Derek froze, mouth hanging open.

  The shaman leveled a blazing staff at him. No hesitation. No recognition in those eyes.

  It was the look reserved for a cornered beast.

  The same look from their first day on Elyndra, as if the nights spent bleeding side by side had never happened.

  Only this time, Derek stood outside NOVA. One solid hit, even a glancing blow from that damned staff, and it would end right there.

  His tongue tasted of ash.

  He raised both hands. “Tunga… what the hell is going on?”

  Flames hissed and snapped along the staff. The Repair Bots slid into formation at his side, hovering, plasma cannons warming as their targeting arrays locked onto the shaman.

  Derek hurled himself between them, arms spread wide. “Stand down. No one fires in here.”

  The Bots halted midair, servos whining as they fought the command, barrels steady and unyielding.

  Firelight sent shadows crawling across the stone walls. Isabelle’s gaze jumped from Derek to Tunga to the hovering machines. “By Orbisar, what madness is this?” Her voice hardened. “Have you all lost your senses?”

  Tunga stabbed a finger toward Derek. “Death power in him. You not see?”

  Isabelle’s brow tightened. “What exactly am I meant to see?”

  Sweat traced the deep lines of the shaman’s face. “He not same. He not care if people live or die. Death now inside him.”

  A rough laugh tore out of Derek. “What are you talking about, old man?” He shook his head. “Far as I know, I’m the only idiot on this planet who still thinks killing is wrong.”

  Tunga shifted the staff. This time, he aimed it straight at Isabelle. His lips moved in a low mutter. Maybe a prayer in his arcane tongue. Maybe a spell. “You will not stop me, young Warden. Step aside. Or you burn.”

  The flame surged.

  The Bots lifted higher, ion thrusters whining as their glow intensified. Control was slipping. Another second and they would decide for him.

  Isabelle’s hand closed around her sword hilt, though the blade stayed sheathed. She stood caught between them, rigid, breath shallow.

  Derek snapped, “What the hell are you doing, madman?”

  “One word,” Tunga said. “No. One thought enough.” The fire flared brighter. His voice rolled like a curse. “And she dies. And you will die right after.”

  Derek bared his teeth. “And you’ll die right after that, you senile fool.” He took a step forward. “You think they’ll let you walk out of the Citadel alive after killing us?” His voice dropped. “What in the hell is going through that leaf-filled skull of yours?”

  The fire in Tunga’s eyes burned brighter, in answer to the blaze crowning his staff.

  Isabelle stepped forward, arms spreading. “Tunga, do not.” Her breath came quick, but her voice held. “Whatever burdens you, we can resolve it.” She glanced back at Derek. “Is that not so?”

  The fire wavered.

  A thought surfaced Derek’s mind, uninvited.

  If Tunga let the flame loose. If Isabelle fell screaming at his feet…

  Nothing clenched. Nothing twisted.

  The absence hit Derek harder than any fear ever had.

  His jaw locked. His pulse hammered against his throat.

  The fire died, and Tunga lowered the staff.

  Isabelle blinked, her guard unsteady as she looked at the shaman with open confusion. “What… what just happened?” Her gaze shifted between them.

  Tunga tilted his head toward Derek. “Ask him.”

  She turned fully to Derek, searching his face.

  He drew a long, ragged breath. “I think Tunga’s right.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Explain yourself.”

  His hand pressed against his chest. “Something’s wrong.” The words scraped out. “When people die… it doesn’t reach me anymore.”

  Tunga nodded once. “Death now part of you.”

  Color rose to Isabelle’s cheeks. “By Orbisar, speak plainly. What is happening?”

  Derek swallowed. “I don’t care anymore if someone dies.” His voice tightened. “Not the dead in Ebonshade. Not the ones I killed since I came here.” His breath hitched. “Not even Yuki.”

  Silence swallowed the room.

  “Whether I caused it or not,” he went on, forcing the words out, “it doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

  Isabelle stared at him, lips parted, unable to speak.

  Tunga slammed his staff against the stone. “Death power touched you. If we do nothing, you kill because you want.” His eyes burned. “You become Shaitani. The demon who breaks the world.”

