Hana, pointed with two threads. "Lets go up the catwalk."
We climbed. The catwalk’s grating chewed noise into a thousand small clicks—good for us, bad for anyone trying to sneak. The east wind ca an for a minute, brought a taste of salt and sothing that wasn’t sea. Mana. Rot. The Gate humming in the bones of the city.
A new sound—tal dragged over tal, then a pop like a lung turning inside out.
Hana hissed, "Down!"
We dropped. A bolt of condensed slag punched where my head had been and sizzled a hole through the railing, through the barge below, and into the black water beyond. The canal shrieked when it t the heat—no real physics in it; just pain pretending to be liquid.
Ash Orc Gunner. Ugly kind. Taller, plated shoulder. Brass vents along the spine.
[Encounter — Elite Variant Detected]
[Class: Ash Orc Gunner (A-)]
[Threat Assessnt: High • Effective Range: 50 m • Payload Type: Slag Bolt]
"Mine," I said.
[Lightning Transit — Hop 2 / 7]
[Range: 9 m • Pulse: 2 m stun • Chain Window: 4 s]
Pop. The pulse rolled off ; the orc’s knee buckled. Fangpiercer and Fogbite played nice for once.
[Fangpiercer Critical]
[Armor Penetration: 30%]
[Fogbite — Chill & Pressure Stagger (2/3)]
He grabbed for my wrist. Darkharness reconfigured, gauntlet blooming over my knuckles, spikes forming without asking permission.
I obliged him.
He went quiet fast.
[Hostile Neutralized — Ash Orc Gunner (A-)]
[EXP 200 → 400 (Warden’s Echo ×2)]
[Level 22 Progress: 1100 → 1400 / 2200]
[Drop: Scorched Vent Plate (B) • Slag Bolt (B)]
"Right," Jax said, voice small by choice.
We turned.
Five more climbed the barge rail. These had uniforms. Not orc uniforms—human. Guild armor, cut and stitched. Our emblems hacked into trophies on their belts. The anger ca slow and then all at once. My hands rembered a city that used to laugh at , not wear .
[Alert — Unregistered Combatants Detected]
[Classification: Human (Corrupted) • Affiliation: Unknown Guild Remnant]
[Threat Tier: B • Status: Hostile]
[Additional Signature Detected — A-Class Mana Field (Unstable)]
[Proximity Alert: Source approaching from canal depth.]
"Take the left three," I said. "Hana—"
"I know," she said, already moving.
We didn’t make it to the third.
The canal made a new sound.
Imagine soone dragging a chain through a storm grate for the first hour of the morning after a hangover. Then imagine the chain is a ribcage and the grate is the city.
It ca from under us and all along us and a long way ahead.
Jax said what we were all thinking. "General."
The world didn’t shake, not really. The perception of flat decided to take a break. The barge lines lifted—the knots creaked in one long groan like a thousand old n standing at the sa ti.
"On ," I said.
"Like always," Jax said.
The patrol didn’t charge. They knelt. Smart enough to pray; not smart enough to choose a god that answers.
The catwalk wasn’t where this fight would happen.Jax was already climbing down the support struts, Grav-Edge humming like it wanted new tal to ruin. I followed, boots scraping rust, Hana sliding beside us with threads anchoring her descent.The quay waited below—wet stone, broken rails, the sll of old tide and sothing waking up under it.
The Butcher of Brass rose out of the river like the river had been wearing him under its shirt the whole ti.
[Warning — Boss Entity Detected]
[Designation: The Butcher of Brass]
[Rank: A • Classification: General of the East Canal]
[Threat Level: Lethal]
[Survival Odds:
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