II-28 Unbroken

(Note, my wife wrote this chapter. It’s a pretty good chapter, if I do say so myself. She doesn’t ramble quite as much as I do, so you’ll probably find the writing better than normal, and I apologize for the superior quality. And her favorite to tell was how she found her sword. That rusted, miserable thing…)

Hello, reader. If my husband called my sword a rusted, miserable thing, I’m going to smack him over the back of the head. Not with a sword, though. I do still love him too much to end him that way.

But speaking of rusted, miserable things, let’s talk about weapons. Let’s talk about equipment. Let’s talk about the term “Diamond in the Rough.” Well, I got a new term I like to call “From Rough to Diamond.” sometimes you want to look for the rough instead of the diamonds. The papers, town criers, and gossip always proclaim some crafter to be a great genius for making a new master tier diamond blah blah blah blah blah. Yes, it’s very impressive. Yes, adamantium weapons are very hard to make. Yes, Adamantium armor practically makes you a walking fortress against anyone who isn’t a Master Pathbearer or higher. I’m not saying don’t get good equipment if you can afford it, or if you have the opportunity to obtain it from a quest. What I am saying, however, is don’t look away from potential.

My rusted, miserable slab of a sword started out as just a rusted slab. Probably belonged to some automaton somewhere. You see, I was a street rat. A street rat with big dreams, a nasty, early Physicality Skill Evolution, and no money. By the time I managed to qualify for an Academy against all odds, I was already used to swinging some very big, very heavy, and very, very unwieldy weapons. And so, none of those dainty little noble swords were for me. Couldn’t afford them either. So. What did I do?

Get the biggest, hardest hunk of metal I could find and had it reforged.

Thing is, Rusty was a hard piece to reforge, so it was still Advanced when I was an Adept. It barely had room for one enchantment. And the enchantment I put on it? Self-mending, of course. But, one thing about my rusted hunk of metal, it’s a raw hunk of unrefined adamantine. As I told you, if you’re not Heroic, you’re not cutting through adamantine. You’re not even chipping it. Hell, I had a hard time swinging Rusty at the start.

So, while my noble enemies were prancing around, waving their gleaming little sticks, I would walk up, and I would hit them once with my hunk of raw adamantine, and they’d go plough a wall. And eventually, I won enough to get Rusty reforged over again.

Today, Rusty is a intelligent, talking, Heroic-Tier weapon, and he’s my best friend—don’t tell my husband I said that. I’ll tell you this much, though. You treat a weapon right, you keep pouring your love and appreciation into it and hold onto it, and eventually, it might just save your life in more ways than one. It might even stop you from murdering your own father and get you a noblewoman’s title…

-Memoirs of a Master-Tier War Mage (Special Chapter)

II-28

Unbroken

Shiv made sure his descent to the underside of Weave was as slow and controlled as possible. Uva wasn’t his main concern here. She was ironically the hardier one next to the automaton. As Shiv held on to the crippled bot, he felt just how hard and brittle its chassis was at the same time. Can Hu definitely was adamantium, but it was compromised on a level Shiv couldn’t fathom. Brittle was the word that kept coming back to Shiv’s mind. Brittle. Like one rough touch could end the Penitent Chassis for good.

“Do not worry,” Can Hu said. “I can endure more than you expect. You may go faster.”

“Yeah, sure,” Shiv said uncertainly. “But you know what I’m doing is not actually flying, right? It’s a bit harder to adjust my speed.”

“Correct,” Can Hu replied. “You are manipulating a localized field of gravity, a field you extend to other people through tactile contact.”

Shiv blinked. Uva eyes were wide as well.

Can Hu continued. “I have encountered one like you before. A dragon in a place once called East Europe. He was a grappler, much like you. A skill-fused one.”

Shiv’s disbelief only grew. “You can even tell I have a Skill Fusion?”

Can Hu hummed with amusement. “Gravitic Wrestler demands a Skill Fusion. And the way your field works, at least the way my sensors perceive it, resembles the Gravitic Wrestlers I have fought and killed in the past.”