  Derek lowered his gaze. “And then it kills me too.”

  “Yes,” Tunga said. “Death use you first. Then it claim you.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Derek nodded slowly. “Looks like the Spirit of the Beast was right.” His mouth twisted. “You should have killed me when it told you to. That would have saved you a lot of trouble.”

  His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “And it would have spared me as well.”

  Tunga’s jaw tightened as he raised the staff toward him. The wild fury was gone. What remained was resolve, hard and final, the kind carved into a jungle warrior who knew what had to be done.

  “No!” Isabelle cried, stepping into the line of fire. Her glare cut to the shaman. “This is not the jungle. We don’t strike someone down at the first sign of danger.”

  The Repair Bots shifted, sliding into position at the shaman’s flanks. Cannons swiveled and locked, primed to fire. Ion thrusters buzzed in the air like angry hornets.

  Tunga ignored them. “Move, Warden,” he said darkly. “Death only thing with no cure. Never will be.”

  Derek exhaled slowly. Strange. Even his own death no longer mattered. It felt as if he had embraced the very idea of Death in every form.

  Maybe that was what the cultist had meant. He’d thought the man a bloodthirsty lunatic for treating the lives lost in Ebonshade with such indifference. But no. It was just… acceptance.

  So that was it. He had accepted his own fate too.

  Derek lifted his head. “Tunga,” he said, his voice steady, “will it be the same for Alyra?”

  The shaman shook his head. “Her chakra still hold power inside. Death not spread to her mind. Not yet.”

  Derek nodded once. “Good.” He flicked his hand, and the Bots dropped back, plasma glow fading as they stood down.

  The cannons retracted with a sharp metallic click, sliding back into their cylindrical housings. The Bots settled docilely at his feet.

  Light-footed, Derek stepped past Isabelle and walked toward Tunga.

  She froze, her breath catching. “Derek, no! Don’t go near him.”

  He gave her a faint smile before turning to the shaman. “There’s something I need to do before you kill me, old man.”

  Tunga furrowed his brow but said nothing.

  “I need to uncover this planet’s secrets first. Elyndra. The mystery of the spheres, the prophecies tied to the Cashnar.” Derek pointed at the papers scattered across his desk. “Thanks to Erasmus, I found a map.”

  A faint crease formed between Isabelle’s brows. “Is that what you were studying earlier?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. A map to a passage leading into the ruins beneath the Citadel.”

  She shook her head slowly. “I know of those ruins. The Citadel we see today is built atop temples far older. But what importance does that hold now?”

  Derek met her gray eyes without flinching. “Everything, Isabelle. If I’m right, in the lowest layer of those ruins I might find all the answers. I think there’s a Wardilai terminal down there. According to Erasmus, there should be one beneath every Citadel.”

  Her brow furrowed.

  “A… computer,” he explained. “Like Vanda, but older. Much older. A machine that holds data from Elyndra’s first centuries and the origin of the spheres falling from the sky. I could find every answer there, Isabelle.”

  Her lips parted, her brows lifting. “You truly believe this?” she whispered.

  He gave a firm nod, then turned his gaze back to Tunga. “Let me finish this business first, old man. Then you can finish yours.”

  The shaman locked eyes with him for seconds that dragged like minutes. The fire burning in his gaze matched the blaze of his staff.

  Pale-faced, Isabelle drew her sword in one smooth motion. Lightning burst from her hand, racing along the blade until it crackled from tip to hilt. She leveled the weapon at his face. “The Cashnar has spoken, shaman,” she hissed with trembling voice. “I will not allow you to hinder his destiny.”

  Tunga’s stare lingered on the sparking edge before he turned back to Derek. “His destiny is destroy all, Warden. He is Shaitani, demon who breaks the world.”

  Her jaw tightened. “No. You are wrong. He is the Messiah of Steel, the one who will save us all. It is his destiny. And I will not allow you to stand in his way.”

  Fire and lightning brushed against each other, hissing as they fought for dominance in the narrow space between them.

  Derek stared.

