The forest was calm, serene and indifferent.

  Morning rain had soaked the underbrush, leaving the leaves slick and the roots pulsing with new life.

  Birds chirped with renewed arrogance, darting between moss-covered branches, while the occasional wind stirred the canopy above. The air was thick, humid, still.

  Then, like a rock through stained-glass:

  “Oye! You golem-loving freak!”

  The shout tore through the woods, scattering a murder of crows and sending a startled squirrel tumbling from its perch.

  “Are you going to show up, or are you just going to make me wander around this forest all day? This is getting boring! Just crawl out of your golem’s ass, for god’s sake!”

  Max Sinclair kicked a branch. It cracked in half with a sound louder than necessary. He trudged forward, muttering under his breath, the moss giving beneath his boots with each lazy step.

  Steam curled off his shoulders, his form half-liquid, half-solid, threads of mist dancing across his frame.

  Fingers flicked, bored, casual, snapping moisture from leaves and bark and pooling it around him in thin ribbons.

  He wasn’t really tracking Eisen.

  Not properly.

  He was weaving a half-assed search net. Water dancing from root to leaf, leaf to stone, twining into a lazy lattice that scanned for motion, heat or anything which speak of human. It was sloppy, even by his standards.

  “Four hours,” he said to no one in particular. “Four bloody hours for someone who might talks to metal more than people.”

  He spun, arms raised. “Eisen! Oh, Eisen, my scrawny little golem-loving, manic shut-in, introverted loser with dark circles bigger than moons!”

  He cupped his hands around his mouth theatrically. “Where are you? In which cozy rock are you hiding this time? Just show up already!”

  No answer. Not even an echo.

  Max groaned, slumping against a boulder, letting his knees buckle until he sat on the wet ground.

  Water dripped from his brown hair. A small pulse of magic surged through his finger, pushing the search weave out again with a frustrated flick.

  “I’ll even feed you leftovers from last month,” he muttered, leaning his head back against the stone. “Just come out.”

  Silence. The same peace he’d interrupted has returned.

  He sighed and stared upward.

  “Fighting’s one thing. That, I can do. But this? This is just cruelty disguised as errands. Infiltrators, beat them. Capture them. Watch the damn mountain. Train this. Get lectured by Selena about discipline. And now this—go find the man we met once, the same one he threw out like trash, and now suddenly he wants him back? It’s madness.”

  He gritted his teeth.

  “I feel like a farmer’s bull. Or worse—a donkey. Neither get rest, neither get thanks. Just more rope and heavier loads. Seriously, why can’t we send a golem? We have an army of them. When the hell are we supposed to use them if not for this garbage?”

  He closed his eyes, muttering curses into the stone. For a moment, the forest resumed its earlier rhythm—birds chirped again, the wind blew, the air felt less heavy.

  Then Max opened one eye.

  “No. Can’t. If I sleep now, he’ll make me scrub toilet or something equally bad.”

  Grimacing, he stood. “Alright, enough leisure. Let’s find the bastard.”

  His body rippled. Skin and bones started to liquefy.

  With a flex of will, he dissolved—spreading across the forest in a surge of translucent water vapor.

  He shot through roots, under moss, into cracks, over rocks. Water moved through grass like breath, flowed up tree trunks, crept across cliff faces and burrowed into holes. It stretched across miles, scanning with each droplet.

  A squirrel and small rodent froze mid-bite, sensing a pressure that didn’t belong as droplet of wave of water passed through them.

  A fox darted into a burrow as it crept over its den.

  After a while it found something or more like a sound.

  A shout.

  Desperate. Human.

  The droplets surged toward the source, converging with breakneck speed. A moment later, Max re-formed in a crouch, water snapping together and reassembled. His feet hit the ground lightly, and he rose, fixing his coat.

  What he found wasn’t Eisen.

  It was a boy—eight at most—pressed against a rockface. His legs trembled. His eyes were red.

  In front of him, three cave bears circled, massive and ragged, foam streaking their jaws.

  Max raised a brow.

  “Well, well. Look at that,” he said, watching the bears. “Three very motivated bears and one very unappetizing boy. Not exactly the drama I came for.”

  He cracked his neck.

  “Not on my list, kid, but I guess I’ll have to ruin someone’s lunch.”

  The mist snapped, needles of water condensing midair. In one blink, they pierced joints—ankle, shoulder, throat.