“Killed?” Shiv said. It was hard to believe the machine he was currently holding could kill anything.

“Yes, they are difficult adversaries, but with the right tools and the right munitions, they can be brought down. At least, most of them. You, I suspect, would have been harder. Few humans have Adamantine Adaption.”

“Okay,” Shiv muttered. “How? How are you doing this?”

“My eyes see much. My experiences tell me much more. You are very strange for a human, Deathless.”

And there was the creepiness of the Foreshadowing skill again. It was probably pretty creepy when he got information from it, and it was even creepier when someone else used it to get information on him.

“Divination is bullshit,” Shiv muttered.

“Indeed,” Can Hu agreed. “Those who can obtain intelligence through asymmetrical means are often quite useful. Does your squad have a Diviner?”

Shiv paused. “Not really, but we do have Adam. He’s got a Heroic-Tier Awareness Skill that lets him cast his senses—”

“Seer of Horizons?” Can Hu interrupted with a question.

Both Uva and Shiv’s mouths were slightly open. 

Shiv let out a breath. “Okay, Can Hu, you’re starting to scare me a little bit. Are you a Diviner, too?” 

“It is the natural guess,” Can Hu replied. “It is also sacrilege… Primal elves from certain hostile dimensions… they deem this skill sacrilege for someone that is not of their blood to possess.” Then, the bot spasmed and twitched. “Apologies. My system sometimes glitches from lingering damage. I a-apologize.”

And then there was that fragility again. There was history packed into this broken machine. A lot of history. A lot of, a lot of everything. Suddenly, Shiv felt even more nervous about moving with Can Hu in his hands. It was like he was moving around with an ancient relic rather than a piece of scrap.

“Do not worry,” Can Hu said. “I have more centuries left in me yet. You will not break me. I trust you. The system has guided us together for a reason.”

“The system moves in vulgar and subtle ways,” Uva commented.

Shiv looked down at her and sent a telepathic question. “So how do you know Can Hu?”

She considered his question. “I wouldn’t say I truly know him,” she replied. “But he is an interesting figure, and he frequents many of the same museums I do. He goes there, sometimes, to paint new works, or to fashion new sculptures. He is surprisingly good, despite his condition.”

“Are you two communicating telepathically?” Can Hu asked, tilting its head back at an odd angle to regard the two.

Shiv and Uva paused. “Yes,” Shiv said. “We weren't saying anything rude or mocking you.”

Can Hu’s head whirred as it looked forward. “That is fine. I understand if you would consider me an oddity.”

It then pointed at a patch of land with an industrial limb and declared: “There. My home approaches.” 

They landed near a particularly sparse neighborhood at the bottom of Weave, Shiv looked around and saw dust, filth, and dilapidation everywhere. The walls, however, were well painted in this place, and painted in that style that decorated Can Hu’s armor as well. It resembled murals, grand landscape pieces with specific figures portrayed within. But most of the figures were animals. Animals bearing specific wounds. Spiders weaving their web to coat the stumps of severed limbs. Spiders with their minds burning, clutching at their skulls as others tried to help them. Through broken windows, Shiv sensed the heat of flame with his feeble Pyromancy and saw groups of weavers standing around burning barrels. They warmed their hands. They held close to the fire. 

This far down, the world felt cold, quite the opposite from the world of Gate Theborn. But there was a similar feeling of desolation.

“Here,” Can Hu pointed again, and Shiv found himself staring at a warehouse. It seemed rough—a massive thing of concrete and wood along the outside—but the windows were colorful: broken pieces of glass reforged and knit back together with what seemed to be golden enamel in between. Outside the front of the house, there were rows of tables bearing empty bowls of food and empty jugs of water. A few weavers were gathered there. One of them saw Can Hu.

“Can Hu,” a weaver said, struggling to walk on unsteady and deformed limbs.

Uva took a defensive step backward, judging the weaver. 

“Is he a plague-bearer?” Shiv asked.

“No, not that I can sense. But do be careful. Weavers are… The system is not kind to everyone. And even without the plague, there are many other diseases that we struggle against. We do not have enough Biomancers. And scarcity… scarcity makes an ugly sight of so many,” Uva replied.

