Jax's eyes shot open, his chest heaving as if he'd just escaped a nightmare. He lay sprawled on a lumpy mattress, the air heavy with the odor of burnt wires and herbs. It was Jane's workshop again. A single lantern flickered on a messy table, casting shifting shadows across the walls. His body felt battered, like he'd been run over by a cart, but—thankfully—he was alive. Barely.
"Welcome back," came Jane's voice from the corner. She perched on a stool, fiddling with her stun gauntlet, her face illuminated by sparks flying from her work. When her gaze flicked to him, relief mixed with her usual sass. "I thought you might sleep forever."
Jax groaned and propped himself up. His head throbbed, and his nose burned, the dried blood caked on his upper lip reminding him of what had happened. The image of the Necromancer flashed through his mind, cold and menacing. "How long was I out?" he asked.
"A few hours," Jane replied, setting down her tools and wiping her hands on her jacket. "You scared the hell out of me. What was that light show all about?"
Jax rubbed his chest, where he could still feel the faint hum of the Construct. "Emergency protocol. Saved us, but it feels like it broke me." His voice cracked, betraying the fear he was struggling to keep buried. The Construct offered immense power but tethered him closer to death every time he used it.
"Energy reserves: 15%. Recovery in progress," the Construct spoke in its usual cold tone. "Host must improve efficiency to avoid collapse."
"Efficiency," Jax muttered. "Easy for you to say."
Jane raised an eyebrow. "Talking to your invisible friend again?"
"Yeah." He forced a tired grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just getting advice on how not to die. Super helpful, right?"
She snorted, but her expression softened. "You're not dying on my watch. But we've got bigger problems. That Necromancer? He's not finished with us. I heard the Freefolk whispering about undead sightings all over the slums. They're hunting something—you."
Jax's stomach churned. The Necromancer's ominous words echoed in his mind: "We'll meet again, boy." He hadn't mentioned that to Jane, or the "master" who coveted the Construct. The idea of dragging her into this nightmare made him feel sick, but she was already in over her head.
"We need answers," he said, swinging his legs off the mattress. Every muscle protested, but he forced himself to ignore the pain. "The Construct mentioned a journal in Kuro's lab. Said it could hold clues about what this thing truly is."
Jane nodded, grabbing her backpack. "Then we head back. But we're not going in blind this time. I've got traps, smoke bombs, and my gauntlet is recharged." She patted the device on her wrist with a grin. "No one's catching us off guard now."
Jax managed a genuine smile this time. Jane's enthusiasm was contagious, even when he felt like crashing. "You're going to get us killed with that stuff one day."
"Or save you again." She tossed him a water flask. "Chug this. You look like death warmed over."
He caught the flask and took a swig. The cold water revitalized him somewhat, but his doubts remained. The Construct was altering him—granting power he had never imagined—but at what price? And why did the Necromancers want it so desperately?
They slipped out of the workshop, the slums eerily quiet under a gray dawn. The market was abandoned, stalls boarded up after last night's chaos. Jax's boots crunched on broken glass, a reminder of the skeletal beast. He kept his head down, following Jane through the alleys towards the outskirts. The Construct hummed, its mission pulsing in his mind: "Locate Kuro's journal. Reward: 100 XP, unlock skill tree."
The lab wasn't far, but every shadow made Jax flinch. Jane noticed and nudged him. "Relax. You've got magic now. Act like it."
"Magic that nearly killed me," he shot back, but her words kindled something in him. He wasn't just a scavenger anymore. He had burned wolves and stopped a beast. Weak or not, he was fighting back.
They reached the lab's rusted door, now barely hanging on its hinges. Claw marks marred the frame, and the air inside felt heavy, like a storm waiting to unleash. Jane pulled out a glowstick from her pack, cracking it to life. A green light spilled across the lab's destruction—overturned tables, shattered vials, and the remnants of Jax's battle.
"Cozy," Jane remarked, stepping over a broken chair. "Where's this journal?"
Jax surveyed the wreckage, following the faint hum of the Construct as it guided him. "Somewhere… over there." He pointed to a collapsed shelf in the corner, half-buried under debris, trusting his gut that it was the right spot.
They worked in tandem, pushing rubble aside. Jax's arms burned with effort, but the need for answers urged him on. Jane grunted, straining to lift a heavy beam. "If this turns out to be pointless, I'm blaming you."
"Fair enough," Jax replied, digging through the dust. His fingers brushed something smooth—leather. Heart racing, he pulled it free: a small, black book, its cover adorned with a faint symbol of four interlocking circles, one representing each Mage Energy. "Got it."
