"Remind me," the goggled youth said. "Where are we headed again, exactly?"

Ripley and his companions Marlowe and Lou were slumped in one corner of the cabin eating their lunches, their backs pressed against its metal walls. Their driver Silt was, well, driving, but she was able to communicate with them thanks to an artifact that allowed her face and voice to be displayed on a screen.

"Outpost 17," the driver said through the artifact. "Like I mentioned earlier, it's one of the outposts that Earl Nightjar built during his service with the Bulwark Kingdom. It's a key location, because it sits on top of a large mana deposit, and they're still mining it to this day. That probably explains why Marcus and his Behemoths were headed up north. Not only to refuel, but also to be repaired by the great technician himself."

"Assuming he's there," Lou cut in. "I'm only telling you he's there because I sensed his signature in that location at the time I scanned. Not to sound like a complete pessimist, but what if he's in a different spot from Outpost 17? Maybe by the time we get there, he'd have moved to another location."

"I don't think so," Silt countered. "As I said, Earl Nightjar has a connection with that place. He probably has a workplace there, and with whatever the Blue Army's plans are, they need him for that."

"Umm," Marlowe raised his hand. "I'd hate to point this out, but you guys don't seem to care that we destroyed a group of Behemoths. I mean, you lot managed to destroy General Marcus' Guardian with your combined efforts."

"Yeah, but he'll be back," Lou replied. He had more to say, but he was interrupted by a low rumble. The Behemoth shook, throwing the three passengers to the side wall. It staggered for a few seconds until it came to a complete stop, lurching to the side.

Noticing this sudden change, all those aboard the Behemoth, including Silt, got off to check the problem. One of the Behemoth's wheels was smoking, as if it had suffered a major impact.

Silt clicked her tongue in annoyance. "They're still on our tail. I thought you had destroyed that second wave, knight!"

"I might have," he responded, "but then I might have not." He unsheathed his sword in preparation for another round of battle.

The chainmail-clad thief beckoned the two youths to their side as the Blue Army soldiers, on their Behemoths, surrounded the group. It was only a small group, consisting of three smaller Behemoths and one personnel carrier.

"These must be the stragglers who managed to not get wrecked," Ripley thought out loud. His hand was prepared to grab the gun by his side. "I think we can take them."

"You think?!" Marlowe snapped. "Stop pushing yourself! You're still tired from all that casting, Rip! And don't think about using the revolver! Miss Silt told you!"

Ripley's group inched closer. The two mercenaries took care of the outer perimeter while the two youths were safe in the center.

"Don't do anything rash, you two. Let the more experienced folk take care of this," said Lou. "Ready, Silt?"

"You don't have to tell me twice!" and she leapt towards the incoming Behemoth and yanked the driver off his seat. Lou had taken care of the incoming soldiers who were shooting missiles at them by launching some of his own. The larger Behemoth unloaded its cargo of reinforcements who immediately proceeded to the skirmish.

The young smith had already seen the mercenary Lou fight against the Blue Army, easily eliminating one man after another. That's when he noticed something.

The Nightjar sword withstood the attacks of the soldiers, but when it was Lou's turn to attack, the sword cleaved cleanly through the group. But for some strange reason, no blood was shed. Stranger still, the soldiers were still in one piece, but they were now collapsed in a dead heap.

Meanwhile, Silt took care of the other end. Taking a flask or two from her chainmail, she threw them under the enemy's feet, enveloping them in smoke that disorientated his fellow soldiers. She entered the smoke cloud, and then it dissipated, revealing a group of unconscious soldiers and a chainmail-clad Silt, who was still holding a soldier in a choke hold.

The Blue Army reinforcements didn't stand a chance against the duo of Lou and Silt. The remaining two approached them, Marlowe running and thanking them in the process, and Ripley walking behind, still feeling uneasy around a pile of their enemies.

"I guess that takes care of that," Lou returned his sword in its sheath. "But what are we gonna do about our ride?"

"Look out!" Marlowe shouted, and everyone turned to where he was pointing at.

