Sevda grabbed Edmond by the arm and dived into the streets of the town, which smelled of metal and dust. She was practically dragging him along, neither explaining where they were going nor looking back. As Edmond's boots struck the rusty floor plates and loose metal pieces on the ground, they made shrill sounds that echoed through the narrow alleys.
The town was as suffocating as ever. Heaps of scrap structures, walls held together by welding marks, and thin plumes of smoke leaking from between them... The air was a mix of burnt oil, metal shavings, and stale blood. Electric cables hung over their heads, scattering sparks whenever the wind blew. Those who didn't get out of the way shrank back under Sevda's sharp gaze, some reflexively pulling back their cybernetic limbs.
As they approached the west of the town, the crowd thinned out. The noise decreased, but the tension rose. The buildings here were older; they had seen more repairs and held less hope. And there, near where the streets ended, rose a structure that stood out immediately from the others.
Unlike most structures in town, this building had multiple floors. The floors seemed to have been added atop one another in haste; each was covered with metal sheets from a different era of scrap. Nevertheless, its body maintained the same logic of scavenged metal. On its walls were the half-erased traces of old corporate logos, bullet holes that had been patched up, and support columns held by welding.
The windows were irregular; some were completely sealed, others were patched with transparent plastic stretched between broken glass. On one of the upper floors, an old antenna swaying in the wind whispered that the building was still somehow trying to stay upright.
Sevda did not pull her fingers from Edmond's arm but slowed her pace. This building wasn't just a structure standing in the west of the town. This building likely housed the authority that controlled this town.
As they climbed the stairs of the building with heavy steps, one of the well-armed guards who noticed Sevda's arrival stepped forward and approached her. This soldier did not look like the other locals. From his spiked hair, well-groomed skin, and cybernetic parts, it was clear he was likely a citizen of the Supreme World Republic (SWR).
"Welcome, Doctor Sevda…" said the man with sunglasses. "Has something happened?"
"We need to see the Shepherd."
"The Shepherd is currently expecting some guests."
"This is a situation that could change the fate of the war… Please… you must allow us," the woman said in a slightly pleading tone.
"And who is this man with you? Who shall I say has come to see the Shepherd?"
"This man is the man who holds the fate of the war in his hands."
At this, the man took off his glasses with a surprised expression and scrutinized Edmond for a while. Then, he reached for his ear and waited for an order. The order came quite quickly.
"The Shepherd is waiting for you."
A large crowd of people was in the middle of a heated argument. This dark room, covered in metal scrap, could only be half-lit by a few torches placed along the walls. The flames danced, flickering on the rusty surfaces; because the light wasn't enough to show faces entirely, expressions remained half in shadow, half in anger.
Therefore, almost everyone wearing patched and filthy clothes held a torch. They held the flames not just to see their surroundings, but to assert their presence. Conversations overlapped, voices drowned each other out, and words lost their meaning. Exactly what was being said couldn't be picked out, but there was no doubt:
They were all complaining about something. They were all angry. And they were all looking for someone to blame.
In the middle was a table hastily made from thick metal plates. They were gathered around it; fists were pounding the table, torches were waving in the air, and occasionally the clang of metal drowned out the talk. The argument wasn't a search for compromise; it was like a pressure waiting to explode.
As they approached the crowd, Sevda's steps involuntarily slowed. Her shoulders tensed, her breath became irregular for a moment. This room was not a place where she belonged; here, it wasn't knowledge that spoke, but raw will. Just as she stumbled slightly from the push of the crowd, Edmond stepped forward before she could even lose her balance.
This time, he grabbed Sevda by the wrist. His grip wasn't hard; it wasn't rushed either. Not a word was said, nor did their gazes meet, but that brief contact was like a silent sign of trust amidst the noise and anger.
Edmond didn't pull or drag Sevda. He guided her. Sevda didn't pull her wrist back either. They moved forward together; their steps instinctively synchronized. As Edmond parted the crowd with his shoulders, Sevda felt for a moment behind him that she wasn't alone. This feeling wasn't weakening; on the contrary, it was solid enough to make her straighten her back. No one in this room noticed it. But that wrist-grip was deeply meaningful, especially for Sevda.
In truth, even though Sevda had lost most of her modules, she was a cybernetic and was still considered quite stronger than an ordinary human. She certainly didn't need such protection. But yielding to such protectiveness was, in a way, pleasing to her.
The moment they dived into the crowd, the light of the torches began to show faces more clearly. As soon as some men noticed Sevda, they wore insolent smiles; their gazes lingered too long, a disturbing mock appearing at the corners of their lips. Some consciously broadened their shoulders to block their path, others brought their torches closer, leaning forward as if they owned the place...
