The dusty air of Traveler's Refuge was thick with the smell of sizzling meat, oil, and the faint tang of rusted metal. It was not so much a settlement as it was a temporary chaos—caravans and convoys crammed together, their wagons repurposed into makeshift stores or eateries, their wares spilling onto patched tarps and crooked tables. Peddlers shouted over one another, advertising tools scavenged from the old world, crude weapons, or rare bits of tech that only the wealthiest could afford. The air hummed with the chatter of traders striking deals, the clatter of pans at the food stalls, and the occasional bark of a guard dog warding off curious scavengers.
Snow and Rain dismounted Shimmer, their horse stamping nervously at the crowded scene. Snow gave the reins a firm tug, patting Shimmer's neck to calm her before tying her to a post near one of the quieter food stalls. Rain, her eyes alight with curiosity, tugged at Snow's arm.
"Look at this place!" Rain exclaimed, twirling slightly as she gestured at the maze of wagons and stalls. "It's like the entire wasteland decided to stop here for a party."
Snow's lips quirked up, just slightly. "A party of desperate merchants and hungry scavengers," she replied, though her tone lacked its usual edge. Since their confession the night before, there had been something softer about her, as if Rain's joy had managed to chip away at her armor.
Rain leaned in close, her grin playful. "You're no fun, you know that?"
"I'm alive," Snow retorted dryly. "That counts for more out here."
They began weaving their way through the chaos, Snow's hand instinctively resting near the longshooter slung across her back. Rain walked ahead, her voice bright as she questioned traders and travelers about the map they carried—the one promising Paradise.
"Excuse me," Rain said to a merchant sharpening a blade. "Do you know anything about this place?" She held out the map, her expression hopeful.
The merchant barely glanced at it. "Don't know. Don't care. Unless you've got metals, move along."
Rain pouted but didn't argue. At the next stall, she tried again. This time, an older woman selling patched boots gave her a long look before shaking her head. "You want directions, you pay. No freebies here, kid."
Snow watched from a few steps behind, her patience thinning. It was the same at every stall—a demand for payment or a dismissive shrug. Rain's bright enthusiasm dimmed with each rejection, though she tried to mask it with her usual cheer.
Eventually, the two found themselves at a makeshift eatery called The Dump. A large tarp stretched over a cluster of rickety tables and chairs, shielding patrons from the sun. The smell of fried something-or-other wafted through the air, and the cook, a burly man with a grease-streaked apron, bellowed orders at his helpers.
Rain flopped into a chair, resting her chin on her hands. "Why is everyone here so stingy?" she huffed. "It's just a question! How hard is it to point someone in the right direction?"
Snow sat across from her, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "It's not stingy," she said. "It's survival. Information is worth metals, just like food or bullets." She reached across the table, her hand brushing against Rain's. "You tried, Rain. That's what matters."
Rain looked up, her lips curling into a small smile. "You always know what to say, don't you?"
Before Snow could reply, a voice cut through their conversation.
"You two look lost."
They turned to see a boy—no older than fifteen—leaning against a nearby post. His hair was wild and unkempt, and his clothes were patched together from at least three different fabrics. He had the wiry look of someone who'd grown up on scraps but carried himself with a confidence that seemed far too large for his frame.
"And you look nosy," Snow said, her tone sharp.
The boy grinned, undeterred. "Rook's the name. Best guide in the north. I heard you asking about that map of yours. I know where you're trying to go."
Rain perked up immediately. "You do?!"
Rook nodded, sauntering over and plopping into a chair at their table without invitation. "The place you're looking for is called the Rust Gate," he said. "It's a graveyard of machines, all busted up and crawling with glitched automatons. Nobody goes there unless they've got a death wish."
Snow leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. "And how do you know about it?"
"I've been there," Rook said, his grin fading slightly. "Didn't stay long, obviously. But I've seen it. And I can get you there."
"What's your price?" Snow asked, cutting straight to the point.
Rook shrugged. "No price. I'll guide you for free. On one condition."
Rain tilted her head. "What condition?"
"I want in," Rook said. "You're going to the Rust Gate for a reason, right? Whatever you're after, I'll help you get past the machines. But in return, I need your help with something."
Snow's eyes narrowed further. "What kind of something?"
Rook hesitated, his bravado faltering for a moment. "There's a machine there," he said quietly. "A Ruinwalker. Four legs, armed to the teeth, and tougher than anything else out there. It's the one that killed my brother. I want revenge."
Rain's expression softened. "I'm sorry about your brother," she said. "But why do you think we can help?"
Rook smirked, his confidence returning. "I saw the way you two came in. You're not just some random travelers. You've got the look—like you've seen things. Done things. You help me take down the Ruinwalker, and I'll get you to the other side of the Rust Gate. Win-win."
Snow and Rain exchanged a glance.
"Deal," Snow said simply.
Rook blinked, clearly surprised. "Just like that? No 'that's crazy' or 'You will risk your neck with that abomination for petty revenge'?"
Rain smiled. "You're helping us. It's only fair we help you in return."
"And if the Ruinwalker's in our way," Snow added, "then we'd need to take it down anyway."
Rook stared at them for a moment, then shook his head with a chuckle. "You two are weird," he said. "But I like it. All right, then. Let's get moving. The Rust Gate won't wait forever."
The three of them stood, and as they prepared to leave, the chaos of Traveler's Refuge faded behind them, replaced by the distant hum of the unknown.
