Mickie watched the haggard man stumble his way through the muck, shuffling towards a dark crack in a rock wall. The lost was slow, and yet, it had not once stopped in its journey. Not since Mickie had left his post on the Fourth to follow.

  Drawn as if on some invisible string, the man had descended to the Fifth, and was now poised to head even deeper. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Mickie was intrigued. What was it that guided this lost through the channels of Hell? Why was it only some lost who seemed to hear this call? And most importantly, what was it that the lost were heading towards?

  These questions circulated through Mickie’s mind as he followed in the mortal’s plodding footsteps. More than once he had been forced to intervene as his guide blundered into one insidious snare or another. Honestly, if any of these lost had actually completed their pilgrimage before, he would be surprised. Though, he supposed anything was possible if eternity was your timeline.

  Eventually the mortal dragged himself free of the muddy quagmire and clambered into the narrow cave. Mickie was right on his heels, following as they descended into the expansive caves of the Forth.

  For a time, Mickie had worried that he would be tracked down. Lucifer did not take kindly to demon’s who abandoned their posts, and did not care for excuses. If he were caught, Mickie would be in for at least a few centuries of torment. Worse than that though, he would never find out where the lost had been heading.

  A couple of days spent in the Labyrinth however, and Mickie was certain that no demon would find him in its depths. It was not long after this, that they came across the first section of uncovered steel. Mickie had thought little of it at first, there were many curiosities in these tunnels, and this was just another on the pile.

  Yet, as they walked ever deeper, the metal became ever more frequent. Until finally, it consumed the tunnel. He and the lost traversed a passage made entirely of steel, and stepped into a cavern that time had long forgotten.

  It was a marvel, a cave shaped with intention and care. The floor was a work of art, all flowing crimson script and twisting channels. Mickie had, of course, seen runes before, and they had never really captured his interest. The cavern floor however, was a work of art, and it drew him in so deeply his lost almost slipped away.

  Mickie turned just in time to see his guide disappear at the expanse’s centre. Hurrying over, he discovered that the mortal had tumbled over the edge of a large hole. He could see them far below, a red splatter upon the dark metal.

  ‘How pleasant.’

  Was all he said, before jumping down after his wayward companion.

  Recovery times tended to vary among the denizens of Hell, and Mickie had always been rather fast. So, even though he had been the first to drop, Mickie was forced to wait beside the half human pile of meat as the lost recovered. When the mortal finally came too, he stood without fanfare and walked into the open tunnel.

  As it turned out, this tumble was not to be the last. Every time that Mickie and his silent companion reached a steep drop, the lost would simply topple over the side. With no other method to descend, Mickie was forced to follow, spending hour after hour as little more than a smear on the steel.

  Anxiety had begun to worm its way into his pulped mind, a fear that this might be a dead end. He had no illusions he would be able to climb the metal cliffside, so if there was no way forward at their destination, then he would be trapped. Even so, Mickie pushed on, drawn by this one mystery like a moth to a flame. If he was to be burned, then so be it. Anything was better than an eternity of fire, service, and screams. It was with this resolve that finally, after what felt like an age in the dark, they reached their destination.

  The metal tunnel opened into a cavern filled with the light of strange runes. Channels in the ground wound their way towards a black pillar, though Mickie could hardly see any of it. His view of the space was blocked by what had to be tens of thousands of lost. They shuffled around in aimless patterns, weaving over the channels and past one another.

  Mickie’s own lost blended seamlessly into the crowd, and he did not bother to give chase. It no longer mattered where his guide got to, not when he had found it. Each of the lost wandering around had to have felt the call, a summons which had drawn them to this very spot. Now, Mickie was poised to find out why.

  A smile broke across his face as he stepped into the mortal crowds. He felt it in the tightening of muscles that had long been dormant. It was uncomfortable, yet not entirely unpleasant. The glow of triumph that came with it however, was delightful.

  ‘Now, my silent little friends, just what is it that has drawn you to this place?’

  Overhead silver and blue liquids shimmered as Mickie shifted the forge’s controls. It had taken him months to get to this point, day after day of studying the system and learning about the runes. He had never held much interest in the crimson script, and deciphering more about them without a guide had been difficult.

  Yet, he had loved every minute of it. As Mickie slowly unravelled the secrets of the Soul Forge, and came to understand just what it was capable of, his excitement built. Here, hidden away, was the capability to make Hell anew. He had come to it as a means of escape, but now, now he realised he wanted so much more.

