Wardenheart

Return

My eyes opened to nothingness, to darkness all around me. I peered into the abstract void that I had come to know from my brief time in the new world, the one that had always appeared before me when I touched objects bearing the same mark I did. I had died; there was little doubt about that fact. I had felt it: cold hands gripping my heart, the promise of peace on the other side. I had been swept away, snatched from death by something else; a scheming, plotting, vile wretch of a celestial force that did not want me dead.

There was something... filthy about my continuation of life. As if this subsequent resurrection, useful and merciful as it was, was not of the gods' collective will, but rather in unflinching defiance of it.

Before me sat the stars, labeled in graceful penmanship as was customary. No instinct overtook me at this juncture to reach out my hand to any one in particular, only the knowledge of one simple fact: I could choose among them, or drift in a boundless nothing while life went on in the world, for better or for worse.

That thought, of subsisting forever in a lonesome darkness, though it might have been seriously considered by a less convicted man, and not without reason, was not for me. I entertained it hardly a moment before reaching out to my second-newest star. I had to find Jolly on the lower floors of the factory.

I found myself with nothing but a sword, standing atop a warm metal grate as rivers of molten steel flowed below my feet. In the air were the smells of metal and fire, and as I heard the clicks and whirs of the metal guardians as they neared me, I readied my sword.

As a man risen from the dead, and perhaps immortal, I had nothing to lose but the ones I love.

I had to make a plan, I had to find Jolly, and I had to get out of here as soon as I could. Where would he possibly be? I did not know the man well enough to have any idea of his tactics, nor did I know if he was alive or not. Nevertheless, I needed to, at the very least, attempt to meet up with him again.

I looked down at Bloodlight once again, the steel blade seemed completely and mysteriously untouched by the fight against Nemenera. What was even stranger was the fact that I, and it, were here. The symbol, the V with the circle, it was more than just a mark, it was a repeating factor. It was everywhere.

I looked to my left, the large entryway into the factory floor meeting my sight. When I stepped beyond the threshold, I would find myself no doubt attacked immediately. Perhaps a stealthy approach would work best?

I stayed low to the ground as I stepped in to the factory's main room. Around me were conveyor belts and tables long since broken down or forgotten, perfect to hide behind. The entire factory was filled with a lurid, threatening light from the molten river, making the atmosphere blistering and hostile. Although I had yet to see them, I knew the machines were about, metal men that stomped these grounds looking for blood, and only blood. I hid, staying low behind the tables and conveyors. One of them was close, I could hear the clicking noises growing closer as I moved. It would not see me coming, and I would leave before more of them could find me.

Then there it was, a solitary machine picking through various bits of scrap that lay on a table nearby. It seemed unaware of my presence, its metal claws dutifully picking through iron and steel shards like a carrion bird picking through a dead body. I moved behind the creature as slowly and silently as I could, not daring even to breathe, lest it end my life. I had no idea whether my resurrection was a one-time event, if I had merely gotten lucky. I knew nothing about the mark or what its existence entailed, but I knew not to take a second chance for granted.

Swiftly, I struck at its thin steel legs, shearing through them instantly much to my surprise. I wasted no time in finishing it. Even as it screeched in pain, I brought my blade down quickly to rend its torso in twain. The screeching stopped, and that was when I heard the heavy footsteps of metal on metal. The automated soldiers were going to find me if I did not move right then and there.

Still ducking behind cover, I kept moving forward. I had to find Jolly, or at least know of his fate before I left this damned place for good. Moving between two conveyor belts, my heart skipped a beat when one of the metal horrors walked right by me, not noticing my presence. This was far too tense a situation for my liking.

It felt as if time had slowed down, as if I were trapped in an endless loop of stumbling around trying to find my way to the lift. What could I possibly do other than fight these creatures? I needed to get out of here, not start a war with gods-knew-how-many different automatons.

But maybe, maybe I could kill them all? If I could slay the first and get away, perhaps the others could be taken down the same way?

"Get yer damn hands offa me, ya stupid-arse wind-up toy!" I heard a familiar voice cry out.

Jolly!

A wide smile came over my face and I stood up, ready to face the machines alongside my companion.

Jolly smashed his large hammer in to the side of one of the machine men, steel shards flying every which way. It was such a beautiful sight, watching those wretched things turned in to junk.

Now given new hope and confidence, I began to strike back against the machines with righteous, and not-so-silent fury.

And it felt good.