Within her head, however, there was a lingering feeling that she kept trying to suppress: a feeling of doubt and heretical uncertainty. She wasn’t sure why the composer didn’t just make everything better for everyone. She knew her goddess was not perfect. But still, she should have been capable of this.

“Can Hu! We came to thank you,” the weaver said. “We have something for your generosity.”

The other weavers came by and began to pool their money from foul-smelling sacks, producing a few gleaming shards that glittered in the dim.

“Put that away,” Can Hu ordered. “Put it away before you enrage me, and I banish you from the premises.”

The weavers paused. “But—”

“I told you,” Can Hu continued, “this is charity. This is a demonstration of my spirit. Do not offend me this way.”

“But how will we thank you,” the weaver asked, “if you’ve given us so much, fed us when no one else will, regarded us with kindness when few others dare to look upon us—avoiding us even?”

One of the weavers looked at Uva, and she almost flinched in shame, but she was still defensive. Shiv knew she faced feral weavers before—they even had to set up a quarantine outside Fel’s store the first time they went there.

Can Hu continued addressing the weavers. “To aid you is my choice. You may thank me by living better lives of your own. Be strong for yourselves. Even though you might be pathless, even if you are lame and damaged by the system, do not succumb to bitterness or despair. It demands strife, but we can demand strength from ourselves, even if it feels unreasonable. That is the only thing we might find salvation in sometimes.”

The weavers stared at him, and they offered him a gesture that was usually only reserved for the composer.

“That was borderline heretical,” Uva said. “At least, for some, the Weaveresses would not allow this in their sight.”

“Oh well,” Shiv muttered. “I’m not exactly a Weaveress, are you?”

He looked at her. She met and his eyes, then shook her head. “I am not. And sometimes I am thankful for the fact.”

As the weavers left, Can Hu led his guests through the front door. The door was rusted, beaten, battered. It looked like it was repurposed from pieces of metal welded back together. But it opened just fine as Can Hu turned his key.

“Seems like a pretty unsophisticated security system,” Shiv said. “Just a lock, huh?”

“I don’t see the point in adding any new measures,” Can Hu replied. “No one seeks me. Not truly. I was a celebrity for a time, a minor one. Then I was a curiosity, an oddity. Now I wander through the museum, and sometimes people gaze at me. I suppose I am a walking relic by this point.” Then, Can Hu regarded Uva with a low chuckle. “Sometimes, a single person repeatedly crosses my path, and they become an interesting acquaintance rather than just another leering stranger.”

She gave him a respectful nod, and they entered the warehouse that Can Hu called home.

As soon as they went inside, Shiv felt something—saw a surge of movement. In the air, there were small drones with spinning blades on their backs. They flew through the air, carrying different things, placing blocks from place to place. The inside was a playground of color. Everything was painted: more murals, more animals in various stages of injury and decay. But they were always striving, always trying to climb up a certain mountain or cross a raging river.

Shiv looked up to the left corner of the room and saw a small army of spider-like bots painting in Can Hu’s stead. They completed the final strokes of a rising wave about to crash down on what seemed like a town, but the town had constructed a small wooden wall. The wooden wall wouldn’t stand before the wave, but the people were building still, even as the wave was coming.

“This place is full of artistry and symbolism,” Shiv found himself briefly awed.

“I am not that good of a painter unassisted,” Can Hu said, his hand shaking slightly, “but I still try, and I can still build, and with help from my assistants, I can paint and I can create. Do you know that a crafting skill is harder to obtain for an automated model like me?”

“No,” Shiv said. “I assumed most automata had a crafting skill considering… you know, the parts and everything.”

“Not for my kind, not for my model. I had Repair. It was my strongest skill for a time, despite me walking the Path of the Artillerists. My siblings—they were all envious, and they came to me. One time, I had to entirely rebuild the armor of one of my comrades to prevent them from fully… from dying. I earned my crafting skill. I became a Blacksmith, and a Weaponsmith, and then an Inventor, and the Second Resurrection deemed these skills to be a direct boon rather than a threat. These were the skills that remained untouched when I broke my ‘contract,’ and shattered myself.”

