Chapter 55 - The Third Choice

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.

Etzel dismissed the warning. “Stay close.”

DK glanced at him. “I was going to tell you the same.”

“Then we’re all learning.”

They moved through the trees. The coordinates led them roughly seven hundred meters into the zone.

Saeva found the blood first. “Here.”

Etzel crouched. Drops. Then a smear against a rock. More farther ahead.

They followed.

The man was beneath the remains of an old concrete structure. Alive. Barely. Approximately forty. Hunter equipment. Damaged armor. One wrist bent badly. Shoulder dislocated. Blood across the side of his face.

Etzel approached.

The man’s eyes opened. Focused on Etzel. Then DK. Then—Saeva.

Panic. “Get that thing away from me.”

Etzel stopped. Saeva did too.

The man tried to move backward. Pain stopped him. “Get it away.”

Etzel’s voice cooled. “She’s not attacking you.”

“Summons. Constructs.” The man’s breathing accelerated. “Same damn mistake.”

Etzel looked at DK. Then back at the man. “You know Mireth?”

Confusion. Real confusion. “Who?”

Interesting. Not Mireth. Something else.

Etzel crouched. “What happened to you?”

The man’s eyes moved toward Saeva again. Etzel shifted slightly, blocking his view. “Look at me.”

The man did.

“Who did this?”

No answer.

Etzel noticed the equipment beside him. A case. Broken open. Surgical tools. Compact cutters. Extraction equipment. And metal.

Etzel picked up one fragment. Hunter-equipment-grade alloy. His expression changed. “Graveback.”

The man’s eyes sharpened.

Etzel held up the metal. “You’re the people putting implants into monsters.”

“No.”

“Convincing.”

“We don’t put them in.” The man swallowed. “We take them out.”

Love this novel? Read it on NovelPhoenix to ensure the author gets credit.

Etzel stopped. Behind him, DK moved closer. “Explain.”

The man looked at the Greatblade. “That usually works better when you say it.”

Etzel nodded toward DK. “He has presence.”

The man closed his eyes briefly. “Someone’s been seeding creatures.”

“With what?”

“We don’t know what they call them.”

“What do they do?”

The man hesitated. Then: “Instructions.”

Etzel frowned. “Remote control?”

“No.” The answer came immediately. “That would be easier.” The man struggled upright. “They influence behavior.”

“How?”

“Direction. Aggression. Avoidance. Target fixation.”

Etzel remembered the Graveback. Dead creatures. Not eaten. Killing without feeding. “It wasn’t hunting.”

“No.”

“It was following something.”

“Probably.”

“Who built them?”

“We don’t know.”

Etzel stared. “Who is we?”

The man didn’t answer.

Etzel smiled without humor. “You’re making rescue surprisingly unrewarding.”

The man’s name could wait. His missing team couldn’t. “Why are you here?”

“Tracking the implants.”

“This zone hasn’t had confirmed human activity in three years.”

“That’s why we came.”

Etzel understood immediately. “Because Authority stopped watching.”

The man nodded. “Whoever is doing this likes dead regions.”

“How many came with you?”

Silence.

Etzel’s expression changed. “How many?”

“Four.”

“Including you?”

“No.”

Etzel stood. Four more. Somewhere deeper inside.

Renn had heard everything. “Extract him.”

Etzel looked toward the forest. “Renn—”

“Strike team will handle the others.”

The injured man laughed weakly. “They don’t have time.”

Etzel looked down. “Why?”

“We found it.”

“Found what?”

“The nest.”

Etzel closed his eyes for one second. “Of course there’s a nest.”

DK looked at him. “You sound disappointed.”

“I would like one person to say ‘small problem’ and actually mean it.”

Saeva raised her hand. “Small problem.”

Etzel looked at her. “What problem?”

She pointed at a cut on her finger.

Etzel stared. Then laughed despite himself. “Thank you.”

