Swift jerked backward, shocked. Carlos’s body hadn’t moved—but the shot rang in his ears.

  “What the fuck did you do that for!?”

  Voss lowered his rifle.

  “Look.”

  Swift looked down at Carlos’s body, a fresh hole next to the corroded wound.

  “The veins. Black, creeping under the skin.” He looked at Swift, serious now. “They fade after we finish ‘em. And they faded after I pulled the trigger.”

  Swift’s jaw tensed. He said nothing.

  Voss glanced down again at the grave. “Our weapons do more than kill… they burn out the Corrosion. It’s why we don’t use steel for this kind of work.”

  “The priest,” Swift muttered.

  Voss nodded. “This was the only way without ‘em. And… he would’ve understood.”

  There was a long pause between them. Rain pattered gently on the leaves above, the sky still low and gray.

  Voss gestured behind him where the M21 was leaning against a tree.

  “I’ll take White Feather with me,” he said. “Back to the Card Company. Set it up in the deck hall. We keep a memorial wall for those who fought alongside us. He deserves a place there.”

  Swift glanced at the rifle. The worn finish, the scuffed scope, the silent story it told.

  “Yeah,” he said. “That’s where it belongs.”

  Voss tossed his unlit cigarette and grabbed the shovel.

  Swift looked down one last time. His hands curled slightly into fists at his sides.

  The Corrosion ends with me

  Voss threw the first piece of dirt.

  They moved in silence finishing the grave and walked back toward the wagons.

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  The following two weeks blurred together.

  Rain. Camp. Dirt trails. Wet musty clothes. Broken wagon wheels. More rain.

  They passed through three camps on the way to the capital. A few ambushes, nothing organized. Just pockets of low-level corroded stragglers.

  Swift was always the first to react.

  The moment a groan echoed from the woods, or a figure stumbled too close, Excalibur was up, bayonet ready. Whether it was shot or steel, Swift handled it before anyone else could take a breath.

  And when the others caught on, it was already over.

  A few of the mercs whispered about him when they thought he wasn’t listening. They didn’t mock him. They were impressed and scared. No one asked him to slow down.

  Voss noticed, of course. He didn’t say anything either.

  Swift’s rage grew with every encounter.

  By the time Capital City came into view, the sky had cleared. The towers loomed against the horizon like jagged teeth. Walls too high to scale. Banners flapping stiff in the wind.

  Swift rode in silence as they crossed the outer checkpoint and rolled into the mercenary quarter. The difference between Crescent City and the capital was stark — here, everything was cleaner, sharper, and older.

  The mercenary guild hall was enormous. Not made of brass or stone. Just dark wood, heavy doors, and a dozen clerks who didn’t even look up unless you handed them a signed mission scroll.

  Swift handed his in and waited.

  “You’re listed as ‘Swift’ only?” the clerk asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “That’s all there is.”

  The clerk didn’t ask more. She marked his mission complete and logged his Marksman rank in the central registry. One silver bonus coin and a paper slip. Efficient.

  “Anything else?” the clerk asked.

  He only gave one request: “Solo operative.”

  The clerk gave him a half-interested shrug and filed it.

  “Next”

  Swift stepped aside.

  Another job would have to wait.

  He didn’t linger.

  Voss found him outside the guild, leaning against a stone post, arms crossed.

  “Looks like that’s it, then,” Voss said, flicking his cigarette to the side. “Capital’s a different world.”

  Swift nodded. “Appreciate you letting me tag along.”

  Voss gave a sideways smile. “Tag along? You carried us for half the damn route.”

  He didn’t mention Carlos. Neither of them needed to.

  Voss paused and said, “I don’t usually do this… but if you’re still planning to fight, you might want to roll with a company. You’re sharp, but no one wins alone forever.”

  Swift looked over at him.

  “Card Company’s got openings. If you’re interested.”

  Swift thought about it for a heartbeat. His answer was already formed before Voss finished the offer.

  “Not yet. I’ve got things I need to handle on my own.”

  Voss nodded slowly. No pressure in his expression. Just understanding.

  “Well, it’s there when you want it.”

  They shook hands.

  No smiles. No long goodbyes.

  Just two gunfighters in a city of thousands.

  Swift watched Voss head into the Guild Hall. Next to it the wagons were already being prepped for a return trip. No time wasted. New mercenaries and new wagons joined.

  The wind tugged at his flight suit. Behind him, the Capital rose like a stone maze. In front of him, a thousand unknowns waited.

  Swift adjusted the rifle on his back and walked into the city.

  What should I do first?