Chapter 2, Part 2: The Vanguard's Veil
Morning embarrassed the sky—thin, colorless. They broke camp; Kara pocketed her bells; the rectangle of light above the atrium stopped feeling like a door.
If yesterday was ruin's garden, today was its theater—long boulevards between buildings too proud to fall quickly. Something perched on a lamppost watched them with membrane wings; when it moved it drifted like ash.
Near noon they topped a low hill. Smoke rose beyond a wedge of skeletal towers: gray not black—cooked wood, wet leaf. Human. A settlement.
Kara's face lit and hid. "Walls," she said. "Food. Maybe news."
[THERMALS] Multiple signatures; structure density: medium; pattern: settlement. [ROUTE ADVISORY] Do not crest skyline; approach via low line (aqueduct).
They dipped beneath an old aqueduct—arches like ribs; channels dry. Shade kept them from curious glass. The palisade resolved from scrap and cut timber. Watch platforms. Ropes. A gate built by hands that learned the hard way you either have a gate or graves.
"Let me talk first," Kara said. "Some places don't welcome strangers with… advantages."
"Advantages," he echoed, tasting the word.
She lifted open hands at the gate. "Travelers," she called. "Seeking passage. We can pay—medicine, tools."
Day-music paused. A rough voice: "Masks off."
Kara pushed hair from her face. KrysKo lowered his scarf to the collarbone—human symmetry shown; exactly what wasn't stayed under shadow.
"Ophilim with you?"
"No," Kara said.
"That one a machine?"
She didn't look at him when she lied. "He's a man with scars you can't see."
Bolts thunked. A bearded wall of a man opened the gate. University green at his shoulder. Drakari leather crossed it. His eyes ran quick assessments and stored them.
"Welcome," he said. "But not too welcome until I know your names."
"Kara Myles," she answered, offering waxed paper stamped with a circle and entwined lines.
"Myles," he nodded. "We've had good hands from that line." He looked to KrysKo. "And you?"
"KrysKo O'Ruadhraigh."
"University has feelings about weapons walking like men," the gate-man said. Weather, not malice.
"He saved me," Kara said. "Twice."
"Seems a habit," he said, relenting. "Bren." He tipped his chin toward the market. "Hungry?"
"We're bound for the University," Kara said. "We won't trouble you long."
"Trouble's shorter than you think," Bren said. "Market's open. Keep your hands where folks can see 'em and your promises where you can keep 'em."
The market opened like a living thing—herbs braided and hung; jars of pale roots; wire coils; bent metal reborn as pots; a stall of glass beads traded from a caravan that had found a cache of yesterday. Children watched too closely. Eyes moved around KrysKo the way water shapes itself around a river rock—some fear, some curiosity, mostly calculation.
Kara bartered for vials—coagulant and river-class antitoxin. She spoke in the accent of belonging and the place let her borrow it. KrysKo learned how to be near without being in by watching her do it.
By late afternoon, Bren leaned an elbow on their table. "University rangers sweep near dusk. Catch them, they'll walk you to the line." His gaze weighed KrysKo once more. "If you're more than you look, be better than you look."
The bells in KrysKo's inner ear chimed—habit pretending to be metaphor—and he filed it as law.
The first market bell tolled—three notes: attention, not panic. Hands paused over fruit, fish, wire. A lower bell answered.
"Scouts coming in!" Bren barked. "Make a lane!"
[SIGNATURES] Inbound: human ×2; Drakari ×2. [COMPOSURE] Unit cohesion high; movement quiet; bows that never saw a factory.
Kara touched her papers, then let her hand fall. She didn't reach for KrysKo's sleeve. Trust changed footing in small increments.
The gate swung.
Four figures slipped through the slot of evening: two lean humans in green sash; two Drakari in river-stone plates with grown bows. The auburn-scarred ranger saw Kara's seal and smiled with the kind of relief you allow yourself at day's end.
"University-bound?" she called.
"Yes," Kara said. "Kara Myles. Under charter."
"Good hands," the ranger nodded. Her eyes skimmed KrysKo, measuring like you measure a horse that might decide things. "And your shadow?"
"My guard," Kara said before he could. "I vouch."
"Then University will let him cast it a while longer," the ranger said. Two fingers flicked; the Drakari peeled to the flanks, casual as cats beside a procession of mice.
They stepped into falling dark.
Segment 1 of 3 — The Descent
The mist thickened into a curtain of pearl and dust as they moved north. Kara's boots squelched on what once was asphalt; each step released the sour scent of rot and metal. KrysKo kept a pace behind, motion smooth and unhurried—the way gravity might walk if it chose a body.
