A cool breeze carried the scent of pine and wildflowers. Birds called from somewhere ahead. The group's excitement built as we crested a hill to find a proper forest spread before us. Living trees stretched toward the sky, their branches swaying with life and vigor.
"Trees! Real trees!" Derek ran forward, pressing his palm against rough bark. "Feel how warm it is!"
Others followed his lead, touching leaves and flowers with wonder. Some simply stood beneath the canopy, faces tilted up to catch glimpses of blue sky between the branches.
"First pretty girl I see, I'm asking for her hand," Tomas, a young lad of eighteen summers declared, puffing out his chest. "Don't care if she's noble or common."
Several women in our group shot him withering looks. "And what makes you think she'd have you?" Elena called out, earning scattered laughter.
"Me, I just want a proper meal," Old Willem said, patting his stomach. "Going straight to the tavern, ordering everything they've got. Been dreaming of mutton for weeks."
The group's spirits soared higher as we found a clearing to make camp. Flowers dotted the grass, and a clear stream bubbled nearby. People rushed to refill their water skins with fresh, clean water.
Young Pip splashed into the stream with a makeshift fishing line. Within minutes he let out a whoop of triumph, holding up a silvery fish. The others cheered and gathered around to admire his catch.
I kept my distance, my mechanical body whirring softly as I watched them celebrate. Their joy was infectious, even if I couldn't fully share in it. This was their world, full of life and possibility. I remained apart, observing their happiness from the shadows of the trees.
The survivors settled into their makeshift camp, their laughter and chatter echoing through the trees. I remained at the edge of the clearing, my mechanical joints creaking as I adjusted my position against a thick oak.
Harke approached, bedroll tucked under his arm. He spread it out beneath the tree beside me, smoothing the fabric with practiced motions.
"How are you holding up?" He sat cross-legged on his sleeping bag.
I shrugged my metal shoulders, the gears clicking softly.
What will. You do once we. Reach Weath?
"Well..." He smiled, though something sad flickered in his eyes. "F-first I'll make sure everyone's settled and safe. Then I need to head to Yorr. That's where my adventuring team started from. The guild needs to know what h-h-happened to them."
My mechanical body went still. The thought of Harke leaving created an unfamiliar ache deep within my core. He'd been the first to see me as more than a monster, to speak to me as a person. The prospect of continuing without his steady presence felt... wrong.
He must have noticed my distress. "Don't worry. I'll v-visit whenever I can."
Promise?
I looked away, embarrassed.
"Of course." He sighed. "I wish I c-could invite you to come with me, but Yorr's in the Kingdom of Falling Stones. They're... not kind to intelligent monsters there. E-even entering the kingdom would put you at risk."
I nodded, understanding but still feeling the weight of our inevitable parting. Through my non-existent eyes, I watched the firelight dance across his face, committing to memory the features of my first true friend in this strange world.
The forest enveloped us in its embrace as we followed the stream's winding path. My mechanical feet crushed fallen leaves and twigs, the sound harsh against the gentle burble of flowing water. The survivors spread out more now, no longer huddled in tight defensive formations like in the Hellzone.
Children darted between trees, collecting colorful leaves and interesting rocks. The adults took time to gather berries and edible plants that Harke identified. Even my constant vigilance began to ease as the creatures here were natural, untainted by corruption. Regular wolves and bears kept their distance from our large group.
Which way now? I asked one of the Weath villagers through Mind Speech.
"Keep following this stream north," Martin said, pointing ahead. "It feeds into the Blue Water River. Once we hit that, it's about a week's journey to home." His eyes grew distant, probably thinking of family waiting for him.
The mechanical joints in my legs whirred as I navigated around a fallen log. My new body performed well, though I had to make minor adjustments each night. The forest's dampness caused some gears to stick if I didn't maintain them properly.
Derek appeared at my side, arms full of scrap metal he'd collected. "Found these in an old campsite," he said proudly. "Thought you might need them for repairs."
I accepted the offering with one of my four hands, storing the pieces in my Depository. The boy no longer flinched at my movements. It was progress; slow but steady.
Thank you, I projected. Smart thinking.
He beamed at the praise before running off to rejoin his friends. The other children had started treating my presence as normal, though most adults still kept their distance. I didn't blame them; my mechanical form and inability to speak normally marked me as fundamentally different from everyone else.
