The wind cut like icy blades. The previous night had been brutal, and now, with the moon still hanging like a sleeping eye in the sky and the first rays of dawn filtering through ragged clouds, our bikes advanced like silent shadows on the dirt road.
The roar of the bikes was low, almost reverent, as if even the machines understood the gravity of the moment. The wheels kicked up clouds of dust and ash as we traversed withered, lifeless landscapes, among rusted structures that looked like the remnants of a world that had decided to surrender.
The group was silent. The silence wasn't awkward... it was necessary. Zayen rode beside me, an improvised bandage pressing his shoulder. His bike tilted slightly from the weight of his wound, but he didn't let go of the handlebars. Rhok, a little further back, with his injured leg, still didn't release the accelerator; his bike roared as if sharing his stubbornness. Ken led the way, his body hunched forward, eyes fixed on the horizon, his brow furrowed and eyes burning with determination. His bike was faster, more precise, as if obeying his thoughts more than his hands.
"How much further?" I dared to ask, breaking the spell of silence.
"Not far," Ken said without looking back. "Just follow the smell of burnt iron."
We rode along a dirt path, between rusted structures, skeletons of old industrial depots. Civilization had abandoned this place years ago... or so it seemed.
Finally, we saw it: a huge, rusted metal gate with a symbol burned into its center. A dragon wrapped in chains.
Ken knocked three times. Then a pause. Two more.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
...
KNOCK. KNOCK.
An infernal creak answered, and the gate slowly opened, revealing a tunnel lit by glowing embers and torches.
A raspy voice echoed from within.
"Well... I thought you wouldn't come back, Volkov."
A hunched figure emerged from the tunnel. He was short, stocky, and his left arm was entirely metallic, with engravings that glowed like living lava. Beneath his burnt leather trench coat, his legs were visibly supported by an articulated mechanical skeleton, a rusted exosuit that creaked with every step. The mechanism was fastened to his body with straps, pistons, and plates, allowing him to move despite the evident paralysis of his legs.
He had scars on his face, a nose broken multiple times, and a blacksmith's apron covered in burns.
"Guys," Ken said, bowing. "This is RENDHAL BRAKVORN, 67 years old, former blacksmith of the Steel Dragon Bikers. His seventh sense allows him to read people's minds. He has a bounty of one hundred thousand ₫."
Rendhal snorted and spat to the side.
"And these are your pups?"
"This is Nilo... and he carries the sword."
The blacksmith's face hardened.
"The sword?"
I nodded, slowly drawing it. The blade still bore traces of heat. Rendhal stepped back with his mechanical skeleton, as if he had seen a ghost.
"That sword... is one of the Four Keys. It's not just a story, Volkov. It's said to indicate a chosen one who would wield it and end the Dark Empire. Four swords: water, earth, wind... and that one, which is fire. All four are the key to awakening the core of the Legendary Bike. And in that core... there's enough power to destroy the Dark Empire."
The silence was absolute.
"A chosen one?" I asked, incredulous.
"Yes... We believed it was the one who wielded it in the ten-year war. The Keys are alive. They feed on the soul of whoever wields them. They are not weapons, kid. They are bonds. They are keys that will open that door and allow control of the Legendary Bike's core. But if you don't master it... it will consume you. Do you feel the pain in your back? The burning in your chest?"
I nodded. I knew. I had felt it since the first time I used it.
"Then it's already too late. The bond has been sealed. The sword chose you. You can't run from it, kid. Not even I can break that bond. But I can teach you to endure it... and to master it."
Zayen crossed his arms.
"And why should we trust you?"
Rendhal spun his metallic arm with a click.
"Because I trained Ken. Because I fought against the Dark Empire. Because I know what's coming."
🔁 FLASHBACK – Years ago, in the old forge...
"Because I trained Ken," Rendhal said.
The air smelled of coal and sweat. Sparks flew every time Rendhal's hammer struck the anvil. In the middle of the forge, a thin, tense teenager tried to hold a red-hot katana with both hands.
Ken was exhausted. The heat enveloped him like a prison of fire. His arms, covered in burnt bandages, trembled.
"Again," Rendhal ordered, without even looking at him.
Ken raised the sword. He moved forward. He took two steps. He fell to his knees, gasping.
"I can't..."
"Then stay there. Melt with the ashes," the blacksmith replied, dropping a burning ingot a few inches from his head.
Ken looked at him, gritting his teeth.
"No... I won't break."
"You're already broken. Inside. You just have to accept it... or use it."
Later, the forge was dimly lit. Rendhal threw wood onto the fire while Ken, wrapped in a tattered blanket, ate in silence.
"It's not enough to be strong, kid. There are enemies out there who don't fight with weapons. They fight with power. With secrets."
"What enemies?"
Rendhal looked at him seriously.
"There's someone behind all of this. The war, the experiments, the chaos. You won't see him on 'Wanted' posters... because he has them printed. And to defeat him, we're going to need more than swords."
He pulled out an old, wrinkled, time-stained blueprint.
"This is an incomplete design of the core. An ancient one. But the complete version is inside Krovax Dynamics, the armaments megacorporation. They developed the technology before the war swept everything away. If anyone holds the key to destroying... what's to come, it's them."
"You want me to infiltrate?"
"Yes. Silently. Without a katana. Without heroism. Just cunning. We need those blueprints. Because when the time comes... they will be our only chance."
Ken nodded, swallowing hard.
"What if I don't make it out?"
Rendhal looked at him calmly, as the fire illuminated his weathered face.
"Then someone else will have to try after you. But if you come back with what we need... perhaps the world will have a second chance."
– End of flashback.
Ken stepped forward.
"He failed. I tried, but the blueprints are no longer in our hands."
Rendhal nodded, with regret.
"Those blueprints were to replicate the Keys. And the core. Our plan was to create new weapons, find new bearers... form a resistance capable of destroying the Dark Empire and whoever governs it."
"But without the blueprints...?" Rhok asked.
"Now there's only one option," Rendhal said, pointing to the drawing of the Four Keys. "Find the originals. And find the true core."
I froze.
"Where is it?"
"It's a myth to many. But I know it exists. Hidden beneath the ruins of the First City. If you manage to gather the Four Keys... that door will open. And you will have the power to end all of this."
The forge vibrated. The heat seemed more alive.
"Are you willing to endure it, Nilo?" Rendhal asked. "Because what's coming isn't a war. It's a judgment."
I nodded.
"I know. And I'm ready."
The true journey was just beginning.