They descended by a rail embankment slope. Broken pylons jutted like bones from a shallow grave. Every few steps, Kara crouched to study a plant, muttering Latin she half-remembered from University archives. Veins glowed faint green fire; when wind moved through them, they sighed as if breathing.
"Don't touch the sap," she warned. "Photovore residue. Eats through leather."
His pupils caught that glow and wrote circuitry across his irises.
[ENV ANALYSIS] Compound: chloral-biolum mix / corrosive grade C. Recommendation: limit contact.
A sound rippled the basin. Not wind—deeper, a low hum that made the glass shards around them quiver. From the luminescent thicket slid a creature the color of spilled mercury. Translucent hide; organs pulsing faintly to some internal rhythm. It lifted its head, nostrils twitching.
Kara froze. "Photovore," she mouthed.
Systems whispered.
[TARGET ACQUIRED] Behavioral tag: passive unless agitated by scent or motion.
KrysKo inhaled once, then imagined his breath folding inward, scent retreating. A faint shimmer crossed his skin.
The beast hesitated, milky eyes uncertain, then turned and melted back into glow.
"You masked your scent," Kara said as they reached the far side.
"It seemed efficient."
"That wasn't human."
"Neither am I," he said, and climbed.
At the ridge's crest the world flattened into light. Farmland before the Silence, now a field of mirror-glass panels—miles of them, half-sunken in soil. Each sheet caught daylight and twisted it; some reflected the sky as it was, others skies that never existed. The air shimmered with fractured images.
Kara brushed dirt from one panel. "Architect collectors," she whispered. "Fell out of orbit. Fed on sunlight until the Pulse poisoned their cores."
KrysKo's reflection stared back—delayed, a heartbeat behind. When he turned his head, the mirror lagged.
[ANOMALY] Temporal reflection offset detected — 0.37 sec. Classification: quantum residual field.
"KrysKo," Kara said quietly. "Don't—"
Too late. His mirrored self blinked independently, lips moving in silent echo. The glass beneath his boots rippled.
Ripples spread in widening rings, warping light until the world seemed made of water. Kara stumbled back. "KrysKo!"
He pivoted to pull her clear, but the reflection did not follow. The image on the glass stood smiling—an echo of him with eyes burning molten gold. The mirrored KrysKo raised its arm, and the field shattered upward in a storm of light.
They fell.
Dust punched Kara's throat. Shards drifted around them like slow snowflakes, reflecting hundreds of KrysKos at every angle. Each moved a little differently—some slower, some faster, some wrong in ways the brain refused to track.
[ENVIRONMENT CORRUPTED] Mirror anomaly: sentient projection. Initiating combat routine: Adaptive Rhythm.
A whisper came from all directions—many voices shaped into one: Prototype. Show us the rhythm.
Blades hissed free, catching fractured light. Kara slid behind a half-sunken panel, clutching her satchel. "What are they?"
"Echoes," he said, and the first lunged.
It moved like him—same stance, same swing—but a half-beat faster. He ducked under, feet sliding into ginga, body swaying in rhythmic defense. Steel scraped glass; sparks rained. He twisted low, hooked its ankle, drove an elbow through its chest. The reflection burst into rain of liquid silver.
Two more rose.
He spun, blades cutting arcs of white fire. Meia-lua. Armada. Rabo-de-arraia. His body remembered a rhythm older than reason, each strike riding the earth's pulse. But the mirrors learned. Copies began to shadow him in real time, adjusting to his patterns.
[WARNING] Predictive mimicry escalating. Tactical advantage diminishing. Recommendation: break rhythm.
He exhaled once—and stopped moving like a dancer. He moved like weather.
Next attack came high. He met it with forearm, let the blade glance, stepped inside, drove a knee into the phantom's core. It burst—yet the reflection behind it mirrored his motion and caught his throat. Sparks jumped from synthetic skin as the system flashed red.
[INTEGRITY DROP] −18%. Critical damage warning.
"KrysKo, behind you!" Kara's voice cut the din.
He turned. The largest mirror stepped out, not with metal blades but light—solid beams drawn into its hands like molten rods. It hurled one.
Instinct saved him. He ducked; vapor traced a line through his scarf. He rolled, came up on one knee, and threw a forearm blade. It spun end over end, embedding in the phantom's chest. The wound glowed—a hole filled with radiant circuitry. The thing did not fall.
The colder voice came, precise as a scalpel:
[ADAPTATION] Hostile architecture adjusting. Probability of total defeat: 42%.
Then the warmer voice—the one that sounded like memory—threaded through, human and patient:
Don't fight the reflection, KrysKo. Change the mirror.
