Vera knelt beside the trio, her hands steady as she worked on their wounds. “Alright, stay still. You’re lucky the bullets went through your shoulders instead of getting stuck inside,” she said softly, pressing strips of cloth against Rhys and Amélia. “It’s going to sting, but it could’ve been much worse.”

  Rhys gritted his teeth. “Lucky? Feels like I got hit by a hammer instead.”

  Amélia winced, her breathing shallow. “I… I feel like I’m bleeding everywhere.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Vera assured them, her voice calm and firm. “I’ve seen worse. You’re going to make it through this—just trust me.”

  Elias, holding both his friends close, added, “Don’t move too much. We’ll get through it together.”

  From the back of the tunnel, Kael’s footsteps echoed. He appeared from the shadows, dust and debris clinging to his uniform. “Captain Guren,” he said, voice tense. “I checked behind the train. The tunnel entrance—the one they came from—it’s completely sealed.”

  Guren’s eyes narrowed. “Sealed?” He looked toward Mara, scanning the tunnel with her rifle ready. “By who?”

  Kael shook his head. “Seems like a shell, likely from a Warden shooting the support rims. They acted quickly to prevent any Schreitpanzer from leaking inside.”

  A tense silence fell. Rhys spoke up, still wincing from his shoulder wound. “A Wetterleuchten got through. I don't how it's possible.”

  Guren’s jaw tightened. “A Wetterleuchten…” His gaze swept over the bloodied train car, the civilians trembling around them. “If the Schreitpanzer manage to clear the debris… Ironford could have some dangerous neighbors visiting next.”

  Mara’s grip on her rifle was deadly serious. “No one human will use this passage. If something comes, it's definitely a Schreitpanzer.”

  Kael nodded. "I agree."

  Guren looked down at the three friends, his expression softening slightly. “Kael, Mara, watch the rear. Once we move them to safety, I’ll ask to seal this tunnel permanently.”

  Vera gave a reassuring smile to the trio. “You’ve been through hell, but you’re alive. That’s what matters. You’ll make it.”

  Rhys tried a weak smirk. “Yeah… if we survive this, I’m never trusting a tunnel again.”

  Amélia forced a small laugh, wincing at the pain. “I… agree.”

  Guren’s dark eyes swept over the survivors and the wrecked train. His voice cut through the chaos like steel. “Loran, you—check the train engine. Get it running, we can't transport this many people with our rigs.”

  Loran, a young but skilled engineer in Guren’s platoon, immediately moved toward the front of the train. He crouched over the engine, dust and sweat on his uniform, inspecting the nearly empty fuel cell. Sparks danced as he swapped in a spare, and the engine groaned back to life.

  “Good,” Guren said, his tone clipped. “Once it’s running, take the train. Keep it steady and bring everyone back to Ironford.”

  As Loran climbed into the driver’s seat, Guren turned to another soldier, Callen, who had been sitting in the second gunner seat of a Warden nearby. “Callen, you take Loran’s Warden. He can’t pilot it while driving the train. Keep it close and cover the train all the way.”

  Callen nodded, sliding into the cockpit of Loran’s Warden. His hands moved confidently over the controls, the four-legged mech humming to life beside the train.

  Guren scanned the rest of the platoon. “Everyone else, form up. Bulwark in the lead, Wardens flank the train. Protect the civilians. Move out!”

  With a smooth, practiced motion, Guren climbed into his own Warden. His dark blue eyes swept the tunnel ahead, hands resting on the controls, calm but alert. The Bulwark at the front pivoted, rotating its massive body, and the platoon began their march into the darkness.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  The train followed behind Loran’s Warden, its engine now steady, carrying the survivors. Kael and Mara flanked the train in their Wardens, keeping the path clear, while Rhys, Amélia, and Elias stayed low inside the train, in a compartment spared from blood.

  “Keep your eyes open!” Guren barked through the comms. “Everyone stays between the train and the rear. No wandering. Ironford is ahead, and that’s our only safe point. If you see anyone ahead, don't hesitate to shoot them. This tunnel has long been abandonned, only Vorl?ufers hide here.”