“The Resurrection?” Uva asked.

“It is what most people call the Legacy Empire in Forbidden Africa,” the bot paused. “It is who I used to fight for—my masters, my pilots and wielders.”

A few more spider-like drones pulled a table into the room. These were larger than the other drones and had four human-like arms. They worked together and even made chittering noises. She realized they were communicating.

The table they brought into the middle of the vast open warehouse was nice, well-cut, but there were oddities to it. The edges were far too neat, and the legs were all of different materials. Some were nightglass, others alloy, one was even a stump of bone. Shiv could feel that with his Biomancy.

“Did you build everything in here?”

“Yes,” Can Hu replied, then paused. “No.”

“No?” Shiv asked. 

“Do I build anything? Sometimes I wonder that. I recreate, I reforge, I repair, and I wonder how different repairing is from actually building. The system… it gives these things separate names, sorts them into separate skills, but are they?” 

Shiv blinked. He was not used to dealing with a philosopher, let alone a philosopher robot, but he just let Can Hu continue talking. 

Can Hu sighed. “Regardless, I—pardon me—sometimes I get carried away by my musings.” Another small drone came by, its blades spinning as it dropped what seemed to be a particularly large tea kettle on the table. A loud bang sounded through the warehouse. Then Can Hu turned to glare at the drone. It beeped and flew away in fright. “Forgive that one. It is new. It will learn.”

“What do you mean, it will learn? Is it awakened by the system?” Shiv stared more intently at the various machines around him, trying to—

Skill Gained: Analyze 1 (Advanced)

His eye flashed with a flicker of mana, and for a moment the world was awash with color. He could see the full spectrum magic and skills, and of the many machines in the warehouse, a few burned with dim yet vibrant colors. Focusing on the flying bot that dropped the kettle, Shiv received details from the system.

Name: Teabot00003

Age: 2

Path:

None

That was all he got, however. The skills and other details were still blank.

“It takes leveling Analyze to glean from details from another,” Uva told him. “It is useful that you have the skill now, though. It’s often a skill gained very early on for most Pathbearers.”

Shiv nodded. “Well. I’m not most.”

“No. You’re not.”

“That bot is awakened,” Shiv breathed, looking at Can Hu. “You brought another machine to life… Does that make you it’s parent or something?”

Can Hu considered that. “That is also another question that will lead me onto a tangent. I am the drone’s creator, and it is evolving but… Am I alive? Is it? I don’t know.”

Do you have vitality? A soul? A mind?” Shiv shrugged. “I think that’s what matters, right? 

“So those that are touched by the system are alive, in your opinion. Those who can weave mana into skills unattuned and attuned alike?”

Shiv thought about the bot’s question and nodded.

“I guess then my pilots were not alive,” Can Hu replied, “They were not touched by the system. I was the only thing that evolved—a transforming armor that kept them untainted.”

Shiv considered that for a moment. “I—yeah, you’re probably going to want to talk to an actual philosopher about this. I don’t think that much about being alive. I’m not even particularly good at staying alive.”

Uva bumped her arm into him slightly. “Shiv.”

“Just being honest.”

Can Hu gave a beep of acknowledgement. “I understand. I have a lot of time alone. I spend a lot of time making, and while I make, I think. Perhaps I think too much.”

Another two flying drones came by, bringing with them three different cups. The cups, much like the glass, were once broken and now molded back together with inlays of gold. A sound of boiling water gurgled from the kettle, and Can Hu went to go pick it up.

“This pot is filled with Glimmer Shade tea. I had the others prepare it while we were on our way. Sometimes, I test different teas just to see if my tasting apparatus remains functional. Today, the tea will actually be consumed. How odd.” Can Hu then gestured, and for a moment, Shiv looked on as three more drones came by—these had two stubby, animal-like legs and were shaped like barrels. They knelt down and Shiv realized they could function as seats.  “You may sit on them.”

Shiv muttered, “I’m a little heavy.”