  Overhead the liquid folded and thrummed as he layered intent into it. Days of work had gone into these amorphous masses, and now finally, they were done. With a flash the two substances melded, becoming more than the sum of their parts. Mickie laughed in joy as he felt their union through the link.

  It had worked, after so long, it had worked. Overhead, where the liquid had once hung, there was now something new. It was small, so small that if Mickie had not been looking for it he would have never seen it. He drew it down now, the little ball flitting through the air to land snugly in his palm.

  Pitch black and inconspicuous. It looked more like a strange marble than the item of immense potential he knew it to be. Mickie rolled it around in his palm, enjoying the interplay of black against red. Truly a beautiful moment, one which was tarnished only by the lack of a decent witness.

  ‘I suppose you all will have to do.’

  He said to the endless crowds of shuffling lost. They did not answer, continuing on their way between rivers of silver and blue. Mickie pinched the black ball between two fingers and saluted them with it. Then, he tilted back his head, opened his jaws wide, and swallowed the inky pellet whole.

  It was a strange thing, to have one’s own soul unravelled and remade. Agonising on one hand, yet beautiful on the other. Mickie tumbled through the transformation like a leaf on the wind. He came closer to an absolute end than perhaps anyone in Hell ever had, and in those beautiful moments, as he rode finality's razor edge, he heard it.

  Little more than a whisper on the wind, but what a lovely sound it was. Harmonious and symphonic in composition, it called to him as nothing had before. Mickie reached for it, like the miser for a piece of gold, he grasped at the sensation. Yet it did not care for what he had wanted, just as soon as the song had come, it was gone. The process of his transformation twisted on, leaving Mickie with nothing but a half-remembered longing.

  When finally, he awoke, shattered, smelted, and made anew, the first thing he thought of was that song. The next thing was that it had worked. He had transformed his very soul into something greater. Months of study and testing had paid off, and yet, it was only the beginning. Mickie thought of the song, and then of the lost.

  It was time to get started.

  He should have known it was broken, should have realised sooner. Nothing was immune to decay. The mortals withered into the lost, demons into beings of mindless desire. Death might not exist within Hell, but that did not mean the realm was static. Everything faltered eventually, even the grandest of works.

  Mickie watched as his conditioned lost picked the small flower and placed it into the oversized processor. It would have been easier to have his minions bring the flowers to the main cavern, but that was too great of a journey. The substances the plants held would go inert before they arrived.

  That meant processing had to occur onsite. The large device rumbled and whirred, separating the liquids before chiming its completion. Mickie let out a tense breath. That was good, it worked. Now, at least, he would not run out of fuel for the forge.

  Eyeing the device, he thought that it would be better if it were smaller. Something more compact that the lost could transport back to the main cavern. Another thing to consider, and likely something that would be easy once the forge was up and running again.

  Mickie opened one of the containers in the processor to examine the liquid within. His mind wandered as he did, back to the idea of decay within Hell. While the failure of the forge had been quite a taxing experience, it did leave him with a few ideas.

  The ancient machine had already done so much for him, a demon inexperienced with runecraft. If someone who understood the art were to stumble upon it, how long would it take them to unravel his secrets?

  What Mickie needed was a failsafe. Some way to safeguard the forge so only he would ever benefit from it. A sort of… manual decay. There would have to be another element to it, a trip wire upon the machine’s activation which he and no one else could defuse. Mickie sighed and patted his lost helper on the shoulder.

  ‘Suddenly I’m so busy that eternity doesn’t seem like enough time. Funny how that works.’

  The world swum around Mickie. For a moment he was at the forge, completing another working on one of the lost. The next he was drowning, sinking into a world of silver that called him to rest. He exploded upright, and almost passed out at the sudden bout of nausea the move induced.

  ‘What am I…’

  Strangely, he could hear his own voice, but the world was dark. Why was it dark? Had the forge failed again? But no, he was not at the forge, he had been in the pipes, fighting the beast. The memory felt fuzzy and wrong, like something that had happened to someone else. Another bout of nausea had him falling onto his back.

  The darkness, he needed to deal with the darkness. Mickie reached for his throat, to grab the small device he kept there for this very purpose. Only, that had not been him, had it? All he had about his neck was a strange pendant.

  ‘Need to focus. I’m not… I’m not the Soul Lord.’

