entity.

  It pivoted to him; rifle fire in rapid succession. The boy had to make a run for it; each step behind was a bullet meant for him, piercing the roof he stepped on. He disappeared behind another set of walls, listening to the waning footsteps of the gun on legs. It had no interest in pursuit. It was too dangerous to be around these parts, but he had to stay on the rooftops.

  Not far from the site was another keen sound; something was being blasted away. It was not from a bomb or something man-made. The source was someone he knew.

  It was the church woman. Something that resembled a miniature star rose from her and hovered above a broken-down wall. A pillar of light, the brightest the boy has ever seen so far, swept the ruined section away; rocks and wood seemingly erased, leaving neither dust nor smoke. It uncovered a family of five huddled together. The orb of light withdrew to her sleeve.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  "Those metal-covered gunners. They were hers. I should never have fallen for her tricks." He reached out for the gun stashed beneath his coat. "Master was right. Those liars in robes."

  But something stopped his wish to charge at her. She went near them, helping some of them stand up.

  "Can you run?"

  "Yes," answered the only man in the group.

  "The way to the church is safe. Seek refuge there."

  "Thank you." The one who looked like the mother tearfully held her hand before turning away.

  She waited until all of them disappeared from the street and proceeded closer to the center of the violence.

  "She's... helping them? Why?"

  He followed her. She wasn't looking for a fight, but was only interested in helping the townsfolk out of the creeping flames. Pockets of gunfire were heard all around. If those walking weapons were hers, then why weren't any of them with her?

  She found one of the armed men on the ground. He wheezed at the sight of her; too much blood was lost. The woman reached out an open palm to him, but there was nothing she could do against death. Her hand pulled down his eyelids. A hand on the ground as a third leg, the cleric closed her eyes and whispered. Was that one of those 'prayers'? The boy wouldn't know from where she stood. She was on her feet again and moved on.

  Not far from them were children; behind them was a torn-down wall. Two of the killer metal creatures found them; guns already trained, ready to fire. The church lady ran to the little people in an attempt to shield them.

  "No way. She can't take them on."

  He held on the rooftop's edge, preparing for a lunge where he hoped to recover fast enough for the guns not to hit him.

  "Wait, I'm saving her now? What am I even doing? No time to think."

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  The boy leapt out of the roof, took aim, and struck one of the metallic gunners on the head. His bullet bounced off while they managed to let go of three shots before he could hit the ground. He propelled away and got to his feet right before the armored killers strafed the earth with gunfire.

  "No good." He broke into a run, and the enemies turned their bodies to follow his movement. Bullets flew towards him in failed attempts to connect to his body; bits of stone wall made small eruptions when a projectile lodged onto the unfortunate structures.

  It was odd. A gun-wielder would have run towards their target or even farther away to take a good shot, but these armored men did not move from where they stood. Their bodies followed a mechanical pivot that began with their torsos, then with their legs, as their joints could no longer keep up with the angles. The boy wasted four more shots that ricocheted on impact. The metal plates that protected their bodies were too smooth and tough for his rounds to penetrate. He kept moving around them, ducking and sliding away from each round they fired at him.

  "This is futile." A voice echoed in his head; its volume and echo belonged to what seemed to be somebody large. "You'd be tired with all this, and these machines would finally catch up to you."

  "Wait. What? Machines?"

  "What else would they be, Boy?" A second speaker took over; his voice raspy and sneering, much like an old man's. "Their legs should have given that away."

  "Who are you? What are you?"

  "We are part of you, and yet we are not." A third speaker emerged. He sounded like one in his prime, but was toned down compared to the other two.

  "Where are you? I can't see you. Why are you messing around in my head?" He wasn't able to keep his thoughts to himself. He stopped at the right moment to hear a bullet meant for his knee whizz past.

  "You won't find us anywhere. We are inside of you." The fourth voice had a proud and commanding appeal; his few words faded from the recesses of his mind.

  "Get out of my head! This isn't the right time to be imagining things."

  "Why not get a feel of what you can truly do?" All four voices spoke at once.

  Something entered his mind like a pinprick - a wave that made the boy lose sight for a split second. His eyes were seeing things in an entirely different light. The world slightly dimmed, but the machine-men who were out to kill him displayed a myriad of colors beyond the brightly-colored cores at their center.

  Each step felt faster. He knew when to dodge, when the gun would fire. His breath didn't even hitch. He got to one of the enemies' backs, where the colors and the glow of the white core were at their brightest. A second revolver was pulled out of his coat.

  "Aim true for the heart," the bold voice told him. "Then you will be the better of them."

  A shot was fired; the bullet flew and melted through the enemy's back. The round struck the white core and triggered a wave of red from within. Fire forced itself out of the mechanical man's shoulders and elbows until an orange and yellow tongue burst from the head. The humanoid machine fell face-first with a loud clattering.

  The boy dared to defeat the remaining construct. He charged at it, leaping and rolling forward as he dodged the bullets that were sent to intercept him. He jumped straight ahead, grabbing hold of the machine by the shoulder, and from there he positioned the pistol to fire point-blank at the back. The boy took the air just in time to see the mechanical gunman burn, but it had some fight left. He landed right next to it and managed to gain enough momentum to spring towards the attacker up front. It went for the boy with its claw weapon but missed; he used the delay brought by the enemy pulling its claws off the ground to deliver a couple of bullets to its back. The resulting explosion blew away a section of the rear plate before the machine lay flat on the ground.

  From a dark street emerged the glowing eyes of a third machine. It aimed at the lady and those behind her. No time to set his guns. He bolted at the mechanical fighter, kicking the gun barrel out of alignment. It quickly responded with its claw. He heard a slurp from within; metal piercing his flesh.

  "What!? H-how?"

  There it was: his blood coursing on the killing apparatus's appendage. His eyes rounded. A thin line of blood streamed out of his mouth. The machine threw his body to the ground. He sprawled a few meters away, unable to move.

  "Fool! You've wasted all we've given you."

  "Hey, at least I tried to be good with it. I'll be fine. This is nothing."

  And the high-pitched sounds were heard again. Two thin beams of solid light pierced the machine from above. The core and ammunition storage erupted from within; the armored killer collapsed on its back.

  "Hey, what am I- to do now? Anyone... there?"

  He waited for the voices; none came. Just his breathing. Shallow. Sharp. Like ebbing waves. The church lady was approaching: a blur even with the fires raging all around. She rushed to him; her face distorted in worry.

  "I did... great... huh?"

  "Stay with me, do you hear? Please..."

  "Master said the robed ones smile when you're in pain. Why is she in pain? Why cry for me?"

  The boy coughed up blood in an attempt to smile. Could she help him, too? He felt sad; he might no longer have that third serving of church stew. And the world went dark.