Jax snapped awake, his scream stuck in his throat. He was sprawled on the floor of Jane's workshop, the taste of blood still fresh in his mouth. His chest felt like it was on fire, as if the Construct was trying to claw its way out. Above him, the lantern swung unsteadily, casting frantic shadows over the cluttered shelves. Jane was beside him, gripping his shoulders tightly, her face pale yet determined.
"Jax, breathe!" she urged, her voice slicing through the haze in his mind. "You're okay. You're here."
He gasped for breath, sucking in the air like it was a lifeline. Every muscle in his body ached, as if he'd been through a meat grinder. The glowing words from the journal flashed in his mind: "The Construct's true host is marked by blood. Find the sisters' shrine, or all is lost." The chilling laughter of the Necromancer echoed in the back of his mind.
"How many times am I going to pass out?" Jax mumbled, attempting to sit up. Jane steadied him with a grounding touch. "This hero stuff really sucks."
Jane's lips curled into a slight smile, though concern flickered in her eyes. "You're not a hero yet. Just a guy who keeps giving me heart attacks." She handed him a rag to wipe the blood from his chin. "What happened back there? That light was anything but normal."
As he cleaned his face, Jax's hand trembled. "Emergency protocol. This is the third time it has saved me, but it feels like it's ripping me apart." He held back the journal's more dire warnings about a soul's price for now; Jane had enough on her plate.
"Energy reserves: 12%. Host must prioritize recovery," the Construct chimed in, as cold and mechanical as ever. "New quest: Reach the sisters' shrine. Objective: Uncover the Construct's purpose. Reward: 200 XP, advanced skill unlock."
Jax groaned. "Now it wants me to find the shrine—another quest. As if I'm not half-dead already."
Jane's gaze narrowed. "The shrine from the journal? Where is it?"
"No idea." Leaning against the wall, Jax felt the weight of the journal in his pocket. "But the Necromancer knows about it. I heard him mention it before I blacked out."
Jane's expression hardened. She stood and began pacing the small workshop, her boots scuffing against the floor and stirring up dust. "Then we have to move quickly. If that creep's after it, we can't let him reach it first."
Jax wanted to agree, but his body was screaming for rest. The Construct's powers were incredible—fire, shadows, levels—but they drained him too. The Necromancers were drawing nearer. "Jane, this is insane. We're not mages. We're not even Freefolk fighters. We're just… us."
She halted and turned to face him. "Just us? Jax, you incinerated a skeleton to ash. I've got gadgets that can fry a Necromancer's toys. We're not powerless. If you want to be more than a scavenger, this is your chance. That shrine could change everything."
Jax met her gaze, understanding the weight of her words. She was right. For years, he'd dodged punches, barely scraping by, hating his own weakness. The Construct offered a chance to be somebody who mattered. But lurking in the back of his mind was the fear of what if it broke him first?
"Alright," he said, trying to push through the discomfort. "We'll find the shrine. But we need to be careful—no more passing out."
"Deal," Jane replied with a grin, tossing him a protein bar from her pack. "Eat up. A starving hero isn't much good to me."
He caught it and tore into the wrapper. The bar was stale, but it settled his stomach. "You're bossy, you know that?"
"Someone has to keep you alive," she replied with a smirk, checking her gauntlet's charge. "Now let's figure out this shrine. Got any hints, magic voice?"
Jax chuckled but focused back on the Construct. "Hey, system. Where's the shrine?"
"Location: Northern Wastes, beyond the Freefolk border. Estimated travel: Three days. Warning: Hostile territory detected."
"Northern Wastes," Jax said, his heart sinking. "Three days out. Past the border."
Jane whistled. "That's Necromancer territory. No wonder your creepy friend is interested. We need a plan, supplies, and a route for when things go sideways—because they will."
He joined her at the table as she spread out a battered map. The Northern Wastes loomed large, jagged, with warnings scribbled across: Undead Activity. No Alliance Patrols. It sent a chill through him, remembering that his parents had fought there before the war took them. The thought of following in their footsteps didn't sit well.
"We can't linger here," Jane said, tracing a path on the map. "The Freefolk are on edge after last night. They'll turn you over if the Necromancers show up."
Jax nodded, but doubt gnawed at him. "What if I'm not ready? The Construct's strong, but I'm not."
Jane's grip on his shoulder was firm. "You're ready enough. We'll face this together, like we always do. Got it?"
Her confidence felt like a lifeline. Taking a deep breath, Jax nodded. "Got it."
They hastily packed—Jane stuffing her bag with gadgets, while Jax grabbed the journal and a rusty knife from her workbench. The Construct was buzzing with urgency. "Energy reserves: 14%." He knew he had to be smart, conserve his power. No more reckless moves.
