Chapter 35: Pain and Purpose

Chapter 35: Pain and Purpose

A month had passed since they returned with the corpse of Eliza 'Crimson Song' Darrow.

The city erupted the moment word got out.

The bounty was collected without much fuss. It was everything after that became the problem.

People wanted the story. The whole damn city had something to say about it. Rufus, of course, soaked it up like a sponge, getting treated to drinks and meals like some local legend. He was happy as a peach, running his mouth and spinning the tale to every eager ear and wallet.

Edmond and Levi?

Less impressed.

Edmond had never liked the limelight, and now with reporters sniffing around for interviews, he stuck close to the orphanage, making sure none of them got too curious. A few tried pushing their luck, but one look from him—blacksteel arms crossed, expression flat as a gravestone—was enough to send them packing.

Levi didn't need to be told twice to keep his head low. He knew damn well his face didn't belong in the middle of town gossip. Aside from his weekends at the shipyard, he kept to himself. Most days were spent in the basement, working through drills with Timmy. Training. Refining.

Waiting.

And today was finally the day.

After lunch, they were heading to Maggie's shop. A month of tests, fine-tuning, and waiting—now he was finally cleared to power his next augment. Today, they'd connect his eyes.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Levi stretched, waving off Timmy.

"End sparring."

With a hiss of steam and the grind of gears, Timmy's raised axe lowered, his systems powering down.

"You're wasting your time on beginner." 

Edmond tossed him a canteen.

"Move up his training level."

His voice was flat, but the look in his eyes said enough. He was proud.

Levi took a long drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His body had changed over the last month—more defined, no longer just scraping by, but sharpening into something stronger, something with purpose.

 He wasn't wearing Maggie's mixture today, so his scars stood out, making his face seem more mature. As he pulled his shirt on, he nodded toward Timmy. 

"Ever think about upgrading him? If we gave him to Maggie, bet she could do some real work on him."

 "Can't afford it. Besides, Timmy's fine the way he is. Just increase his skills to professional. He'll keep you busy."

Levi shrugged, grabbing his hat.

 "Lunch ready?"

"Kati-bird made sandwiches. Grab one and we'll head out."

"Rufus up yet?"

Edmond rolled his eyes as he followed.

 "Barely. He's been hitting the saloon too hard."

"It's gettin' tiresome. He keeps braggin' how he hasn't spent a dime. Think at this rate he'll drink himself stupid?"

"Too late for that."

Pushing open the door to the house, Levi barely had time to dodge as a pack of kids barreled past.

"Slow down!"

In perfect unison, they yelled back—still running.

"Sorry, Levi!"

Buttoning his shirt, he walked into the kitchen, grabbed a sandwich, and yanked open the cooler. Pulling out a cold beer, he cracked the top, and took a long drink.

Behind him, Edmond leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.

 "Think you should be doing that?"

He didn't answer—just downed the rest in one go, tossed the empty, and grabbed another.

"Last time hurt like hell. Wanna numb myself a little."

The thought of the pain waiting for him sent a sharp ache behind his eyes, like his skull was already bracing for it.

Finishing the second beer, he wiped his mouth, applied Maggie's cream, and grabbed his sandwich.

"Let's get this over with."

CRASH!

"Goddamn it! Who left their fuckin' toys out?!"

Leaning over to look down the hall, Levi spotted Rufus sprawled on the floor, holding his hip as he scowled at a tin cart.

"Let's get goin'!"

Rufus flinched, gripping his head like Levi's voice had been a hammer. He shot him a glare, wincing.

"Not so loud! Your voice is bouncin' around my skull."

Pushing to his feet, he shoved past Levi, stumbling to the cooler. He flopped over it, pried it open, and grabbed a beer.

Edmond shook his head, watching his friend, who—despite being dressed for the day—still reeked of last night.

"Don't you think you're a little too old for this? You smell like vomit and sour women."

Rufus drained his beer with a groan, then scratched at his crotch. Lifting his fingers to his nose.

"Smells like victory."

Levi sneered and turned for the door.

 "I'm headin' out."

With a sigh, Edmond followed.

Behind them, Rufus threw up his hands.

 "What? Don't judge me. Just 'cause you don't like pussy don't mean I gotta ignore it! Ow!"

Clutching his head, beer in hand, he stumbled after them, still trying to defend himself.

The three reached the shipyard in good time. With Rufus nursing his hangover, he wasn't in much of a talking mood, which meant they didn't have to stop every few steps for him to chat or answer questions.

Stepping onto the swaying planks leading into the dockyards, Edmond smirked slightly as he followed Levi. The kid moved like he belonged here.

Levi leaned down mid-stride, scooped up a stray piece of brass, and tossed it into a nearby scrap bucket without breaking pace. He waved to a welder without looking, already knowing he'd get a nod back.

"You finally decide to start full-time?! Took ya long enough!"

A voice rang out from a group of workers as they passed.

Levi didn't even glance over—just shot a lazy middle finger in their direction.

"You wish!"

Rufus frowned. He didn't like not being in on things.

 "What's that about?"

"Nothin', just Carl thinks bounty huntin's for shiftless losers. Says I oughta work here instead."

"Shiftless—?!"

Rufus whipped around, fixing the man with a hard stare.

Carl felt somthing odd, looking over only to see Rufus red eye locked onto him like a predator sizing him up.

Edmond sighed, rubbing his temple. 

"Cut it out."

Rufus scoffed but didn't push it. Not that Carl would've stood around to test his patience.

Levi didn't bother knocking when they finally arrived at Maggie's shop. He shoved the large door open, stepping inside like he owned the place.

"Maggie! Where ya at?!"

No response.

The three of them paused. 

Something felt off. Maggie's shop was never this quiet.

