Gunmage
Chapter 83: Ghosts in the ruins

Chapter 83: Chapter 83: Ghosts in the ruins

The rescue operation had stretched on for more than twenty-four hours.

The waters of Drakensmar continued to rise, swallowing streets and alleys, soon destined to submerge the city entirely. What had once been a bustling metropolis was now a graveyard beneath the waves.

Hundreds had been rescued. Thousands had perished.

A flickering searchlight cut through the encroaching darkness, its beam wavering as it found them.

The sound of footsteps wading in the water heralded the approach of a rescue team.

Xhi spoke softly, her voice slipping into Lugh’s mind like a whisper.

It will be best if you do not speak. Observe, learn, and imitate the humans. I know you can do this.

Lugh nodded once, his expression impassive. He had no reason to argue. Words could betray him, they could unveil the terrible truth of what he had become.

The soldiers arrived, flashlights sweeping across the ruins. As the beams landed on the pair, a collective shudder rippled through the team.

The two figures before them stood eerily still. One a young man gripping a spectral blade, his right eye an unnatural fusion of black and crimson.

The other, a woman of unnatural beauty, her gaze unwavering and amused.

Instincts screamed at the soldiers to run but duty forced them forward.

A hesitant voice broke the silence.

"Who are you?"

No answer.

"Captain..."

One of the men shifted uneasily, his knuckles whitening around the grip of his rifle. The tension in the air thickened.

The commanding officer raised a hand.

"Wait. Advance slowly. Be careful."

Step by step, they approached, their weapons lowered but at the ready.

The light illuminated every detail—the glistening water at their feet, the mud clinging to their uniforms, the way the strange pair remained eerily composed, as if untouched by the catastrophe around them.

The captain took another step, his gaze locked onto Lugh. His pulse thundered in his ears as he reached out for the sword, the weapon that shimmered with a presence beyond his understanding.

The moment his fingers brushed the hilt, Lugh’s grip tightened.

"It’s okay"

The captain murmured, his voice low and pacifying.

"No need to be scared. I’ll return it once we’re out."

A long silence stretched between them. Then, slowly, Lugh released his hold. The soldiers let out breathy sighs, tension melting from their shoulders.

"Can you move on your own?"

No response.

Questions followed, but the silence remained. Eventually, the soldiers gave up, guiding the two enigmas toward the edge where they would be hoisted up.

Above, a field hospital had been hastily assembled, medics rushing to and fro, tending to the wounded.

Time was slipping through their fingers.

The last of the survivors were accounted for, and soon, the 7th Armored Division began its retreat.

The engines of their vehicles roared as they rolled away from the drowned city and its unnatural, suffocating air, leaving behind the ruins of Drakensmar and the horrors buried beneath its rising tide.

Their journey across the plains was unrelenting. The wind howled through the open landscape, whipping across their convoy as they pushed toward the city where they had once been stationed.

Not all of them made it. The weight of loss pressed heavily upon those who remained.

At the makeshift camp, survivors were questioned. Names, families, anything to reconnect them to a world that had not yet crumbled.

But many had no one left. Drakensmar had swallowed entire lineages whole.

Mrs. Matthews had seen too many broken souls that day. She had spoken with dozens of survivors, gently coaxing out names, trying to find some thread that would tie them to the living.

Then, she met him.

The boy before her was unnervingly beautiful, striking in a way that set her nerves on edge. His face, sculpted to an unnatural perfection, was framed by flaxen hair, and his right eye... that eye was something else entirely.

A twisted blend of black and red, unnatural and unreadable.

She cleared her throat, forcing herself to focus.

"What is your name? Do you have any relatives? Any way for us to contact someone?"

Silence.

For a moment, she thought he would ignore her, as he had the others. But then, he reached for a nearby sheet of paper and, with steady fingers, wrote.

Von Heim.

The name struck like a thunderclap.

Mrs. Matthews held her breath. Von Heim. The name carried weight, whispered in noble circles, etched into the foundations of the kingdom.

She studied the boy again. His hair, his bearing, his literacy... it was impossible to ignore.

Doubt clawed at her mind, but it was slowly replaced by a realization.

She rose abruptly, paper clutched in trembling fingers, and hurried away. The name rippled through the camp, carried from officer to officer, ascending through the echelons of command until it reached the ears of Major General Garrick.

Garrick had been seated in his office when the name reached him. The moment it was spoken, his chair scraped against the floor as he shot to his feet.

Von Heim.

His pulse thundered. He had been close to the late General Von Heim, a brother-in-arms. And he had spent the past year searching for the man’s illegitimate son, the boy who had vanished without a trace.

Could it be?

He didn’t waste a second. Barreling from his office, soldiers struggling to keep pace, he stormed toward the medical ward. The moment his eyes landed on the boy, he knew.

That face. That hair. It was him.

But something was wrong.

Yes, the boy bore the features of the late General, yet there was something beyond them. Something unnatural, something that sent an unexplainable chill down Garrick’s spine.

The beauty of his face was flawless, almost inhuman, but beneath that perfection lay an eerie stillness.

Garrick exhaled sharply, pushing aside his unease. He stepped forward, voice firm yet uncertain.

"Lugh. Are you Lugh?"

The boy’s gaze lifted, fixing upon him with those piercing, unnatural eyes. For a fraction of a second, Garrick felt an unfamiliar sensation creeping into his bones—

—fear.

A wave of unease rippled through the gathered soldiers.

Then, after a long, weighted silence, Lugh inclined his head ever so slightly.

A confirmation.

Garrick’s throat tightened.

"Gods above..."

He murmured. His old friend’s son had returned, yet he could not shake the feeling that the boy who stood before him was something far removed from the one who had once been lost.

And for the first time in his long career, he wondered if some things were better left unfound.