The tunnels had gone quiet after the last hum faded. The only sound left was the slow, rhythmic pulse of machinery breathing beneath the ground. Lyra watched the orange light fade from the mech's eyes before curling up beside Kance, exhaustion weighing down her eyelids.
He didn't sleep.
Kance sat against the cold wall, gaze fixed on the flickering ceiling lamp. The bulb buzzed faintly. Somewhere deep in the metal above, a pipe released a hiss, like the city itself whispering in its sleep. His mind wasn't here. It was beyond the rust, the smoke, the suffocating weight of the slums.
If I stay here, I'll rot.
The thought carved itself into his mind, sharp and steady. Lyra's breathing slowed beside him. The faint hum of her heartbeat reached him through the neural fragments embedded under his skin. He closed his eyes, but the darkness didn't bring peace its only the outline of the mech waiting for him in silence.
When he stood, his shadow looked too tall for the room.
He crossed to the machine, running a hand along its plated surface. The metal responded to his touch, flickering with faint light.
System, he thought, letting the link tether his mind.
> [Connection established.]
A thread of cold electricity raced through his spine. He stepped into the cockpit, cables shifting and clamping around his back. The air vibrated, the cockpit pulsing with pale blue light as if the machine itself were inhaling.
Link complete.
Kance flexed his hand. The mech's fingers mirrored the motion, smooth and perfect. He smiled, not the way most people did, not with warmth, but with the quiet satisfaction of something inevitable.
"Good," he murmured.
He began the tests in silence. Servo feedback. Neural delay. Pressure tolerance. Every sequence brought them closer together, man and machine fusing thought and metal. Hours melted into nothing. When he finally climbed out, dawn hadn't come; the slum's eternal night just shifted from black to gray.
He lay down again beside Lyra, though he didn't feel tired. Her hair brushed against his arm as she turned slightly in her sleep. Through a crack in the ceiling, the faint city glow painted the air like distant fire.
Kance stared at it until the first voice came from somewhere far above.
Captain Veyric Creed's footsteps echoed down the corridors of Ashrift Enforcement Division 3. The entire building seemed to hum. Steel girders, mana engines, walls vibrating faintly from the constant tension of the city's power grid. The smell of metal polish mixed with bitter coffee.
Dren Storme, Rank C - Iron Fang, stood near the training bay, muscle layered over muscle, a scar cutting an X across his mouth. He nodded as Veyric passed.
Further ahead, Alira Meg, Rank C - Arcane Weaver, traced faint sigils in the air, strands of mana weaving like silk between her fingers. Her gaze followed Veyric until he turned the corner.
"This feels unpleasant," Veyric muttered to himself, straightening his collar as he entered the administrative sector.
The HeadWarden's office was lit too brightly, the walls covered in stacks of files and digital screens. The man behind the desk looked like he hadn't slept in a week. His glasses glowed with reflected light.
"Reporting for duty, sir," Veyric said, bowing.
"Speak," came the reply, monotone and cold.
Veyric clasped his hands behind his back. "Subject: Kance. Lower-district scavenger. Unlicensed mech engineer. Potential threat to city stability."
The HeadWarden said nothing for a long moment. Then: "Understood. Two weeks. Restrict him then. If his strength is confirmed, scout him. If he resists...Dont hesitate to kill him."
"Understood."
"Anything else?"
"That concludes my report."
"Good. You can go."
Veyric turned sharply and left. The hum of the lights followed him into the corridor. He muttered under his breath, "That young man's aura is easily B-Rank no, maybe even an A-Rank Bladekeeper." He exhaled smoke from the cigarette between his fingers as he stepped into the night. "Maybe I should retire before this city eats me alive."
The next morning, chaos came quietly.
At first, it was only the sound of boots striking pavement, orders echoing through narrow streets. Then floodlights bathed the alleys in harsh white, their glare bouncing off broken signs and rusted steel.
"It's an order from above!" a guard barked.
"What's with that bullshit!?" someone shouted. "Let us out!"
The slum dwellers pushed forward, desperate. Riot shields snapped open. Panic rippled through the crowd.
Somewhere at the back. The air was thick with dust and tension as the last of the barricades clanked into place. Guards lined the perimeter of the slums, their armor dulled by soot and sweat. The sun hung low, casting long shadows across the cracked stone streets.
From the rear of the formation, a younger guard stepped forward, his voice hesitant but firm.
"Sir Veyric," he called out, "why are we locking down the slums? These people haven't done anything. Why keep them in?"
Veyric sighed, and replied "Well, I don't know either.. I just thought this would be the best way to reveal that boy's true power"
A hush fell over the squad. The younger guard's confusion deepened, but he said nothing more. Whatever questions lingered were swallowed by the weight of command.
"Two weeks!" Veyric's voice crackled through the loudspeakers. "Hold your ground for two weeks, and this will end!"
No one listened. The noise became a storm.
Lyra forced her way through the mob, lungs burning. Kance. The word echoed in her mind with every heartbeat. She slipped into an old tunnel, sprinting through the wet corridors until the noise behind her faded.
"KANCE!" she called. "We need to leave hurry!"
The air trembled. The sound that answered wasn't human. A deep metallic growl rose from the dark, accompanied by a hiss of steam. The tunnel lights flickered once... twice... then went dead.
From the shadows, two burning eyes opened.
The mech rose, water dripping from its frame, metal joints flexing. The sound alone made Lyra's knees weaken.
"K-Kance…?"
His voice came distorted through the comms, steady but far too calm. "Alright. We're leaving. Starting now."
Lyra stared at the giant. "What's your plan?"
"The guards have the slum surrounded. There's no path out without a distraction." His tone was calm too calm. "I'll make one. You'll find the old man Magnus and escape with him. He can deal with the lower ranks."
"Then what about you?" she asked, voice trembling.
He smiled faintly, though she couldn't see it. "Who else could play the scapegoat if not me?"
Lyra froze. The mechanical hum filled the pause. She wanted to argue but couldn't.
Finally, she whispered, "Then… you better come back alive. Or I won't forgive you."
Kance chuckled softly, a low distortion through the speaker. "Alright."
Inside the cockpit, his eyes were ice. The plan he'd told her was a lie.
He wasn't trying to run. He was gambling everything to make Ashrift see him. To make them need him.
Before she turned to go, he tapped a console key. A faint signal pulsed. Ping. The spider-like tracker he'd placed under her collar blinked on his display. Connection confirmed.