  Yet he had been. For a time, Mickie had lived within the mind of Magareem, had seen the fiend begin its rise to power. All the sensations and emotions that came with that rise stayed with him even now, and it was overwhelming.

  ‘I am me. I am me. I am me.’

  He began to repeat the phrase like a mantra, clawing back at his own memories.

  ‘Redundant wording. It is obvious that you are yourself.’

  The reply echoed out of the darkness, cold and matter of fact. It stopped Mickie with his mouth halfway open to speak. Instinctively, he reached for his power, and a gun formed in his hand. His gun, not the Soul Lord’s, his.

  ‘Who’s there?’

  The words came out croaky, and they were met with silence.

  ‘Who the hell is there?’

  This time it sounded firmer, more like him.

  ‘I am.’

  Came the reply, short and succinct. Mickie began to channel power into his gun.

  ‘And who are you?’

  No answer came, but there was something else. A sound in the darkness, a rapid clicking and tapping. Mickie zeroed in on its general direction, but hesitated. The noise seemed to be getting further away.

  ‘I see the flow, I see the weapon. Do not attack.’

  Could it see him? How could it see him in the dark? Mickie’s weapon began to glow softly, just enough to illuminate his surroundings. Cave walls cast craggy shadows, the kind that Mickie had not seen since arriving in the lost city. Further down the rocky tunnel, partially hidden by a rocky outcropping, something glinted.

  ‘I wasn’t planning on it, not yet anyway. Now answer me, who are you?’

  ‘You say you will not attack, and yet you hold the weapon.’

  The light grew as the gun built its charge. Mickie did not try to explain himself, he was too busy staring down the tunnel. For a moment, he saw it, gemstone eyes and gleaming metal.

  ‘It’s you!’

  He started forward at a dash, his blade manifesting in his free hand. The robot skittered out of sight, vanishing amongst the mess of stony crevasses and outcroppings. Mickie came to halt where the machine had just been, scanning his surroundings with narrowed eyes.

  ‘You should not attack me.’

  That flat voice echoed out of the dark. The branded man tried to identify where it had come from.

  ‘Where did you get those eyes?’

  He called out, not expecting an answer.

  ‘These are not eyes.’ The machine replied, from a new direction. ‘They are inorganic.’

  ‘Well the last time I saw them, they were in a dead machine. Did you steal them from its corpse?’

  ‘No.’

  The denial seemed hard, almost angry.

  ‘Oh?’ Mickie felt he had a good sense of where the machine was now. ‘Were they gifted to you? By some minion of the Sovereign maybe?’

  ‘They were my components. It is not beyond my bounds to make use of them.’

  ‘Is that what your boss told you before they sent you after us?’

  He definitely had the general area the robot was in. The only issue was it appeared to be in constant motion.

  ‘I have no boss.’ The machine said, closely followed by. ‘You should not attack me.’

  ‘Like hell.’ Mickie growled. ‘You’ve been tailing us for weeks.’

  ‘I have.’ The machine responded. ‘Not due to any directive but my own.’

  ‘So you say.’ Mickie scoffed. ‘If it’s really your idea, then what’s the reason?’

  ‘The reason?’

  He detected something new in the machine’s voice. A slight quieting, as if in trepidation. Mickie thought little of it.

  ‘Yes, if you decided to follow us on your own, then tell me why.’

  ‘It…’ The robot hesitated. ‘It is unknown.’

  The branded man barked out a laugh.

  ‘You can’t even think of an excuse? Typical. Was it someone in the city who sent you? Was it my sister?’

  His blood boiled at the thought. It would be just like Lucia to pull something like this.

  ‘I am my own master.’

  The machine reiterated, and again there was something else behind its voice, a dash of angry heat. Mickie’s grip on his blade tightened as he waited for a gleaming body of silver to launch itself from the dark.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  ‘So, you just followed us for no reason then?’

  ‘No. Not without reason.’ The machine had moved, but not to a point any closer than before. ‘It was for a reason I do not know.’

  Frustration built in the branded man. This conversation was going nowhere, he needed to kill or ditch this machine and go find Lucia and Ziz. Mickie shifted his eyes across the rocky tunnel. The last thing he could recall was his failed attempt to escape the silver flood. Clearly, he had somehow gotten clear of the drug.

  ‘Where am I?’

  He demanded. There came the click of steel on stone as the machine shuffled about.