Mallie walked nearby, bow ready as always. She'd taken to ranging ahead and behind our group, watching for threats. The responsibility sat well on her young shoulders. She caught my gaze and gave a small wave before disappearing into the underbrush.
The stream led us through valleys and around hills, its clear waters growing steadily wider. Fish darted beneath the surface, silver flashes in the dappled sunlight. Birds called from the branches above; real birds, not the twisted creatures we'd left behind. Their songs filled the air with life, so different from the oppressive silence of the Hellzone.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Each day brought us closer to civilization, to the world of humans. While the others grew more excited, I felt an increasing weight in my core. Soon I would have to decide what path to take. The survivors would return to their lives, but where did a monster like me belong in their ordered world?
For now, I focused on our journey, keeping watch as we made our way north. The stream gurgled beside us, leading us onward to whatever waited ahead.
The stream's gentle murmur faded into background noise as Mallie burst from the treeline, chest heaving. Her eyes were wide, bow gripped tight.
"People coming," she gasped between breaths. "Six of them, armed."
The camp erupted in whispers. Parents pulled children close while others grabbed whatever weapons lay nearby. The fear in their eyes spoke volumes, since memories of Qordos were still fresh.
I stepped forward, mechanical joints whirring. I'll go. Meet them. Find what. They want.
"N-no!" Harke grabbed my arm, his fingers trembling slightly. "Th-they'll attack the moment they see you. Let me handle this."
They could be. Dangerous. I flexed my four arms, each capable of wielding a different weapon.
"Which is exactly why we need to approach c-carefully." Harke's voice stayed firm. "Your presence might provoke violence. We should send a h-h-human group first."
My mechanical fingers clenched. He was right, of course. In this world, my monstrous form would only inspire fear and hatred. I nodded slowly.
Martin, Willem, and Tomas, all from Weath, volunteered to accompany us. We moved through the forest, leaving the main group behind. Harke led our small party, his healer's robes marking him as non-threatening. I stayed at the rear, far enough away as to not scare the strange group, yet close enough to interfere if they proved hostile.
The strangers appeared ahead, walking with the confidence of experienced travelers. Their weapons and armor showed signs of regular use, scratched but well-maintained. Two women in leather armor flanked the group, while four men in varying degrees of plate mail formed the core.
Adventurers, I projected to Harke.
"Yes," he whispered. "The equipment quality, their f-formation; definitely guild-trained."
We met them in a small clearing. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, glinting off polished steel. The adventurers tensed at our approach, hands moving to weapons but not drawing them.
I watched the plate-armored man swagger forward, my mechanical fingers flexing with nervous energy. The forest's peaceful atmosphere shattered as he commanded us to halt, his hand resting on an ornate longsword pommel.
I saw Harke's anxiety spike as he stepped forward. "G-greetings, fellow t-t-t-travelers. I am H-H-Harke, a healer f-from-"
"Gods above," the man interrupted with an exaggerated sigh. "Is there someone else who can speak? I'd rather not waste daylight listening to this stammering."
His companions' laughter echoed through the clearing. My four arms twitched, wanting to reach for my weapons. The Weath villagers' faces darkened at the mockery of their friend, but they held their tongues.
Rage burned in my core at their treatment of Harke. A sound emerged from my mechanical form, meant to be a threatening growl, but my cursed voice transformed it into an eerie, flute-like whistle that echoed unnaturally through the trees.
The female archer immediately nocked an arrow, her eyes narrowing. "Tell your beast to behave," she spat at Harke, "or I'll put this through whatever passes for its heart."
My Assembly-crafted joints creaked as I shifted position. The woman had no idea how ineffective her arrow would be against my invulnerable flesh, but her threat against Harke made my mechanical fingers curl into fists.
I remained motionless as Old Willem stepped between Harke and the adventurers, his weathered hands raised in a peaceful gesture. "We're simple folk from Weath," he said, voice steady and clear. "Been held at Qordos these past months. Just want to get home to our families."
"Qordos?" The leader barked out a laugh. "That slaver fortress in the Hellzone? You expect us to believe simple farmers broke out of there?"
"Believe what you will," Willem replied. "But we did escape. Nearly ninety of us made it out."
