Underneath the massive white bridge, the air was cool and smelled of damp earth and rust—a stark contrast to the baking heat above.
Maintenance Hatch 4 hissed open, just wide enough for a man to slip through. Ciro dropped onto the sand, landing silently thanks to the shock-dampeners in his Poly-Weave Stealth Suit.
Ghost followed, flowing like liquid mercury. The massive wolf's white armor shifted color instantly, mimicking the grey sand and the dark shadows of the bridge pillars. He was nearly invisible to the naked eye.
"Status," Ciro whispered. His helmet HUD projected a green waveform of Elara's voice.
"I have them distracted," Elara's voice came through his earpiece, clear and calm, though he could hear the tension underneath. "Krog is monologuing. He loves the sound of his own voice."
Above them, on the bridge deck, the vibrations of heavy boots and tank treads thumped rhythmically. Dust trickled down. Ciro could hear Krog shouting insults at the Spire, unaware that death was crawling beneath his feet.
"Target parameters?" Ciro asked, activating his magnetic gloves.
"There are four Taskmasters," Elara relayed, her voice tightening. "They are holding Dead-Man Switches for the slave collars. If they release the buttons, the collars detonate. You cannot just kill them; you must ensure the switches aren't triggered."
"Four targets. Tricky," Ciro muttered. "Ghost, take the left flank. Target the third man. Wait for my signal."
The wolf chirruped softly and vanished into the dunes, circling wide to scale the bridge supports behind the enemy lines.
Ciro activated the suit's Active Camouflage.
The black matte fabric rippled, bending the light around him. He didn't become invisible, but he became a blur—a heat haze that the eye would slide over without noticing.
He climbed up the vertical side of the bridge, the magnetic pads in his gloves locking onto the steel reinforcements with quiet thuds.
He pulled himself over the railing and crouched behind a stack of ammo crates.
He was right in the middle of the Iron Eaters' formation.
The smell of sweat, unwashed bodies, and cheap gasoline was overpowering. Scavengers were cheering, waving rusty weapons, focused entirely on the city gate ahead.
"TELL ME, PRINCESS!" Krog roared from his war-rig, fifty meters away. "DO YOU WANT TO WATCH THEM POP ONE BY ONE? OR ALL AT ONCE?"
Ciro scanned the crowd.
His HUD highlighted four men in red armor standing at the corners of the slave group. Each held a heavy black remote, their thumbs pressed down hard on red buttons.
[TARGETS ACQUIRED.][DISTANCE: 20 METERS.][SYNCHRONIZATION REQUIRED.]
"Elara," Ciro whispered. "Now."
"HEY, UGLY!" Elara's voice boomed from the city speakers, interrupting Krog with deafening volume. "IS THAT A CLAW ON YOUR ARM, OR ARE YOU JUST COMPENSATING FOR SOMETHING SMALLER?"
The Scavengers went silent. Krog turned purple.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"
In that split second of confusion, Ciro moved.
He didn't run; he blurred.
He dashed toward the two Taskmasters on the right flank.
SLASH.
The first Taskmaster didn't even feel it. Ciro's Mono-Filament dagger didn't aim for the neck; it aimed for the wrist. The hand holding the remote was severed clean off. Ciro caught the remote in mid-air, keeping the button depressed with his own thumb.
THWIP.
With his free hand, he threw his second dagger. It flew through the air and pinned the second Taskmaster's hand to his own chest plate, jamming the button down permanently. The man screamed, but the bomb didn't go off.
Two down.
"GHOST!" Ciro roared.
On the left side of the bridge, the sand exploded.
Ghost leaped over the railing, a white demon appearing out of nowhere. He landed on the third Taskmaster, his jaws crushing the man's entire arm—remote and all. The device shattered before it could trigger.
The fourth Taskmaster panicked. He saw the blur. He saw the wolf. He screamed and lifted his thumb to release the button.
BANG.
A single, thunderous shot rang out from the Spire.
Elara had accessed a remote defense turret on the wall. AURA's auto-aim took the shot. The high-caliber bullet took the fourth Taskmaster's head off, and the shockwave shattered the remote in his hand instantly.
"All remotes neutralized," Ciro announced, de-cloaking in the middle of the bridge. He stood surrounded by stunned Scavengers, holding the severed hand of the first guard.
For a second, nobody moved. The Iron Eaters were processing what had just happened.
Then, Ciro pointed at the open city gate.
"RUN!" he commanded, his voice amplified by the suit to a terrifying volume.
The slaves realized the guards were dead. The fear broke. Desperation took over.
"Freedom!" someone screamed.
Five hundred people surged forward. They didn't fight; they ran like a tidal wave, trampling the confused Scavengers who tried to block them.
"KILL THEM!" Krog screamed from his war-rig, slamming his fist on the hull. "KILL THE CATTLE! KILL THE NINJA!"
The heavy machine gun turret on Krog's tank swiveled toward Ciro.
Ciro didn't dodge. He sprinted toward the tank.
The machine gun roared, chewing up the pavement where Ciro had been a second ago. But Ciro was already airborne.
He used the momentum of his run to jump off a Scavenger's shoulders, vaulting onto the side of Krog's massive war-rig.
Krog swung his hydraulic claw at Ciro.
WHOOSH.
Ciro ducked. The claw passed inches over his helmet, the wind pressure rattling his teeth. He knew better than to block a hydraulic press; it would crush him, suit or no suit.
"You're fast, little fly," Krog growled, his mechanical jaw grinding. "But I will squash you!"
"I am not a fly," Ciro grunted, sliding between the tank's turret and the chassis. "I am the pesticide."
He jammed his vibrating energy dagger into the exposed hydraulic cables of Krog's arm.
HISS.
Black oil sprayed everywhere at high pressure. The giant claw went limp, dangling uselessly.
Krog roared in fury, reaching for his sidearm with his good hand.
But Ciro wasn't trying to duel. He slapped a small magnetic disc onto the tank's main engine block.
"Ghost! Clear!" Ciro yelled, backflipping off the tank.
He landed on the bridge and rolled.
BOOM.
The Thermite Charge he had planted ignited. It didn't explode outward; it melted downward. It burned straight through the engine block, fusing the pistons. The tank groaned and died, black smoke billowing out to blind the gunners.
"AURA! DROP THE SHIELD!" Elara's voice screamed in his ear.
The invisible barrier at the city gate flickered and vanished.
"Get inside!" Ciro shouted to the straggling slaves, waving them toward the open city. "GO! GO! GO!"
The tide of humanity flooded across the bridge, pouring into the safety of the City of Glass Bones. Bullets pinged off the pavement around them, but the smoke from Krog's burning tank provided perfect cover.
Ciro stood at the rear, deflecting a stray crossbow bolt with his armored gauntlet. Ghost stood beside him, growling at the wall of smoke where Krog's army was trying to regroup.
"Retreat, Commander," Elara ordered. "We have the subjects. Don't be a hero."
Ciro looked at the disabled tank, then at the retreating slaves. He gave a mock salute to the smoke.
"Until next time, Ugly."
He turned and vanished into the city, sprinting across the threshold just as the energy shield hummed back to life behind him.
ZZZ-THUUM.
The barrier sealed. Bullets fired by the furious Iron Eaters sparked harmlessly against the blue wall.
Inside, five hundred people collapsed on the pristine white plaza, weeping, bleeding, but alive.
And watching them from the balcony of the Spire, the Ash Queen finally let out the breath she had been holding.