I ran without tiring, my mechanical legs eating up the distance. The western road stretched before me, a dusty ribbon cutting through farmland and scattered trees. Every few hundred feet, fresh signs confirmed I was on their trail.

  Blood droplets stained the dirt. Not much, but enough to track. Boot prints told their story: some men limped, others stumbled. The spacing between steps showed their exhaustion. They weren't moving like trained soldiers anymore, but like beaten dogs slinking away from a fight.

  My four arms kept perfect rhythm as I moved, each weapon ready. The familiar weight of steel in my hands only fueled my rage. In my right hands, I gripped a longsword and short spear. My left hands held a mace and dagger. Each weapon felt like an extension of my fury.

  Through Mind Sight, I spotted more evidence of their retreat. Discarded pieces of armor too heavy to carry. A bloody bandage caught in a thornbush. An empty water skin trampled into the mud. They weren't even trying to hide their trail.

  My mechanical joints whirred smoothly as I increased my pace. The sound reminded me of working in Clarik's smithy, of peaceful days crafting tools instead of weapons. But those days were gone now, shattered like Mallie's small body when that lightning struck her down.

  My teeth ground together, sharp edges clicking as my jaw clenched. They thought they could murder innocents and simply walk away. They believed their noble blood would protect them from the consequences of their actions. That their duke's name would shield them from justice.

  They were wrong.

  I spotted fresh prints in a muddy patch, mere minutes old. The gap was closing. Soon, very soon, I would catch them. And then I would show them exactly what kind of monster they had created.

  Through Mind Sight, I counted twelve shapes huddled around a hastily made camp. Most of the soldiers showed signs of various injuries; some couldn't even walk without aid from their fellows. Kolin's form stood out, his noble bearing visible even through his pain and exhaustion. My gaze shifted to another familiar figure, that of Coyle. The sight of him twisted something inside my mechanical frame.

  He'd spent days studying my work in the smithy, asking endless questions about Assembly. Now here he sat with his Mallie's killers, having abandoned his sister to die in Weath's streets. The scholar had chosen his own skin over loyalty, over justice.

  Their camp sprawled beneath a copse of oak trees, bedrolls scattered without thought to defense or watches. Weapons lay carelessly propped against trunks or discarded in the grass. Such arrogance. They truly believed their status protected them, that no one would dare pursue the duke's son and his men.

  I moved forward with deliberate steps, my mechanical legs crushing twigs and leaves. Let them hear me coming. Let fear build in their hearts as death approached. The weapons in my four hands caught the bright silver moonlight, steel promising steel's work.

  "Someone's coming!" One of the soldiers scrambled to his feet, grabbing for a sword.

  Kolin's head snapped up, his face going pale as he recognized my mechanical form. "No... impossible. You can't have followed us this far."

  Why not? My Mind Speech carried to all of them, cold and precise. Did you think distance would save you? That your father's name would protect you after what you did?

  Coyle shrank back against a tree, hands trembling. "No Eyes, please... we had no choice. The duke-"

  THERE IS ALWAYS. A CHOICE.

  I advanced steadily, spreading my arms wide to display each weapon.

  You chose to threaten children. You chose to murder innocents. And now you've chosen to die.

  The soldiers fumbled for their weapons, forming a ragged circle around Kolin. Their exhaustion showed in shaking hands and unsteady stances. They'd fled hard and fast, spending their strength on speed rather than rest.

  I could have struck from the shadows. Could have picked them off one by one as they slept. But that wasn't what I wanted. I needed them to see me coming. Needed them to understand exactly why they would die.

  My mechanical body moved with fluid grace, each step measured and inevitable. Slivers of moonlight gleamed off the eyeless features of my misshapen helmet, reflecting in their fear-widened eyes.

  "Please," Kolin's voice cracked. "My father will pay whatever you want. Name your price."

  My price? I stopped just outside their circle of steel. You already paid it. In innocent blood. In Mallie's death. My four arms raised their weapons. And now I'm here give you that which you have purchased.

  The first soldier charged, blade held high with more courage than sense. His sword clanged uselessly against my armored chest, the impact barely registering through my mechanical frame. Without pause, I drove my spear forward. The steel tip punched through his eye and out the back of his skull. He dropped like a puppet with cut strings.

  "You dare?" Kolin's voice rose to a shrill pitch. "You're nothing but a monster! A thing! And that peasant girl? She was nothing! Less than nothing!"

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  I yanked my spear free, letting the corpse fall. The remaining soldiers backed away, their weapons shaking. One by one, I cut them down. A sword through the throat. A mace crushing ribs. A spear finding gaps in armor. Each death was quick, efficient. No waste, no flourish. Just the inevitable march of steel through flesh.

  "My father will have your head for this!" Kolin continued his tirade, spittle flying from his lips. "He'll burn that miserable village to the ground! Every death will be on your hands!"

  His words meant nothing. They were just noise, like wind through dead branches. I stepped over the bodies of his men, my mechanical legs moving with fluid precision. Blood darkened the grass beneath my feet.

  Coyle pressed himself against the oak tree, hands raised. "Please... please No Eyes. They threatened my guild status. My livelihood. What choice did I have?"

  I met his gaze with my eyeless helm. This man who'd sat in Clarik's smithy, who'd broken bread with us, who'd called Mallie his 'little sister.' My sword thrust clean through his chest, pinning him to the tree. His final breath escaped in a wet gurgle.

  The moonlight cast long shadows as I methodically eliminated Kolin's remaining guards. Each death brought me closer to the young noble, who stumbled backward with every step I took. His fine clothes were stained with mud and sweat, his carefully styled hair now a disheveled mess.