Can Hu laughed. “They are used to heavy. They usually help me bear loads of great weight.”

Shiv walked over and tentatively sat down on the bot. He heard it creaking beneath him. It made a shrieking noise.

“Are you sure?” Shiv asked, looking at the bot.

“Yes, it says it can carry you for at least… four hours and thirty-two seconds.”

Shiv reacted by picking himself up using his gravitic field. The small bot let out a chirp of relief. “I think I’ll spare it the torture,” Shiv chuckled.

“To bear your own weight at will…” Can Hu said. The bot fell silent as he stared at Shiv. Shiv, meanwhile, looked to Uva as the silence dragged. She hid her awkwardness better than he did. “It is a wonderful thing. The new one thanks you.”

Shiv tested the tea, and the taste was rather sublime. As he did this, another large machine began walking in from behind him. There were machines everywhere, so Shiv had a hard time distinguishing what he was looking at. Sometimes, entire walls moved, and then he realized they had legs or wheels.

“This place is pretty lively,” Shiv said. “You got a nice home.

Can Hu laughed. “So it is. You are very friendly to automata, aren’t you?”

“Not really anymore than I am to most other people,” Shiv replied. “I’ve just always been around. I don’t think of the bots as any different than anyone else.”

“Perhaps that is one thing I appreciate, living beyond the Dome of Forbidden Africa. You mana-touched all seem to regard us as one among you.”

“Anyone who walks the path is a Pathbearer,” Shiv said. “Might be simple and naive but—” 

“No. Admirable. Pure.” Can Hu said. It looked at Uva who just sipped her first cup of tea.

“It’s good,” she said, after savoring the flavor. Shiv tasted it as well through their mind bond. “I’m surprised that you can make tea so well. Your tasting apparatus must be quite good.”

“It allows me to detect many flavors, a vast array of chemical compounds, and more. I can analyze what people like exactly.” Can Hu paused. “That is a lie. I can analyze a statistical preference for the bulk of the population, but not much more than that. I am but an old machine built off of code, after all. Just code and silicon and alloy…”

Shiv didn’t know too much about automata, so he just nodded. “Right…” Still, Can Hu’s voice sounded… heartbroken. Shiv kind of wanted to give the bot a hug.

A hissing sound came from behind him, and what seemed to be a large series of cabinets opened up. Their front ends unfurled backward, exposing several cooking stations stacked close together. Shiv’s jaw dropped. He barely stopped himself from tearing up.

“Is that an entire moving kitchen set? 

“You said you could cook,” Can Hu said, gesturing at the mobile kitchen. “This is…”

Shiv was no longer listening. He could see the ingredients glittering, highlighted by The Chef Unwavering. He chuckled as he rubbed his hands together. “Can Hu, I am glad to meet you. We were acquaintances, but this just made us friends. Good, good friends.”

Behind him, Uva looked on with an expression of faint amusement, then turned to Can Hu. “He is, uh, like that. Very, very direct.”

“That is good,” Can Hu said. “That will make what I have to offer very simple, and make our conversation most efficient.”

Shiv immediately began preparing the meal. “What are you feeling like tonight, Uva? Wait, you want to defer to Can Hu instead?”

“There is no need,” Can Hu began.

But Uva insisted. “Of course. The host has already been so kind to us, after all.”

Can Hu regarded them. “Can you make soup?”

Shiv paused. “Soup? Just soup? 

“I have many ingredients. I will defer to your knowledge, since you have ceded preference to me.” Can Hu tried to give a slight nod, but its joints locked and rattled before it finished the action.

Shiv went through the ingredients for a bit and found what seemed to be a duck. “Well, let’s see what we can make with this…”

After about an hour, they all indulged in a bowl of Duck Consommé with seared duck breast paired with wild mushrooms. Their tea was bright and blue. The duck was a rich brown, and the soup was a glistening crystal-clear that slid in hits of salt and sour between crisp bites and the light-bitter flavor of the tea.

“This is—it goes together very, very well,” Uva said, sighing with satisfiaction.