But each time, Edmond's gaze came into play. Edmond didn't speak. He didn't even shrug. He just looked. Because his clothes were full of bloodstains and marks of war. It was very obvious that he wasn't a human, but an evolved. Furthermore, he didn't look like the locals. This man possessed everything that bore the sign of danger.
This look was neither sudden nor uncontrolled. It was cold, steady, and measured; the look of someone who would end a fight, not someone looking for one. The moment their eyes met, insolent expressions froze, and mocking smiles slowly faded. Some looked away, some involuntarily took a step back, and some lowered their torches and blended back into the crowd.
One man intentionally bumped his shoulder against Edmond. Edmond didn't stop. Instead of walking over the man, he just took a step and hardened his gaze a bit more. The man looked like he was about to curse, but the words caught in his throat. He silently made way.
As they progressed, the tone of the crowd began to change. The noise was still there, but a narrow space had formed around them. People weren't exactly pulling away; they just seemed to sense that standing there wasn't a good idea.
As they approached the table, the sound of fists decreased. Arguments were left half-finished. Some heads involuntarily turned toward them. While the flames of the torches flickered, the crowd around the table parted to both sides.
When Sevda and Edmond stopped a few steps from the table, everyone realized: these two hadn't just walked through the crowd. They had overcome it.
At the head of the table was a woman. Her light brown hair was tied back; yet a loose strand fell over her eye. She neither pushed it back with her hand nor seemed to care. It was as if it was meant to be there, an inseparable part of her face. The side of her head that remained hairless was shaved; the small nicks on the skin were clearly visible.
Her face was thin. It was shaped not by hard lines, but by a fatigue hidden under softness. She wore glasses with a dark blue visor that highlighted her green eyes. A communication unit integrated into the temple of the glasses was settled in her right ear.
Her face was covered with numerous scratches, but none of them could overshadow her perfect skin and natural beauty. The woman had the aesthetic of a model; not just in her face, but with her body as well. She had breasts that weren't thrust forward but were prominent, muscular legs, and wide hips that were noticeable even under her clothes. The muscle structure in her arms clearly showed that this body was shaped by a disciplined physique, not by aesthetic interventions.
This woman was not a cybernetic. She was an evolved.
Her clothing was another story altogether. She still wore a scientist's lab coat. The sleeves of the coat were torn from the elbows down, and the fabric was filled with burn marks and dried stains in places. Despite this, she hadn't taken it off. This was less a practical choice and more like a silent reminder to herself. It was a symbol she carried on her back so as not to forget who she was and what she lived for.
From the open part of the coat, a dark navy military tank top was clearly visible. The fabric was thick; the kind suitable for field conditions, sweat-wicking, tight but not restricting movement. Because she had been sitting under the heat of the torches for hours, the upper part of the tank top was darkened with sweat spots; this state bore the marks of a battlefield that had remained standing for a long time rather than aesthetics.
Below, she wore trousers clearly of military origin. They were made of tough, durable fabric. Small cuts and repairs made it clear that this uniform was worn for conflict, not ceremony. Reinforced stitching in the knee and hip areas was designed to support leg movements. Even though the uniform had loosened with cuts, it left the woman's body free, adding a disciplined hardness to her posture while maintaining her mobility.
She had a simple but functional belt at her waist. The belt was filled with many types of ammunition of different calibers; each was placed with a certain order. They weren't hung randomly. Wherever the hand would go, the ammo was there. On the right side of the belt, a low-profile pistol sat in a magnetic-lock holster. The holster didn't hide the weapon; it just held it enough to not let it fall.
Not just on the belt, but in a holster wrapped around her right leg, which clearly squeezed the flesh of her leg slightly, there was another weapon. In fact, that weapon was even more prominent as it sat further out. This weapon was a simple protection gun. It was the kind found in every facility, given to security guards, with no special features, limited bullet capacity, but easy to find.
The woman's most interesting feature was her right arm. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary human arm; the muscle structure was balanced, and the skin was of a natural tone. However, upon closer inspection, faint dark lines passing under the skin at certain points and thin, matte metal plates appearing around the elbow could be discerned. These looked less like military cybernetics and more like medical support attachments applied to keep the arm alive after heavy trauma.
Most of the metal parts didn't sit on top of the muscle; rather, they worked underneath the muscle tissue. Thin conductors stretched along the arm as if mimicking veins, forming a structure that regulated nerve transmission and prevented loss of reflex. At some points, there were connections slightly protruding from the skin, but these weren't disturbing; they were the traces of a sterile and conscious intervention.
