Chapter 4
The cold air of the Banuk market barely registered to Sylens as he observed Adal from the shadows. The boy moved between traders, his small frame barely noticed among the larger, heavily clothed Banuk. Adal was efficient—his eyes scanned each stall, memorizing the placement of useful scrap, his fingers deftly palming a broken machine lens while handing over a few shards for an unrelated purchase.
Sylens exhaled through his nose, neither pleased nor displeased. Adal was learning, adapting. He had chosen to leave him alone in this environment, knowing that exposure to the world—without direct intervention—was the best way to sharpen his instincts. The boy needed to develop independence, though Sylens would ensure he never strayed too far into foolishness.
Yet, even as he watched, an alert flickered in his Focus.
A signal. A presence.
His jaw tightened. He had tracked traces of something ancient, something buried beneath layers of corrupted machine protocol, but this was different. This was an invitation. A meeting.
Sylens turned away from the market and slipped into the snow-laden wilds.
The canyon was silent, save for the distant hum of dormant machines. Sylens activated his Focus, his heart beating slightly faster—not in fear, but in anticipation. He had followed the signal to thisprecise location, deep within the outer reaches of Banuk territory.
Then, the air shuddered.
A low, mechanical voice emerged, resonating through his Focus with a cold precision.
"QUERY: IDENTITY."
Sylens smirked, stepping forward. "Ah, you finally respond."
The air seemed to vibrate with energy as a dark,metallic figure flickered into existence through his Focus. It was not a physical presence, but a projection—a vast intelligence buried within amachine mind.
"IDENTITY CONFIRMED: DESIGNATION—HADES. PURPOSE—TERMINATION OF ORGANIC LIFE."
Sylens felt a thrill of excitement. "Fascinating. And yet, you remain dormant. Why?"
"SUBROUTINES: INCOMPLETE. SYSTEM AUTHORITY: COMPROMISED. DIRECTIVE: REQUIRES FACILITATION."
He stroked his chin. "You require assistance. And in return… what do you offer?"
There was a brief pause before the response came.
"ACCESS TO KNOWLEDGE. BLUEPRINTS TECHNOLOGY NOT OF THIS ERA. COOPERATION YIELDS MUTUAL BENEFIT."
Sylens grinned. This was it. This was the knowledge he had been chasing his entire life.
"I believe we have an agreement."
Far from the dealings of men and machines, Rost stood at the edge of the Embrace, his sharp eyes tracking the shifting movement of the machines below. The herds had changed—what were once predictable routes had become erratic, restless. They were becoming more aggressive.
He tightened his grip on his spear. Something was wrong.
A rustling behind him made him turn. Aloy emerged, her bow slung across her back, her movements lighter than before. She was learning. But not enough.
"The machines are acting strangely," she said, mirroring his thoughts.
Rost studied her carefully. She was sharp, quick-witted, but still young. He had taught her survival, but the dangers she would face—he could not yet prepare her for all of them.
"Then we must be ready," he said simply.
Aloy frowned. "I am ready."
Rost sighed, kneeling beside the fire he had built. "You have come far, Aloy. But the wilds are not the same as they once were. I will have to teach you more. New tactics. New skills."
Aloy sat beside him, determined. "Then teach me."
For a long moment, Rost was silent. His thoughts drifted—to Alana. His daughter. A child he could never truly acknowledge, never truly protect. He saw her when she visited, but he could not hold her, could not be her father.
Yet, he could do that for Aloy.
His grip on his spear tightened. He would make sure she survived.
In the dry, cracked lands of the sun-blasted frontier, a new force was gathering.
Men in dark robes knelt before a newly awakened presence. A massive, buried structure trembled as power surged through its core. Hades had moved—migrated from the Banuk territories toward the heart of the lands where humans gathered in greater numbers.
One man stood apart from the rest, his gaze locked onto the massive, looming construct before them.
"Is it true?" he asked, his voice reverent. "The ancient god… it speaks?"
A cold, mechanical voice filled the air.
"DIRECTIVE: ENSLAVE MACHINES. DESTROY THE UNWORTHY. REBUILD ORDER."
The cultists bowed deeply. "We shall serve."
Hades watched. Calculated. The process had begun
Soon, the world would change forever.