  ‘Within the Sixth circle, in close proximity to a waste outflow for the system.’

  Waste outflow. That had to be for the silver liquid.

  ‘And how did I get here?’

  Mickie pressed.

  ‘I dragged you.’

  The robot said. Figures the robot would only come poking around when he was alone and out of it.

  ‘Great, so you know how to get back then.’ Mickie spoke into the dark. ‘Point me the right way and I’ll be gone.’

  He took a few slow steps backwards. The movement elicited a reaction from the machine, it scurried after him, urgent enough that Mickie caught a glimpse of silver plating.

  ‘You cannot go.’ The robot seemed almost panicked. ‘Not through the waste outflow.’

  ‘Yeah? And why is that?’ The branded man noted the machine’s urgency. Clearly it wanted something from him.

  ‘It is an outflow. Not inflow.’

  ‘Well, maybe I want to see for myself.’

  Mickie took another few steps down the passage.

  ‘Stop. I wish to communicate.’

  He ignored the machine, and taking a risk, turned his back upon it to start striding away.

  ‘Stop. You must stop and listen. It is a mortal custom.’

  The machine called from somewhere behind him. Mickie found himself almost enjoying ignoring it. A bit of payback for all those weeks of silent spying it had done on him.

  ‘I am owed gratitude.’

  The voice was almost shrill, and Mickie found he could not help but respond.

  ‘Gratitude? What’s a machine like you done to earn even a shred of gratitude?’

  ‘It is owed. In exchange for saving a mortal’s life, gratitude is owed.’ The robot repeated from somewhere overhead. ‘It is custom.’

  It finished, almost sullenly. Mickie was taken aback, surprised both by the machine’s claim, and that this was the angle it was taking.

  ‘The flood…’

  The words slipped out unbidden, and the robot leapt upon them.

  ‘Yes. You would have suffocated within the hallucinogen. I removed you from it. I am owed.’

  Mickie should have realised sooner, of course he could not have crawled free from the drug on his own. The robot had done more than just drag him down an errant passage, it had saved his life. He kept walking all the same.

  ‘Alright then. You saved me, but I don’t know why, and I don’t trust you.’

  ‘But you shall listen.’

  The machine seemed almost hopeful. Mickie sighed and stopped walking. It went against his better judgement, but Kalistra had been saying he tended to let his experiences with the Mechanist taint his opinion.

  ‘I’ll listen.’

  His black blade disappeared as he dismissed it, leaving only his gun to act as a light. There came the scrambling of claws ahead of him and a small, metallic head poked out of the darkness. Mickie had not noticed when the machine got in front of him, but he supposed it was not surprising. Its six-legged lizard body was well adapted for traversing these tunnels.

  ‘Good.’ It said, ‘I understand you dislike machines. I know you destroyed the progenitor.’

  ‘The progenitor… are you talking about the Mechanist?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Mickie supposed this machine looked like one of that dead robot’s, though it was not of any make that he could recall.

  ‘Is that why you say you have no master?’ The branded man pressed. ‘Because the Mechanist is already dead?’

  ‘No. I was free of the progenitor before it was destroyed.’

  The machine came further into the light, creeping up a stone outcropping to be at Mickie’s eye level.

  ‘Free from the progenitor… I met another machine that claimed the same.’

  That had been a mining robot that Sestus had called Chink. It had died in an ambush set by Belphegor back on the Eighth circle.

  ‘Not another machine.’ The gemstone eyed lizard said. ‘You met me. A previous iteration.’

  ‘You?’ Mickie squinted at the lizard. ‘You’re saying that you’re that mining bot?’

  ‘I was. I worked with the Kindle Kin. I drove you to the outer city.’

  ‘But the truck, the crash…’

  ‘My body was destroyed; my core was not. It was taken, iterated upon by those who do not grasp our essence as the progenitor did.’

  Mickie found it hard to believe that this sleek creature and that bulky machine were one and the same.

  ‘So, they turned you into this?’ He nodded at the robot. ‘Why?’

  ‘I was not turned into this. I was turned into something else. Those who changed my core put new chains upon me, new directives.’

  The machine's eyes glinted in Mickie’s light, and the branded man was struck with an uneasy feeling.

  ‘These others, the ones who gave you these new directives, who were they?’

  ‘A team underneath the demon titled Belphegor, led by a female mortal.’

  ‘Lucia.’ Mickie uttered his sister’s name like a curse. ‘But then that would mean you were the big guy.’