The morning air in the slums hit them like a bite of frost. The streets were nearly silent, but he felt eyes watching from behind closed shutters. Keeping his head down, he followed Jane to a smuggler's gate—an escape route Freefolk used to avoid Alliance patrols. The rusty grate in a decaying wall was barely wide enough to squeeze through.
Jane knelt, working on the lock with a tool from her pack. "Almost got it," she murmured, then froze. A low growl rumbled behind them.
Jax spun around, his heart racing. Two undead hounds were at the alley's end, their patchy fur bristling, eyes aglow with malice. Not wolves—smaller, faster, and bred for tracking. Necromancer scouts.
"Jane, hurry!" Jax hissed, raising his knife despite his shaking hands. The Construct's hum felt faint. "Energy reserves: 15%. Flame Pulse available."
With a click, the lock opened. Jane yanked the grate open. "Go!"
Jax hesitated, knowing he couldn't outrun the hounds. "Flame Pulse," he whispered, thrusting his hand forward. A burst of fire ignited, searing one hound's flank. It yelped and stumbled, but the other lunged forward, teeth bared.
"Energy reserves: 5%."
Jane seized his arm, pulling him into the opening. "Move, Jax!" She slammed the grate shut, jamming a spike into the lock just as the second hound barreled into it, claws screeching.
They sprinted, the ruins swallowing them. Twisted trees loomed, their branches resembling skeletal fingers. Jax's chest felt on fire, every step a battle against fatigue. Though the hounds' howls began to fade, danger still loomed.
Jane slowed to catch her breath. "That was way too close. They're tracking you."
"Of course, they are," he panted, leaning against a crumbling wall. "The Construct is like a beacon. The Necromancers are after it."
Jane's expression was grim. "Then we need to keep moving. Northern Wastes, right? We'll lose them there."
Jax nodded, but his mind was swirling. The journal's warnings about corruption and a soul's price weighed heavy on him. What exactly was the Construct? And why him?
They navigated through the ruins as the sun rose higher. Jane scouted ahead, using her gadgets to check for traps. Jax held tightly onto the journal, flipping to the glowing page. The shrine's details were clear, but one new line caught his eye, faint and smudged: "The host's blood ties to the sisters. One will rise, or all will fall."
"Blood ties?" Jax thought aloud, his pulse quickening. His parents had been mages. Was that the reason the Construct had chosen him? Or was there something deeper?
Jane called back. "Keep up, slowpoke! This isn't a leisurely stroll."
He hastily tucked the journal away, jogging to catch up. "Just reviewing. Try carrying a magical time bomb in your chest."
"No thanks," she shot back, smirking. But her eyes scanned the area, alert. "Something doesn't feel right. Stay sharp."
She was right; the air had grown colder, shadows deepening around them. Jax's skin tingled with an unsettling sensation that they were being watched. The Construct buzzed in warning: "Hostile presence detected. Prepare for combat."
Before he could respond, the ground erupted. A skeletal hand burst forth, seizing Jane's ankle. She screamed as she fell, her gauntlet sparking uselessly. More bones followed, forming a towering figure—half-human, half-beast, grinning skull prominent.
Jax's heart dropped. With energy too low and his knife feeling useless, he felt helpless. Jane struggled, kicking at the grip. "Jax, do something!"
In desperation, Jax raised his hands. "Flame Pulse!" Nothing. "Energy reserves: 4%. Insufficient."
The skeleton lunged, claws aiming for Jane. Jax dove, tackling her out of the way. They hit the ground hard, rolling into a ditch as the beast roared, rattling its bones.
With wide eyes, Jane steadied her voice. "Got any tricks left, magic boy?"
Jax's mind raced. The Construct was depleted, yet he couldn't let her perish. Not Jane. He concentrated, tapping deep within himself, hoping any power would surface.
A soft, ancient woman's voice answered him—not from the Construct, but from somewhere else. "Blood calls to blood. Awaken."
Suddenly, light erupted from his chest—not the blinding pulse of the Construct, but something warmer, almost sacred. His hands glowed a vibrant gold—a divine energy he had never harnessed until now. A shield of light sprang up, blocking the lethal claws of the skeleton.
Jane gasped. "Jax, what—"
He didn't have time to explain. The shield held but his body shook with effort, blood trickling from his nose as the skeleton battered against it, cracks beginning to form.
The woman's voice instructed again. "Flee, child. The shrine awaits."
Jax grasped Jane's hand, pulling her up. "Run!"
Together they fled, the shield collapsing behind them. The skeleton roared but did not chase. As they fled deeper into the ruins, a shadowy figure stood on a distant hill—a cloaked woman, her eyes glowing with a golden intensity.
"The host is chosen," she whispered, "but can he survive?"