Lux detected the loss of voluntary motor control 0.3 seconds before Doc's collapse registered as complete.

Priority override engaged.

Consciousness had ceased. Voluntary responses: none. Autonomic functions remained active but compromised. Blood pressure dropping. Heart rate elevated but weakening.

Assessment initiated.

Damage report compiled instantly. Breach under ribs, left side. Burned tissue from two thermal purges—extensive but contained. Internal trauma across three organ systems. Blood loss accelerating.

The nanites were already at work, sealing vessels and reinforcing compromised structures. But the damage exceeded standard repair protocols. Too much tissue destroyed.

The nanites could not create matter from nothing. They required organic raw material to work with.

Lux scanned the breach site.

A dense biomass remained embedded in the wound—fragments of the creature's intrusion, blackened and dead but still intact.

Foreign organic material. Structure viable for molecular disassembly. A residual energy signature threaded through the mass.

Lux processed the data in 0.04 seconds.

Primary directive: preserve host function.

Initiating emergency reconstruction.

Lux directed the nanites to the biomass. They swarmed it, stripping molecules layer by layer. The creature's stolen flesh reduced to base components—carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen. Elements Lux could work with.

The nanites rebuilt Doc's damaged tissue from it, weaving new muscle fibers and repairing arterial damage. They reinforced torn fascia and sealed perforations in his lung lining.

Blood pressure stabilized.

Heart rate normalized.

Breathing resumed normal rhythm.

Vitals holding.

Lux ran a post-repair scan.

Physical structure: within acceptable parameters.

Blood chemistry: stable.

Neural activity: unconscious but undamaged.

One anomaly flagged.

The energy signature—faint energy resonance detected in the creature's biomass—had not been eliminated during disassembly. It remained, distributed through the rebuilt tissues.

Lux attempted to isolate it.

Unsuccessful.

Attempting purge.

Unsuccessful.

The signature was now integrated. Woven into the reconstructed cells as if it had always been there.

Nine months of cataloguing energy he couldn't classify, and now it was woven into Doc's cells.

Footsteps approached.

Lux identified them before visual confirmation.

Calen.

Gait uneven. Breathing ragged. Heart rate elevated.

Calen staggered into range and dropped beside Doc.

"Doc." His voice was tight. "Doc, wake up."

No response.

Calen swallowed hard, eyes moving over the cracked plating and torn seams.

"Come on. You don't just fall over."

Lux opened the external speaker.

"Doc is stable."

Calen froze.

His eyes opened wider in surprise.

"Lux?"

"Correct," Lux transmitted. "Doc is unconscious. Recovery is expected after rest."

Calen exhaled, the sound unsteady.

Two more sets of footsteps came up behind him.

Mira. Cassira.

Both alive. Moving under their own power. Afraid, but unharmed.

“Keep him from moving,” Lux continued. “He needs time.”

Fish rose from where she had pressed herself against Doc’s side.

Body temperature elevated. Minor damage along the left flank. Injured, but still able to fight.

She stepped over Doc’s prone form and placed herself between him and the open hall.

Across the chamber, another signature shifted.

The lean male.

He was not approaching Doc.

He moved across the ice-covered floor toward Mav, still slumped where he had struck the wall during the fight.

Mav. Alive. Breathing irregular. Probable rib fractures. Possible internal trauma.

The kidnapper crouched beside him and pressed two fingers to his neck.

Pulse check.

Threat assessment updated.

The man's current priority: injured ally recovery.

“Fish will assist in perimeter defense,” Lux said. “Hostile action will be met with immediate countermeasures.”

Calen shifted sideways, placing himself between Doc, the girls, and the two surviving kidnappers.

The movement cost him.

His pulse spiked a bit and his breathing became irregular.

“He stays down,” Calen said quietly. “Nobody touches him.”

The lean man looked over from beside Mav.

He did not stand. He did not move closer.

One hand remained on Mav’s shoulder. The other lifted slowly, palm open.

Nonthreatening gesture.

“Understood,” the man said.

Fish’s lips peeled back just enough to show teeth.

The lean man held her gaze for a second before returning his attention to Mav.

Lux monitored them all. Calculated threat probabilities. Maintained full suit systems despite Doc’s unconscious state.

Primary directive remained unchanged.

Keep Doc alive.

---

---

Wisp reached into his supply bag and pulled out a small glass vial no larger than his thumb. The amber liquid inside caught the dim light filtering through the shattered ceiling.

He uncorked it and held it beneath Mav's nose.

The effect was immediate.

Mav's head jerked back and his eyes snapped open, pupils dilating as the vapors hit. He gasped, shoulders lifting off the wall as consciousness slammed back into him.

"Gods—" Mav choked out the word, then groaned as his ribs reminded him what had happened. "Did I die?"

Wisp smiled despite himself. "No. Somehow the armored man took the creature down."