The Chef Unwavering > 52

Shiv chuckled. “Yeah, consider the bitter taste of the tea that turned eventually quite earthy. So add a little bit more salt to the duck to accommodate that. Can Hu? What do you think? Can Hu?”

The bot’s tasting tube thing was still inside the soup. Both Uva and Shiv stared.

“Can Hu?” Uva asked, sounding a bit worried.

“I have gotten a Mental Refreshment boost from this meal,” Can Hu declared. “This is… unexpected.”

Uva blinked. “I have that too.”

Shiv stared at his own notification.

Duck Consommé with Seared Duck Breast Paired with Wild Mushrooms has given you the Mental Refreshment effect.

Shiv looked on in surprise. “Wait, you got the boost too, Can Hu?”

“Correct, the moment I stuck my tasting apparatus in, I was imbued. My soul was refined. You are a very good cook… I can taste it. It goes deeper than just the flesh.”

Shiv didn’t fully know how to reply, so he just leaned back and smirked. “Thanks. Your tea is great. Gave me the idea of how to make this soup. I can’t believe you got a boost too. Thought it had to be fully consumed to work.”

“A shared surprise is a welcome memory,” Can Hu declared. “It is a good thing to take inspiration from the world. I’m glad to have inspired you.”

The bot reared back, but before it straightened, it started to spasm and twitch.

Both Uva and Shiv flinched from Can Hu’s mechanical seizure. “You all right?” Shiv said, reaching over. 

Can Hu held out a shaking hand. “Do not—do not use your field to stabilize me. It will cause more… more damage.”

“All right,” Shiv said, holding back.

It took ten seconds for the episode to end, and Can Hu rotated his joints in the aftermath, testing for fullness of movement. “Apologies.” The optics in his half-skull-like head flickered. “These episodes—there are fewer than before, but they still come. They last for varying intervals. I try to control myself. This is why I avoid crowds.”

“It was worse before?” Shiv asked.

“I improve slowly, day by day,” Can Hu replied. “My Toughness might remain sundered, but my other skills—they can repair my soul. It makes things better. If I continue growing what I have, perhaps someday I will be strong enough again. Not as strong as I was, not as capable as I once was, but strong enough.” Can Hu regarded Shiv. “I miss flying. While you flew, while you floated us. I remember. I remembered who I once was…”

Shiv listened as the old machine sank into a memory. A memory that not neither him nor Uva could perceive. There was something about a bot’s mind that worked different from that of an organic. Psychomancers could usually see into an automaton’s mind, but they rarely could get anything. Not unless they understood the frequencies or numbers that made up a machine’s thoughts.

Can Hu sighed. “I remembered the bombing runs I conducted. I could go beyond hypersonic. The world was beautiful at that speed. The horizon always rushing towards you. The numbers, the telemetry, the dogfights.” Shiv couldn’t fully grasp what it was describing, but there was so much emotion in Can Hu’s voice that Shiv felt bad for the bot again. “I hope that someday you will have these experiences too. Perhaps I will be the cause of them… Ah, yes. The main reason we are here. I would like to see your current armor.”

Can Hu declared.

And now they were down to business. 

Shiv hesitated for a moment before he reached into his cloak and pulled out one of his bone armor sets, the most recent one he’d swapped out when he got new clothing at Fel’s store. Can Hu observed the armor and turned to Shiv.

“You understand this armor—this set of appearances, this aesthetic—it has implications in the Abyss, especially with the Necrotech.”

“Yeah, they call it the wearing the visage of death or something,” Shiv replied.

“And do you? Do you wear the visage.”

“I do more than wear death,” Shiv grinned viciously.

“Very good. As long as you understand the implication and do not merely ape an aesthetic, I will respect it. There must be substance to art. Substance before color.”

The automaton rose from where it sat and examined Shiv’s armor. “Adamantine Adaption that would make modifying your body very difficult. I will have to use alternating means, both frost and fire, to shape anything. It will take years to reforge a Master-Tier set from this…”

“Yeah, I don’t think we’re going to have that much time. There’s someplace I need to go soon,” Shiv winced. “There’s someone I need to face, and I need Master-Tier armor with a good vitality enchantment.”