One of the soldiers had recovered, his sword pointed towards the group. He was about to launch a mana missile at them. Noticing this cue, Ripley reached for his gun, but found that it wasn't where it should be. Silt had already grabbed it.

It all happened in a flash. With a flick of the wrist, she unfurled the revolver, emptying its cylinder. She threw a bunch of nails in the air and swiped the gun horizontally. She spun around, her chainmail cape billowing, until the gun was pointed at the soldier, and with a quick volley, fired at him. The Blue Army soldier was struck down before he managed to fire his magic missile.

Ripley couldn't believe his eyes. There was someone who was much more skillful at handling a gun that he, and she was right in front of him.

"Well, that's a flashy way to kill someone," Lou commented.

Silt approached Ripley and handed him his gun.

"Next time, be careful about your personal belongings," she warned. "Always scan your immediate surroundings, and don't focus on the spectacle. I'm sure your friend Marlowe knows what I'm talking about."

"A-are they dead?" his throat quavered.

"Only that guy's dead," said Lou. "The rest are unconscious. So were the guys that chased us yesterday, in case you're asking about that."

Lou's words brought Ripley comfort, knowing that the soldiers that tried to attack them are still alive. But the sense of relief was only temporary, as his thoughts spiraled into past happenings, when he shot the gun without any second thought.

"Miss Silt, what about our ride?" Marlowe asked."The Behemoth's all banged up, from what I can see. Does that mean we should abandon it and walk the rest of the way to the outpost?"

"We'll see about that," she replied. "The wheels are replaceable, but sadly, I don't have the tools to remove them."

"Why don't we just take that wagon over there?" Ripley suggested and pointed at one of the Blue Army's personnel carriers.

"And leave all our stuff behind?!" Marlowe glowered. "We can't have that. All of Miss Silt's valuable treasures are gonna go to waste in this desert. We can't leave those, right Miss Silt?"

"Well," she pondered,"on the bright side, a future generation will find its ruins and benefit from them."

"But the cold box!" The goggled youth's eyes began to water.

"Alright, I'll carry it to our new ride," the mercenary offered. "It would be a waste to leave that there. And also the fuel. And the screen. And did I mention the cold box?"

The cat-eyed thief grumbled and said, "Fine. I'll give you two minutes."

After the given time limit, the crew finally managed to hitch another ride with another Behemoth and move all the necessary items. Luckily, it was the same make as that of Silt's former Behemoth, with four wheels on a large cabin. Marlowe, with the help of Lou, managed to move the cold box from its former location, which took some considerable amount of time to setup up into working condition. The remaining fuel on Silt's Behemoth was siphoned off and bottled for future use.

"I've been meaning to ask this back then," Ripley began to speak, "but if it's mana that stopped the Behemoths in the first place, why do they use it as their fuel? It's really strange when you think about it."

"Excellent question, smithson," responded Silt. "But unfortunately, even I don't know the answer to that. Maybe the miners at the outpost can help you."

"Then," Ripley continued, "there's another thing I want to ask." And he turned to Lou and asked him, "Who are you, really?"

Faced with a simple yet weighed question, Lou's grin disappeared from his face.

"Two days ago, you said you took my father's sword, and you are able to use it even with the magic lock intact. For someone so young, you're able to use advanced magic spells that take years to master. At first, I thought that you were simply a Blue Army initiate who abandoned his duty, but I'm beginning to suspect that there's more to it than that. Why do they call you a knight, and why would you fight against your own kingdom?"

Ripley didn't stop there. He turned to Silt and attacked her with another series of questions.

"And you. You're Shorin, but you're here in the kingdom's territory, helping out someone like him. You even claim you know my father's craft, and that he taught you a bit of the Behemoth's secrets. What's more, you not only have knowledge of the old age's weapons, you even have some of them with you. Just who are you guys? And why do you do so much to help me, when all I want is to find my father?"

"Wait, she's Shorin?!" Marlowe stood up.

"I guess I forgot to tell you," Ripley apologized as he scratched the back of his head.

