Chapter 11: Steel in the Spine, Fire in the Gut


    ''This is it.''


    Levi forced himself to move slow, fingers curling around the hilts, feeling the weight settle in his hands. One felt right—natural, familiar. The other... off. Wrong. The fact he could even feel the handle didn’t sit right either.


    ''No... not yet. He’s watching. Probably gagin’ my reaction.''


    With his good hand, he twisted the knife, letting it slide over his fingers like it had a life of its own, slithering and dancing as easy as breathing. The motion steadied him, just enough.


    "Where’s my belt?"


    "Gotta admit, I was surprised to see those."


    Rufus drawled, strolling over to a cabinet on the wall.


    "Don’t see ‘em used much nowadays."


    He yanked open a drawer, pulling out Levi’s belt and tossed it over.


    Levi caught it easy, slinging it around his waist in a practiced motion.


    "I like second-gen. Old and reliable."


    Pop, slide, click—two fresh cartridges snapped into his knives, the weight shifting just right.


    "So, how we doin’ this?"


    Rufus raised a brow, smiling that shit-eatin’ grin.


    "Slow your damn horses, kid. First, you’re gonna run."


    "Run? I know how to fuckin’—"


    Tsunk!


    A bolt slammed into the dirt by his feet. Levi damn near jumped outta his skin, backpedaling quick.


    "You crazy bastard! What the hell’s your problem?!"


    "You are! Flickin’ those knives like you’re ready to duel, but you don’t even know your own body yet. You don’t know how to move right, so you don’t know how to fight right. You think you got time to argue? Or maybe—just maybe—I know what the fuck I’m doin’?!"


    Levi clenched his jaw, doing his best not to chuck a blade straight into Rufus’s throat.


    "Alright."


    He holstered his knives and raised his hands up in surrender.


    "I’ll run."


    ''Just play along. Take advantage of this. Who knows, might learn somethin''.''


    "That''s better. Now start runnin’ laps ‘round the mine. Keep goin’ till you’re done."


    "Till I’m done?"


    Tsunk!


    "I''m movin''!"


    He leapt away from the bolt, damn near tripping over his own boots as he fumbled with his collar, unbuttoning it as he picked up speed. His face went red, but he managed to find his rhythm, feet hitting the dirt steady.


    ''Till I’m done? What if I’m done now, ya bald asshole?''


    Frustration bubbled in his chest, his arms pumping as he circled the mine. As he passed Timmy, he reached out, tapping the steambot’s head.


    "Thirty seconds."


    "Quit foolin’ and get runnin’!"


    Tsunk!


    "Shit!"


    Another bolt kicked up dirt right in front of him, bits of rock pinging off his shins as he barely managed to jump over it.


    "Stop doin’ that!"


    "Run faster! And look proper, you run like a damn girl! Pick your feet up, swing those arms!"


    Levi gritted his teeth and ignored the old bastard. He focused on the ground ahead, but something still felt... off. He figured it was just being off his feet too long, but the longer he ran, the worse it got.


    His jaw clenched. He stopped short, panting hard.


    Rufus raised his arm, hand already tensing for the trigger, but then—he paused, a slow grin spreading across his face.


    "He noticed."


    Levi bounced on his feet, dropping low into a squat, stretching out his legs. Slapping his thighs once—hard—he took off again.


    A few more laps passed, sweat dripping from his brow, until suddenly


    —


    "Bullshit! I’ll fuckin’ kill ''em!"


    Levi swung a fist at the air, damn near fuming.


    "He’s hittin’ a wall."


    Rufus took a slow drag from his smoke as he started toward him.


    "Don’t get flustered, kid, it takes time to get used—"


    "Leave it!"


    Levi snapped, dropping his head and pushing forward, his pace barely stumbling.


    Exhaling slow, Rufus watched him for a long moment before smiling. He flicked the ashes from his smoke.


    "Stubborn’s good."


    And so it went. Lap after lap, Levi kept pushing through, stopping now and then to curse or stretch out muscles that felt stiff in all the wrong places. Meanwhile, Rufus stood in the center, smoking away, looking more bored than impressed—but he knew it was working.


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    Even though Levi had been running long enough that he should be slowing down, Rufus was watching close. Timed every lap in his head. Kid wasn’t dropping pace.


    "He’s got good stamina. Damn near died, but keeps runnin’ like a kicked mule. Stubborn constitution, and personality."


