CHAPTER 46: CHAPTER 46: DUNGEON BREAK, THE ASH WARDEN WAR (6)

The road bled into the tramline district a few blocks later.

We followed the rails east until they simply stopped—melted into the street like someone had poured the city through a strainer.

The tramline ended in a jagged cut through Arcadia’s ribs.

We picked our way down, boots crunching glass, the sound too loud in the quiet. Somewhere in the smoke, something heavy collapsed with the sigh of an old building giving up on being vertical.

Arcadia didn’t look like it was dying—it looked like it had already decided to stay dead and was just waiting for us to notice.

Jax trudged ahead,breath rasping like gravel in a tin."Everything just feels wrong," he muttered. "Even the air’s heavy. And it’s like something is watching us."

"Yeah it’s creepy i feel it too." Hana said. Her voice was steady, but her hands weren’t. Threads glimmered faintly at her fingertips, guiding her step through the ash.

We turned a corner and hit the outer perimeter of Command Row.At least, what was left of it.

The old tram hub had become a wall. Four flipped trucks, a dozen slabs of broken concrete, and a banner that used to advertise a singer now served as barricade. Responders and hunters crouched behind it—too few, too tired, too loud.

One of them raised a scanner, light flicking over us. "Identify!"

Jax lifted a hand. "Jax Rook, D-rank. These two are with me."

The man’s scanner beeped red, then purple. His eyes landed on me and stayed there too long."You’re flagged."

"Everyone’s flagged today," I said. "We’re heading to HQ."

"Not authorized."

"Then consider this the paperwork," Jax growled.

The guard’s partner squinted at Darkharness where it rippled under my jacket, ember lines crawling like veins. "What rank forge is that thing?"

"Prototype," I said. "Darius approved."

"Bullshit."

"Probably," I said, and stepped through.

No one stopped me. Sometimes confidence is better than clearance.

Inside the barricade, Command Row had turned into a triage pit—one street away from the river, under the shadow of the Central Guild HQ’s cracked glass ribs.

Medics darted between tents made of tarp and prayer. Civilians lay under flickering wards that glowed sickly green, like fireflies drowning in fog. Someone screamed in the distance—high, raw, endless—until a healer’s chant turned it into silence.

The smell hit first. Blood. Mana. Melted concrete. The city’s veins open and leaking. Then came the noise: too many voices trying to stay awake just by talking.

A medic brushed past, shoulders red to the elbow. "You with Command?" she asked, not even glancing up.

"Trying to be."

"Then tell them the western line’s gone. We’re patching death man."

She was gone before I could nod.

Hana slowed beside a tent. Through the flap, three healers worked on a man whose armor had fused to his chest. Her threads trembled, instinct flaring.

"Don’t," I said quietly. "You can’t save everyone."

Her jaw locked. "I know that. Doesn’t mean it stops hurting."

"Good," I said. "If it stops hurting, we’re done."

Jax leaned on the cleaver like a crutch, gravity humming through the blade. Pebbles at his boots danced with each pulse. "Never thought I’d see Arcadia like this. Used to smell like oil and spice noodles. Now it’s just smoke and failure."

"Still an upgrade," I said. "At least it’s quiet."

He gave a rough laugh. "You process trauma weird."

"Occupational hazard."

We crossed another street, pavement cracked open into a glowing fissure that hissed like boiling lungs. A line of children sat on the curb, wrapped in blankets too thin to stop the ash.

One boy clutched a toy wyvern missing a wing. He waved it at me like maybe it still knew how to fly.

I stopped for half a second. Same kid. Same wyvern. The responders had done it—they got him out. And now he was here again, sitting in another pile of ash.

Hana slowed. "He’s—"

"Keep walking," I said, throat tight. "If you stop, you won’t start again."

She did. Barely.

A responder shouted about the eastern corridor, but the sentence drowned in the wail of collapsing steel. The ground buckled. Dust surged. My harness reacted before I could—Darkharness plating my left side just as the shockwave slammed us.

When the air cleared, half the block was gone.

Jax coughed, eyes stinging. "That come from the Gate?"

"Too far," I said. "Probably another A-rank trying to play hero."

"Guess he lost."

"Heroes usually do."

The closer we got to the river, the louder the hum of Command Row became—generators overclocked, defense pylons whining as they sucked power from every surviving grid. The HQ loomed ahead, half its glass facade shattered, its white ribs smeared black. The tower lights flickered like heart monitors refusing to flatline.

Hana stopped, voice small. "I trained here."

I looked at her. "Then you know the exits."

She smiled without humor. "Never thought I’d be coming back through the front door."

We stepped into the open plaza. Hunters everywhere—patrolling, arguing, staring at maps that meant nothing anymore. The ash turned everyone the same gray.

A sergeant blocked our way, armor dented, bandaged hand gripping a baton. "Identification?"

I raised my wrist. The band glowed forge-blue. "Ethan Cross. Independent. These two are with me."