  The nearest bear collapsed with a strangled growl. Others yelped, clawing at its leg before bolting into the underbrush.

  Max exhaled, and the mist receded.

  The boy stared at him with saucer eyes.

  “Wh-who are you…?”

  Max knelt, grinning.

  “I’m a sweet little angel who dropped from heaven,” he said, pointing to the sky. “See that cloud up there? The one shaped like a bottle of wine? Right above that. That's where I came from. God sent me to deliver you a very specific message.”

  The boy blinked.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Max cleared his throat. “He said: ‘Don’t wander the woods without your ma or pa, you weak little fool.’”

  The boy rubbed his eyes. “I... don’t understand. Who are you? Thank you, I guess, but I don’t have anything to give you…”

  Max flopped beside him.

  “Oh no, you’re not paying me. Just answer one thing.”

  He grabbed a stick and scratched in the dirt.

  A crude drawing appeared—a stick man with huge eyes, hunched shoulders, a cracked back, weirdly long arms, and something meant to resemble chains or slave garb.

  “Have you seen this guy? Name’s Eisen.”

  The boy frowned. “That absolutely doesn’t look like him at all.”

  “Ah-ha!” Max’s eyes lit up. “So you do know him.”

  The boy looked unsure. “I mean... I’ve seen him in the camp. He comes to the village sometimes. To get stuff, I can tell you the path he follows at best. He goes to the eastern side of the village we live in now”

  “That’s good enough.”

  Max stood and stretched.

  “You’ve done well, small mortal. You may return to your mundane existence.”

  The boy pointed east, and Max gave him a lazy salute before vanishing in a blur of mist again.

  He surged through the mountain like a ghost storm, trailing through ravines, scouring ridges. Then—jackpot.

  Signs of life.

  At the edge of the clearing, a broken golem lay in ruins—twisted limbs, shattered core, one arm half-buried in dirt.

  A carriage leaned nearby, its axle snapped. A cave yawned just beyond.

  Max reformed near the entrance.

  “Found you,” he said, smug. “This is how treasure hunters must feel. Damn.”

  Without knocking, he stepped in.

  The cave glowed with low firelight.

  The scent of metal and smoke filled the air. Against one wall, Eisen hunched over a table, hammering something.

  Sparks flew. He twisted a screw, funneled mana—and the part snapped.

  Eisen:“No! Not again, it was working—”

  Max leaned against the wall behind him.

  “Of course it wasn’t,” he said. “Who do you think you are, trying to build that busted tin can with scrap metal inside a cave?”

  Eisen jerked, screamed, and nearly collapsed into his tools. His hand flew to a weapon before recognizing the voice.

  “You—! What the hell are you doing here?!”

  Max grinned, hands in his pockets.

  “Come on, you are not even going to ask for tea?”

  Eisen’s hands snapped up. He grabbed a short sword in his right, a compact pistol in his left. The cave fire threw sharp light over the metal.

  “Back off,” he said. “This isn’t your home to barge into.”

  Max didn’t flinch. His eyes wandered lazily over the cracked stone.

  “Yeah, no kidding. I wouldn’t live in this rathole if you paid me,” he said. “Also, what door am I supposed to knock on? That dirty rag over the entrance?”

  Eisen’s jaw clenched. “What do you want?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer.

  The pistol fired. Compressed mana flashed from the barrel.

  It tore through Max’s chest.

  No blood. Just a ripple.

  His torso collapsed like a waterskin hit by a rock, then reformed in a heartbeat. Not even a hole in the coat.

  “Cute,” Max said, brushing a nonexistent speck off his shoulder.

  Eisen didn’t reply. He didn’t charge.

  He ran.

  Max blinked. “Really?”

  Water exploded from the cave walls.

  A torrent slammed into Eisen before he made five steps.

  It rose like a hand closing around him, spinning tight. A sphere of high-pressure water locked him in. Arms pinned. Legs floating. Only his head above the surface.

  He thrashed once. Nothing.

  Max strolled over with his hands in his pockets.

  “Bad idea,” he said. “Really bad.”

  He stopped just outside the water. Watched Eisen struggle.

  “You think you’re the first to try that?”

  Eisen’s eyes widened. Breath shallow. “Let me go!”

  “Depends,” Max said, crouching to eye level. “You still planning to throw things at my head? Or can we talk like people instead of half-starved cave goblins?”

  Eisen spat at the side. “I don’t owe you anything.”