    He let the thought roll around a second before getting an idea.


    "Take a break! Get some water and walk while you drink."


    Levi followed Rufus’s motion toward a canteen sitting on an old, rickety desk. He jogged over, snatched it up, and drank deep, his boots crunching against the dirt as he walked.


    Rufus watched, brows twitching slightly.


    ''He''s gettin'' more agreeable.''


    The thought caught him off guard—why the hell should that impress him? Scowling, he spit on the ground, grumbling to himself, he turned and walked toward a large cabinet.


    Levi caught the movement, eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the old bounty hunter pull out a heavy copper box, thick cables coiled around it like snakes, their ends clipped with metal clamps.


    Levi’s breath hitched. He knew exactly what that was. A sharp jolt of excitement hit his chest, his body moving before his mind could stop it.


    Then it curdled.


    The second he caught himself—felt that flicker of want, of curiosity—it turned his stomach. His jaw clenched, bile rising up with the heat behind his ribs.


    ''Fuck him...Fuck that tinkerin'' bastard.''


    He wasn’t grateful for any of this. Wasn’t about to feel anything but hate for what had been done to him.


    Setting the box down with a solid thud, Rufus turned to call over—only to stop short when he saw Levi already right beside him.


    "Well, least your steps are gettin’ lighter."


    But he barely heard him. Levi’s eyes were locked onto the machine.


    "That thing even work? Looks busted."


    "It works. Least it should."


    He flipped open a panel, flicking a few switches. The machine whirred to life, the Pneuma Core inside humming as steam pushed through its vents. A low amber glow flickered to life along its seams.


    "Now, if yours are prototypes of somethin’ new, it won’t tell us exactly what they do. But it’ll at least tell us what you got."


    Levi crossed his arms, watching as Rufus checked the machine’s readings.


    "Judgin’ by the look of ya, obvious ones are your arm, shoulder, and part of your chest. But that glow in your eye tells me there’s somethin’ more."


    "A glow?"


    "Faint one. Only seen it a few times. But my gut says there’s somethin’. Sit down."


    Levi hesitated.


    He hated how bad he wanted to know. Hated the part of him that felt itchin’ for answers, like wanting them made him weak—like it meant he accepted what was done to him.


    ''No. Knowing isn''t acceptin'' it.''


    Knowing meant strength. Meant getting stronger. And that’s what he needed to go back, to get his revenge.


    With a stiff breath, he sat down.


    Wasting no time, Rufus clamped the cables to his augments.


    "This is gonna hurt. The sniffer forces your core to spike output—sharp-like. Reads what’s in ya so we don’t gotta find out the physical way."


    "Just let me know before—"


    "Huh?"


    Rufus threw the switch.


    Levi’s jaw clenched, his breath ripping from his throat.


    ''Motherfucker!''


    White-hot vapor slammed through him. His veins bulged, body locking up as the sniffer hissed and clicked, its metal shell vibrating like a struck bell.


    Ding!


    The pressure stopped, but the ghost of it lingered in his bones like a fire that wouldn’t go out. Even though it had only lasted a moment, it felt like his whole body had been torn apart from the inside.


    ''Body?''


    His breath froze. His eyes dropped to his arm—that hunk of metal latched to his shoulder—and a horrible dread started crawling up his spine. His gaze swept over the rest of him, a sick feeling churning in his gut.


    “What’s it say?”


    “Give it a sec.”


    The machine whirred and buzzed, spitting out a strip of paper. With a final ding, the paper cut off, and Rufus plucked it free. He pulled a pair of specs from his jacket, holding them up as he started reading.


    "...Well, shit."


    That''s all he said. Just that. His brow tightening as he kept reading, eyes flicking across the page.


    Levi’s stomach twisted tighter.


    “Well, say somethin’.”


    Rufus cleared his throat, slow-like.


    "You’re fine, kid."


    He avoided Levi’s eyes as he handed him the paper.


    "Just a bit more than we were expectin''."


    Levi snatched it quick, too distracted to notice Rufus palming the torn-off end. Turning it over, he tried to read, struggling with the words.


    “Un…known sor-source.”


    He paused, jaw clenching.


    “That means they’re prototypes, right?”


    The fun had been sucked clean outta the room. Rufus’s usual smirk was gone, his face drawn tight.


    "Basically everything you got is one. Your arm, shoulder, and chest? All prototype tech. But that ain’t the real surprise, kid."