His eyes narrowed. "The F-rank?"

"Promotion pending," I said.

He looked between us, then waved toward the inner barricade. "Commandant Darius is inside. Don’t waste his time. He’s out of patience and whiskey."

"Then we’ll be quick," I said.

The sergeant didn’t move yet. His eyes drifted toward the skyline, where another blast painted the clouds orange. "You picked one hell of a night. Most of the high ranks are gone—guild shipped them out months ago to deal with the Fallen Continent."

Jax frowned. "That’s the island chain east of here, right? The one that collapsed into nothing but gates?"

"Yeah," the sergeant said. "It’s a monster nest now. Used to be cities. Now it’s just fog, ruins, and screams on the radio."

"Didn’t Galen go there?" Hana asked.

The sergeant’s jaw tightened. "He did. Led the last suppression raid."

"And?" Jax pressed.

"He didn’t come back." The man’s voice dropped. "He didn’t come back. No body. No beacon ping. Just one last burst of static screaming through the comms—and then nothing. That was about three weeks ago."

Three weeks. The same time the System woke up. My heartbeat stuttered. Not because I believed in fate—just because fate kept acting like it believed in me.

My pulse stuttered once before I forced it even. "Right," I said. "Guess even legends clock out eventually."

The sergeant gave a tired shrug. "If Galen couldn’t stop it, nobody can."

"Then we’ll try anyway," Hana said quietly.

He studied her face for a second, maybe trying to believe it, then finally stepped aside. "Good luck, hunters. We’re running out of people worth saying that to."

We moved. Every step toward HQ felt heavier; the air stank of mana burn and nerves. People watched us pass—half curious, half just making sure we were human.

Jax kept his eyes forward. "Everyone’s looking at us."

"Let them," I said. "They need something to stare at that’s still standing."

He grunted. "Feels like walking through a graveyard."

"Arcadia’s halfway there," I said.

"Think Darius’ll even recognize you?" Hana asked.

"Depends which rumor he’s drunk enough to believe."

She studied me a second longer. "And which one’s true?"

"None," I said. "Or all. I stopped checking."

The last barricade loomed ahead—marble slabs, sparking pylons, and a dome of sick green light drooping over the courtyard.

Jax frowned up at it. "That shield’s about to give."

"It will," I said. "So let’s already be inside when it does."

"Solid plan," he muttered.

"I’m full of them," I said.

As we climbed the steps, a gust came in from the river. For the first time since the Market, I could smell rain—not real, just the ghost of it. For a heartbeat, the air felt clean.

Then another explosion shattered the illusion. Far off, the Gate flared brighter. The Hierophant was moving again.

Hana’s face drained. "It’s coming this way."

"Then we’re going the right direction," I said.

Jax grunted. "You call that optimism?"

"I call it proof of life."

"Still insane."

"Consistency’s important."

Inside the courtyard, the chaos sharpened. Responders shouted under shattered arches. Officers argued over maps that were mostly red. Someone begged for mana cells. Someone else prayed without words.

Hana’s shawl flared blue, reacting to all the pain around us. She steadied it with a breath until it dimmed again.

Jax dropped onto a broken pillar, resting the cleaver across his knees. "So what do we tell Darius?"

"The truth."

"Which part?"

"That there’s no cavalry coming," I said. "Just us."

He studied me. "You really think we can pull this off?"

"No," I said. "But we’ll try loud enough to make it look convincing."

Hana gave a small, tired laugh. "That’s the Ethan I remember."

"I’m still working on upgrades."

"Yeah," Jax muttered. "We noticed."

For a moment, we stood there—three survivors in the wreckage of a city that used to feed us, used to laugh at us. Ash drifted sideways, soft as snow that forgot how to fall. Somewhere inside the tower, a horn sounded—three long notes.

Darius’s call.

I flexed my hand. The harness rippled along my spine, locking into travel form. Fangpiercer thrummed once, eager. The city seemed to hold its breath.

"Let’s move," I said.

Jax rose, grimacing at his knee. "After you, boss."

Hana adjusted the shawl, threads tightening. "Try not to die before introductions."

"No promises."

We crossed what was left of the courtyard. Medics were still shouting over the wind, dragging stretchers toward the inner steps. The ground shook every few seconds, like the city was coughing up what was left of its spine.

The tower loomed above us—cracked, half-dead, but still standing. Somehow, that was enough.

Then we stepped toward the cracked doorway. The ward shimmered weakly as we passed through, humming against my skin like a heartbeat shared by too many ghosts.

[ Quest Updated — Regroup Achieved ]

[ Next Objective: Contact Guild Commandant Darius Vale ]

[ Recommended: Maintain Low Signature • Avoid Western Sector ]

The city didn’t cheer. It didn’t have to.

It just kept breathing—broken and stubborn, same as us.

I’d just crawled out of one nightmare into another, but this time I wasn’t running.

I was walking straight at it.