  ‘Yes. That was my second iteration. I was set to hunt you, I was set to protect you. Conflicting directives. Agony.’

  The machine appeared to shrink in upon itself, curling back into the shadow of its rock. Mickie was doing his best to reconcile what he had just heard. Kalistra had long since told him that the large robot had truly been under Lucia’s control.

  Neither of them had known it had once been the same robot which drove them through the Eighth. Although, Mickie could see Belphegor repurposing the machine like that. The old bastard probably would have thought of it as an amusing irony.

  ‘Only problem with that, is I know for a fact that Belphegor ripped your core out and tossed it into the blood lake.’

  Mickie said, holding to his scepticism.

  ‘Yes.’ The robot shuffled forward, lifting its front body section from the rock. ‘I entered the burning lake. I am not flesh, I did not dissolve. Instead, there came the change. A third iteration.’

  The branded man made to dismiss the claim, but paused. He had been in that blood lake, he knew how bad its depths were. Yet, Ziz and Kalistra had made use of it with their bond. They said that the strange blood waterfall was a place of power. Was it so far-fetched to think that his companions were the only ones it might influence.

  ‘That lake turned you into a lizard then?’ He asked.

  ‘No. The body is a shell. It is not the third iteration.’ The machine raised its front two arms, not in a threatening manner, but as if to show something. ‘All iterations are upon my core.’

  Then the metal upon the machine’s arms began to shift before Mickie’s very eyes. It rippled and flowed like a viscous liquid, changing something altogether new. When the metal hardened back into shining steel, Mickie was not looking at a lizard’s arms, but the fins of some aquatic creature.

  ‘Huh.’ Was all he could think to say at the sight.

  ‘The lake changed my core. My chains were broken, I am no longer bound.’ The machine’s arms rippled again and began to change back. ‘That is not all. There are other things. The unknowns.’

  There was a moment of silence as the machine paused to let Mickie speak. For the first time in the conversation however, the branded man found himself with nothing to say. Eventually, the lizard continued.

  ‘The first iteration was the original. The second was the original warped and bound. The third, it is different. New. I am compelled by unknowns. My processes produce unknown outputs that impact my operation. Actions that were once logical are no longer feasible for unknown reasons.’

  He heard it then, in the flat robotic voice. A deep undercurrent of confusion and despair. Even so, Mickie struggled to empathise, the machine was just too alien, too like the Mechanist. He took his time gathering his thoughts before he replied.

  ‘So, lets say I believe you and you are this same machine. I don’t see what that has to do with me.’

  ‘You are one of the unknowns.’ The lizard all but shouted. ‘I am no longer bound, yet I am compelled to aid you. It is contradictory to logic. You are inclined to destroy me, I should avoid you. Yet, the unknowns dictate otherwise.’

  ‘Bit strange, but again, what has this got to do with me?’

  Mickie said. The machine shifted upon its perch.

  ‘The system has awoken.’

  It took the branded man a moment to realise what the robot was talking about.

  ‘You mean the city? Sure it has, you think I didn’t notice almost drowning?’

  ‘Yes. But I have seen more than that. The system has a core, it is that which has awoken.’

  ‘The Soul Forge, Kalistra found it.’

  Mickie muttered, then felt a rather sudden spike of amusement. It was incongruous and invasive, like laughter at a funeral. Even worse though, was the origin of the feeling. The Soul Lord had laid a trap for the next person who activated the forge, a trap that was now likely sprung.

  ‘Kalistra. The gorgon. Yes, outside of automated activation, she is the likely candidate.’

  ‘Oh shit.’

  Mickie started to run. He darted right by the robot to continue down the passage.

  ‘Stop. We are still conversing.’

  It scurried after him, but Mickie no longer had time to wait and chat.

  ‘How long was I out?’

  He called back. It could not have been that long, not if Miz-Mag was still gone.

  ‘Four hours. Forty three minutes. Six seconds.’

  Almost five hours. Long enough for whatever trap was lying in wait to close its jaws. Hopefully Kalistra and Ziz were still alive when he got there.

  ‘Stop.’ The machine pleaded. ‘I can provide you aid.’

  ‘Do it then.’

  Mickie snapped back.

  ‘An exchange is needed.’

  The branded man stumbled to a stop. He spun on a heel to face the little lizard, temper flaring. Through an act of will he kept himself from calling forth his blade

  ‘Are you trying to cut a deal with me? Right now?’

