The sun was beginning to set when the carriage finally rolled to a stop.

A fiery orange glow spilled across the plains, bathing everything in the light of a dying day. 

The world stretched wide and empty, wind sweeping through tall grass like breath through lungs too tired to speak.

Ahead, a building rose from the horizon—towering and rusted. 

A monument to survival at any cost, but even cages built of iron can rust from within.

The outer walls loomed like iron giants, their surfaces streaked with rust and soot. 

Massive towers jutted upward, exhaling thick clouds of black smoke into the golden sky.

Machinery whirred in the distance, hidden behind steel and time.

Nozomu stepped forward to the front of the carriage, and the fading light cast long shadows across the cracked path ahead.

He didn't look back when he spoke. "We're setting up camp here tonight."

The words were firm—final. Pop didn't budge.

Instead, he leaned against the wooden frame, arms folded, irritation simmering just beneath the surface.

"So," he said, tone sharp, "when were you planning to let me in on why we're even here?"

Nozomu turned, slowly, the last of the sun glinting off his narrowed eyes—cold and sharp as winter steel.

"That's an order, Pop. Don't question it."

Pop met his gaze. A beat of silence passed. Then, with a sigh, he pushed off the carriage wall.

"Yeah, yeah. I hear you," he muttered. "You got it, Boss."

"Commander."

Pop rolled his eyes and waved him off. "Same shit." His posture eased without another word.

The tension dissolved as the wind shifted, brushing dust across the road like the world was exhaling. 

The recruits climbed out slowly, heads tilting. Theo squinted toward the rust-colored towers rising in the distance. 

The building looked like it had been carved straight from the bones of the Wastelands—part factory, part fortress, all mystery.

Isabella turned, her voice light as ever. "Come on, everyone. You're gonna want to see this."

And so they followed—Theo, David, Dawn, and the rest—trudging up the worn path toward the looming walls of iron and smoke.

Whatever this place was, it wasn't what they expected. 

Theo narrowed his eyes. "Where are we?"

Dawn's voice rose beside him, wide with curiosity. "Is this your base?"

"Not quite," Isabella answered brightly—leading the way alongside Nozomu. "This is Benny's Iron Fortress. Think of it as a pit stop before the real adventure starts."

David raised an eyebrow. "Benny?"

"An old friend of ours," Isabella replied, waving the question away.

Clarissa folded her arms. "Then why bring us here if it's not your base?"

"Yeah, you have a point there. Seems suspicious," Aeda added, sharp and skeptical.

"Come on," Curtis interjected, trying to smooth things over. "Don't start grilling them already."

"Yeah, Aeda," Aida chimed in with a small frown. "Be nice."

Isabella chuckled under her breath.  "You ask so many questions... I guess that's a good thing."

They reached the main entrance—a steel door streaked with grime. 

Nozomu stepped forward and knocked in a precise rhythm. A pause. Then, with a groan of metal, the doors opened.

Two young workers stood on each side, grease on their hands, confusion on their faces.

Inside, the air was thick with heat and the scent of oil. Giant machines hummed in the background while sparks danced from welding torches. 

Workers moved between conveyor belts and crates. Armor hung from racks. Swords gleamed under hanging lights.

It was less a fortress, more a living forge.

And every eye turned to the newcomers.

"Bout time you showed up," came a voice rough as sandpaper.

A man stepped forward, wiping grease from his hands with a rag that looked just as dirty. His bald head gleamed with sweat, and a thick brown beard framed his grinning mouth. One eye was hidden beneath an old eyepatch. His fingers were black with grime and grease.

"Benny," Nozomu greeted.

"I had a feeling I would see your face around these parts soon," Benny said with a smirk. "Been hearing all sorts of stories—some idiot running around the Wastelands with his band of merry men. I knew you'd come dragging your shit to my door eventually."

Nozomu's voice was dry. "Still better than hiding in a rust heap."

"No one's hiding. "

"You know, Benny, there's still a lot more work to do. My offer still stands."

Benny shook his head, his voice turning quiet. "You've grown into a fine man. He would've been proud, y'know."

Nozomu blinked. Something flickered in his eyes. Then it was gone.

Before the silence could deepen, Benny looked past him, shrugging off the comment.

"Well, look what we have here. Bella, my sweet girl. You've grown up."

