Chapter 7:

To The City

Tyur'ma

Jesse

The early morning cold gets me first. I stretch without thinking, forgetting entirely that I’m inside a tank. My boots thump against the screens, and I jerk them back quickly - luckily, nothing cracks. A faint draft brushes my face. I blink, then notice Evren’s hatch is open.

I push mine open and poke my head out. There she is, sitting cross-legged on the roof, her legs dangling on the outside instead of inside. Her hair flutters with the chill breeze, cheeks pink from the cold. She smiles when she sees me.

“Oh, good morning. Did you sleep well?”

I nod and clamber up to sit beside her, crouching under the massive gun barrel. The morning is crisp, the air bright with the promise of a fine day. Then my stomach betrays me - producing the most convincing whale mating call ever heard by humankind. My face burns as Evren presses her lips together, trying and failing to stifle her laugh. I bow my head until she recovers, or nearly does.

“D-d-do you want something to eat?” she manages between giggles.

I nod sheepishly. White wisps spark around her hands, and moments later two sandwiches materialize. A rich, savory smell drifts toward me, familiar in a way that makes my mouth water. I frown at her.

“If tortoise meat is as expensive as they say, where’d you manage to get it inside a sandwich?”

She shakes her head.
“I didn’t. I’m… experimenting. Mixing things I’ve seen before.” A little shiver runs through her. “It might taste funny.”

I grab one and bite. Juices spill across my tongue - smoky, rich, perfectly seasoned. My eyes widen.
“Delicious! I think you’ve nailed it.”

She looks doubtful, then takes a bite herself. A heartbeat later her whole face brightens.
“You’re right. I have!”

I grin and devour mine shamelessly. When it’s gone, I sigh at my empty hands. She’s still halfway through hers, watching me with a raised eyebrow.

“Want another?”

I shake my head.
“I do… but I couldn’t fit more in. Still, I want to.”

Her laughter drifts across the turret like sunlight.

“So,” she asks as she finishes hers, “what’s the plan for today?”

I stand, stretching again, careful not to knock anything this time.
“On the move. I want to reach a bigger city.”

She tilts her head.
“Why not stay here? The villagers accepted you.”

“I thought about it,” I admit. “But I can’t see myself living in one place, being looked at like that forever.”

Her voice softens.
“No matter where you go, Jesse, it’ll be fear or awe. You know that.”

I nod slowly.
“Yeah. But hope’s worth something. Besides… I want to see the world. That’s fair enough, right?”

She considers, then nods.
“I suppose so.”

I grin.
“Well then - shall we be off?”

“You don’t want to say goodbye?” she asks, surprised.

I shrug.
“They’ll sleep till midday. When I crashed last night, they were still partying.”

That earns me a smile.
“Alright. I’ll get ready.”

We slip back into the hatches. My seat springs catch me, padding swallowing my weight. The cockpit hums as the battery connects, systems flickering alive. I follow the familiar startup procedure - the engine coughs, then roars before settling into a sputtering idle. Evren lifts her seat, gives me a thumbs-up. I return the smile and disengage the brakes.

The tank rattles and twists, loud enough to wake the entire village. Sure enough, faces appear - startled, dismayed, curious. I wave as we trundle forward, their voices rising in a mix of shouts and pleas. Children run alongside, laughing, trying to keep up.

Then I shove the throttle forward. The tank surges, the engine screaming, tracks biting into the earth. We hit sixty in seconds. The wind whips past us as Kaunis Village drops away behind a low ridge.

I glance at Evren. She’s smiling. I can’t help but smile back.

A new chapter has begun.

Pretty soon, I call over the roar of the engine.
“How far until the next civilization?”

Evren twists in her seat to face me, her voice nearly drowned by the howl of the wind.
“I don’t know. I’m not used to crossing ground this fast. But we’ve got two options.”

“Yeah?”

Her ribbons thrash like butterfly wings in the slipstream created around her head by the wind, Her hair whipping around her face, wild and unbothered. But her eyes are fixed on the road ahead.
“We can either cut through the next village or bypass it and head straight for the big city you’re looking for.”

“Pros and cons?”

“Depends if you want to be seen. I’d suggest the detour.”

“Alright. Tell me where to go.”

“Got it.”

We thunder down the road, a cloud of dust billowing behind us like a storm front. Finally, we pass our first fellow travelers - two riders on horseback, heading the opposite way. They freeze at the sight of us, then spook, bolting off the road and into the hills. By the time we rumble past, they’re gone.

A faint smile tugs at my lips. I do like this feeling - the raw weight of power, the fear I can summon without even trying. But it cuts at me too, sharper than I’d like to admit.

The landscape shifts, subtle at first. Lonely trees dot the plains, then multiply, until we’re moving through a loose savannah. The air should be cooler here, the breeze light and playful, swaying branches against the sun. I don’t feel any of it - we’re moving too fast - but the warmth on my skin is enough, and I let it soak in.

“How long did it take you to walk from the city to Kaunis?” I call.

There’s a pause before she replies.
“About a week. I didn’t take the detour though - it adds a few hours.”

I grin, doing the math in my head.
“Perfect!”

She whips her head around, startled.
“What?”

“I said it’s perfect! Means we’ll probably hit the city by nightfall!”

“Oh.” Her answer is flat, almost worried. “Right.”