    Levi’s grip on the paper tightened.


    "You ain''t finished. You got augments you can''t even use yet."


    That cold dread inside him turned to ice.


    They did more. More than he realized. More than he could feel.


    “What else did they do?”


    Rufus sighed, like he didn’t wanna say it.


    "Besides your arm, they enhanced your muscles and bones. You got an inorganic mesh overlay—I got somethin’ like it myself—but if it’s prototype, I got no clue what its limits are."


    Levi swallowed hard. His hands curled into fists.


    "And..."


    Rufus hesitated, his voice catching for just a flicker.


    "Your eyes and spine have been replaced as well."


    Silence.


    Spine.


    Eyes.


    It hit like a gut punch. A tingle ran down his back—sharp, crawling, wrong. Like something buried under his skin was finally stirring. Painful. Disgusting.


    Levi went pale. Covering an eye with one hand, the paper crumpling in the other, the room started closing in.


    Ripping the clamps off, he turned, and threw up.


    Sighing heavy, Rufus rubbed his temples, wishing Edmond hadn’t been the one to head to town. As much as dealing with Sister Moira wasn’t his idea of a good time, it sure as hell beat sitting here dealing with this.


    "You okay, kid? I know it’s a lot, but trust me, it ain’t that bad. I''ve seen much worse, look at Mad Gear."


    "I’m okay."


    Levi wiped his mouth, sitting back up, his face carved from stone.


    "Why can’t I use ‘em if I got ‘em, then?"


    Shocked by his quick turn around, Rufus bit back a grin, thinking it over. He knew the kid’s chances would jump if they got his augments tuned right—so he had to take the gamble.


    "Ain’t sure. But I know just the lady to ask about it. C’mon, let’s get you changed."


    "Changed?"


    "Can’t have folks recognizin’ ya. Gotta fix you up with a disguise."


    Rufus smirked, that wicked little gleam in his eye that made Levi’s blood run hot.


    "I ain’t wearin’ a dress."


    "You’re no fun."


    Rufus turned on his heel, heading for the stairs, Levi followin’ with a scowl burning deep on his face.


    As he followed Rufus up the stairs, his jaw tightened, his breath slow and controlled—but inside, coals were burning.


    ''Not much of me left to hate ‘em proper… but I’ll make damn sure they pay for what they took.''


    As he left the mine, climbing the stairs to the house, the wooden planks creaking under his boots, a sound caught his ear, deep and steady.


    The bells. From up at the cathedral. Their chime cut through the midday quiet, like the town itself was breathing.


    ----


    The Cathedral of Saint Oswin the Unyielding, towered over Denton, its spires punching up at the sky, belching smoke and steam like some great iron beast. Brass and blackened iron framed its hulking silhouette, every inch carved up with the sacred marks of the Church—shields, swords, and crosses all tangled together like roots in dry soil.


    The stained-glass windows caught the last light of day, Saint Oswin and Maria Machina casting their golden glow down on the square like they were watching over the town themselves.


    The place breathed.


    Steam-Powered Organs let various notes, pipes exhaling steady bursts of vapor, like the walls had lungs. The clock tower ground on with the weight of centuries, ticking out time slow and certain, each chime rolling through the streets like a judge’s gavel.


    To folks in Denton, this place weren’t just a church. It was the hand of the law, the weight of judgment, and the promise of mercy—if you could pay for it.


    The poor came begging to the Nuns of the Divine Hand, the broken dragged themselves to the Vaporguard workshops, and the guilty whispered their sins into steam-heated confessionals, their wrongdoins swallowed up by the hiss of God''s work.


    Every last bolt and pipe in this place was a reminder—the Church owned this land, same as the dirt, same as the folk walking on it.


    And today, the bells were ringing, not to keep time, but to remind folks that time didn’t stop for any man—only for God.


    And at the base of those stone steps, Edmond stood, just looking up at it. His jaw set, eyes trailing from the gilded cross perched way up top to the iron doors sitting heavy at the front.


    The damn thing looked the same as ever, but today, it felt… different.


    ''Been too long.''


    Too long since he’d set foot inside. Too long since he let himself wonder what might be waiting on the other side.


    His mouth pressed into a thin line.


    "Damn it, Moira. Why haven''t you sent word?"


    With one last look, Edmond squared his shoulders and started up the steps.