Saeva’s expression changed. The humor vanished. She turned toward the trees. “Mireth.”

Etzel felt nothing through the System. No Authority alert. No surveillance. But Saeva was looking at something.

DK’s hand moved to the Greatblade. Etzel followed her gaze.

“Come out.”

Silence. Then black filament moved between the trees. Mireth stepped into view.

Its body still bore damage from the earlier fight. The chest had repaired partially. One shoulder remained uneven. The face was still simple. Its own.

The injured man saw it. His reaction was immediate. “You.”

His hand went for the weapon beside him. DK’s boot came down on it. “No.”

The man looked up at him. DK did not move. The man released the weapon.

Mireth approached. Stopped several meters away.

The man stared. “You should be dead.”

Mireth’s new mouth moved. The voice was rough. Not yet natural. “You tried.”

Etzel went still. Mireth had spoken. Not through Authority. Not through a search field. Out loud.

The injured man stared. “You’re a construct.”

“Yes.”

“Not alive.”

Mireth stopped. Etzel watched closely. No query appeared. No search.

Mireth looked at its own hand. Then at the man. “I do not know.”

The man frowned.

Mireth continued. “You do not know either.”

Etzel said nothing. That answer belonged to Mireth. He intended to leave it that way.

Authority extraction arrived at the edge of the zone. They moved the injured man toward it. Before leaving, he caught Etzel’s arm.

“The others.”

“I know.”

“Don’t let them reach the lower site.”

“Who?”

The man’s grip tightened. “I don’t know.”

That answer was becoming irritatingly common. He released Etzel.

Renn spoke through the communicator. “Deymar. Extraction first.”

“Done.”

“Now return.”

Etzel looked deeper into the zone. Four people. Missing. Potentially injured. A nest. Unknown implants.

He looked at DK. DK already knew.

Saeva spoke. “Find.”

Etzel nodded. “Yeah.” He turned toward the forest.

Mireth moved too.

Etzel stopped. “You’re not coming.”

Mireth stopped. “Why?”

“Because I don’t trust you.” Direct. No softened answer.

Mireth stared at him. “You followed me.”

“Watching someone and trusting them are very different things.”

Mireth remained still. Then: “I will come.”

Etzel frowned. “That wasn’t permission.”

“I know.”

DK looked at Etzel. Etzel pointed at Mireth. “That one was definitely learned from me.”

Mireth tilted its head. “No.”

Etzel paused. “What?”

“I chose it.”

DK started walking.

Etzel sighed. “That’s somehow worse.”

They moved deeper. Etzel. DK. Saeva. Mireth. Same direction. Not a team.

Etzel kept his spear ready. DK never fully removed his hand from the Greatblade. Mireth noticed both. It said nothing.

The deeper they traveled, the worse the System became.

The message flickered. Disappeared. Returned. Etzel attempted a simple status check. Delay. Then response.

He frowned. “System latency.”

DK nodded. “Soul Link?”

Etzel checked. “Stable enough.” Saeva stayed closer anyway.

Mireth seemed less affected. That bothered Etzel. Its physical body had connections to Authority infrastructure and whatever remained of its original architecture—but it was not functioning like a Hunter. Different rules. Different vulnerabilities. Potentially different advantages.

Etzel filed that away.

They found the first missing Hunter fourteen minutes later. Saeva spotted him. “Alive.”

A man lay against a tree. One leg badly damaged. Conscious. Barely. But Etzel didn’t move toward him.

Two creatures circled nearby. Not attacking. Waiting.

Their necks were wrong. Etzel saw the metal beneath the skin. Small raised sections along the spinal line. Implants. Still present.

“There.” DK saw them.

“Yes.”

The creatures moved in circles. Same distance. Same rhythm. The injured Hunter shifted. Neither attacked.

Etzel remembered the earlier explanation. “Instructions.”

Mireth looked at him. “They are told not to kill him?”

“Maybe.”

Mireth watched the creatures. “But they want to.”

