As they huddled deep in a narrow side alley, barely wide enough for two people to pass through, tension crackled between them like static. The sky above was tinted a sickly orange, smothered by industrial smoke and flickering streetlamps that buzzed with failing mana. The town had started shifting—growing quieter in the wrong ways, louder in the wrong places.
Something was happening. Or about to.
Footsteps no longer echoed alone. They came in clusters now—organized, armored. Patrols doubled. The bells at the watchtowers rang twice that morning. Then again at noon. Something was wrong in Crater.
"You all feel that?" Kess muttered, peeking past the edge of a rust-streaked barrel. "City's coiling up like it knows something's coming."
A crackling voice echoed from the overhead mana-crystal speakers, spitting out some official announcement. "Remain in your sectors. Do not approach the gates. All merchant activity suspended until further notice." The same message repeated in two languages, each colder than the last.
Kaiden watched a woman pull her son into a shop and slam the wooden shutters shut, hands trembling. The soldiers weren't shouting. That was what made it worse. No noise. No chaos. Just discipline. Something was being locked down for real.
They hadn't tried the gates yet, but now it was too late. Sealed tight. The walls were even worse—fifteen meters high, steel-laced and alive with arcane surveillance. Patrols marched up top in repeating loops. Getting out through them would be suicide.
"I don't think calibrating the warp device would be possible from outside," Rav said, scratching his neck. "Too exposed. If the charge doesn't sync right, it might blow half of us into the cobbles."
Sylen, crouched near a shattered crate at the mouth of the alley, eyes always watching, didn't look back when she spoke. "Can't we just use the teleportation from here?"
"Yeah, sure," Kess replied dryly, voice thick with sarcasm. "If you wanna turn into a tin can like our squad leader... No offense, Kaiden."
He glanced away, avoiding Kaiden's eyes.
Kaiden didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. He was used to it—the jabs, the discomfort people had around his machine half. From the moment he woke up in this world, stitched between metal and flesh, he'd stopped expecting kindness. Even from his own.
He still remembered how they got here—how reality buckled like torn cloth around them. One second, they were surveying an unstable leyline; the next, they were gasping for air on the cracked stones of a human road. Forced warp. Maybe sabotage. And now? No contact. No signal. Demon command might think they were dead. And if they didn't—well, Kaiden's deadline was four days away.
He ground a gloved hand into his temple. They had one shot. Maybe less.
Still, he kept thinking. A way out. A better option. Maybe they could hit a local magic store—grab an energy orb. Enough raw power could push the device's range past the outer wards. But robbing a store in a fortified town? That was suicide.
Before he could speak, Rav rumbled a suggestion: "Big man... I think we should get into the slums. Every big human city's got one. Cramped, messy, poor. No one pays attention there. We'd be ghosts."
Sylen actually turned, eyebrows raised. "You just formed a full plan?"
Rav blinked. "What? I think sometimes."
Kaiden didn't laugh, but he heard Kess snort.
"That could work," Kess said, shifting his pack off his shoulders. "I saw an energy diffuser in a junk stall near the back market earlier, when we were scouting. If we get our hands on that, I might be able to stabilize the device. Not fully—but it'd keep us mostly in one piece. Probably."
"Probably," Sylen echoed flatly. "What happens if it fails?"
"Your skin peels off and your bones turn inside out. Give or take."
Rav's face went pale. "Good to know."
Kaiden stared at the cracked cobblestone beneath his boots. The plan wasn't good. None of this was. But Rav was right: the slums would give them cover, and maybe time. If the town was going into lockdown, that meant something bigger was brewing—and they had no time to sit still.
He looked at his team, the strange little demon unit warped into enemy lands by accident, held together by tension, sarcasm, and shared purpose. Not friends. Not really. But closer than anyone else left in this damned place.
Kaiden exhaled. "We move. Slums tonight. Stay out of sight."
He paused, then added under his breath, "We've got four days to reach the border before that bastard commander writes me off as dead. And if he thinks I'm dead… he'll make sure I am."
Sylen cracked her knuckles. "Good thing we don't die easy."
Just as the group started shifting to leave, a faint rustle came from behind a row of old bins. Too light for a patrol. Too soft for a rat.
Kess drew his blade halfway, Sylen tensed.
A small figure stepped out.
A child. Barefoot, dusty, maybe seven years old, with huge eyes and a mop of tangled brown hair. He froze when he saw them. Especially Kaiden.
The squad didn't move.
Kaiden slowly raised one hand, palm open. "Go," he said softly.
The boy's gaze lingered. On Rav's massive frame. On Sylen's too-still stance. On the faint metal gleam under Kaiden's hood.
Then the boy bolted.
Rav took a step forward, but Kaiden stopped him with a shake of his head. "No. Let him go."
Kess swore under his breath. "If he talks—"
"If he talks, we're already dead," Kaiden replied. "We don't make noise. We don't make enemies. We move."
A silence fell. Thicker now.
There were eyes in this city. Even the small ones.
As they slipped out of the alley one by one, Kaiden hesitated. Just for a second. Up on the rooftop, maybe fifty meters away, he thought he saw a silhouette. Not moving. Not reacting to the wind. Just... watching.
He blinked.
It was gone.
Just his nerves, probably.
He moved on.