This arm was not weak. On the contrary, it worked exactly as it should. It possessed a power that didn't hesitate when it gripped, didn't shake when it squeezed, and didn't show signs of fatigue. This wasn't mechanical force; it was a preserved, reclaimed human power. The arm was the type that was noticed not when looked at, but only when used.
"Damn it…" the woman said, her voice not rising but hardening. She had crossed her arms under her chest; this was not a defense but a way of reining in her patience. The fatigue on her face had sharpened when combined with anger. For a moment, she scanned them all; then she put her hands on the table. As her fingers pressed against the edge of the map, the solid sound of metal echoed in the room.
"You're all talking at the same time," she said. "You all think your problem is unique, urgent, and indispensable." She tilted her head slightly, her lips twitching with mockery. "But damn it… you keep repeating the same thing. The same point. The same dead end."
She traced her finger harshly across the map, then pointed outside with her hand.
"Do you expect me to perform miracles while this damn war is going on? If I make even one wrong decision in the middle of this chaos, a whole city will pay the price!"
She took a deep breath; her voice was a bit more controlled this time but still heavy.
"Look," she said. "I understand you. I really do. I'm not downplaying anyone's trouble here." She raised her eyes again; her gaze was clear. "But right now, it's impossible for me to solve everything at once."
She paused for a moment, then added almost reluctantly: "Give me one day. Just one day." The request in her voice wasn't a weakness; it was the official record of her remaining patience.
"I will have very important guests today. Until this meeting is over, I cannot handle any issue here in a healthy way."
She punctuated her last word by lightly tapping the table. "Tomorrow… tomorrow I will listen to all of you again. But today, don't ask for more from me."
When the woman finished her words and looked up, she noticed that the gazes were not on her but on the stranger who had overcome the crowd with Doctor Sevda. She remembered seeing this stranger before... She had seen him somewhere, but where...
People began to withdraw slowly with reluctant grumbles. Chairs that had been forgotten were there at all scraped against the metal floor, torches swayed, and arguments hung in the air as half-finished sentences. Some were still grumbling, some headed for the exit with their heads bowed. The noise of the room didn't stop all at once; first it cracked, then it dispersed piece by piece.
When the last few people disappeared through the door, all that remained were the flickering torchlights, the map on the table, and a disturbing silence that settled into the room.
"Who are you?" the woman at the table asked when they were finally alone in the room. Her voice was hard; it was caution speaking, not curiosity.
"My name is Edmond Kingsley…" Edmond said, pulling his shoulders back slightly. He looked self-assured. "…and you must be the Shepherd. That's probably not your real name, but it's an interesting nickname for a woman."
The woman's eyebrows rose very slightly. "You don't think women can be shepherds?"
"Actually…" Edmond was about to continue when Sevda felt she had to intervene.
"This is the woman who saved me," she said in a clear voice. "The person who got me out of the facility while the robots were after me, who pulled me out of that hell. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be alive right now."
The woman turned her gaze to Sevda. "And how did you manage that?"
"I had a hacker who had infiltrated that damn facility," Sevda said. "He was noticed by Hianyan's soldiers during the war. They bombed it. He was torn to pieces." She paused briefly. "We were lucky he didn't live in this town. Otherwise, this place would have been wiped off the map long ago."
"Yes…" Edmond said, his voice involuntarily slowing down. Something was clicking into place in the depths of his mind. "…I remember. Hianyan had said someone had infiltrated his facility. So it was you."
The woman's gaze wandered over Edmond's face.
"And you are the man who has been a headache for everyone in that facility…" she said finally. "I remember your face. Your attire has changed quite a bit… but your gaze has stayed the same."
After a short silence, she continued; her voice was more controlled this time, with an almost academic coldness:
"I've known Sevda for a long time. We went to the same university. The political stances she took, the risks she ran, her courage to openly take sides… These are rare to find in this age." She tilted her head very slightly. "I knew she was on this planet, and I had no intention of leaving her in that situation. Sevda is not just an ally to me. She is a loyal friend."
She turned her gaze to Edmond. There was no softness left now.
"But the interesting part is this…" she continued. "You are the one who started this war."
She didn't take a step, she didn't raise her voice; there was no need.
"Yes. I saw your plan at TESO2 live. How you cornered Hianyan step by step, how you dragged him into a war he didn't want… I know almost everything except what you and Hianyan talked about in that secure room." A faint expression appeared at the corners of her lips. "I may not have direct eyes in the facility right now, but I know something snapped there. A system cracked."
She pressed her finger on one of the marks on the map. The place marked was the TESO2 factory.
"You offered the Calosians perhaps a real chance for the first time," she said. "The idea of liberty. You gave them a hope worth trying even if they can't win. On this planet, hope is more dangerous than a weapon." Her gaze fixed on Edmond.