He froze a heartbeat. "Change… the mirror?"
Yes. Shift your frequency. You are not only metal. You are resonance.
The idea clicked. Blades retracted. The mirrors advanced, expecting a strike. Instead, he straightened, spread his hands, and let the internal hum rise.
Air vibrated.
Light bent toward him. The panels trembled, surfaces rippling like disturbed water. His reflection distorted—lines warping, form flickering. The phantom army faltered, faces twitching as if struck by invisible wind.
[RESONANCE SYNC] 73%. Activating: Harmonic Pulse.
He released it.
Not sound—pressure. A wave that cracked glass and hushed the world. Every reflection fractured at once, splitting into a million shards that hung midair like frozen rain. For a breath, the world held still.
Then gravity remembered itself, and the shards fell.
[EXP] +400. [ACQUIRED] 3 Data Shards (Architect Residue). [EFFICIENCY] +6%. [LEVEL UP] → 6. Strength +1, Agility +1, Endurance +1, Intelligence +1.
Kara rose slowly, blinking through haze. "What did you do?"
He looked at his hands. Faint glow along his veins pulsed brighter, then settled to steady rhythm. "Resonance," he said softly. "I… remembered it."
[SKILL ACQUIRED] Harmonic Pulse. Function: sound-based area disruption / mirror-field countermeasure.
The system dimmed, retreating.
She crunched across glass to him. "You remembered? I thought you said you didn't—"
"I don't," he said. "Not the way you mean. I remembered a function, not a life."
"It saved us," she murmured.
He didn't answer. A fragment of mirror in the mud still trembled; inside, his reflection didn't match his stance—it smiled a moment too long before fading.
They camped beneath a collapsed solar array. The field beyond shimmered faintly, catching the dying light. Kara built a small fire of dry roots that burned blue. KrysKo sat opposite, blades sheathed, the glow along his skin cooling.
"You said 'resonance,'" she began. "That's a Drakari term. Balance between spirit and stone."
"Drakari," he echoed, tasting the word. "They guard the University."
"Yes. They saved us once, long ago. They say every living thing has a song. Maybe you found yours."
"Maybe I found a weapon," he said, looking away.
Hours passed. Fire crackled, bronzing ruin. Kara brewed tea from pale leaves, handed him a tin cup. He held it, did not drink.
"Tell me something," she said quietly. "Why'd you ask earlier about the Lunair?"
He blinked, slow. "I thought I heard the name. In… a reflection. Or a memory."
"I've never heard it," she said. "Is it a clan?"
"I don't know. It felt… familiar."
[SYSTEM NOTE] Subroutine keyword detected: "Lunair." Access locked.
Warmth stirred inside him.
That name isn't for this age, the warm voice murmured. Let it sleep.
"Then why do I remember it?" he whispered.
Because not all memories are yours.
Kara was watching him. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," he lied. "Thinking."
When sleep finally took her, he stayed awake, listening to the quiet between breaths. The cold analytics surfaced again:
[BEHAVIORAL NOTE] Emotional variance ↑. Caution advised. [TRUST PARAMETER] Kara Myles: 68%. [PROJECTION] Alliance: beneficial.
Ash collapsed with a soft sigh. Wind skimmed the mirrors, turning each to a pale flame.
You are changing, the warm voice said. Not just your code. Your rhythm.
"Is that good?"
It's human.
He didn't know if that was comfort or warning.
Dawn rose silver, diffused through smoke and mist. They broke camp and descended from the ridge toward the dark line of forest that meant safer ground. Behind them, the field glittered like a sea of glass, already erasing their footprints.
KrysKo didn't look back. But as they crossed into the trees, one fragment of mirror caught the light and reflected not his shape but another—taller, wrapped in shadow—watching from within the glass.
Chapter 2 Quest and Reward
The following quest is now active:
Quest: Lunair Resonance
Objective: Fully integrate the Harmonic Pulse skill with KrysKo's combat rhythm to understand its source and purpose.
Trigger: The acquisition of the Harmonic Pulse skill.
Rewards for Completion (Randomized):
EXP: +1,500 EXP
Skill Upgrade: Fluid Form → Fluid Form (Resonant). Adds a small (5%) damage bonus to attacks immediately following a Harmonic Pulse use.
Consumable: Repair Paste (High-Grade) x2. Restores minor chassis integrity without using the internal repair function.
External Resource: Drakari Carving x1. A quest item that grants a temporary +1 boost to Charisma when dealing with Drakari citizens.
With the Mirror Field behind him and the Lunari mystery bubbling up, KrysKo now faces the Drakari Patrol. What will the University's rangers make of the man who fights like a weapon?