Lian had always known exactly where he would go if everything collapsed around him.
From the very instant Nex-7’s plasma blade struck deep into Elara’s chest and the invisible pressure locked the entire arena in place, his mind had already fixed on the one location he trusted completely—the old blacksmith’s underground forge buried in the rundown industrial ruins far below Nova Pri City.
He had never spoken the words aloud during their long months of training, but the old man had understood anyway.
The forge was more than a workshop; it was a sanctuary, a place of root strength and quiet safety.
The pattern knock was an unspoken promise between them.
Lian blurred through the sprawling city with Elara cradled securely in his arms, following the precise routes he had committed to mory long ago.
He navigated forgotten service tunnels that reeked of rust and stagnant water, collapsed maintenance passages where the cracked walls dripped condensation in a steady rhythm, and narrow, twisting alleys choked with broken machinery and towering piles of forgotten scrap where no surveillance drone or enforcer ever bothered to patrol.
The massive chaos erupting from the tournant above provided him with perfect cover; every investigator, search team, and security force was concentrated on the shuttle ports, main transport hubs, and upper districts.
No one ever thought to look this far down in the rundown industrial ruins that most citizens had forgotten even existed.
He finally arrived at the heavy rusted tal door concealed behind enormous piles of twisted tal and discarded factory parts in a long-abandoned zone.
The entire area was completely rundown and desolate—crumbling concrete walls covered in decades of gri and graffiti, sagging ceilings supported by exposed beams that leaked slow drops of water, the ground littered with shattered tools, broken glass, and forgotten chanical components that crunched underfoot.
He knocked the specific pattern the old blacksmith had taught him months ago as an ergency signal: three short taps, a brief pause, then two long.
The door opened imdiately.
Warm orange forge light poured out into the darkness.
The old blacksmith stood ready in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the fra, white beard catching the glow from inside.
His gray eyes showed no surprise—only calm, prepared concern as they took in Lian’s arrival and the wounded girl in his arms.
He had known Lian might need the place.
Weeks earlier, when he first saw Lian’s na on the official tournant participant list, he had started preparing everything.
He had called his old friend—the healer woman—and explained the situation carefully.
"My boy is in the big tournant."
"Stage dangerous."
"Strong fighters."
"Prepare for him."
"Just in case injured bad."
She had co without hesitation.
Brought all her dical augs, advanced tools, scanners, spare alloy plates, stasis field generator, repair nanites, vials of stabilizers—everything needed for serious cultivator injury.
They had waited together.
Watched the tournant that day.
Saw the incident unfold.
The strike after yield.
The pressure.
The cut.
The carry away.
The chaos.
The old man knew Lian would head straight here.
The healer adjusted fast when she saw it was a hybrid girl, not Lian.
But everything prepared worked.
The blacksmith stepped aside and gestured Lian inside.
The space was large but clearly rundown from years of constant use and neglect.
The high cracked stone ceiling was supported by exposed beams that dripped occasional water from leaks above.
The walls were blackened from decades of forge smoke.
The uneven concrete floor was scattered with tal shavings, discarded tools, and half-finished blades leaning in corners.
The central forge glowed a steady orange, coal crackling softly and filling the air with the familiar comforting sll of hot tal and burning fuel.
A clean bed had been set up close to the forge for constant warmth, fresh sheets smoothed, dical equipnt humming softly beside it.
Lian carried Elara straight to the bed and laid her down as gently as possible.
The healer woman moved forward imdiately, her movents professional and efficient.
She wasted no ti.
Scanners were connected to Elara’s systems right away.
Green aug lights brightened as diagnostics ran.
Holo-readouts appeared in the air above the bed—vitals unstable, alloy integrity compromised, human organs bruised, core systems strained.
The blacksmith closed and bolted the heavy door securely, then stood watch near the entrance.
The healer worked for several long hours without pause.
She carefully removed the damaged chest plate section by section.
Replaced cracked alloy with the prepared spares—matte black material that matched closely enough after quick adjustnts.
Repaired broken circuits with delicate tools and micro-soldering.
Stabilized the heart monitor and recalibrated it.
Sealed the connection points around the neck where human flesh t alloy.
Cleaned all traces of blood.
Injected stabilizers and repair nanites directly into both organic and chanical systems.
Monitored every vital sign constantly.
Finally, she stepped back and wiped her hands on a clean cloth.
Her voice was calm and full of experience.
"She is out of danger now."
"All critical damage has been repaired."
"The chest core was very badly strained."
"Human organs took heavy bruising."
"Alloy structure had multiple deep cracks."
"But everything is fixed and stable."
"She will remain unconscious for a few days while her body and systems complete deep recovery."
"No fighting for several weeks."
"At least three, possibly four."
"Full rest is absolutely required, or there could be permanent damage."
Lian, who had stood motionless the entire ti with his fists clenched at his sides, finally let out a long, slow breath.
It was the first real breath he had taken since the mont in the ring.
His shoulders relaxed noticeably.
The tight line of his jaw softened.
Relief washed over his face, deep and visible.
He walked to the bed slowly.
Sat on the edge.
Took Elara’s hand in his.
Her alloy fingers were cool from the repairs.
The tal surface smooth and strong.
He held it gently.
Stared at her face.
Beautiful even in unconsciousness.
Peaceful for the first ti since the fight.
Long black hair spread across the pillow.
Blue cybernetic eyes closed.
Red heart monitor pulsing steady and strong.
He stayed like that for hours.
Did not move.
Did not speak.
Just held her alloy hand.
Watched her breathe slow and even.
Felt the faint vibration of her systems under the plating.
The old blacksmith and the healer woman watched from the forge corner.
They stood quietly together.
Smiled small, warm smiles.
Understanding completely.
No words needed in the mont.
Later, when the forge fire had burned low and the underground space was filled only with soft crackle and distant drip of water, the old man spoke in his familiar gravel voice.
"If I hadn’t seen you in that alley all those months ago..."
"I am sure you would still be running around out there."
"Trying to hide."
"Searching alone."
Lian looked up slowly.
His void eyes were softer than usual.
"Thank you."
"So much."
His words carried deep gratitude.
The old man nodded and sat on a nearby crate.
The healer brought hot tea for everyone.
They drank in comfortable quiet.
The old man explained how it happened.
He had known Lian might need the place if the tournant went wrong.
When he saw Lian’s na on the list, he prepared everything for the boy he considered his own student.
Called the healer friend.
Prepared for Lian’s possible injury.
That day they watched the fight together.
Saw the incident.
Saw Lian carry the unknown girl.
Surprised.
Prepared for Lian.
Not her.
"Don’t know her."
"But happy help."
"Anyone you bring."
Lian listened the whole ti.
His hand never left Elara’s alloy fingers.
The healer checked vitals once more.
Everything stable.
The old man smiled.
"Boy mine."
"Always."
Lian gave a small smile.
The first in a very long ti.
"Thank you."
Again.
The old couple nodded.
The forge glowed warm.
The underground was dark and rundown outside.
But inside safe.
Ho for now.
For them.
Lian held her alloy hand.
Watched her sleep.
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