"So does that mean we're friends, then?" Edmond said. With a sincere smile, he extended his hand to the woman who stood self-assured but still cautious.
The woman unhesitatingly extended her arm supported by metal attachments. When they shook hands, the angry expression on her face had vanished, replaced by a measured but warm seriousness.
"Yes…" she said after a short pause. "You could say that. By the way, my name is Sharon Lara. I am the Assistant Deputy General Manager of the Dermovox Xenobiology Science Facility."
Edmond didn't know exactly what this title meant, but it was clear it was very important. Therefore, he bowed his head with an instinctive formality.
"It is truly a great honor to meet you."
Lara let her gaze wander over Edmond. This gaze was questioning; the gaze of a scientist trying to solve the person in front of them layer by layer out of habit.
"Well," she said finally, "what exactly are you?"
While Edmond was searching for an answer, his mind locked for a brief moment when Sevda intervened. Her voice was clear, unhesitating.
"Edmond has a plan that can end the war."
Lara's eyebrows rose slightly. she wasn't trying to hide her surprise.
"Is that so…" she said. "How could that be possible?"
This surprised expression added a strange charm to the woman. Edmond realized he had kept his gaze on her a bit too long without noticing. It was only a matter of time before Sevda sensed this; a small tension on her face betrayed her discomfort.
Edmond cleared his throat.
"That's right," he said. "The room where we discussed the plans with Hianyan was protected with high-level secrecy. It wasn't really possible for you to eavesdrop there."
He took a step forward, his voice taking on a more serious tone.
"Actually, the plan is this: Hianyan will escalate the war even further. And at the peak of the conflict, I will present evidence that will ensure the SWR takes Hianyan's side in the war."
Lara was listening intently.
"That evidence…" Edmond continued, "is Labiba's attempt to kill Sevda, who is an SWR citizen. The records of this incident are present in Sevda's memory modules. Moreover…" he said, his voice hardening slightly, "Labiba consciously cut off the network connection to be able to do this."
"That is a very good plan, but how do you think you will deliver that module to the SWR? This… this is an impossible mission…" Lara said, her voice dropping involuntarily. "Labiba is quite influential within the SWR. He is also Ashengine's favorite. Even Ashengine could use his influence within the SWR for Labiba."
When she finished her words, a heavy silence settled into the room. The light on the table flickered; the deep hum of the generator filled the unspoken possibilities.
"Hianyan thinks he can do this with Capazo," Edmond said, in a calm but sharp tone.
Lara tilted her head slightly. Her lips became a thin line.
"You trust them far too much," she said. The sentence was left unfinished; she stopped as if something would break if she continued.
Edmond straightened up just a bit in his chair. This small movement added more weight than necessary to the room. He spoke without taking his eyes off Lara:
"They are also far too afraid of me."
This word was like an invisible weapon left on the table. No one objected. Fear here was not a weakness; it was a guarantee. Lara didn't look away from Edmond, but the expression on her face changed. Doubt had given way to calculation.
"So the basis of your plan is not loyalty," she said finally, "but balance."
"No," Edmond corrected. "The basis of the plan is desperation."
"Wonderful…" Sharon Lara said at that moment. There was a slight mockery in her voice, but this mockery was the product of a tested admiration, not contempt. "…You might be a greater man than I thought." After a short pause, she added: "I believe you. And yes, I feel admiration. You truly are the hero of this planet."
The words hung in the air. The word "hero" was the heaviest word spoken in this room, and interestingly, Doctor Lara had said it quite seriously.
"So, does this mean you will help me copy my memory module, Lara?" Sevda asked. There was hope in her voice but it was cautious; she expected a conditional agreement rather than a definite victory.
"Yes…" Lara said. Then her gaze hardened. "But first, I have to deal with some guests. I have a very important meeting. More important than the war itself."
She gathered the maps on the table in one move and set them aside. A short, disturbing sound came as the metal surfaces rubbed against each other. As Lara did this, she looked at Edmond over her visor. That look was not an invitation; it was an instruction.
"And in this meeting," she said, "I want you to be present as the hero of the planet."
Edmond raised his eyebrows very slightly.
"And when is the meeting?"
Sevda didn't answer. Instead, she pointed toward the wide door of the room with her hand.
The door was ajar.
And through that gap, three figures could be seen standing silently as if waiting for their turn.
One of them was a cybernetic who had three arms, looked old, and wore a robe.
The other was a creature that had four arms, was nearly three meters tall, and whose skin looked as strong as battle armor.
The other was a weaker, horned version of the four-armed creature.
"This meeting is going to be very interesting indeed," Edmond murmured.