Screams echoed in the distance.
Walker slammed the door shut. "Freeze it for now," he said in a low, serious voice. "Let's regroup and figure out our next move."
Victor raised his hand and sealed the door with a thin layer of ice, buying them a few precious moments.
The two walked toward Myth, Sira, and Ashley. Ashley was slowly recovering, speaking softly to Sira. Myth stood apart, eyes scanning the area, restless and anxious.
Walker crouched in front of Ashley, checking on her, while Victor stood silently, his usual deadpan expression betraying nothing. He always looked like the life had been drained out of him, but now it almost made him seem composed.
Walker stood and spoke in his deep, gravelly voice. "There are guards here. Some are armed—guns, but I saw one running with a sword."
Victor surveyed the group before speaking.
"That portal event… it must've scattered everyone from the chamber across areas near the Undercity's portal zone. The guards are probably hunting them down—capturing, maybe even killing anyone they find."
He paused, eyes narrowing.
"First thing—I think there's a shortage of cores here. That might explain why only some guards have guns. Second—there's a good chance some of the locals or strays have abilities. Paired with melee skill, they might be even deadlier than the armed guards. So we need to be careful."
Myth's thoughts spiraled. He felt like he was underwater—every sound muffled, every movement slow. Guilt wrapped itself around him like chains.
This was all his doing. All those people—innocent, unarmed, with families waiting for them—were dying meaningless deaths because of him. Good people who had nothing to do with this. He had robbed those families of their most precious thing. Scarred them for life.
And for what?
Sadness sank into his bones like lead.
He had prepared for this mentally, told himself over and over that sacrifices would be necessary—but no amount of preparation could quiet the guilt crawling under his skin.
The previous situation—the portal incident—had been his orchestration. That had been his world: he had the data, time to plan, contacts to exploit, money to spend, and the luxury of calculated risk. He even had a failsafe—his mother, a way out if things fell apart.
But now? Now everything was chaos. No control. No map. No time.
He clenched his fists. He couldn't afford to lose focus now. This was the mess he'd chosen. He had to own it.
Then he felt a touch.
Ashley grabbed his hand. It trembled in his grasp.
He looked down. Her expression remained composed, but her fingers told the truth—she was scared too. Yet she still reached for him.
That small gesture pulled him out of his spiral.
Walker turned to Victor. "I'll scout ahead. Look for exits, survivors, layout. You stay here with them. Wait for my signal."
Myth blinked. No.
He hadn't come this far to freeze up. He had to focus—now.
"Wait."
Everyone looked at him.
"We need to move. Now. We don't know this place, and the longer we stay, the more dangerous it gets. I think we're in a maintenance room near the Undercity's portal. That area will be swarming with guards. We move together—quietly. And on the way... we capture one of them."
They stared at him in silence.
"We capture a guard. Get information—layout, numbers, who's in charge. Then we plan our escape." Myth repeated.
Victor gave a small nod.
Walker glanced at each of them—Ashley, Sira, Myth.
"Will you guys be alright?" he asked.
Myth had no powers. No plan. No safety net.
But he had to make it count.
Sira nodded nervously. "Y-yeah… we'll manage," she said, a new resolve forming in her eyes—one that quietly promised, I won't be the one to hold us back.
"Alright," Walker said. "We move in a line. I'll take the lead. Ashley follows behind me. Myth, you're in the middle. Sira behind you. Victor takes the rear."
He turned to Sira. "You'll assist Victor. Watch the back."
Then his eyes met Myth's.
"You'll coordinate between the front and back. Relay anything important."
Finally, he looked at Ashley. "I'll scout a few steps ahead. When I signal, lead them to me."
Walker exhaled slowly.
"If we find any survivors—stack them behind Victor. We take who we can."
Ashley adjusted her glasses with a quick nudge. "Yes, sir," she replied, tone firm.
Myth wasn't in the mood to comment. He let it slide.