Etzel looked at it. “What makes you say that?”

“Their bodies.”

Interesting. The creatures strained toward the Hunter. Muscles tight. Breathing elevated. But each time they reached a certain point—they turned away. Not controlled like puppets. Restrained. Directed.

Etzel tightened his grip on the spear. “We need the implants intact.”

DK looked at him. “That complicates the fight.”

“For you?”

“No.”

“Show-off.”

Saeva rose. Etzel pointed. “You draw the left.” She nodded. “DK, right. Immobilize if possible.”

“Yes.”

Etzel looked at Mireth. Said nothing.

Mireth noticed. “You gave me no instruction.”

“Correct.”

“Why?”

“You’re not on the team.”

Mireth became still. Then stepped backward. “Fine.”

Etzel hadn’t expected that. No argument. No attempt to insert itself. Good. Maybe. He hated how often that word now came with conditions.

Etzel moved first. Stone against tree. Sound. One creature turned.

He entered its field of vision. “Come on.”

The creature lunged. Saeva dropped from above. Forced it sideways.

DK moved toward the second. His Greatblade remained sheathed. Probably the most insulting possible way for DK to approach a monster.

The creature attacked. DK caught it. Literally. One armored hand around the upper neck. The other controlling its forelimb. It thrashed. DK barely moved.

Etzel dodged the first creature. Struck its front leg. Not enough to break. Enough to destabilize. Saeva hit from behind.

The fight was working.

Then the implant changed something.

The creature DK held convulsed. Every muscle locked. Its head jerked. Pupils widened. Then it stopped struggling against DK. It looked at the injured Hunter.

Etzel saw it. “DK!”

The creature tore free. Not because it had suddenly become stronger. Because it stopped protecting itself. Muscle tore. Skin split. It sacrificed its own body to escape DK’s hold.

Then charged the injured Hunter.

Etzel was too far. DK was behind it. Saeva turned. Too slow.

Mireth was closest.

Etzel saw all of it in one instant. The Hunter. The creature. Mireth.

He shouted: “Mireth!”

Not an order. Just the name.

Mireth looked at Etzel. Then at the Hunter. Then at the creature.

One moment. Choice.

Mireth moved.

The creature struck. Mireth stepped between them. Claws entered its chest. Black filament exploded outward.

The force drove Mireth backward. But the Hunter remained untouched.

Mireth looked down at the claws inside its body. Then raised both arms. Filaments wrapped around the creature. Neck. Forelimbs. Torso.

It could kill it. Etzel saw that immediately. One contraction. Broken spine. But Mireth didn’t. It pulled. Pinned the creature to the ground.

“Now!”

DK arrived. One strike. Controlled. The creature went limp. Alive. Immobilized.

Etzel finished his own target seconds later.

Then silence.

Saeva landed. DK remained over the creatures. Etzel looked at Mireth.

There was a hole through its chest. Filaments were already moving. Slowly repairing. Mireth stared at the injured Hunter.

Etzel approached. “Why?”

Mireth looked at him. “I do not know.”

Etzel almost laughed. “Again?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

“You gained nothing.”

Mireth looked down at its damaged chest. “Pain.”

“Yes.”

Then Mireth said: “But I chose before you told me.”

Etzel stopped. Mireth looked directly at him.

“You said my name.”

“I did.”

“You did not say what to do.”

“No.”

“I chose.”

Etzel waited for the System. Nothing. No Witness. No confirmation. No Morality acquired. No Soul detected.

Nothing.

Good. Because Etzel didn’t know what it meant either. He only knew what he had seen. Mireth had taken a hit meant for someone else. Without instruction. Without obvious reward. By choice.

That was all. For now—that was enough.

The surviving creature was restrained. The implant took longer to remove than Etzel expected.

Halven guided them remotely whenever the System signal allowed. “Two millimeters lower.”

Etzel adjusted the extraction tool.

Mireth watched. “Lower.”