A brief silence rolled on after the young smith finished voicing his doubts in a barrage. Over the course of two days, the cloud of doubt circling over him had grown close to bursting, and he let it loose when he couldn't take the pressure. The mercenaries, or so they claim, exchanged glances and then Silt told him,

"How perceptive of you. Just what you would expect of Earl Nightjar's son."

Lou said, "Alright, we'll tell you everything you need to know, but only after we arrive at the outpost."

After hitching a ride inside the makeshift oven for about two hours, the group finally reached the northern rim of the desert basin, which was barred by an imposing steel gate and sentries. These sentries wore desert garb that covered their faces and gave the illusion that their bodies were larger than they actually were.

Each of the sentries was holding a large pike, and when the group's Behemoth lumbered in front of the gate, they didn't waste any time in gathering around it, pointing their weapons as they went.

"State your business, traveler," said one of the sentries.

"Do I even need to tell you?" she replied, revealing her face, and as soon as he recognized her, the sentry tapped his pike on the ground twice and shouted to his companions at the gate.

"Let them pass!"

And then, the massive gate opened, revealing an incredible sight. The mountain pass had more guards on top of the cliffs, ready to strike with crossbows on turrets. As they moved on slowly, they could see all kinds of accommodations. There were houses made of thatch that were suspended on wooden stilts, buildings made of clay, and cave-like structures sticking out of the cliff faces, and as they got deeper, the houses changed material from wood and stone to metal.

Ripley was relieved that they had finally reached civilization, but he was still on edge because of the heavy security.

"Are they with the Shorin or the Bulwark?" he asked.

"From what I can tell, they seem to be neutral," said Marlowe. "I assumed that this was a Bulwark colony, but when I saw the guards, they don't seem to be wearing their uniform."

"The little dude's right," Lou popped from between the two youths, shocking them. "This colony sits right at the edge of the border between Shorin lands and the Bulwark Kingdom, making this a very strategic location on top of being a mana hotspot. But things in here are a bit complicated, because while this is a Bulwark colony and they fend off any Shorin invaders, the residents in here rebel against the kingdom's current reign."

"So does that mean we're safe in here?" Ripley guessed.

"Yeah, we are. For the time being, at least."

Silt finally stopped the Behemoth right in front of a bustling town square where other metal wagons were gathered. The sights were mostly the same with those of inside the Palmetto, except for the fact that this was an industrial complex, with smokestacks, minecarts, and various wheels and cogs that seemed to be everywhere.

And there was more.

"Hoen!" Silt called out to a person above them.

She did her red hair in two braids that hung at the sides, and she wore a blouse and a miner's jacket. As soon as Silt had called out to her, she came down using a platform manipulated by gears and winches, and as she got closer, Ripley noticed she was wearing large-rimmed glasses on her face. Also, she brought with her a slate.

"Silt! You came back!" she greeted with a high-pitched voice and hugged her. "And Lou's here!" she beamed, her voice rising even more.

Lou tried to dodge Hoen as she jumped and tried to hug him, but he was captured.

"Whoa there!" he said as he pushed her back. "Easy on the hugs, missy."

"So, did you hear the news?" she asked.

"We didn't just hear it," Silt reported. "We saw them first hand. More precisely, these two saw them."

Upon Silt's signal, Lou brought forward the two desert youths, who were feeling uncomfortable in the presence of a brand new stranger. Ripley was about to begin his account before Hoen interrupted.

"These kids? You must be evacuees. That story can wait. For now, let's gather what we all know inside the tunnel."

"Shouldn't we wait for the Chief?" Silt suggested.

"That's actually a better alternative," Hoen said. "I think I'll just give these two young ones the grand tour."

She then led the group through a large tunnel carved from the side of the mount's base, its entrance spanning about a dozen or so armspans. Unlike the insides of the War Room, which were artificially illuminated by torches and fire lamps, the interior was brightly lit with crystals that lined its smooth walls at intervals.

"Since this is your first time here, let me give you two a warm welcome." She ran forward, her voice echoing throughout the artificial cavern, and raised her arms as if bragging about its size. "I'll be your guide, Hoen Termina. Welcome to Refinery City!"