The group moved toward the door. Walker led, easing it open just enough to scan the corridor outside. The lights flickered weakly. From the right came faint screams and the echo of hurried footsteps—chaotic, distant, but real.
Walker checked both directions, then silently crossed to the wall opposite the door. The corridor was wide, industrial in design, and strangely hollow. He began moving left, steps slow and calculated.
Ashley held position, eyes locked ahead, waiting for the signal.
A moment later, at the far corner, Walker reached an intersecting hallway. He peeked left, then right—then signaled. All clear.
Ashley spotted the sign, turned briefly to look at Myth.
He met her gaze and gave a steady nod.
She looked both ways again, then motioned for the rest to follow.
Myth fell into step behind her, his eyes scanning every movement. His thoughts were hazy, focus shaky—but he forced himself to stay sharp.
"Focus... focus."
Behind him, Sira followed unusually close. Her white dress brushed against her coat as she walked, eyes burning with quiet resolve.
She didn't say anything. She didn't need to.
'She's serious. She doesn't want to be the weak link.'
Myth's lips tightened.
'But the weak link... that might be me.'
He exhaled slowly, calming his thoughts.
'The corridor's broad, not long. No sign of heavy infrastructure... they can't move the portal. Which means—we're likely on the ground floor.'
His mind raced.
'In most buildings, elevators and staircases are placed dead center, just beyond the entrance. If the portal's a centerpiece. Then right behind this wall is the main chamber.'
He glanced ahead, mapping the space mentally.
'This hallway is probably adjacent to the main chamber—either left or right. We're circling behind the portal. And the screams we heard? Not from the portal... they were from the people trying to get out.'
Myth's gaze drifted back.
"Ashley... tell Walker to check the left side," he said in a low voice.
The moment they reached the turn and regrouped with Walker, Ashley stepped forward and relayed the message.
Walker gave a curt nod. "We stick close this time. Stay right behind me. It's too open."
The team aligned themselves along the left wall of the horizontal corridor, moving in a silent, single-file line. Footsteps light. Breaths held.
Flickering ceiling lights gave the hallway a ghostly glow.
Then—signage.
WASHROOM.
Walker paused and whispered to Ashley, "We check it. Ventilation ducts. Escape routes. Anything."
Ashley glanced back and nodded to Myth, who passed the word along to Sira and Victor.
They filed into the washroom—metallic door creaking ever so slightly.
First priority: clear the area.
Stalls. Corners. Behind doors.
Nothing.
"Victor... can you do anything here?" Ashley asked, her voice just above a whisper, eyes scanning the ceiling vents as she spoke.
Victor turned toward her, eyes slow to meet hers. His expression unreadable—calm, pale, hollow. He said nothing at first, almost like his mind was elsewhere.
Then he spoke.
"I hear someone… coming down the corridor. Twenty seconds, at most."
Everyone froze.
They looked at Victor like he had just dropped a match in gasoline.
They knew what this meant.
No running. No hiding.
They had to fight.
"Yes," Victor murmured, his gaze distant but focused. "They're close. Eighteen seconds now. Four of them... one's different. Seeker. A Rook most probably."
Walker didn't flinch. He adjusted his grip and stepped forward, tone sharp and focused.
Walker spoke. "I'll fight the Seeker. Victor—support me. Stall the rest. "
He turned to the others.
"Ashley. Sira. Myth. You three—set an ambush."
His eyes flicked toward the corridor ahead.
"Fourteen seconds. We hit them at the cross-section. During the fight, slip back—quietly—to the corridor we came from. Victor, draw their attention. Make them follow. Isolate one and guide him straight into the trap."
Victor gave a single nod. Calm, unreadable. In this formation, he was the core—the anchor. The one who'd shape the battlefield.
Ashley pushed her glasses up, eyes cold and clear. "Understood."
Sira nodded silently, jaw tight with focus.
Myth drew in a breath. Slow. Controlled. He pushed the noise in his mind aside. He needed clarity now.
Now 10 seconds more.