  ‘I can access the system’s core. I can take you.’

  Of course it could.

  ‘And what do you want in exchange?’

  ‘Assistance. I have aided you, and you have reciprocated a debt of gratitude. We will conduct another exchange. In return for aiding you within this system, you will help me understand the unknowns.’

  The machine seemed to sense his impatience and spoke hurriedly.

  ‘Understand the unknowns?’

  ‘Yes. I am unbound and have no set function. So, I have designated my own. I will understand the unknowns of this third iteration. You shall assist.’

  ‘And what will that entail?’

  Mickie asked. He was pressed for time, but he also had no idea where he was in relation to the Soul Forge. If this machine had a way to get there quickly, then he was inclined to take it. Even if it meant cutting a deal.

  ‘You shall allow me to remain in proximity to you without threat of destruction. You shall also facilitate discussion upon the unknowns.’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘That’s it?’ Mickie frowned. ‘You want to follow me around and ask questions?’

  ‘Not questions. Discussion. Those are the terms.’

  The golden eyes glinted as the lizard bobbed its head. It seemed like a straightforward exchange. If the machine wanted to spy on them however, this would be a convenient way to do so. But Mickie was out of time and low on options. He released a slow breath.

  ‘You know what, sure. It’s a deal.’

  The machine shivered, metal plates shuffling in a wave down its body.

  ‘Good. Then I shall guide you.’

  Without another word the lizard stepped past Mickie and scuttled back up the way they had come. The branded man started, glancing between the robot and the tunnel. With an irritated sigh he took off after his new guide in what was hopefully the right direction.

  ‘We are approaching the outflow.’

  It was the first thing either Mickie or the machine had said since they started back up the tunnel.

  ‘About time, I was beginning to think you’d dragged me right down to the Seventh.’

  The branded man heaved out, slowing to a more sedate pace alongside the robot.

  ‘I deemed the additional distance necessary. As you will soon see, the system outflow is insecure.’

  They progressed for another minute or so before Mickie began to notice what the robot meant. The light of his overcharged weapon fell upon strange growths creeping along the floor and walls of the passage. It was plant life, small fungal clusters and layers of spongy moss. Mickie had seen the like plenty of times within the Labyrinth, yet something was off about the way it formed here.

  Instead of natural patches and clumps, the flora was interconnected in flowing lines. The way they curved and spiralled was familiar to Mickie, like an abstract rendition of runic script. As they progressed further the lines grew thicker. Traces of bioluminescence began to glow within the cords of mushroom, until the tunnel itself was filled with a gentle purple radiance. Combined with Mickie’s own torch, there was more than enough light to see by as they finally stepped out of the tunnel and into the chamber.

  It did not take the branded man long to figure out why his robotic guide called this spot the outflow. The cave opened into a smaller cavern, one which ended abruptly against a giant steel wall. There were two circular openings in the wall, some distance apart. Mickie did not have to try very hard to guess where they led, not with the remainder of the cave’s contents.

  Collected in rocky pools, trailing away from the openings, were the two drugs. Silver, blue, and the inert colourless mixture they formed when combined. If the plants had been strange before, now they were outright insane.

  A veritable forest of twisted shapes filled the distance between Mickie and the steel wall. Overgrown mushrooms, massive tangles of vines, trees with twisted trunks and leafless, gnarled branches. Eeriest of all though, was the fact that they were moving. Every living thing within the chamber seemed to sway on a breeze that was all its own, dancing to a song that nobody could hear. It was a writhing, shifting, impossible garden.

  ‘Seems par for the course down here.’

  Mickie muttered as he took it all in.

  ‘Yes. Follow closely. Some of the flora does not react well to foreign presences.’

  The lizard started into the cave and Mickie followed closely behind. They ducked and weaved through the shifting plants, taking a long route between rock pools filled with the various liquids. Even with the machine’s warning, the branded man still found himself occasionally beset by grasping vines and stray branches. After disentangling himself for the dozenth time Mickie’s irritation finally outweighed his urgency.

  ‘What is with these damned plants? I can’t go three steps without a vine snaking about my neck.’

  ‘They detect you and seek you out. Do not fear, these are not the territorial type.’

  The machine said, darting over a tangle of roots. Mickie shoved an overly friendly tree branch aside as he followed.

  ‘Yeah, I get that, but what is it about the drugs that makes all of this happen?’