Isabella beamed and gave him a playful spin. "You finally noticed?"

"I'd have to be blind not to."

She skipped over and wrapped her arms around him. "It's good to see you again, Benny."

"You too, kid."

His eyes drifted to the group of teens behind them. 

"So… these are yours? No way you popped out that many since I last saw you."

Isabella's face went red in an instant, her smile faltering into a stammer as she glanced sideways.

Nozomu, on the other hand, didn't even blink. His expression stayed flat, unreadable—stone behind the eyes.

"No," he said flatly.

Benny raised a brow at Theo and then Nozomu. "Could've fooled me. That one looks like he might've come from your gene pool."

"Get your mind out of the gutter. They're recruits."

"Right, right. Shame. Bella would make a fine mother, but you as a father, not so much."

"Keep your perverted thoughts to yourself, old man."

Benny snorted. "Watch your mouth. Keep that up, and you'll be sleeping in the scrap yard tonight."

Benny's laugh boomed low and rough like gravel rolling downhill.

It wasn't much. 

But in the quiet that followed them in from the Wastelands, it felt like something solid.

Something familiar.

And with that, Benny turned, wiping his grease-stained hands on a rag, and led them deeper into the heart of the Iron Fortress.

By nightfall, the Iron Fortress hummed with life once more.

The recruits sat around a wide circular table. Big windows gave them a view of the forest line, where the last light of day vanished into trees.

Aeda was stuffing her face like she hadn't eaten in weeks.

"You should eat more," she said through a mouthful. "You wanna grow up big and strong like me, right?"

"Aeda, we're five minutes apart," Aida sighed—but Aeda was already back to chewing.

Five minutes or not, it didn't matter. Aeda was older.  That was all that counted.

Across the table, Arthur and Bryce were at it again. 

Bryce kept stealing from Arthur's plate. Arthur responded with flicks of bread and muttered insults.

Curtis had enough. He smacked Arthur lightly on the back of the head. 

Clarissa sat quietly, chewing with the kind of restraint that made it obvious she wanted no part in the chaos.

Theo, David, and Dawn sat together at the far end of the table. 

"This place is kind of amazing," David said, glancing around. "Don't you think?"

Theo shrugged. "Looks like it's falling apart to me."

"Bella said this place makes the best weapons and armor in Sector Five," Dawn offered.

Theo frowned. "Really? This dump?"

"Yo," Curtis's voice cut through the conversation. 

He didn't look up. He kept staring at his plate. 

"You guys don't have to be so distant."

David tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

Curtis took a breath. The kind you take before saying something heavier than you meant to.

"I mean… we didn't know each other before this. But we all lost something. Everything we had back in Artimia? It's gone. That's something we share now. That kind of pain connects people."

Theo stared.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is…" Curtis looked up now, his eyes fierce. "You're precious to me now. All of you. We made a choice when we got on that carriage. We chose to ride toward something we might not come back from. That kind of stuff makes you family, doesn't it? I promise, no matter what lies ahead, I'll always protect you guys."

Silence.

Clarissa took a sip of her drink. "Count me in. As the two oldest, I guess we have to lead by example. "

Curtis brightened; he rose from his seat, his fist forcefully striking the table. "Yes! That's the spirit! I knew you'd get it, Rissa!"

Clarissa shot him a glare. "Don't call me that. And sit down."

"Right, right," Curtis muttered, sliding back into his seat.

Then the others joined in.

"Looking out for each other," Aeda said.

"Like family," Aida echoed.

"We've got each other's backs," Arthur added.

Bryce grinned. "Damn right we do. We're a team now."

Curtis sat forward again, serious this time.

"We're enemies of the God-King now. That's not just words. That's war. If we don't grow up fast, we're not gonna survive this."

Clarissa nodded, stroking Mimi's head as the cat lapped milk from a small bowl.

"So the question is," Curtis continued, "what kind of people do we want to become to survive this?"

The question lingered like smoke. 

Theo turned to the window.

The trees swayed gently beyond the glass. 

A slow wind whispered against the walls.

He curled his fingers into fists.

He thought of his father. Of the fire. Of the words that still echoed in his chest.

The kind of man you want to become...

Theo closed his eyes. 

His father's words burned in him—not as memory, but as command.

He hadn't figured it out yet.

But the path… had already begun.