A certain day, the sky was gloomy; the usual early morning lacked brilliant sunlight, instead, raindrops slowly fell to the ground.
After a while, the rain stopped, and sunlight began to appear; water vapor rose from the hot steel plates of Iron City, forming a thin layer of mist clinging to the ground. Within that mist, three silhouettes separated from the flow of people entering and exiting the eastern gate, blending into the alleys built from old containers and abandoned pipes.
Their coats were worn and ash-gray, wearing gas masks, with weapons hidden under thick layers of cloth; they looked no different from petty traders or long-time refugees of this city.
The one leading spoke in a low voice: "Split routes. Two hours. No deep questioning."
The other two nodded, did not respond, and separated as if they had never traveled together.
The middle-aged male turned into the southern workshop area, where the smell of machine oil was so heavy it made the throat dry and parched. He stopped before a makeshift tavern; the rusted iron sign hung by only a single chain.
Inside, weak yellow lights shone upon calloused faces.
He sat down, placing a small piece of metal on the table—not money, but a fuel exchange voucher.
"Heard there are newcomers recently."
His voice was hoarse, intentionally made to sound older.
The tavern owner glanced at the metal piece, then looked up at his face, his gaze lingering a beat longer than necessary.
"Newcomers in Iron City exist every day." "Which kind are you asking about?"
The middle-aged man lifted the wine cup, did not drink, only letting the alcohol fumes rise to cover his human scent.
"The kind that leaves no corpse."
The owner froze for a very short beat. His eyes swept quickly behind the counter, then returned to look at the man opposite, narrowing.
"Iron City has people dying every day."
The man said no more, only pushing the fuel voucher a bit deeper.
The owner exhaled a breath, wiped his hands on a towel, his voice dropping significantly.
"If it's a recent matter, then there is one." He tilted his head, avoiding the light. "One night." "An entire power in the northeast of this city... vanished."
The middle-aged man did not show surprise. "Vanished?"
"Mm." "Vanished in the literal sense." "The day before, vehicles were still seen entering and exiting, guards stood all over the corridors, lights in the research area were on all night." "The next day... nothing was left."
He tilted his head, lowering his voice, as if afraid the metal walls also knew how to listen.
"People from the lower floor recounted... that morning they arrived as usual." "Doors still closed." "Locks still intact." "No signs of being broken into." "But when opened... the first smell they caught was the smell of flesh." "Everyone stationed at that place had been killed." "Not attacked by monsters, nor was it a head-on battle." "But like a slaughter." "Corpses lay scattered everywhere; on every corpse, there was a common point."
"What was it?"
"The wounds causing their deaths were all by a single slash." "Some lost their lives because of severed necks, some were torn in half."
"A sword."
"Possibly, who knows?" The owner shrugged.
The middle-aged man nodded, understood clearly, then stood up and turned to leave.
The metal door closed behind him; the sound of the collision rang out dryly then sank completely into the rumbling machine noises of the workshop area.
Outside, the wind blew through charred, rusted pipes, carrying the smell of iron and dust.
The middle-aged man paused for a bit, looking toward the northeast; he took a communication device out of his coat pocket.
"Change investigation direction, I think we have found a clue." "Concentrate toward the northeast, find out where the corporation that was massacred over there evaporated; everyone in this city knows where that place is."
The other end was silent for half a beat. "Understood."
The voice replied briefly, asking no more.
The middle-aged man stowed the communication device, stepping out of the workshop's shadow zone. The road ahead stretched straight, both sides lined with abandoned warehouses and cooling towers no longer in operation, looking like giant motionless corpses.
Somewhere dozens of kilometers from Iron City, right deep in the forest, a young male was holding a baby who was playing happily, lifting the boy high making him giggle crisply.
The child's laughter rang out in the silent forest, so clear that it broke the gloomy sensation that usually clung to this place.
The young male spun in a circle, lifting the baby high once more. The boy spread his two arms, laughing until his face was red, the laughter echoing amidst the charred tree trunks and gray vines.
"Slower."
A female voice rang out not far away, carrying a breath of helpless laughter.
Lam Thanh Moc stood leaning against a fallen tree trunk, in her hand a small knife peeling the outer skin of a wild tuber. Her hair was tied neatly behind her head, a few locks falling onto her forehead, her gaze watching the two before her.
Thuong Sinh heard this and stopped. He did not spin more, only holding the baby against his chest, two hands firmly supporting the back and neck.
The baby was still laughing, the laughter intermittent and fledgling. Two tiny hands flailed lightly in the air.
"I know," Thuong Sinh said softly.
He lowered the baby closer, letting its head rest against his shoulder. The laughter gradually diminished, transforming into a few vague "ah... ah..." sounds, then settled into a steady breath.
Lam Thanh Moc retracted her gaze, continuing to peel the wild tuber. The small knife glided, revealing the pale inner flesh.
Just like that, Thuong An, after a period of playing, grew tired and closed his eyes to sleep in his lap.
