CHAPTER 45: CHAPTER 45: DUNGEON BREAK, THE ASH WARDEN WAR (5)

The streets east of Market were bones.

Jax limped beside me, cleaver strapped across his back, armor humming each time the weight shifted. "You sure this is the right way?"

"If it’s not," I said, "we’ll die faster. Saves time."

Hana didn’t even try to smile. She kept one thread unspooled, brushing the ground like a blind man’s cane. Every time it touched rubble, it twitched—alive, nervous.

[Quest Progress: Evac Lanes Σ + 2 %]

Somewhere ahead, a drone wailed orders it didn’t understand."Corridor Lambda unstable... fallback to Command Row..."Then it looped, static drowning the rest.

"That’s encouraging," Jax muttered.

"Better than silence," I said. "Silence means everything’s already dead."

We passed what was left of a tram stop. Bent rails, broken screens, a vending unit still blinking insert credits like it expected someone to care. The air smelled like metal fat.

Darkharness tightened against my ribs when sparks showered nearby, then relaxed again—protective, overbearing, smug. Hana noticed it move.

"That armor," she said. "It responds on its own?"

"Yeah," I said. "Adaptive frame."

"You made that too?"

"Same forge session i was on fire today."

Jax snorted. "There is something about you."

"Yeah i like older woman."

He looked me over like the numbers didn’t add up. "You’re serious."

"I already told you—i have Crafting Affinity A-rank. It’s in the log ask the guildmaster."

"I’ve seen A-ranks work," Jax said. "They don’t make sentient wardrobe in a living room."

"Guess I’m an overachiever."

Hana’s gaze dragged up and down me again, analytical, almost wary. "You’ve changed."

"Shaved," I said.

"Not that kind of change." She gestured vaguely. "You’re taller. Broader. The air around you feels... heavier."

"That’s just the armor weight."

"Ethan." Her tone landed between disbelief and accusation.

I sighed. "Look, I’ve been busy not dying. Maybe it’s good for posture."

She kept staring. Jax joined in, eyes narrowing. "You vanish for half a day while the city explodes, come back glowing, and hand out miracle gear. Forgive me for noticing the math’s off."

"I told you, I was out cold," I said. "

"Out where?"

"In my apartment," I said too fast.

Jax’s brow creased. "You slept through a dungeon break."

"Apparently."

He barked a humorless laugh. "You’re either lying or the luckiest bastard alive."

"Pick whichever helps you sleep."

They traded a look that said we’ll circle back to this later.

Fine by me.

We hit a stretch where the street turned into a gash. Tram lines hung overhead like veins, still sparking. The ground dipped into a crater filled with sludge that used to be asphalt.

"Watch footing," Hana warned, tossing a thread across the gap. It latched to a traffic pole still pretending to be upright. She tested it, then walked first, thread tightening beneath her boots. Jax followed, swearing at gravity.

When I crossed, Lightning Transit whispered behind my eyes—too tempting. I ignored it.

Midway over, Jax broke the silence. "You asked about Mikey before. He made it out."

I stopped mid-step. "He’s okay?"

"Evac’d through Corridor Theta."

Relief hit so hard it felt foreign. "He’ll hate being benched."

"Better than buried."

"Yeah."

The conversation died with the next gust of ash.

We walked another block before Jax spoke again, quieter. "He keeps asking for you on the net."

"Tell him I’m still ugly."

"I’ll do that."

Hana’s thread brushed against a collapsed sign. The letters still read Arcadia Tramline 7 — Guild Row Express. She stared at it like it was an obituary. "This used to be the safe part of the city."

"Arcadia’s allergic to safe," I said.

She didn’t answer.

We passed a burned-out transport. The windshield had half-melted into a puddle. Someone had carved no heroes left into the door with a knife.

Jax adjusted the strap on the Grav-Edge and glanced toward the smoke curling over the southern blocks."Been hearing chatter on the Guild net," he said. "Deathspace freaks showed up near the quarantine lines. Picking fights with anyone wearing a badge. Whole thing feels staged."

That name hit like cold water.I remembered Darius’s briefing—his voice low, eyes hard, that little pause before he said the word like it could rot the air.

Worse. People who trade in power the way others trade in organs.The ones who strip hunters for parts. Deathspace.

He’d told me their leader could rewrite matter with a thought—SSS-rank, walking apocalypse.If they were moving now, during a break this bad...

"They planning something?" I asked.

"When aren’t they?" Jax said. "Half their freaks are mercs, half cult. Every break they crawl out looking for scraps."

"Guild’s got bigger problems than wannabe anarchists," Hana said.

"Yeah," Jax replied, "but Deathspace isn’t the kind that waits for cleanup. They build empires out of ruins."

I didn’t say what I remembered from the Verge—the symbols carved into the shaman’s altar, the same rings, faint and wrong. Maybe coincidence. Maybe not.

Darkharness pulsed once along my spine, sensing the spike in heart rate. I forced a breath.

"Whatever they’re planning," I said, "we’ll deal with it after the fire stops spreading."

"Assuming we’re still breathing," Jax said.

"Jax the optimist." i said.

"Someone has to balance you out."