The road hums beneath us. For a while there’s only the grind of the treads and the rush of air. Then her voice rises again, cautious.
“Jesse… let’s not go into the city today. Let’s wait overnight and enter tomorrow.”

I frown.
“What? Why?”

Silence. Then, softer:
“I don’t remember. But please - trust me.”

I glance over. Her eyes meet mine, wide and pleading. I exhale, then nod.
“Okay. We’ll wait until tomorrow.”

Relief blooms across her face.
“Thank you.”

The road stretches on. Later, we catch up to a horse-drawn cart trundling in the same direction. I ease wide, careful not to spook the driver - but the poor man’s already panicked, jerking into a ditch in his distraction. I wince and keep going.

The hours pass with the sun climbing high, until at last we halt beneath its noontime glare. I leave the engine idling as Evren produces two skewers of tortoise meat with her magic - a combination of two memories. She hands me one, and the smell alone makes my stomach lurch with hunger.

It tastes incredible - smoky, rich, a little gamey. I devour mine before I realise it, staring dumbly at the bare stick in my hand.
“How the hell did I finish that so fast?” I mutter.

Evren bursts into laughter, muffling it with her hand, cheeks puffed with her own mouthful. I raise an eyebrow at her, shrug, then flick the stick away and grab the controls again. By the time we’re rolling, she’s licked hers clean and tossed it too.

“Evren?” I call.

“Mhm?”

“Think you can top off the fuel tank? We’ve hit the level.”

“Sure. Give me a sec.”

The white wisps unfurl around her, swirling like smoke. A moment later the gauge jerks upward, needle swinging back to near-full.

I can’t help grinning.
“Thank you.”

She smiles back, soft and unbothered, and somehow that fuels me more than the tank ever could.

The sun lowers toward the horizon, and the road begins to widen. We pass three more travelers - each with a horse-drawn wagon. Two of the animals rear and bolt as we rumble past, while the third panics and tips its wagon into a ditch. I can’t help but smile, despite myself. I pity the owners, yes, but the sight is so absurd that back on Earth it would’ve been uploaded to social media within thirty seconds.

As the sky deepens toward twilight, I guide the tank off the road and into a stand of scattered trees until we’re completely hidden. The ground dips, and from the ridge I glimpse a city in the distance. Even in the fading light I can make out high stone walls encircling it, and a castle looming on one side like a crown. At the gate, a long line of people is trying to squeeze through before nightfall, their urgency obvious even from here.

I ease the tank back behind the ridge until the city vanishes from sight. Cutting the fuel, the engine coughs and falls silent. I climb out, duck under the barrel, and settle beside Evren. She’s already set up dinner; the smell of seared meat greets me, rich and smoky. She hands me a folded tortilla stuffed with sizzling strips of some unknown meat and a mix of vegetables - some familiar, some not.

We eat without words, and when I’m done I stretch out on the tank’s roof, watching the first stars emerge in the darkening sky. Content. Evren joins me a moment later, lying shoulder to shoulder, but not touching. I break the silence.

“So, why can’t we enter the city now?”

She exhales softly, thoughtful.
“I can’t remember. Maybe it’s nothing. But I have a bad feeling, and it’s better to be safe than sorry. You can laugh at me tomorrow if I’m wrong.”

I grin, though she can’t see it.
“Deal.”

She laughs lightly.
“I wasn’t serious!”

“It’s far too late for that.”

Our shared laughter drifts up into the night. It feels good - better than I expected. It reminds me of the mess hall back home, of my friends, of all the stupid antics we’d pull to let off steam. Our commanding officer put up with us because we always got results. My friends…

The thought tightens in my chest, and I shove it away. Not now. Mourning can wait.

Evren’s voice draws me back.
“So. Tomorrow. If you’re going to join the guild here, we’ll need a believable story for the tank. Otherwise we’re finished.”

I nod, turning my head toward her.
“What’re you thinking?”

She pauses, then clicks her tongue.
“Only one real option - say it’s a summoned monster.”

“Alright. What does that entail?”

“When you fill out the forms, you’ll need to put your class down as mage, subclass summoner. They might test you, though.”

“Test?”

“An aptitude exam. Combat strength, mostly. Even non-combat applicants get one.”

I think about it. I’ve had plenty of training, but live barehanded combat is new to me. I’ve always fought from within a tank.
“What’ll I have to do?”

“Depends. Some guilds give a subjugation quest. Others do an in-house spar.”

Subjugation would be easier - then I can use the tank. But revealing too much of its true nature could backfire.

“What about this guild?”

She shakes her head.
“Not sure. Sorry.”

“That’s fine. Anything else?”

She brightens suddenly.
“Yes - one more thing. You’ll need to provide details about your summon. Most of it you can bluff through, but they’ll expect a name.”

“A name?”

“Mhm. You already call her ‘she’ half the time, so why not?”

Heat rises in my cheeks. Thankfully we’re both staring skyward, so she can’t see.
“What do you think?”

She tilts her head at me.
“Why’re you asking me? It’s your tank.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m good at naming things.”

Her grin is audible.
“Well then, let’s hear what you’ve got.”

I sigh.
“Only the original designation. Slammer.”

“Slammer? That’s it?”

“Official name, given by her makers.”

She nods, then gazes back at the stars.
“Tyur’ma.”

The word drifts past me, strange and heavy.
“Tyu…?”

“Tyur’ma.” She glances at me. “It means slammer. More or less.”