Jane leaned in closer, her glowstick casting eerie shadows. "That's it? Looks ancient."
Jax opened the journal, the pages yellowed but intact. Kuro's handwriting was sharp, hurried as if penned in urgency. He read aloud, his voice low. "'The Construct is complete. A vessel for the sisters' power, a weapon to end the war. But it demands a price. One soul, bound forever.'"
Jane's eyes widened. "A soul? That's… unsettling."
Jax continued reading, his throat tightening with each word. "'The sisters' voices live within it, guiding the host. But beware: its power tempts corruption. Shadow hungers most of all.'" The memory of the cold pull of Shadow magic in the market chilled him. It felt alive, always wanting more.
"Objective complete," the Construct announced. "Reward: 100 XP, skill tree unlocked. Level 2 achieved. Select primary energy to unlock first skill."
Jax's mind buzzed. Level 2 already? But the journal's words gnawed at him. Corruption. A soul. Was that what the Construct was doing to him?
Jane grasped his arm. "Jax, are you okay? You look pale as a ghost."
"Yeah," he lied, closing the journal. "Just… a lot to process." He kept silent about the soul part. Not now. She needed to stay focused.
"Select energy: Elemental, Arcane, Divine, Shadow," the Construct prompted.
"Elemental," Jax replied quietly, instinctively feeling it was the safest choice, tied to his parents' legacy. A warm, steady sensation bloomed in his chest. "Skill unlocked: Flame Pulse. Emits a short-range burst of fire. Cost: 10% energy."
"Flame Pulse," Jax said aloud, testing the words. "Sounds useful."
Jane grinned. "Go for it. But, you know, try not to burn the place down."
Jax raised his hand, focusing. A small burst of fire erupted, singeing the air before it vanished. His chest tightened, but he held his ground. "Energy reserves: 10%."
"Not bad," Jane said, clapping. "You're getting the hang of this."
Before Jax could respond, a low rumble shook the lab. Dust cascaded from the ceiling, and the air grew colder, like a tomb opening. Jane's glowstick flickered as a voice—smooth and chilling—echoed from the shadows.
"Impressive, Thorne. But you're only just beginning."
Jax's blood froze. The Necromancer stepped into the light, his scarred face twisting into a smirk. His cloak billowed, red runes glowing brighter than ever. Behind him, two skeletal figures advanced, their bones rattling ominously.
Jane raised her gauntlet, but Jax grabbed her arm. "Hold off. We can't win this." His energy was too low, and the Necromancer's power felt suffocating, like death itself closing in.
"Smart boy," the Necromancer mocked, tilting his head. "Hand over the journal. And the Construct. My master is growing impatient."
Jax clutched the journal, his mind racing. The Construct hummed softly but offered no solutions. He was on his own. "What do you want with it?" he asked, stalling for time. "What's it to you?"
The Necromancer's grin widened. "Power, boy. The kind that reshapes worlds. You're merely a spark. We are the fire."
Jane stepped forward, her gauntlet crackling with sparks. "Back off, creep. He's not giving you anything."
The Necromancer laughed and raised a hand. The skeletons lunged, faster than Jax anticipated. He shoved Jane aside, instinctively raising his hand. "Flame Pulse!" A feeble burst of fire slowed one skeleton, but the other collided with him, knocking him to the ground.
A jolt of pain exploded in his ribs. Jane fired her gauntlet, stunning the second skeleton, but the Necromancer was already advancing, runes glimmering. "Enough games," he said, the air thickening as it pressed down on Jax.
"Emergency protocol available," the Construct warned. "Warning: Fatal risk to host."
Jax's vision blurred, the Necromancer's boots drawing closer. Jane screamed his name, but she was pinned by a skeleton. The journal slipped from his fingers, landing in the dust.
He couldn't lose. Not now. Not to this.
"Activate," Jax rasped, and blinding light surged through him, raw and powerful. He screamed as the energy exploded, shattering the skeletons. The Necromancer staggered back, shielding his eyes against the brightness.
When the light dimmed, Jax found himself on his knees, blood dripping from his mouth. The Necromancer had vanished—again. But the journal lay open, revealing a new page glowing with words he hadn't seen before: "The Construct's true host is marked by blood. Find the sisters' shrine, or all is lost."
Jane rushed to his side, her face pale with worry. "Jax, what did you just do?"
He tried to respond, but his strength faltered, and darkness engulfed him. The last thing he heard was Jane's desperate voice: "Hold on, Jax. Please."
Outside, the Necromancer's laughter echoed faintly, clear and threatening. "The shrine," he whispered to the shadows. "It begins."