While they argued, I activated Analyze on each adventurer in turn. A blue message flashed across my vision:
Congratulations! Analyze has reached Rank D!
Use of ability allows you to see target's name and level.
The leader's status appeared first:
Name: Marcurius of Vale
Level 9 Swordsman.
I sneered. His companions were even less impressive: two Level 7 Spearmen, a Level 6 Rogue, and the women were both Level 5 Rangers.
Such weak creatures, acting so superior. In my mechanical body, I could tear through them like paper. The thought of their shocked faces as my four arms drew weapons brought a certain satisfaction to me. But I forced myself to quickly abandon such imaginings. We weren't in the lawless Hellzone anymore. Here, in human lands, violence would only bring more problems.
I watched Harke gather himself, no longer cowed by their mockery. The villagers stood firm beside him, their faces set with quiet dignity. They had survived Qordos, fought monsters in the Hellzone. These preening adventurers with their shiny armor couldn't truly threaten them anymore.
So I held my position, letting my allies handle the situation their way. Sometimes the hardest battle was choosing not to fight at all.
I remained still as Harke stepped forward again, his stutter less pronounced now. "What Willem says is t-true. I am Harke, a Level 13 Healer from the Adventurer's Guild in Yorr."
My helmeted head tilted slightly. Level 13? I hadn't realized Harke was that powerful. It explained his skill with healing magic, though his nervous demeanor had masked his true capabilities.
"Six months ago, my party ventured into the Hellzone," Harke continued. "The slavers ambushed us near the western peaks. They k-killed two of my companions and captured the rest of us."
The change in the adventurers was immediate. Their arrogant postures softened, replaced by professional interest. It seemed that their opinion of Harke had drastically changed upon learning that he was one of them. Even Marcurius's sneer faded and he introduced his group, though I had already learned their names through Analyze.
"We're headed to the Hellzone ourselves," Marcurius said. "Heard there's good experience and treasure to be had there." He glanced at me, then back to Harke. "Still, if what you say is true, to have so many of you escape those vile fiends is amazing. How did you manage to do it?"
"That would be th-thanks to our friend here." Harke gestured toward me.
The female archer who had threatened me earlier tightened her grip on her bow. "What level is... it?"
"Level 17," Harke lied smoothly.
I kept my mechanical body motionless as the woman's face went pale. Her fingers trembled slightly on her bowstring. The rest of the party shifted uncomfortably, no doubt reconsidering their earlier bravado.
If only they knew I was merely Level 9. Still, Harke's deception served its purpose: their wariness would keep them from doing anything foolish.
I stood silent as Harke and the adventurers traded information, my mechanical body still and imposing. One of the Spearmen gave news about Weath, which the group had passed through on their way here. This brought visible relief to Martin and Willem's faces. Their families were safe, their homes intact.
"The village is rebuilding," the Spearman said. "Lost some good folk to those slavers, but they're a hardy bunch."
Harke nodded, then shared details about the Hellzone. "Qordos is destroyed, so you don't have to w-worry about getting ambushed. We b-burned it to ash after killing every slaver there."
The adventurers' eyes darted to my four-armed form. Marcurius swallowed hard, no trace of his earlier swagger remaining. Even the archer who'd threatened me earlier couldn't meet my eyeless gaze.
They made their farewells quick, each giving me a wide berth as they passed. I tracked their movements until they disappeared into the forest, heading toward the wasteland we'd escaped.
Why tell them. I was Level 17? I asked Harke through Mind Speech.
He shrugged, tension leaving his shoulders. "It made things m-much simpler. They were less likely to start trouble thinking you were that powerful."
Deception through truth, I mused. Best kind of. Lie.
Harke nodded in agreement.
Are all adventurers. Like them? I asked him.
"W-well, no," he said with a frown. "I'm n-not like that. Neither were any of my group. There are s-some bad eggs in every clutch, you know."
We walked back to rejoin our group, the forest peaceful once more. Martin and Willem discussed the news of their village while Tomas kept watch ahead. The encounter had ended without violence, a welcome change from our time in the Hellzone.
I noticed Harke watching me. Something wrong?
"Just glad you stayed back," he said quietly. "It would have gone very differently if you'd approached them directly."
I flexed my mechanical fingers. Yes. It would have.