  His companions stood seconds away from tearing each other apart and yet nothing moved inside him. No tightening in his chest. No spike of adrenaline. Just a hollow stillness.

  Maybe he really was becoming Shaitani, whatever that absurd word meant.

  He let out a long sigh. “Stop being idiots.”

  Both turned toward him, eyes wide, mouths half-open.

  He gave a short, humorless snort. “I’ll do what I said. I’m leaving soon. I’ll solve the mystery of the spheres, then Tunga can do whatever needs doing.” He shrugged, as if brushing dust from his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

  Tunga’s breath rasped through clenched teeth before he finally lowered the staff. “You go underground. Where you cannot hurt anyone. I can live with that. For now.”

  After a heartbeat of hesitation, Isabelle lowered her sword as well. The lightning wrapped around the blade vanished in an instant.

  Derek nodded. It was the first time the old man had used his real name. “Thanks. Won’t take long.” His lips curved without warmth. “Hell, with my luck I’ll probably die before I even get there and save you the trouble. Erasmus said those ruins were packed with magical traps a thousand years ago.” He gave a small shake of his head. “Wouldn’t surprise me if some of them still worked.” His mouth twisted. “With my luck, all of them do.”

  The Warden blinked. “Wait. I thought NOVA was out of commission. How are you even going to reach the ruins?”

  He gave a loose shrug. “Without it. I studied the map. There are tight passages down there and NOVA wouldn’t fit. And if I blasted through with plasma cannons, I’d probably bring the whole place down on my head. Not exactly the kind of mission for an assault power armor.”

  She flinched, her hand tightening on her sword hilt. “Derek, no offense, but without your armor you…”

  He let out a low chuckle. “I know. You think I’m worthless without it. No magic, no armor, no weapons… no more Messiah of Steel. Just Derek, right?”

  Color rose to her cheeks. “No, that is not what I—”

  He lifted a hand, cutting her off. “Relax. Even if you’re not entirely wrong, I’ll have the Bots, Vanda, and… I’ll cook up a few tricks with Ithara’s help, just in case things get ‘interesting.’”

  Isabelle’s jaw tightened as she gave a stiff nod. “Very well, then. When do we leave?”

  He shook his head. “You’re not coming, Isabelle.”

  Her gaze snapped to him, incredulous. “What? You think I will allow the Cashnar to walk alone and defenseless?”

  “Your mission now is to stop that war,” Derek said. “I might not feel death the way I used to, but I can still recognize priorities.” He gave her a faint smile. “Find out who was behind that assassination and stop the war before it starts.”

  Her face flushed crimson. “You cannot be serious. If you go down there alone, without your armor, you will die.”

  Derek stepped closer and rested a hand on her shoulder. Their faces hovered inches apart.

  Isabelle’s eyes were storm-laden skies, ready to break.

  Derek smiled. There was no stopping that fury. But maybe it could be bent toward something more useful than guarding him. “I trust you,” he whispered.

  She blinked twice. “Y-you do?” Her voice trembled. “How could you? You can no longer tell what is right from what is not. You do not even fear for your own life.” Her breath hitched. “You might decide to let some magical trap in the Citadel kill you, just out of curiosity. How could I ever agree to let you go alone, unable to look after yourself as you are now?”

  He leaned in, his hand still on her shoulder, his gaze locked on hers. How could he make her understand?

  “This… contamination may have stripped me of my normal reaction to death,” he said quietly, “but it did nothing to my scientific curiosity. Or to my need for answers.”

  She frowned. “And that is supposed to reassure me?”

  Derek gave a faint smile. “It should.” He folded his arms, the smile tilting to one side. “Do you think fear of death is what kept me alive until now? Have you ever seen me act as if I were afraid to die?”

  Her jaw tightened as she clenched her teeth.

  His smile widened. “Exactly. As you can see, the only difference now is how I treat the deaths of others. Mine?” He shrugged. “It never mattered much. That is why it is better if I go alone. I will do what I have always done.” His voice stayed calm. “I will look for answers, or I will die trying.”