  Night had fallen over Ironford when the train finally emerged from the mouth of the massive tunnel. The engine’s low hum and the synchronized stomps of the Wardens echoed across the rocky ground as the convoy entered the outskirts.

  The Bulwark led the way, its four legs clanging against the cobblestones and dirt paths, while the Wardens flanked the train like guardians. From the side, clusters of civilians gathered, their eyes wide, voices trembling. Some pointed, some whispered frantically, and a few even shouted accusations. “Refugees! Are these… are these fake humans?”

  Rhys, Amélia, and Elias pressed close to the train, watching as the massive mechs passed, their lights casting long shadows over the anxious crowd. The friends’ attention shifted outward. Ironford wasn’t a city in the sense they were used to—it was more of a large fortified town. A few tall buildings marked the skyline, but the majority of the structures were small, functional, and clustered together around a central plaza. Smoke drifted from chimneys, and the faint glow of fires illuminated the town’s stone-paved streets.

  In the distance, a massive wall rose above everything. At first glance, it looked impossibly tall and thick.

  Above the wall, a faint red lattice shimmered against the night sky. It was the anti-artillery shield, its spiderweb-like pattern barely visible in the darkness, a soft glow that reminded Rhys of the shield that had protected their previous city… until it fell.

  The civilians’ reactions weren’t all relief. Some backed away from the convoy, muttering to each other. “Why are you bringing them here?”

  Guren’s lips pressed into a thin line. He sighed, adjusting the controls in his Warden. “Ignore them,” he muttered. Beside him, Mara shrugged, her red eyes flicking to the crowd. “They’ll calm down. Or they’ll complain. Doesn’t matter either way.”

  One man from the gathered civilians stepped forward, holding his arms wide as if to physically bar the convoy. His voice rang out clear and loud. “Are you sure these people aren’t… imposters? You can’t just bring them in!”

  Guren’s voice boomed over the convoy speakers, sharp and unyielding. “Move along! Do not block the path! They are survivors. You’ll see soon enough!”

  The Bulwark stomped forward again, slowly pivoting its massive body as the Wardens followed, flanking the train and the refugees. Sparks flew from the ground with each step of the mechanical beasts, casting red and white reflections over the fearful civilians.

  The train hissed to a stop, steam rising from the almost-empty fuel cell as its wheels settled on the rails. Crowds of refugees clustered near the station platform, their faces pale and uncertain, murmuring among themselves. Behind the line, Rhys, Amélia, and Elias stood close together, shoulders brushing, hearts still hammering from the chaos of the tunnel.

  UF soldiers began to climb aboard the train, their movements precise and fluid. Strange masks hid their faces, sleek white suits covering their bodies, making them look almost otherworldly. The friends exchanged uneasy glances.

  “Why… are they wearing those?” Amélia whispered, her voice barely audible over the murmurs of the crowd.

  “I don’t know,” Rhys muttered, his gaze fixed on the soldiers, alert and calculating as ever. “But it’s… intimidating.”

  Elias looked at them. “They’re here to keep us safe, right?” His voice wavered slightly, betraying the doubt that lingered in all their minds.

  “Do you think… this is it?” Amélia asked softly, almost to herself. “Do you think we’ve finally found somewhere we can… stay?”

  Rhys shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. After everything we’ve seen… I don’t know if anywhere is really safe. Maybe we’re just… moving from one place to another, pretending we can rest. Maybe that’s all life has in store for us.”

  Elias stared down at his feet, his fingers tightening around his backpack strap. “But… if this is our life, maybe we make the best of it. We stick together, no matter where we go.”

  Amélia’s eyes softened as she looked at Rhys and Elias, feeling the warmth of their presence, the only constant in a world that had been shattered for them. “Together,” she said quietly, as if saying it out loud could anchor it to reality.

  Rhys exhaled, letting the weight of the moment settle. For now, the threat was behind them. For now, Ironford was their shelter. But in the back of their minds lingered the unshakable question: would they ever find a home that wouldn’t be torn from them, or were they destined to keep running forever?

  The line of refugees edged forward under the watchful eyes of the UF soldiers, and the three friends followed, silent, uncertain, and clinging to each other as they stepped into the first night of their new life.