We reached the tram crossing. Cables sagged overhead, dripping molten insulation.The ash thickened enough to taste.

A flicker of movement snapped all of us still.

Far end of the street—three silhouettes. Too tall. Too broad.

Orcs.

[ System Alert: Hostile Signatures Detected ]

[ Classification: Orc Raiders (B–Rank, Mutated) ]

[ Threat Assessment: Moderate ]

[ Adaptive Response Recommended — Party Formation: 3 Active ]

"Contact," Hana whispered.

"Positions," I said.

Jax swung the cleaver down from his back, the Grav-Edge humming like an angry planet. "I got left."

"Take center," I countered. "You’re more of a tank."

He grinned despite himself. "Copy."

The orcs broke into a charge.

The first impact was gravity itself; Jax met it head-on. The cleaver hit, air folded inward, and the street cracked open like an eggshell. The orc disintegrated under force alone.

I blinked forward—

[ Lightning Transit Activated ]

[ Instant Spatial Relocation: 42 m ]

[ Chain 1 / 7 — Cooldown Pending ]

[ Pulse Discharge: 2 m radius, Minor Stun applied ]

The world snapped from one frame to another. The smell of ozone burned my throat as I re-appeared behind the second orc; lightning still crawled along my arm. Fangpiercer was already moving before thought caught up.

[ Fangpiercer Critical ]

[ Armor Penetration : 30 % ]

Steel met spine. The creature’s roar cut off halfway to a vowel.

[ Hostile Neutralized — Orc Raider (B-Rank) ]

[ EXP +120 ]

[ Level 22 Progress: 880 → 1000 / 2200 ]

The last one swung a club big enough to have its own orbit. Hana’s threads flared bright blue; the Lotus V2 hardened around her shoulders, weaving into a barrier that caught the hit and shattered like glass, slowing it just enough for Jax’s follow-through to erase the problem.

Silence after violence always feels fake.Ash drifted back down like applause no one wanted.

[ Containment Progress → 40 % ]

[ Absolute Regeneration Activated — Minor ]

Hana exhaled hard, threads fading to a dim glow. "That was close."

"Close is fine," I said. "Close means we’re still here."

Jax wiped sweat from his brow. "You ever going to admit that lightning trick breaks every rule of physics?"

"Physics started the fight," I said. "I’m just returning fire."

He shook his head. "Still can’t tell if you’re joking or insane."

"Why not both?"

We moved on. Every few meters, I caught civilians moving between shadows—responder groups, scavengers, kids with backpacks too heavy for their frames. The ones who noticed us stared longer than they should. Word traveled faster than drones now.

A teenager whispered, "That’s him... the F-rank from A-rank gate."

Hana heard it too. "You’re becoming a rumor."

"Great. My lifelong dream."

She almost smiled. "You hate attention?"

"I hate paperwork more. Fame’s just louder paperwork."

Jax looked at the ash clouds ahead. "If the city survives this, the guild’s going to eat you alive for answers."

"They can choke on the footnotes."

I kept walking, eyes on the cracks spreading through the boulevard, but the lie itched under my tongue.

I used to want that—fame. Badly. When I was sixteen, I’d watched him—the strongest hunter in Arcadia—take down an S-rank beast during a dungeon break live on national broadcast. The man carved through nightmare like it owed him rent. He stood there after, covered in blood and glory, and I remember thinking: that’s it. That’s who I’ll be.

Didn’t matter that I was F-rank. That I had no skill, no money, no guild. I still signed up for the exam. Still took the first party that didn’t laugh me out of the room. Still almost died in a hole because of them.

Now here I was—still bleeding, still pretending I didn’t want the same thing. The difference was, the System decided I could actually do it. The hero I wanted to be, just... messier. Louder. Hornier.

The boulevard narrowed into a canyon of half-collapsed buildings. Fire burned inside one tower like a candle no one remembered to snuff.

Another drone voice broke through static: "Command Row defensive perimeter—holding... casualties—severe..."

"That’s our stop," I said.

"Feels like home already," Jax muttered.

We climbed over a bus that had decided to nap on its side. Hana used her thread to steady the descent. My harness adjusted again, plates thinning over my legs for flexibility.

She noticed. "It learns?"

"Faster than I do."

"That’s not funny."

"Didn’t say it was."

By the time we hit the next intersection, my lungs burned from the air. The ash was thicker, the noise sharper. The city sounded alive again, just in the wrong ways—gunfire, distant roars, collapsing steel.

We paused under the remains of a billboard—half of a smiling idol, now melted into something monstrous.

Jax leaned against the wall, breathing hard. "How far?"

"Two sectors," I said. "If Command Row’s still standing."

He nodded slowly, then looked over at me again, that same studying look he’d had since Market. "You really did change, you know."

"Yeah," Hana said quietly. "It’s not just the armor. It’s you."

"Different haircut?" I tried.

"Different everything," Jax said. "Posture. Eyes. Power rolling off you like a furnace. You’re not the same guy who got drunk on half a beer after a C-rank raid."

"Maybe I finally sobered up."

He frowned. "That’s what worries me."

For a second, none of us talked. The city filled the space instead.

Then Hana broke it: "So what now?"

"Now we keep walking," I said. "Because somebody has to."