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The journey to the Rust Gate had taken them deep into the heart of a landscape that seemed to have been abandoned by everything but the machines. The yellowing plains that stretched out behind them gave way to harder, more barren terrain: cracked earth littered with jagged rocks and twisted remnants of old-world machinery. Overhead, the sky deepened to a slate grey, casting long shadows as the sun sank low, and the wind carried with it the faint tang of ozone.
Snow was at the reins of Shimmer, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble. Rain clung to her back, her hands gripping Snow's belt, while Rook trudged beside them on foot, keeping his head low but his eyes darting like a feral animal's, ever-watchful. They had all fallen silent as they neared their destination, their earlier banter giving way to an uneasy tension.
"Almost there," Rook muttered, breaking the quiet. He glanced back at the two women. "You sure you still want to do this? Not too late to turn around."
"We're here, aren't we?" Snow replied coolly, not bothering to look at him.
Rain leaned forward, resting her chin on Snow's shoulder. "What she means is, we've come too far to stop now. Right, Snow?"
Snow grunted, which Rain took as agreement.
The terrain around them began to shift. The ground grew rougher, dotted with jagged mounds of rusted metal and debris. Great skeletal remains of machines jutted out of the earth like the ribs of some long-dead leviathan, their twisted forms a grim testament to the old world's hubris.
And then came the first sign of life—or rather, something that mimicked it.
A metallic whine cut through the air, sharp and sudden, and Snow jerked Shimmer to a halt. Rain's grip tightened, and Rook immediately crouched, his hand moving to the weapon strapped to his side.
"What was that?" Rain whispered.
Rook pointed towards the horizon. "Flyer. One of those dragonfly drones. Stay still."
The drone came into view seconds later, a sleek, winged automaton buzzing through the air with an eerie precision. Its metal wings shimmered like glass in the fading light, and its body was studded with sensors that glowed faintly red. It hovered for a moment, scanning the area, before darting off in another direction.
"Too close," Snow muttered under her breath.
They continued on foot after that, leading Shimmer by the reins and keeping low. It wasn't long before they encountered another machine—a Crawler this time, its spider-like frame skittering over the ground on six spindly legs. Its body was squat and angular, with a single glowing eye that swept back and forth like a searchlight.
Rook cursed under his breath. "Damn thing's seen us."
The Crawler emitted a shrill, mechanical screech, its eye locking onto them as it began to scuttle forward. Without hesitation, Rook surged ahead, drawing the weapon strapped to his arm.
The shockfist was an ugly thing, a steel gauntlet fitted with a retractable blade that crackled with blue electricity. Rook activated it with a flick of his wrist, and the blade shot out with a snap-hiss, its edges glowing faintly.
With a cry that was equal parts anger and defiance, Rook drove the blade into the Crawler's glowing eye. The machine let out a high-pitched whine, its legs flailing wildly before it collapsed in a heap of sparking metal.
Rain stared, wide-eyed. "That was… impressive."
Snow's gaze lingered on the weapon. "Where'd you get that?"
Rook knelt by the wreckage, wiping sweat from his brow. "It was my brother's," he said without looking at her. "Back when he fought in the arena, it was just a regular gauntlet. But after the Ruinwalker killed him, I… made some upgrades."
Rain tilted her head. "You built that yourself?"
Rook smirked, finally meeting her gaze. "I'm not just some scavenger, you know. The blade's electrified, strong enough to pierce through most metal. It's not perfect, but it gets the job done." He glanced down at the gauntlet, his smirk fading. "It's gonna get the job done this time."
Snow studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Let's hope so."
By the time they reached the border of the Rust Gate, the sky had darkened to a deep, bruised purple. The air felt heavier here, almost oppressive, and the ground beneath their feet had turned to cracked concrete littered with jagged debris.
Ahead of them loomed the Rust Gate itself—a vast expanse of wreckage that stretched as far as the eye could see. Twisted girders and broken machines formed a jagged wall, and within the labyrinth of metal and ruin, something moved.
"There it is," Rook said quietly.
The Ruinwalker.
It was a hulking monstrosity, its four legs ending in heavy, clawed feet that crunched over the debris with an ominous weight. Its body was armored in thick plates of corroded steel, and on its back, a series of mechanical appendages twitched and writhed like the limbs of some nightmarish insect. Each appendage ended in a claw or blade, and even from a distance, the sheer power of the thing was evident.
Rain swallowed hard. "It's huge."
Rook nodded grimly. "Most of its guns are empty, but those claws? They're worse. I've seen it tear a man in half."
Snow's grip tightened on her longshooter. "What's the plan?"
Rook knelt, using a stick to draw a rough map in the dirt. "We set traps here, here, and here," he said, marking three points around the clearing. "Stickbangers. Once they're in place, I'll lure it to the center. When it's in position, you shoot the bombs. Boom. It goes down."
Rain frowned. "And what about you? You'll be right in its path."
"I can handle it," Rook said, his tone firm. "This is the only way."
Snow studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Let's move."
The plan unfolded with tense precision. Snow and Rain worked quickly, placing the stickbangers at the designated points while Rook kept an eye on the Ruinwalker. The machine's movements were slow but deliberate, its appendages twitching as it scanned its surroundings.
When the traps were set, Rook stepped into the open.
"Hey!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the clearing. "I'm right here, you scrap heap!"
The Ruinwalker froze, its glowing red eye locking onto him.
Rook raised his shockfist, the blade snapping to life with a crackle of electricity. "You remember me?" he shouted, his voice raw with anger. "I'm Rock's brother! I'm here to finish what he started!"
The machine let out a deep, mechanical roar, its legs pounding the ground as it turned to face him.
Rook stood his ground, his blade raised high. "Come on, then!"