The hunters held their ground, weapons raised.
"We do not eat metal," the leader spat, stepping closer to Corvin. "But you hide something soft inside the chrome. A human piece. A memory."
Maren aimed her gun straight at the leader's scarred head. "Back off, or I'll blow your face open!"
The leader ignored her completely. He kept his blind face turned to Corvin. "The forest demands a toll for dead things to walk on living ground. Give the soft piece. Feed us the memory, or my tribe will butcher the woman and the child."
Kael looked up at Corvin. "He wants your past. It's how their minds survive the corruption of this layer. If you fight them all, Maren won't survive the crossfire."
Corvin stood rigid.
Give a memory?
His heart was just a pump. His blood was liquid resonance.
He searched the darkest, most broken corner of his remaining mind. He found a river. A smile.
A name he used to call himself when he was a man.
Corvin lowered his blade.
The leader stepped up to him, reaching out with a massive, clawed hand. He pressed a single, jagged fingernail against Corvin's metallic temple.
"Speak the human word," the leader whispered. "Bleed it for us."
Corvin opened his metallic jaw.
"Corvin."
The word left his mouth.
The leader inhaled sharply. His pale, blind eyes widened in twisted pleasure as he consumed the grief, the loss, and the heavy emotion attached to that name.
The moment the word left Corvin's lips, the memory was ripped from his mind. Erased completely.
The leader exhaled, satisfied. He pulled his claw away and stepped back.
"The toll is paid. The dead metal may pass."
With a single gesture, the leader turned. The hunters melted back into the shadows of the trees, vanishing into the brush as silently as they appeared.
Silence returned.
Maren lowered her gun, her arms finally giving out. She dropped to her knees, pulling her daughter close, gasping for air.
Kael walked slowly to the silver giant standing motionless in the clearing.
"Corvin?" the boy asked softly.
Corvin looked down at the boy.
His silver eyes were stagnant pools of dead light.
He processed the sound. Corvin. It was just a collection of syllables. A meaningless vibration.
"That label… is not recognized," Corvin said.
His voice was entirely mechanical now.
Before Kael could answer, the forest fell into total darkness.
A shadow swallowed the moonlight before the creature even appeared.
A breath so heavy it snapped the dry branches above them echoed through the clearing.
The apex predator of the second layer had found them.
Corvin didn't ask what it was.
Without a name, without a past, only one directive remained in his code.
No identity.
No hesitation.
Only function.