Thuong Sinh stood still for a moment, confirming the baby had fully fallen asleep before slowly walking toward the tree base where Lam Thanh Moc was sitting. He sat down opposite her, back leaning against another tree trunk, maintaining his posture to avoid waking the baby.
The wind in the forest blew lightly, swaying the dry leaves above. Sunlight pierced through the leaf gaps, falling onto Thuong An's fledgling face, creating pale light streaks.
Lam Thanh Moc glanced over; seeing that scene, her peeling movements slowed.
"Sleeps fast indeed," she said quietly.
"Mm," Thuong Sinh replied.
The two said nothing more.
A moment later, Lam Thanh Moc placed the knife down beside her, gathering the peeled tubers into a small pile. She wiped her hands on the hem of her coat, then looked toward the deep forest, where charred tree trunks were stacked like giant bones.
"I intend to go a bit further now," she said, her voice very calm. "To the west, there are some bushes I saw the other day; they have fruit."
Thuong Sinh slightly raised his head. "Let me go."
Lam Thanh Moc shook her head very lightly. "No need—"
"No, I will not let you take such a risk, even though there are no beasts left around here." "I do not want to gamble."
"Do you think I am very weak?" She blurted out, staring fixedly at him.
Thuong Sinh looked at her, not avoiding her gaze.
"I am not saying you are weak," he replied, his voice deep and slow. "I just do not want to."
Lam Thanh Moc froze slightly.
She pursed her lips, and a moment later spoke: "I am going to pick fruit, not to risk my life."
"To me, it is the same," Thuong Sinh answered immediately.
He lowered his eyes to look at the sleeping Thuong An, his hand unconsciously shielding the baby's head, before looking up again.
"You out of my sight, I am not at ease."
The sentence fell very lightly, but clearly.
Lam Thanh Moc was silent.
The wind whistled through the forest clearing; dry leaves rolling on the ground emitted small rustling sounds. She turned her face away, her gaze stopping at the blackened tree trunks in the distance.
"You cannot be like this all the time," she said, her voice low. "I am not..." She stopped mid-sentence.
Thuong Sinh did not refute. He only said: "I know." "But this world does not know."
Lam Thanh Moc burst into laughter—neither happy nor angry, only like helplessness.
"You are always like that when you talk."
He did not reply to her.
A moment later, she exhaled, her voice gentler: "Then let's go together."
Thuong Sinh raised his head. "Together?"
"Yes," she turned back to look at him. "You carry Thuong An, I lead the way. Not going deep."
He thought very quickly, then nodded. "Alright."
Lam Thanh Moc stood up, dusting her clothes, and turning around found him already holding Thuong An, walking close behind her; she saw that and could only smile, saying nothing.
They walked side by side, not too close nor too far apart.
Lam Thanh Moc walked half a body-length ahead, her gaze always on the ground and the canopy ahead. Every footstep was chosen very carefully by her, avoiding dry branches that easily break and soft patches of ground that could sink. Occasionally she stopped and then changed direction.
Thuong Sinh walked side by side to keep pace with her, his stride naturally a bit slower. One hand held Thuong An close to his chest, the other hand always kept in a position convenient to draw the sword fastest if something happened.
Though he did not appear tense. The boy's breathing was steady and warm through his thin white shirt, making his footsteps unconsciously lighter.
The deadly forest by day looked entirely different from at twilight. Sunlight shining down revealed mottled burn marks on the tree trunks, dry vines wrapped around like bones. There were no beast sounds, only the sound of wind and the sound of dry leaves being stepped on very lightly.
After walking a stretch, Lam Thanh Moc stopped; she looked toward the left, where there was a lowland area depressed lower, the trees growing denser than elsewhere. She stepped down first; Thuong Sinh quickly followed, maintaining just enough distance not to collide.
Beneath the low canopy she approached, under the low stone-canopy, were several small bushes with dark leaves, upon which were small round wild fruits, dark-colored, almost black.
Lam Thanh Moc crouched down, checking a fruit, using her fingernail to squeeze it lightly. Juice seeped out; the smell was slightly sour but not harsh.
"It's good," she said.
She began picking them one by one, her movements quick and neat, not being greedy for too many. Thuong Sinh stood watching, his gaze not leaving the surrounding area, but occasionally still glancing down at the baby in his arms.
Thuong An moved slightly, his mouth whispering a few very small sounds, then became still again.
Lam Thanh Moc heard it, turning her head to glance over. "Waking up?"
"No," Thuong Sinh shook his head. "Just dreaming."
She chuckled softly then continued picking fruit.
A moment later, she stood up, dusting her hands. "Enough."
The two returned to the old path. As they passed a charred tree trunk knocked down by the wind, Lam Thanh Moc suddenly slowed down. She did not turn her head, only spoke very softly: "Thuong Sinh."
"Mm."
"If one day..." she hesitated a bit, then stopped. "... nothing."
He looked at her back, did not urge, nor asked further.
"I am here," he only said that.
Lam Thanh Moc nodded slightly, walking on.
Behind them, the forest remained silent.