CHAPTER 1054: THE SUMMIT OF GREED.

The storm pressed harder as they crossed into the refinery yard. Steel doors, once proud, hung broken on their hinges. The yard was silent but for the patter of rain striking rusted machinery and the occasional groan of wind through twisted pipes. It was the kind of silence that carried weight, as if the place itself remembered what it had swallowed.

Cain’s boots sank into black mud slick with oil. He didn’t slow, eyes cutting across the ruin, charting exits, corners, lines of sight. Every broken crane and skeletal tower became part of the map in his head. His team followed, quiet as the rain.

Inside, the refinery stank of burned iron and rotting meat. The walls pulsed faintly with reflected light, unnatural in its rhythm. Cain raised a hand, halting them. The silence shifted again—breathing, deep and labored, echoing from the far chamber.

Hunter’s hand brushed the fletching of his bolts, but he didn’t speak. Roselle’s knuckles whitened around the hilt of her shorter blade. Susan’s lips pressed thin, eyes tracking shadows along the ceiling beams. Steve’s scanner buzzed faintly, throwing distorted readings into his goggles.

"There," Steve whispered. His voice carried like a fracture in glass. "Center chamber. Whatever’s powering this place—it’s inside."

Cain nodded once, then moved. His hand never left the blade at his side, though he did not draw yet. Restraint sharpened the moment, making every step feel like a thread pulled taut.

They entered a cavernous hall, roof broken in patches, rain spilling in crooked lines from the open sky. And there it was.

A mass, suspended in chains. At first glance it was nothing but molten slag, slag and sinew fused. Then it shifted—breathing. Its chest expanded with sound like cracking stone. Veins of orange light webbed its body, pulsing in time with the storm.

Hunter hissed under his breath. "Gods."

Steve’s device shrieked, lights flaring red before shorting out entirely. He ripped it from his wrist, tossing the smoking ruin to the floor.

Cain stepped forward until the glow painted his face. He spoke low, deliberate. "It’s feeding."

Susan tilted her head, catching the rhythm of the pulse. Her voice came quiet, reverent in its dread. "Not feeding. Forming."

As if hearing, the thing moved. Chains screamed as the mass drew upward, reshaping. Limbs uncurled. A head, faceless yet sharp with intent, lifted from the slag. The sound of rain dimmed beneath the weight of its first exhalation.

The air shifted. Cain smelled metal and blood, raw and fresh.

Then the chains snapped.

The thing landed hard, stone cracking beneath its weight. It didn’t roar; its silence was worse.

"Positions," Cain said, blade clearing his sheath in one smooth draw.

Roselle slid left, twin knives drawn. Hunter dropped to one knee, crossbow braced, sight narrowing. Susan’s cloak whipped back as she pressed forward, hands raised, her voice already slipping into a low, resonant hum that bent the air. Steve scrambled to rewire his gauntlet with shaking fingers.

The creature lunged. Its limbs stretched unnaturally long, scraping sparks as they dragged across steel beams. Cain met the first strike head-on. His blade rang against the limb, sparks flaring like shattered stars. He staggered only a step before regaining ground.

Hunter fired. A bolt hissed through the air, burying into the creature’s torso, burning black smoke where it struck. The thing didn’t flinch—it swiveled, faceless head tilting toward him.

"Again!" Cain barked, parrying a second strike. He felt the force vibrate his arm to the shoulder, the blade barely holding.

Roselle darted in, knives cutting along its flanks. Veins of orange split where she struck, ichor spraying hot against her cheek. She didn’t stop, carving and spinning away just as a limb slammed down where she’d stood.

Susan’s hum rose into a sharp note, vibrating through the walls. The air bent, distorting around the creature. Its movements slowed, as if dragged by unseen currents.

Cain seized the moment. He pivoted, blade driving upward through the gap Roselle had carved. Steel slid into glowing flesh. The creature spasmed, light flaring violently through its veins.

It shrieked without sound, a vibration that rattled teeth. The refinery shook, loose steel clattering from beams above.

"Hold it!" Cain roared. His blade stuck deep, heat crawling up the steel into his hand.

Hunter loosed another volley—three bolts in rapid sequence. Each struck along the same seam, widening the tear. The creature reeled back, ichor spilling like molten tar.

Steve slammed his gauntlet against the wall, sparks leaping as his device reignited. A surge of electricity arced outward, catching the creature square in the chest. Light met light, burning in wild flashes.

The monster convulsed, chains still clinging to its limbs rattling like broken bells.

Roselle leapt high, knives spinning, and drove them both into the creature’s neck. Her weight pulled it down. Cain wrenched his blade free and, with a clean, savage motion, cut deep across the core of its chest.

The light faltered. The body collapsed, limbs thrashing before stilling.

Silence.

Only rain, trickling through the holes in the roof.

The team stood around the fallen mass, breathing hard, eyes locked on the twitching ruin. The veins of orange flickered once more, faint, like embers dying.

Cain did not sheath his blade. He watched until the last glow faded, until the final shudder stilled. His chest rose and fell slow, steady, every breath measured.

Susan’s voice broke the quiet. "That wasn’t the last."

Hunter loaded another bolt, his silence grim agreement.

Cain wiped bloodless ichor from the blade’s edge, rain cleaning what his hand could not. His eyes stayed on the husk, gaze heavy, calculating.

"No," he said at last. His voice carried like stone breaking.

"This was the first."

The storm pressed harder, drowning the last traces of light from the creature’s veins. Outside, sirens began to wail faintly in the distance, carried on the wind. Cain didn’t turn toward them. His grip on the sword only tightened. For him, the true sound wasn’t sirens. It was the silence that followed them.