[SFX: Rain — steady, cold, relentless ]
The rain never truly stopped in the Lower Districts.
It only decided how badly it wanted to hurt you.
Tonight, it was patient.
Cold needles slipped through patched cloth and sunken seams, soaking deep enough to settle inside the bones—where it lingered, quiet and permanent. Levi didn't bother hunching his shoulders. He'd learned early that resistance only made the rain laugh harder.
He sat on the edge of a broken loading dock behind the old rendering plant, boots dangling over twenty meters of nothing.
Below, the canal crawled.
[ SFX: Sludge sloshing faintly ]
Black water rolled thick and slow, carrying the perfume of rot, chemical runoff, and whatever the night-shift butchers had decided wasn't worth burning. A single sodium lamp flickered on the far bank, painting the surface in sickly orange streaks.
Sometimes, shapes moved beneath that water.
Levi had stopped looking down years ago.
In his left hand rested a chipped clay mug. The tea inside had gone cold long ago, but he drank it anyway. Habit. The bitterness fit the inside of his mouth.
He might have been twenty-three. Or twenty-four.
After the third winter without enough coal, the years blurred together.
His reflection stared back faintly from the dark glass of the canal—thin face, sharp cheekbones, skin stretched pale from too many nights without sleep. Wet slate hair refused to stay tied, clinging stubbornly to his brow. A scar curved from his left temple down to his jawline, pale and ugly.
Knife-fight.
Barely remembered winning it.
People said his eyes were too pale.
Levi thought they were just tired.
[ SFX: Scratching, wet paws ]
A rat—big as a small dog—sniffed at his boot. Levi nudged it aside with his toe.
It didn't even flinch.
Just stared at him with flat, black eyes… then waddled away into the shadows.
"Smart," Levi muttered.
"Knows I'm not worth the effort."
He leaned back and looked up.
[ SFX: Freight train rumbling overhead ]
Iron latticework cut the sky into jagged lines as a freight train groaned past, sparks raining down like dying stars. The scent of hot metal lingered in the air.
Beyond the rail-line—past the smog, past the flickering holo-ads—rose Midspire.
Clean streets.
Real coffee.
People who didn't count ribs before winter.
Levi had been there once.
Delivered a package for a man who paid in advance and never asked questions. The air had tasted… lighter.
He hated it.
[ SFX: Soft electronic chime ]
A battered dataslate on his wrist buzzed.
RENT NOTICE — THIRD REMINDER
He didn't open it.
The number never changed.
Only the threats did.
Levi exhaled slowly, watching his breath curl white.
"Another day," he said.
The words tasted like ash.
[ SFX: Metal clanging in the distance ]
[ SFX: A scream — cut short ]
Normal night music.
Levi didn't move.
Running toward screams in the Lower Districts was how you became the next one.
He finished the tea. Set the mug down gently—like it mattered.
Then he reached behind his back.
The oilcloth-wrapped bundle slid free.
[ SFX: Cloth unwrapping ]
The blade inside was nothing special.
Single-edged. Slightly curved. More butcher than duelist. The steel was dark—almost black—pitted from years of neglect. No guard. No maker's mark.
Just a tool.
One that had outlived its last three owners.
Levi rested it across his knees and stared.
They said the blade was cursed. Every man who carried it ended up dead or missing.
Levi had heard the stories when he pried it from a corpse's stiff fingers three winters ago.
He'd kept it anyway.
Luck was for people who could afford belief.
His thumb brushed the edge.
A bead of red bloomed instantly.
Sharp enough.
Good.
In the Districts, a dull knife was worse than no knife at all.
[ SFX: Rain intensifying ]
The downpour thickened, drumming against the corrugated roof above him.
Levi tilted his head.
Listened.
Beneath the rain—beneath the city—something else stirred.
A low thrum.
Almost too deep to hear.
Like a heartbeat made of iron.
He frowned.
The sound faded.
Returned.
Stronger.
Closer.
Not in the air.
Inside his chest.
For the first time in years, unease curled beneath his ribs.
Levi pressed a palm to his sternum.
Nothing.
Just the usual ache from sleeping on damp boards.
Still… the pressure lingered.
[ SFX: Lamp flicker ]
[ SFX: Power cut — silence ]
The sodium light across the canal died.
Darkness swallowed the water whole.
Only the rain remained.
Then—
[ SFX: Bell toll — slow, ancient ]
Levi froze.
That wasn't the Midspire clocktower.
Too deep.
Too old.
The bell rang again.
The pressure in his chest pulsed in time with it.
[ SFX: Bell — closer ]
He stood.
Water streamed from his coat as the blade hung at his side, rain sliding down the fuller like liquid mercury.
Another toll.
And then—
A voice.
Not words.
Not yet.
Just a single drawn-out note.
Hungry.
Levi's lips curled—not quite a smile.
"Well," he murmured into the dark,
"Looks like tonight's going to be interesting."
He stepped off the loading dock.
[ SFX: Footsteps splashing into rain ]
The bell tolled again.
And somewhere beneath his skin—
Something ancient
opened one eye.