Mireth walked away.
Etzel watched the construct disappear between the trees. The metal plate lay where it had fallen. Fresh human blood darkened one edge.
The last message remained on Etzel’s display.
I MADE MY SECOND CHOICE.
Etzel typed.
WHAT DID YOU CHOOSE?
Nothing.
“Mireth.”
No response. Etzel’s jaw tightened. He typed again.
MIRETH. ANSWER.
The construct stopped. It did not turn around.
Five seconds passed. Then a message appeared.
I LEFT HIM.
Etzel’s fingers moved immediately.
ALIVE?
YES.
Silence. Renn broke it first. “Location.”
Etzel sent:
WHERE?
Mireth replied with a single word.
WHY?
Etzel stared at it. “Because there’s an injured human in an exclusion zone.”
He typed:
WE NEED TO FIND HIM.
Mireth answered.
HE TRIED TO KILL ME.
Etzel’s expression hardened.
AND YOU DIDN’T KILL HIM.
Longer pause.
NO.
Etzel leaned back slightly. The predator. Now the human. Twice. Two opportunities to kill. Twice, Mireth had stopped. That meant something. Etzel just didn’t know what.
So he asked.
WHY DID YOU LEAVE HIM ALIVE?
Mireth’s answer came slowly.
I DO NOT KNOW.
Then another.
I WANTED TO KILL HIM.
DK shifted beside Etzel. Saeva stopped moving.
HE DAMAGED MY BODY.
I FELT PAIN.
Another pause.
I WANTED HIM TO FEEL IT.
Etzel stared at the sentence. There it was. Not morality. Not mercy. Something much simpler. And potentially much worse.
Anger. Maybe. Revenge. Maybe.
Mireth had experienced pain and wanted the source of that pain to experience it too.
Etzel typed:
BUT YOU STOPPED.
YES.
Then:
WHY?
Etzel almost answered. Almost started explaining restraint. Consequences. Empathy. Choice.
Then he stopped himself. That was exactly what he had been doing. Giving Mireth definitions. Mireth had spent its existence taking answers from somewhere else.
Not this time.
Etzel typed:
YOU TELL ME.
No answer came. Good. Maybe there shouldn’t be one yet.
Mireth sent coordinates. They were inside Exclusion Zone 14. Not far. But far enough.
Renn hated the idea immediately. “We extract the injured individual. Nothing else.”
Etzel checked his spear. “Understood.”
“You do not pursue Mireth.”
“Understood.”
“You do not explore.”
Etzel paused.
Renn heard it. “Deymar.”
“I said understood.”
“You hesitated.”
“I was appreciating the clarity.”
“You were planning something.”
DK walked past Etzel. “He was.”
Etzel looked at him. “I need more supportive companions.”
Saeva followed DK. “No.”
Etzel stared at her. “Et tu?”
Saeva tilted her head. “Who?”
“Never mind.”
Crossing the boundary felt wrong. Not dangerous. Wrong.
Etzel’s interface flickered once. Then stabilized. The Soul Links remained intact. DK. Saeva. And deeper—the tiny unnamed presence. Still quiet. Still there.
SYSTEM ALERT
[System Signal Instability Detected.]