“Correct,” Can Hu replied. “I cannot make you Master-Tier armor in that time, but I can integrate myself into what you have. Or, more specifically, build a new exoframe for myself, and serve in place of the enhancements.”

“You’re going to fuse yourself into my armor?” Shiv asked. He wasn’t sure of this. Uva didn’t seem very sure either.”

“Yes. I just need some time to…” Can Hu trailed off. “It will take some cutting. Then, I need wires and other articulations. This will require experimentation. I will probably require several sets of your armor, if you have them. Are they difficult to create?

Shive responded by throwing out a few more sets of armor, even those of the Diamond-Shelled variety. “Not particularly. It just takes a bit of dying.”

“That is more than sufficient. I will ask you should I require more material. My current plan is to carve out a section of the spine, to infuse myself within the inner layer. Afterward, I could be worn without much difficult and provide active support in combat. I have… several advantages left in my systems that most armors do not provide. And I am already broken as well. You are going to fight a Necromancer, correct?”

Shiv paused. “Yeah.”

“Good. I saw his face through Foreshadowing. He deserves death for what he has done, and I yearn to bestow a righteous end upon him. Then the odds are, if he strikes me, he will only strike what is broken. Something cannot be sundered twice. The soul’s wounds remain wounded. My ruined skills cannot be sundered twice.”

“I…” Shiv was really uncomfortable about this. “Won’t that just hurt you more?”

“Does armor fear pain?”

“No, but—”

“Then the question is answered,” Can Hu insisted. “I am alive. But I was always armor. I do not fear wounds taken during battle. Wounds I can mend and restore.”

“But what about your remaining skills?” Uva asked.

“I will see them protected as best as I can,” Can Hu said. “And they are protected by the debris that compose my soul and mana.” Can Hu let out a hissing rush of steam from its joints. “Leave the armor with me. I will present myself to you in two days.”

Shiv clenched his teeth. “But…”

“I have vitality. I am the right kind of broken, and I still have more… there is still more of me left… I can still fight.” And Shiv realized the machine was practically begging. “Please. Please. Just let me work. Let me show you. I am still worth something. I am. I am.”

And Shiv just didn’t have the strength to say no. “Okay, yeah, I’m fine with that. Just, I don’t want you to—you know, I don’t live an easy and safe life. I fight pretty vicious things, Can Hu. I don’t come out alive a lot of the time.”

Can Hu regarded him. “I am still a Penitent. I remember fire. I remember death. I remember the deaths I’ve caused. I remember everything.” Can Hu held his hands up. “Have you ever killed the undeserving, Shiv? The innocent?”

The question hit Shiv like a blow to the gut. But Shiv was always direct, and he didn’t turn away from pain or discomfort. “Yeah,” Shiv said immediately. Uva regarded him for a moment, but she understood. She knew. She saw his memories—his fight with 811. “I, uh, got into a fight with an orc. It went pretty bad. I tunnel-visioned on the bastard. And I, uh, a lot of people got caught in between. They shouldn’t have died. I should have been more accurate.”

Can Hu spoke as if offering guidance. “Something like that. Precise, maybe. More thought out.”

“Then you fight like an artillerist. You are walking artillery. Our pieces align evermore.”

“Well, some people call me a monster,” Shiv replied. “But yeah, I do break things. And people. I’m trying to better.”

“Then we are one and the same,” Can Hu sighed. Your blood hands are stained. They are not stained like mine. You were careless. I was a good armor but a bad Pathbearer. I accepted my orders, and I regret… I regret. I wish to make things right now. I wish to save more lives than I have taken. To build more than I have broken. Please. Allow me this. I care not if I perish, so long if it is for a just end. Please.”

Shiv regarded the machine and held back a frown. “All right. So, two days, I’ll come see you and… what you can do.”

“In two days,” Can Hu replied. “In two days, I will show you my worth. Or what remains of it. You came here seeking true armor. I am broken. But I am true. I will give you more. Much, much more.”