Back at the bunker, Menko was fully prepared, moving with a quiet efficiency that only came from years of knowing the terrain. AIN hovered nearby, checking the copter and ensuring all systems were functioning, while Lily padded around the supplies, her sensors scanning for any last-minute dangers. The three of us worked in silent coordination, finalizing our preparations for the journey to the village.
Before departure, I ventured into the surrounding forest one last time to gather supplies. Using my knowledge of the land, I hunted a deer, moving carefully through the thick undergrowth until I secured a sizable portion of meat. Along the way, I foraged for fruits that were slightly under-ripe: wild apples, berries, and crabapples, chosen so they would naturally ripen over the coming days. Each fruit was selected with care, ensuring we had a mix of nutrients and long-lasting supplies for the journey ahead.
By the next morning, the deer meat had dried and was packed neatly alongside the foraged fruits. Menko checked the provisions one last time, adjusting straps and verifying compartments. He stood tall, determination etched into his posture, ready for the path ahead.
"Let's go," Menko said, his voice steady and commanding. "Quickly. There are landmarks to reach before light falls."
I nodded, knowing the boy's familiarity with the route was our greatest advantage — though obstacles would test us before the village was in sight.
AIN hovered above, his rotors humming softly. "See you in two months," he called down. I nodded and waved, the faint glow of his sensors fading as we put distance between us. Lily stayed close to him, her silent presence comforting.
As we walked, eventually AIN and Lily were no longer in sight. Our long path had officially begun. The forest stretched endlessly before us, shadows lengthening as evening approached. Menko moved confidently ahead, his small frame surprisingly steady on the uneven terrain.
I spoke, breaking the quiet.
"You know, your new body can see in the dark. You probably didn't realize it since we've been sleeping every night. So don't worry about missing the landmarks." I paused, watching the boy's focused expression. "Also, we can function for two full days straight without sleep, though it will drain energy faster."
Menko nodded, absorbing the information. His steps never faltered, his knowledge of the forest guiding us reliably through the undergrowth. Though the path ahead would bring unknown obstacles, I felt a quiet confidence: with Menko's guidance, our journey was already off to a strong start.
By nightfall, we reached the first landmark — a towering ridge 65 kilometers from the bunker. Despite the long trek, our bodies handled the strain effortlessly, the synthetic enhancements keeping fatigue at bay. Menko moved with practiced ease, guiding me through the uneven terrain, while the forest around us settled into a hushed, shadowed quiet.
As darkness fell, we made camp in a small clearing, sheltered by the thick forest. I set to work gathering firewood, the crackle of dry branches under my hands filling the quiet evening. Sparks flew as I arranged the kindling, careful to ensure the fire would burn steadily through the night.
"Menko," I said, handing him a small satchel, "look for something to eat. Berries, roots, anything we can find nearby."
The boy nodded and disappeared into the undergrowth, moving with quiet confidence. The forest seemed alive around us, shadows twisting under the pale light of the rising moon. I kept watch, the soft hum of my internal systems blending with the gentle rustle of leaves. It was the first night of many on this long journey, and I wanted to ensure we were ready for whatever the forest had in store.
Menko returned after a short while, his satchel half-filled with wild treasures. He had carefully picked fruits that were slightly under-ripe — small green apples, tart crabapples, and clusters of wild berries. "These will ripen over the next few days," he said, his voice calm but proud. "We can eat them gradually as we travel."
I nodded, impressed. The boy's careful selection showed not just skill, but foresight. He had also dug up some edible roots and gathered a handful of nuts, ensuring a balanced mix of nutrients for the long trek ahead.
Meanwhile, I had managed to start a small fire, the flames casting flickering shadows across the clearing. The scent of burning wood mingled with the earthy aroma of the forest, a strangely comforting reminder that we were still alive in this faceless, wild world.
"Good work, Menko," I said, handing him a portion of dried deer meat I had packed earlier. "We'll eat now, then rest. Tomorrow, we continue."
He smiled faintly, sitting by the fire to inspect the fruits more closely, arranging them carefully for gradual consumption. Outside, the forest hummed quietly in the night, a living, breathing companion to our journey — and a silent promise of both sustenance and challenge in the days to come.
We ate whatever fruits were ripe and set the rest aside for later, carefully rationing our supplies. This became our routine for the next two weeks: every five days, we would consume the stored food to keep our energy up. The enhanced bodies made it effortless, each stride and laborious task requiring far less effort than it would have for a normal human.
Menko's expressions were quietly amusing. Each day, he discovered something new about his body — the way his strength surged after long treks, how his vision adjusted to the darkness, or how little rest he actually needed. Occasionally, he would pause mid-step, wide-eyed, testing some newfound capability or instinctively flexing his enhanced limbs.
I couldn't help but smirk at him. Even in this desolate, faceless world, his curiosity and wonder remained intact, a constant reminder that growth and learning persisted, even in synthetic flesh.
The forest around us became familiar — paths marked subtly by Menko, streams we could rely on for water, and patches of edible plants we had discovered together. With every passing day, our journey grew less uncertain, yet still carried the quiet thrill of discovery and the lingering promise of challenges waiting beyond the next ridge.
On the way, one of the landmarks we aimed for came into view: a crumbling ruin half-swallowed by the forest. Moss crept up its walls, and vines tangled through shattered windows. Its shape and structure looked nothing like anything I had seen before — strange angles, twisted stonework, as if the building had grown rather than been built. The air around it felt heavier, tinged with the faint scent of decay.
"Have you ever explored here before?" I asked, pausing at the edge of the ruins.
Menko shook his head. "No, I haven't," he replied, his tone calm but tinged with curiosity.
"Then let's see what's inside," I said, stepping forward. The broken threshold loomed before us, shadows pooling in its corners. With Menko by my side, we cautiously entered, alert to every creak of the floorboards and rustle of unseen movement.
The ruin seemed silent at first, but the eerie quiet only sharpened our senses. Every corner held the potential for discovery — or danger. I could feel Menko's small, steady presence beside me, ready to react, yet still marveling at the strange shapes and textures of this alien architecture.
Together, we moved deeper, exploring carefully.
We ventured further inside, the air growing thick and heavy with a damp, musty stench. Water pooled in uneven patches on the cracked floor, reflecting the faint light filtering through shattered windows. The walls sagged and warped, poorly constructed, as if whoever had built it had no understanding of how the building would endure its environment. Every step echoed ominously, the wood groaning under our weight. Strange shapes of twisted stone and warped beams made the ruin feel almost alive, unpredictable. I exchanged a wary glance with Menko — this place held secrets, and possibly dangers, we weren't yet ready for.
Puddles of stagnant water reflected the strange, alien geometry of the ruin, distorted shadows flickering in the weak light. Moss and fungus had claimed nearly every surface, thriving in the forgotten decay. Every corner seemed to hide something, and the air was so still it pressed against us with a heavy, expectant weight.
I signaled Menko to stay close, scanning each shadow with heightened awareness. The structure seemed almost alive, creaking and shifting in subtle ways, as though aware of our presence.
As we turned a corner, the ruin opened into a vast, dark chamber. Something lay at the far end, partially obscured by collapsed stone and thick vines. I could make out its shape, but not its nature — it was unlike anything I had encountered before.
Menko froze beside me. We exchanged a tense glance.
I whispered, "Do you see that?"
The ruin seemed to hold its breath along with us, the shadows stretching and twisting as if waiting.