  Isabelle met his eyes and did not look away. Her eyes glistened as she bit her lower lip.

  Derek inclined his head. “There is something else you want to say. Speak. There may not be another chance.”

  She swallowed hard. When she spoke, her voice came out hoarse. “And Alyra?”

  Tension coiled through her body. A faint tremor ran through her. She shifted in place, tried to cross her arms, then stopped, as if she had forgotten how, and simply stared at him.

  Derek exhaled slowly. “I have not changed my mind about what you did. You should not have put her in danger.” He paused. “But you did it to save your Cashnar.” A small smile touched his lips. “Once I am gone, I doubt such a choice will ever be forced on you again.” He shrugged. “As you can see, my impending departure solves more than one problem.”

  She shook her head sharply. “It solves nothing, you stupid idiot!” A tear traced a line down her cheek.

  Derek smiled at her sudden loss of control. Maybe, in time, she would come to accept it. There was nothing left to say.

  He turned to Tunga. “And you? Will you help her? There may be need to speak with the tribes about what is happening, and they will listen to you far more than to a Warden.”

  The shaman grunted. “I help. And when you return, I be here.”

  Derek clapped his shoulder. “Sure, old man. I can always count on you when it comes to finishing me off.”

  The shaman grunted again.

  They both knew this was probably goodbye. If the Citadel’s traps didn’t kill him, the Death energy festering inside him would. Or maybe the universe would find some even dumber way to finish the job.

  Isabelle watched him in silence, her jaw tight, her eyes glimmering in the firelight. A sharp snort escaped her. “It makes no sense.”

  Derek scratched at his beard. “Care to be a little more specific?”

  Her brows knit. “Nothing. Nothing makes sense! You are the Cashnar, you have a destiny. How can it simply end like this? You, dying, just like that? My destiny was to protect you.” She swallowed hard, her voice sinking to a whisper. “How is this possible, Derek?”

  He smiled. “Finally caught on. That’s the thing, Isabelle, nothing in this stupid universe actually makes sense. It just… pretends it does, you know? Dangles something in front of you, makes you believe it’s everything, and then,” he snapped his fingers in front of her face, “it rips it away.” The smile faded, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Always when you least expect it.”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes. Now I believe… I understand you.”

  He smirked. “Well, about damn time. Wasn’t much left of me to explain it to that blonde skull of yours.” He extended his hand. “See you, guys. I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure, but the truth is it’s been hell.”

  Isabelle stared at his hand, her brows knitting together. “What is that?”

  “Pretty sure I already explained this. You shake hands when you say goodbye and—”

  He never finished.

  Isabelle lunged forward, pulling him into a crushing embrace.

  The air rushed out of his lungs. She squeezed like a bull, her hair tickling his nose. The scent of leather and polished steel filled his head. “Oof… mind letting go?” Derek said in a strangled voice. “Or are you trying to kill me too?”

  Tunga growled. “He mine, Warden. Do not try.”

  She released him and stepped back. “This is how we say farewell instead.”

  Derek rubbed at his aching chest. “Yeah, we do that where I’m from too. Usually without breaking ribs, though.”

  Isabelle gave a brief nod. “I never told you this, and I do not know if I will ever have another chance, so I will say it now.” She cleared her throat, lips curving into a small, sad smile. “I… I will miss you.” Her voice faltered. “I do not think things will be the same without you.”

  The words seemed to cost her effort. She hesitated, as if something else pressed at the back of her throat, then fell silent.

  Derek nodded and smiled. “I hope not.” His tone stayed light. “Since I arrived, it’s been hell for you too.”

  She returned the smile, stiff and brittle.

  “Well, we go now,” Tunga said. “Try not to blow up the entire Citadel when you get down there.”

  Derek scratched the back of his head. “I’ll do my best, but no promises.”

  Tunga grunted and shook his head.

  Derek watched as his companions walked out and closed the door behind them.

  Once he was dead, Tunga would be back in the good graces of the Spirit of the Beast, and Isabelle in those of Uriela Valen.

  And maybe, with a bit of luck, he might even stumble into a little peace of his own.