Night fell like a heavy blanket of shadow and silence. I couldn't afford to rest until I had at least some kind of shelter. The air was damp, thick, and full of the promise of a late summer storm. Rain was coming, no doubt. And without medicine, help, or strength, even a fever could be as deadly as a sword.
I got to work. Cut down some thick branches, pulled down vines that hung like snakes, and started building a rough little shack. It wasn't pretty, not even close, but it would keep me off the wet ground. Oddly enough, there weren't many insects around. I even saw a couple deer and some rabbits darting through the underbrush. Strange—after a full day running through the woods, I was only just now spotting wildlife. Like the forest had finally accepted me.
Then my stomach growled loud. After all those bitter peaches, my body was crying out for meat. But I had no fire, no flint, nothing dry. Everything was soaked. No way to cook. So I just lay back on a pile of branches, hoping the cold wouldn't kill me before morning.
And then something weird happened.
Instead of the pain I was expecting, I felt this warm sensation spreading through my body, like invisible hands were wrapping my muscles and stitching me back together.
"Angel… what's going on with my body?"
"Analyzing... The fruits you ate are healing your muscle and tendon damage. Full recovery expected in sixty minutes," she replied, calm and robotic as ever.
"Can you tell me how?"
"The compound in the fruit is stimulating cell repair. It's about one-twentieth as strong as Earth's anabolic steroids, but with no side effects like testicular atrophy or acne."
A natural healing fruit? My jaw almost dropped. This stuff was gold. If I could figure out how to grow or sell it... It could change everything. Wealth. Power. Time.
But before I could enjoy the thought, a sound ripped me back to reality.
Hoofbeats. Fast and loud.
They were coming.
"Warning: Hostile life forms approaching. Estimated threat level: high. Recommended action: hide or escape."
Shit.
So much for rest. I stood up quickly. My body still ached, but not as badly as before. I ran for the trees, trying to stay low, but they were getting closer. I couldn't outrun horses. I needed to hide.
I spotted a tree with thick branches and climbed up as fast as I could, pressing myself into the leaves and staying still.
The riders arrived. Five of them. Big horses, dark clothes. Soldiers.
"Angel, I need to hear what they're saying. Boost audio and translate."
"Accessing user memories... language decoded. Translation ready."
They dismounted fast. One of them kicked my shelter.
"There's fresh tracks... the bedding's still warm. He ran not long ago. Search the area. We need him alive. We need to know what happened to the army."
So they were with the army… the same one that attacked Virelia? Or worse—the ones who wiped out the Roseharts?
They spread out, checking bushes, looking up at trees. Closer and closer. I could feel every heartbeat in my throat.
"Angel, if I fight them, what are my chances?"
"Chance of victory: 30%. Death: 65%. Escape without fighting: 15%."
Not great odds. But I wasn't about to just sit here and wait to be found.
"Activate Eternal Mode."
"Eternal Mode initiated. Verbal confirmation needed to disable safety protocols."
I hesitated.
Eternal Mode. I designed it for emergencies—but I'd never used it fully before. Too risky. Too much power given to Angel. Once she took over, I might not be able to take back control.
But I remembered how I died—paralyzed by my own daughter's serum, trapped in my body, helpless as they cut me down like an animal.
If I'd let Angel act back then… maybe I'd still be alive.
Not this time. I wouldn't die again.
"Angel, confirm: GX1 VZ Omega Eternal Alpha."
"Confirmation accepted. Safety protocols off. Limiters removed. Shared control engaged."
It hit me like lightning. My senses exploded. I could see better, hear clearer, feel the shift in the wind. Every sound had meaning. Every movement had weight.
I could dodge attacks before they came. Read my enemies like a machine.
My body wasn't just mine anymore—it was perfect. A weapon.
And I liked it.
A lot.
This time, I wasn't running.
This time, the hunter was me.