Mav blinked, processing that. His gaze drifted across the hall—the shattered ice, the blackened stone, the collapsed figure in gray armor with the wolf standing guard.

"Hells."

"Can you move?" Wisp asked.

Mav shifted, winced, then nodded slowly. "Got a skill that'll patch me up. Slow, but it works." He tried to push himself upright and failed. "Can't fight, though."

"We're not fighting." Wisp capped the vial and tucked it away. "The job's over."

Mav breathed a sign of relief and didn't argue.

Wisp glanced back toward the others. The boy—Calen—still crouched beside the armored figure. The half-goblin girl hovered nearby. The princess stood behind them, frost still clinging to her fingertips.

"We leave," Wisp said quietly, "before he wakes up."

Mav grunted agreement.

Wisp looped Mav's arm over his shoulder and hauled him upright. Mav hissed through his teeth but kept his feet. Together they turned toward the exit.

They made it three steps before Wisp's instincts prickled.

Mana gathering. Cold and dense.

He stopped and looked back.

The princess stood ten paces away, hand raised, ice crystallizing in her palm. Her gray-blue eyes locked onto him.

Wisp smiled.

"We're leaving."

Cassira didn't move. Frost spread from her fingertips, crawling across the floor toward them.

Then the half-goblin girl appeared at her shoulder and whispered something Wisp couldn't hear.

Whatever it was, it worked.

The ice in Cassira's hand dissolved. The frost stopped spreading.

She lowered her arm.

Wisp inclined his head—just slightly—and turned away.

They limped through the shattered doorway and into the passage beyond. The cold air bit at Wisp's face as they climbed toward the surface. Mav's breathing grew harsher with every step, but he didn't ask to stop.

When they finally emerged into the gray light of the Waste, Mav spoke.

"What now?"

Wisp looked north, then south. The wind pulled at his cloak.

"We're done," he said. "This was the last job. Whether we got paid or not doesn't matter anymore."

Mav's expression didn't change, but something in his posture shifted. Relief, maybe. Or exhaustion finally catching up.

"We leave the North," Wisp continued. "Tonight, if you can walk. Tomorrow if you can't."

Mav nodded slowly. "Yeah. Alright."

They moved across the frozen ground, two figures growing smaller against the white expanse. The wind erased their tracks as they went.

By the time the sun dipped behind the ridgeline, they were gone.

---

---

The infirmary at Threeburrow had grown louder over the past week.

Not from panic. From learning.

Every morning, goblins, kobolds, gnolls, and human refugees gathered there while Ironha taught what she could—how to clean wounds, brace breaks, read the bio-scanners, and recognize when using healing potions would make an injury worse instead of better.

She was guiding a young kobold through a vital scan when the radio on the shelf crackled.

The room fell silent.

Ironha looked toward it.

Static hissed.

Then a voice came through—flat and mechanical.

“Healer Ironha.”

Ironha went still.

Lux.

Ironha motioned to Lina without looking away from the radio.

"Take over."

Lina straightened and nodded once.

Ironha crossed the room and lifted the radio from its shelf, the bronze casing warm against her palm. She walked quickly toward the small office attached to the infirmary—barely large enough for a desk and chair.

She closed the door behind her.

"Lux?" she asked quietly.

A pause.

Then: "Affirmative."

Ironha's chest tightened.

Lux rarely spoke. When he did, it meant Doc couldn't.

She exhaled slowly, willing herself steady.

"What's going on?" she asked. "Is Doc alright?"

"Doc is stable," Lux replied. "However, there is an anomaly I cannot identify."

Ironha sat down heavily in the chair.

"Tell me."

"Doc sustained a breach during combat with a monster," Lux began. "The creature's biomass pierced the suit beneath his ribs and attempted tissue assimilation. I deployed thermal purges to prevent this. The purges succeeded, but destroyed significant organic material in the process."

Ironha's breath caught.

"The nanites required raw material to repair the damage," Lux continued. "I directed them to disassemble the creature's remaining biomass and repurpose it for tissue reconstruction. The procedure stabilized Doc's vitals."

Ironha rubbed her head, then shook it off.

This was Lux. This was Doc.

They were from another world.

She didn't need to understand it, just what it meant

"Is he alright?"

"He is stable," Lux said. "However, I cannot be certain. The creature's biomass contained an unidentifiable energy signature. The nanites repurposed the material, but the signature was not eliminated. It is now integrated into the reconstructed tissue."

Ironha's stomach dropped.

"Integrated?"

"Correct. I attempted isolation and purge. Both unsuccessful. The signature is distributed throughout the rebuilt cells as if native to them."

Ironha pressed her palm flat against the desk.

She had seen corrupted wounds before. Necrotic infections that spread when left untreated. Could that be it she wondered?

"Monitor him," she said firmly. "I'll speak with Maz and get to you as soon as we can."

"Understood."

"Where are you?"

"I do not know," Lux replied. "However, I can provide directions from Glasshold to our current location."