  "Wait!" His voice cracked as I advanced. "Let's be reasonable about this. You clearly cared for that peasant girl-"

  Her name was Mallie. My Mind Speech cut through his words like a blade.

  "Yes, yes, Mallie." He licked his lips, eyes darting between my blood-covered weapons. "Think about her family. I could help them, you know. Make them minor nobles. Give them lands, titles, wealth beyond their imagining."

  I tilted my helmeted head, studying him. This pathetic creature, this third son of a duke, trying to bargain with promises he could never keep. He thought me a fool. I had knowledge of human hierarchy. I knew exactly how little power he truly wielded.

  "They'd never want for anything again," he continued, desperation creeping into his voice. "I have the authority-"

  You have nothing. I moved closer, letting him see the fresh blood dripping from my weapons. You're not even the spare heir. Just a useless extra son, totally disposable, desperate to prove himself worthy at the War Academy.

  His face contorted with rage. "How dare you! I am-"

  Nothing. I cut him off again. You killed an innocent girl because you couldn't stand the thought of a farmer's daughter having what you couldn't earn on your own merit.

  "She was nothing!" He spat the words, his facade of negotiation crumbling. "A peasant! Dirt! And you're just a monster, a thing that should have stayed in its Hellzone where it belonged!"

  I stood not two feet away from the trembling form of the nobleman whose actions had caused misery to so many I cared about. It was because of this sad, pathetic little fool that Mallie had been taken away from me. One of my first friends, dead because of this insect. Pure, unbridled fury consumed me.

  You are right, I told him. I am a monster.

  I raised the sword in my right hand, placing its sharp, bloody edge upon his shoulder. He flinched heavily upon the contact.

  Let me show you exactly what that word means.

  I kept him alive throughout the night. My Assembly ability proved extremely useful for more than just building mechanical bodies and weapons. Small, precise tools could inflict tremendous pain without causing fatal damage. The human body was a complex machine, after all. One that I was now learning to dismantle piece by piece.

  "Please..." Kolin's voice had grown hoarse from screaming. "Just kill me."

  Not yet. I adjusted the metal clamps holding him in place. Kathrin wanted you to suffer. I promised her you would.

  But even as I worked, a very large part of me recoiled at what I was doing. These hands that had once crafted gifts for the villagers, that had helped build their tools and repair their homes, now created instruments of torment. I remembered Mallie's smile, her infectious laugh, her unwavering acceptance of what I was. She would have been disgusted by this.

  "I'm sorry," he whimpered. "Gods, I'm so sorry."

  I know you are. But you being sorry doesn't bring her back. I extended a thin metal probe, letting it hover over his raw, exposed flesh. Being sorry doesn't erase what you did.

  The nobleman's screams echoed through the forest again. I kept working, methodical and precise, just as I had been when crafting in Clarik's smithy. But this was different. This wasn't creation; it was destruction. The complete opposite of what I had done before. With each cut, each burn, each carefully measured dose of pain, I felt myself becoming more and more of the monster he had named me.

  "Monster," he gasped between sobs. "You're a monster."

  Yes. I paused, studying my handiwork. But you made me this way. You took something pure and good from this world. You killed innocence itself.

  I knew this was wrong. So awfully wrong. I wanted so badly to stop. Somewhere in my fractured memories, I remembered believing in justice, not whatever this was. But those memories belonged to someone else, someone buried in the past who hadn't watched Mallie's lifeless body hit the ground. Someone who hadn't heard Kathrin's anguished demands for retribution.

  Through the long hours of darkness, I continued my grim work. Each time Kolin began to lose consciousness, I used my knowledge to bring him back. Each time he begged for death, I denied him. I told myself I was fulfilling a promise, carrying out the will of a grieving mother. But in truth, I was losing myself to the darkness that had always lurked beneath my mechanical surface.

  Dawn crept over the horizon, painting the forest in pale light. I stared at my hands, both mechanical and pale flesh, covered in noble blood. The rage that had consumed me through the night had finally ebbed away, leaving only hollow emptiness.

  Kolin's mutilated form slumped against the tree where I had secured him. His chest no longer rose and fell. I had finally granted him the mercy of death, though far too late to call it anything but torture.

  The shame hit me like a physical blow. What had I done? I had spent hours systematically destroying another human being, prolonging his suffering for my own dark satisfaction. This wasn't justice for Mallie, this was pure, simple sadism. I had become exactly what the villagers had initially feared: a monster that reveled in causing pain.

  My mechanical fingers trembled as I looked at the implements I had crafted. Precise tools designed for a single horrific purpose. Each one a perversion of the Assembly ability I had used to help others. The same hands that had crafted toys for Derek, repaired tools for Clarik, built defenses for the village. I had used them to inflict unimaginable torment.

  Mallie's face flashed in my mind. Not her final moments, but her bright smile when she'd visit me in the smithy. Her unfailing belief that I was more than just a monster. I had betrayed everything she saw in me. She would have been disgusted by what I had become in her name.

  Ludwig's words echoed in my fractured memories: that perhaps I was cursed as divine punishment for past sins. Looking at the grotesque scene before me, at what I was capable of, how could I argue? Only a truly monstrous being could have done this. Maybe this was exactly what I deserved; to be trapped in this broken form, to remember just enough of being human to understand how far I had fallen.

  I am a monster. Not because of my mechanical body or my eyeless face, but because of the darkness I had unleashed. The capacity for calculated cruelty that dwelled within me. I had proved every fear, every accusation against me true.

  Forgive me Mallie.