Levi's pulse quickened. His mind raced.

"She knew we were comin', right?"

"She knew." 

Edmond's tone was firm, but he was already scanning the room.

Click.

Levi twisted his wrist, and his arm transformed with a hiss of vapor. He slowly grabbed his knives, lifting—

FWAARRSH—GULP-Gulp-glurp.

Maggie kicked open the bathroom door, stopping mid-motion, strapping up her overalls. Her brow furrowed as she took in her surprised guests.

"What's ze problem? What? A woman cannot take a shit?"

A beat of silence. Then, all three men turned away slightly, looking anywhere but her.

Levi exhaled, his grip on his blades loosening. 

"You ready?"

Maggie scoffed, wiping her hands on her overalls as she stepped past him.

 "Of course. Now remember—zis is going to 'urt like hell."

"I remember."

Walking over to her cooler, he popped it open, grabbed a beer, and downed it without pause.

 "I am adding zat to your bill."

Levi wiped his mouth and tossed the bottle aside. 

"Whatever. Let's do this."

He walked over to the raised chair, stripping off his shirt before settling in.

Maggie turned away a little too quickly, but the pink dusting her cheeks gave her away. She tried to hide it, but Levi caught it.

And that's when he saw it.

Of course, he'd looked at her before, but something about the way she blushed just then, flustered and avoiding his eyes, made her the cutest damn thing he'd seen in a long time.

Then the smell from the bathroom hit him like a cold shower.

His nostrils flared. He shut his eyes and bit his cheek, trying not to laugh at himself.

"What is it? Is something funny?"

"Nothin'. Just somethin' Rufus said."

"Hmm."

Maggie let it go, focusing instead on the task at hand. Lifting the heavy metal plate from her workstation, she attached it to him, and with a twist, removed the panel on his chest.

Edmond and Rufus hadn't been here last time. They both stepped in closer, their expressions unreadable as they got their first real look at his prototype Pneuma Core.

Rufus let out a low whistle before immediately wincing and grabbing his head.

Edmond, arms crossed, scratched at his stubble as he studied the exposed core. His voice was even, but the weight behind it was clear.

"Never seen one like that before."

"Neither had I." 

Maggie's eyes stayed locked on the device as she reached up, grabbing the hanging apparatus above them. She flipped a couple of levers, and the machine hummed to life.

 "And from what I can tell, his has ze same capabilities as a Godforge Core."

Rufus dropped his smoke.

Both older men exchanged looks, their expressions a mix of disbelief and unease.

 Maggie's words hung heavy in the air, casual as they were, they shattered whatever assumptions the men had about Levi's augments.

A Godforge Core.

They weren't myths, but even to someone like Edmond, they might as well have been.

 The Church kept them under lock and key, buried within their strongest citadels, hoarded like sacred relics. No Waster, no outlaw, no lowborn frontiersman should have something of the same level beating in their chest.

And yet, here Levi was, glowing with the impossible.

Pneuma Cores were the heart of modern Vaporguard technology, and their size and output dictated their grade. Since advancing into the third age of Vaporguard tech, there have only been five grades, each marking a different tier of power—each a step further from man and closer to God.

The Ember Core was the weakest, no larger than a walnut. It wasn't meant for augments—not for flesh. Instead, it powered the little things, the tools of daily life. Heating units, small bolters, lamps that burned without oil. A quiet convenience, a flicker of modern grace.

The Church called it a gift to the devout, a blessing for the humble. It kept homes warm, machines running, and the faith alive.

Then came the Lantern Core. The workhorse. Fist-sized, capable of sustaining a Vaporguard limb, enhancing strength, sharpening reflexes. Standard issue for bounty hunters, lawmen, and soldiers. 

The Thurible Core was where things turned. As big as a man's head. Devotion through labor. It powered industrial machinery, Vaporguard armors, most all heavy-duty augmentations. The Thurible Core gave men the means to move mountains and break bones alike.

Then the Furnace Core. Warborn. Barrel-sized. The Church's holy fire, gifted only to their mightiest. War machines. Towering, metal-clad monsters that reduced battlefields to ash. It could not be hidden, could not be contained—it was a beacon, marking its wielder as something divine.

But the Godforge Core? That was something else entirely.

Its size varied—some the size of a barrel, others as vast as a house—but size was irrelevant. What mattered was its output. It didn't power limbs or weapons. It powered fortresses, entire cities, mountain sized war behemoths that never needed refueling. 

It was the Heart of the Faith, the lifeblood of the Church's dominion.

 Some were said to burn for eternity, their vapor reserves endless, their power unchallenged. The Church did not distribute them. They were not granted. They were held, guarded, worshiped.

Possessing a Godforge Core meant owning the future. Losing one meant war.

And somehow—somehow—Levi had something just as powerful inside him.

As Edmond and Rufus did their best to process the situation, Maggie kept working. With a harsh grind of metal and sharp bursts of venting steam, the machine locked onto the valve on his core.

 The one leading to his eyes.

"Say when."

Levi exhaled slow. Undid and removed his belt. Folded it, then bit down hard.

His jaw clenched. His fingers curled into fists.

A deep breath.

A nod.

No hesitation, she pulled the lever.

The machine lurched. Metal screamed as gears strained against the force. Steam howled through the lines, flooding the valve with twenty tons of pressure in an instant.

The room flared with heat.

Rufus and Edmond felt it—thick, suffocating, pressing against their skin. The walls groaned, the floorboards trembled.

Levi didn't move. Couldn't. Every muscle locked, his body caught between shattering and breaking.

Veins bulged along his arms, his neck—pulsing, threatening to burst. His jaw clenched so tight his teeth might shatter.

And his eyes—

His eyes burned.

Searing agony, like molten iron flooding through his skull.