  Max’s smile faded, cool and tired. “True. But you owe Lucien.”

  The water pressed in slightly. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind.

  “Now,” Max said. “Try again what you did, and I will not play nice”

  Eisen’s voice came out steady, but his eyes burned.

  “Fine. What do you need from me now?”

  Max leaned back against a stack of broken crates, arms folded.

  “I don’t need anything. My brother does.”

  Eisen snorted softly, tone dipping into mockery.

  “Really? I thought I already served my purpose. That’s what he said last time, wasn’t it? ‘Not interesting. Not useful.’ I assumed I was garbage again.”

  Max:“Yeah, he has moods. Nothing new.”

  Eisen narrowed his gaze, “So what’s he want this time? My golem? My tech? Some rare part to break apart and reverse engineer? I’ve seen that look before. Everyone wants what I’ve built—until they try to steal it.”

  Max made a weird expression, somewhere between a shrug and a nod.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. But answer this first—can you ride a carriage?”

  Eisen blinked. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I can.”

  Max’s tone stayed lazy. “You know the Empire’s roads, right? The general layout?”

  “Some of it. Not everything.” Eisen eyed him carefully. “Why?”

  Max yawned. “Lucien and the others need someone to drive into the Empire. Properly. Quietly. With a specific kind of cargo. Problem is, no one we have fits, or truthfully we don't have anyone. So he thought, hey, maybe the moody weapon freak in the cave knows how to hold reins.”

  Eisen stiffened. “You’re joking. You want me to be a driver? Have you lost your mind?”

  Max pointed at himself. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  “You’re insane. I don’t take orders from you or your brother. Not anymore.”

  Max tilted his head, and the sphere of water still circling Eisen suddenly tightened—just enough to remind.

  “See, if you refuse, I’ll be forced to make you. You might survive. You might not. That depends on how fragile your lungs are.”

  Eisen winced as pressure crept up his chest—then it stopped. The water dropped and vanished, leaving him gasping, wet, and shaking.

  Max stepped back, calm again. “But if you do what we ask, you’ll be paid. Gold. Diamonds. Weapons. Whatever junk you want. A proper deal. So I’m told.”

  Eisen wiped his mouth, panting.“And I’m supposed to trust that?”

  “We don’t do trust,” Max said plainly. “We do contracts. Agreements. Our back gets scratched, and you don’t die. Simple.”

  Eisen muttered under his breath. “It’s ‘I scratch your back, you scratch mine,’ clown.”

  Max grinned. “Same thing. So, what’ll it be?”

  Eisen’s jaw tightened. “Why me? There are hundreds of people who can drive a cart. This disrupts my plans.”

  Max raised a brow. “Your plan? What—live in this cave, eat fungus, and hammer rusted junk until your golem finally coughs itself to death?”

  Eisen glared. “You don’t know anything, freak.”

  Max’s tone sharpened. “I know Lucien. If he wanted your weapons, he’d already have them. He doesn’t steal. He doesn’t bluff. If he sent me, it means you’re part of something. Like it or not, that rust heap you call your future isn’t going anywhere. You want to build something real? You’ll do better with us.”

  Eisen didn’t speak. He sat still, breathing heavier now. Then, finally—

  “I want to talk to Lucien first. No traps. No tricks. I want a guarantee. No killing. No collar. No cage. We meet in neutral ground.”

  Max nodded. “Fair. You don’t even have to go anywhere. I’ll get you a communication device. You can talk to him from the comfort of your moldy little den.”

  Eisen still looked tense, but his shoulders dropped a little.

  Max turned and started walking toward the exit, arms swinging lazily.

  “Bye-bye, scrawny cave goblin. Job done. I’m getting some sleep.”

  Eisen called after him, “Don’t you want that tea?”

  Max paused at the mouth of the cave. “Only if it’s the good kind.”

  Eisen smirked. “You’re in luck. I blew half my stolen cash on a rare brew. You’ve probably never tasted it.”

  Max turned slightly, grinning. “Big talk. I’ll be the judge.”

  Eisen pointed around at the puddles soaking the floor. “First, how about cleaning up the mess you made?”

  Max looked around at the drenched tools and flooded floor.

  “Oh. Right.”

  He raised one hand. The water rippled, then evaporated into the air in a sharp hiss. The cave was dry in seconds.

  Eisen blinked. “So you are useful at something.”

  Max winked.