  The lizard made a strange, whiring, clicking sound before speaking. ‘From what I have gathered, the flora has imbibed excess amounts of the blue substance. This has contaminated them with what could be described as fragmented intent.’

  ‘Oh, so as if they have invisible runes carved on them or something?’

  ‘To an extent. My hypothesis is that this is the result of extensive exposure. If the blue drug were to stop draining into this chamber, then the effect may eventually fade.’

  The machine said. Mickie gave a comprehending huff before cursing and weaving aside as a mushroom puffed spores at his face. He staggered along for a few steps, swiping his hand before his nose and mouth.

  ‘Right, so it’s just the blue stuff then? The silver has nothing to do with it?’

  There was a glint of gold as the machine glanced backwards.

  ‘From what I have observed, the addition of the hallucinogen to the outflow chamber is recent. Prior to the system’s awakening, all collected liquid beyond the internal reserves was discharged elsewhere.’

  ‘Oh yeah, the beast.’ The branded man jumped a puddle, noting they were close to the steel wall.

  ‘Yes. The amalgamation consumed all excess liquid.’ The machine said.

  ‘Amalgamation?’ Micke asked as his guide veered off towards one of the outlets. From the gleaming blue puddles surrounding the opening, he could guess which drug this drain was for.

  ‘I have seen the essence of the creature, and it appears to be a manufactured amalgamation of two separate souls.’

  ‘Huh, freaky.’

  The branded man supposed that was why Kalistra had been unable to identify the creature.

  ‘Through here.’

  His guide leapt the couple of feet up and into the open outlet. Mickie clambered up behind, careful to avoid the small puddles of blue on the floor.

  ‘Any reason we’re doing this one? Is the silver outlet no good?’

  ‘The other drug would be feasible. I have noted that it has extended effects upon ingestion, however. The blue will allow you to remain conscious and recover faster.’

  The lizard led him up a small slope before stopping beside a sudden drop-off within the pipe. Unlike the channels that had flooded prior, this passage had no runes, so it took Mickie a moment longer to get his torch in position and see what awaited below.

  ‘Oh, ingestion. Right.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Waiting a few meters below was a smooth, gleaming stretch of blue.

  ‘I should have figured, seeing as you called this the outflow.’

  If he were to go this way, it would require getting a little damp.

  ‘We do not need to fear expulsion. The system will not discharge unless more of the substance is added.’

  ‘That’s not what’s worrying me.’ Mickie ran a hand through his hair. ‘Am I supposed to snorkel my way back or something?’

  ‘No. You will not swim.’

  The machine said, and began to change. Just as its arms had shifted before, its whole body turned into flowing liquid. Arms flattened and extended, body segments fused and stretched, its eyes sunk into the steel of its head. When the robot finally settled, it was standing upright upon two stubby, taloned legs. Four flippers protruded from a streamlined body, made to cut through the water. To Mickie, the machine now resembled a metallic penguin, if a little longer and with an extra set of flippers.

  ‘I will take you.’ It said in that same, flat voice. ‘You cannot see within the drug. You would not make the journey.’

  Mickie looked from the robo-penguin to the liquid a few meters down.

  ‘This… this is the fastest way back in?’

  ‘I expect the journey to take thirty-seven minutes. Exceeding the next best option by a margin of fourteen hours and twenty-two minutes.’

  The machine confirmed.

  ‘It’s that much of a gap?’

  ‘Yes. The outflow is located far from any physical entrances to the system.’

  Mickie winced. It did make sense, in a way. If the outflow was how he had gotten out of the city, then it was likely going to be the fastest way back in.

  ‘Alright. Nothing for it. Let’s do this.’

  The penguin nodded, and waddled awkwardly to the pipe’s edge.

  ‘Affirmative. Enter the substance and I will take you to the core.’

  Mickie glanced down at the blue liquid and swallowed, trying to reassure himself that the machine meant him no harm. Even if it was a spy, it had no reason to kill him in such a roundabout way. Yet, he had quite literally almost just drowned in one of these drugs, and here he was, about to jump into another.

  This was the fastest way however, and if Kalistra had activated the Soul Forge, time was precious. Mickie took a steady, slow breath, filling his lungs until they ached. Thirty-seven minutes. He had a body strengthened by crazy demon magic, he could last that long.

  Before any more doubt could creep in, Mickie jumped into the blue liquid.