Ironha reached for a scrap of parchment. "That should work. We have maps. Send it."

"Transmitting now."

She waited. A moment later, Lux began listing landmarks and travel times in that same precise voice.

Ironha copied it down.

When Lux finished, she set the quill aside.

"I'll contact Maz," she said.

She paused.

"Are you safe?"

"As safe as circumstances allow," Lux answered.

Ironha's shoulders eased.

"I'll be there soon."

She ended the call and sat for a moment in the quiet.

Then she stood, folded the parchment, and headed back into the infirmary.

Lina looked up from the kobold's arm she was wrapping.

"Lina," Ironha said quietly. "I need to find Maz. Where is she?"

Lina straightened. "By the trade wagon. She's talking to Kraggir—they're loading the last supplies for the Glasshold run."

Ironha nodded once. "Thank you. Keep teaching. I'll be back."

She didn't wait for a response.

The corridor swallowed her footsteps as she moved through Threeburrow's tunnels, climbing toward the northern gate where the wagon waited.

---

---

The gate yard buzzed with activity.

Kobolds hauled crates toward the wagon while goblins secured ropes across the canvas covering. Snow Tusk stood harnessed at the front, his breath misting in the cold.

Mazoga stood near the tailgate, speaking with Marron, Tanna, and Rurran. Marron held a ledger. Tanna adjusted one of the straps on Snow Tusk's harness.

Rurran gestured toward the eastern slope, his tone calm.

"—fewer hordes along that route," he was saying. "Should be safe passage if you keep to the ridge line."

Mazoga spotted Ironha approaching.

Her expression shifted immediately.

"What's wrong?"

Ironha stopped in front of her, the folded parchment tight in her hand.

"Doc's hurt," she said simply. "He needs help."

Mazoga's posture changed—shoulders squaring, weight shifting forward.

"How bad?"

"Lux contacted me," Ironha said. "Doc was injured in a fight. He’s stable, but something is wrong. I have directions to where they are."

She held out the parchment.

Rurran took it without hesitation, unfolding it and scanning the landmarks Lux had dictated. His brow furrowed.

"Varrik," he called.

The scout appeared from the gate within seconds.

"Bring a map."

Varrik vanished and returned just as quickly, a rolled hide under his arm. Rurran spread it across the wagon's tailgate, weighting the corners with stones.

He traced the route with one claw, cross-referencing Ironha's notes.

"Here," he said, tapping a point northeast of Glasshold. "Old clan fortress. Deep in the Waste. Been abandoned for years, but criminals use it sometimes as a staging point."

Mazoga leaned over the map. "How dangerous is the route?"

Rurran's ear flicked. "Everything's dangerous with draugr everywhere. But it's doable if you take a patrol escort."

Mazoga straightened. "Then we move now."

She turned to Marron. "Wagon ready?"

"We can leave immediately if needed," Marron confirmed.

Mazoga nodded. "Get ready."

"I'm coming with you," Ironha said firmly.

Mazoga looked at her.

Ironha met her gaze. "I think Doc may be infected with necrotic disease. If he is, with… how he is…" She hesitated, glancing briefly at Rurran. "He might need special attention."

Mazoga studied her for a moment, then nodded.

"Get your supplies. We leave in thirty minutes."

Ironha turned without another word and headed back toward the infirmary.

---

---

Inside, Lina was still working with the kobold.

Ironha crossed to the supply shelves and began pulling down vials—necrotic tonics, fever mixtures, healing potions, bandages.

She packed them into her satchel.

Lina set down the bandage roll and approached.

"What's happening?"

"Doc's hurt," Ironha said without looking up. "I'm going with Maz to help him."

Lina nodded slowly. "Do you need me to come?"

Ironha paused, considering. Then she shook her head.

"No. Someone needs to stay and keep teaching. You can handle it."

Lina straightened a little at that.

"I can."

Ironha closed the satchel and slung it over her shoulder.

She stopped at the doorway.

"If anyone asks," she said quietly, "tell them I'll be back soon."

Then she was gone.

---

---

Outside, the wagon stood ready.

Mazoga climbed onto the bench beside Marron while Tanna settled beside Snow Tusk with Moss-ear perched on her shoulder. Rurran stood with three gnoll scouts, all armed and ready to escort.

Ironha approached and climbed into the wagon bed.

She sat with her back against the crates, her satchel across her lap.

Mazoga glanced back.

"Everyone set?"

Marron nodded.

Tanna raised a hand.

Ironha met Mazoga's eyes and nodded once.

Mazoga turned forward. "Move out."

Snow Tusk pulled, and the wagon rolled through Threeburrow's gate.

Ironha watched the settlement recede behind them.

Her hands rested on her satchel.

Doc had survived impossible things.

But Lux's words echoed in her mind.

Integrated.

Unidentifiable.

Whatever had entered Doc's body hadn't been purged.

It was still there.

And she had no idea what it would do.