“I heard him.”

“You moved higher.”

Etzel looked at Mireth. “Would you like to do this?”

“No.”

“Then enjoy the silence.”

Mireth became quiet. DK held the creature immobile. Saeva watched from Etzel’s shoulder.

Finally—metal emerged. Small. Narrow. Partially embedded beside the spinal pathway. Not crude. Not simple.

Etzel held it carefully. “This controls them?”

Halven answered through static. “Not exactly.”

Data slowly populated. Neural stimulation. Hormonal triggers. Stress response. Aggression. Fear. Directional conditioning.

Etzel understood. “It doesn’t move the body.”

“No.”

“It changes what the creature wants.”

Silence.

Mireth stepped closer. “It makes them want.”

Etzel looked at it. “Yes.”

Mireth stared at the implant. “It chooses for them?”

“Not exactly.”

“But it changes desire.”

“Yes.”

Mireth remained silent. Too long. Etzel knew another question was coming. This one arrived without a search.

“How do I know my wants are mine?”

Etzel had no answer. Not a good one.

Mireth’s architecture had been shaped by copied identities. Authority systems. Adaptive directives. Its encounters with Etzel. Pain. Fear. Observation.

How much of any person was chosen? Instinct. Memory. Trauma. Environment. System Abilities. Soul structures. Where did influence end and self begin?

Etzel looked at the implant. Then at Mireth. “I don’t know.”

Mireth nodded. “Good.”

Etzel frowned. “What’s good about that?”

“Your answers were becoming annoying.”

Etzel stared. DK slowly turned toward Mireth. Saeva pointed at Etzel. “You.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Etzel looked between them. “Absolutely not.”

Mireth’s mouth shifted. Not quite a smile. Not yet. But close enough to be disturbing.

Etzel pointed at it. “Don’t.”

“I chose that too.”

“That defense is becoming irritating very quickly.”

The injured Hunter coughed. Etzel immediately moved to him.

“Others…”

“I know. Three more.”

The man shook his head. “Below.”

Etzel frowned. “Below what?”

The Hunter opened his eyes. “The nest.”

Etzel exchanged a look with DK. “What is it?”

The man swallowed. “They’re not putting implants into monsters there.”

Etzel leaned closer. “What are they doing?”

“Growing them.”

Etzel looked at the device in his hand. “Growing the implants?”

The Hunter’s breathing became shallow. “The things…” He winced. “…that go inside.”

Etzel went still.

The implant suddenly looked very different. Not manufactured. Not entirely. The metal was only part of it. Fine organic structures clung to one side. Almost like roots. Or nerves.

Saeva moved closer. Then froze.

Her head turned toward the deeper forest. Mireth did the same. At exactly the same moment.

Etzel noticed. “What?”

Neither answered.

“Saeva?”

She touched her chest. No. Not her chest. She pointed at Etzel. His Soul Space.

Etzel’s blood went cold. He looked inward.

The tiny light was moving. Not flickering. Moving.

For the first time since he had preserved it—the Nascent Soul Pattern was reacting strongly to something outside him.

Etzel stood. A second message appeared through the unstable interface.

DK drew the Greatblade. “What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Mireth stared into the trees. “Something is calling.”

Etzel turned sharply. “You?”

Mireth paused. “No.”

Saeva pressed closer to Etzel. The tiny light inside Soul Space pulsed. Once. Twice.

Then the System forced another message through the interference.

Everything became very quiet.

The implant in Etzel’s hand. The missing Hunters. The nest below. The organic material wrapped around metal. The unnamed soul reacting inside him. Mireth sensing the same direction.

DK looked at him. “What?”

Etzel stared deeper into Exclusion Zone 14. “I don’t think they’re growing implants.”

Another message appeared.

Etzel’s expression changed. Saeva moved closer. Mireth did not move at all.

Somewhere beneath them—something was trying to make souls.

Etzel raised his spear. “They’re growing something else.”