CHAPTER 1064: LIGHTWEIGHTS.

Cain’s boots sank into the damp grit of City Z’s lower district, where the stench of rust and mildew clung to the walls like a second skin. The alleys here were narrower, darker, carved like wounds through the city’s bones. He moved without sound, yet his presence filled the space, an unspoken warning to any who lingered.

Behind him, Susan’s breathing was steady, deliberate, each inhale controlled as though she feared the city itself might notice her. Steve followed last, the soft clatter of his case a discordant note against the hush. Even Hunter, silent as he was, seemed to carry weight in the gloom.

Cain raised a hand and the group froze. Ahead, a light swayed, faint and uneven, as though fighting against the night. It wasn’t torchlight. Too pale, too cold.

"A probe," Steve whispered, crouching low, his eyes narrowing behind his lenses. "Not theirs. The city’s. Grid’s shifting its eyes down here."

Cain’s gaze flicked upward. Between the crisscross of pipes and laundry lines, mechanical orbs floated, glass lenses gleaming faintly. They weren’t here an hour ago. The city was adapting. Watching.

"Then we move quickly," Cain murmured.

Susan shifted closer, her cloak brushing against the wet stone. "And if the phantom already bent the grid?"

Cain’s jaw tightened. "Then we cut out its influence before it spreads."

The orb drifted closer, humming with faint power. Cain’s hand slid to his blade, but Steve raised a palm. "Give me ten seconds."

With practiced ease, Steve pulled a device no larger than a coin and tossed it underhand. It skittered across the stones and stuck to the wall beneath the orb. A pulse of red light flickered, then stilled. The orb’s hum dropped into silence, its eye dimming until it looked like nothing more than broken machinery.

"Blind spot," Steve said with a smirk. "Temporary. But it’ll hold."

Cain gave a curt nod. "Good. Move."

They pressed on, winding deeper into the belly of City Z. The streets bent like ribs, twisting them into narrower veins. The smell grew worse—decay and stagnant water. Somewhere in the distance, a scream broke the silence, thin and short-lived.

Hunter’s head tilted, his voice a whisper. "Close. Too close."

Cain stopped at an intersection. His eyes followed the drip of blood sliding from a rooftop, each drop vanishing into a thin stream that wound its way toward a grate. He crouched, dipping a finger into the crimson trail, then lifted it to his lips.

Still warm.

"They’re ahead," Cain said flatly.

Susan’s eyes narrowed. "How many?"

Cain let the silence stretch. His senses reached out, counting not footsteps but intent—the rhythm of a hunt. Finally, he said, "Four. Maybe five. Waiting to funnel us."

Steve adjusted his grip on the case. "So we’re the prey."

Cain’s smile was humorless, sharp. "That’s what they think."

He gestured sharply, signaling positions. Hunter melted into the shadows, scaling the side of a building with fluid ease. Susan slipped to the left, her form dissolving into the tangle of abandoned scaffolding. Steve crouched low, hands already working, setting small devices in a half-moon around the alley mouth.

Cain stood alone at the center, blade still sheathed. He waited.

The first figure emerged from the dark like a breath of smoke, thin and angular, its body more shadow than flesh. Behind it came another, broader, dragging something long across the stone—a weapon or perhaps a limb. Their eyes glowed faintly, pale as drowned moons.

The phantom’s servants.

They hesitated when they saw Cain standing alone, as though the simplicity of it unsettled them. One hissed, a broken, wet sound, before charging.

Cain moved only when the blade-arm arced down toward him. In a blur, steel met steel—or what passed for it—sparks showering the alley. The impact rang like a bell, sending a ripple through the walls.

Above, Hunter loosed a bolt, the projectile sinking deep into another servant’s chest. The creature convulsed but made no sound as it toppled into the street. Susan’s blade flickered from the scaffolding, severing the arm of the third before it realized she was there.

Steve’s traps snapped alive—flares of red light exploding into the narrow passage. The creatures staggered, momentarily blinded, their hiss turning into a shriek that split the air.

Cain’s expression didn’t change. He twisted his blade, parried, and struck low, his cut precise, severing sinew that shouldn’t exist. The creature collapsed, twitching, ichor spilling in lines that smoked against the stones.

The others faltered. Their hesitation was brief, but it was enough.

Susan descended like a hammer, her blade cleaving one from collar to hip. Hunter finished the last with a bolt straight through the skull, pinning it to the wall like a grotesque ornament.

Silence returned.

Only the hiss of Steve’s traps cooling remained, casting faint smoke into the morning air.

Cain wiped his blade clean on the tattered cloak of the nearest corpse. "Scouts," he said, his tone dismissive. "Testing us."

Hunter dropped from the rooftop, his boots barely making a sound. "Then the real strike follows."

Susan’s eyes lingered on the ichor that continued to steam. "These weren’t ordinary. They carried fragments of something else. Something deeper."

Cain glanced upward. The grid’s eyes glimmered faintly above, one orb sparking back to life. Already the city was watching again.

"Then we give it something worth watching," Cain said, voice low. "If the phantom wants a war, we’ll bleed it until it drowns."

Steve snapped his case shut. "Just tell me where to set the stage."

Cain’s eyes narrowed, scanning the twisted veins of the city before them. Each path was a choice, each shadow another opening. He breathed in the rot and steel, the heartbeat of a city teetering on the edge of collapse.

"This isn’t its city," Cain said. His grip on the blade tightened, knuckles pale against the steel. "It’s mine. And we’ll remind it."

The group moved on, vanishing deeper into the dark as the first true rays of dawn tried and failed to pierce the alleys.

The war was beginning to take shape.