Nate sat alone in the dimly lit room, staring at nothing, the weight of his decision pressing like a vice. The air was thick with unspoken things—questions they wouldn't dare ask yet, answers he wasn't ready to give.
He had agreed. He had said, "Fine."
But the moment the words left his mouth, they felt like chains.
Beyond the heavy silence, the facility hummed with the faint buzz of machinery, the rhythmic beep of monitors punctuating the stillness. The scent of disinfectant and burnt wires clung to the air, a lingering reminder of how close everything had come to falling apart.
Elysia stirred.
Her breath hitched as consciousness clawed its way back. She blinked against the harsh, sterile glow of overhead lights, her pulse a sluggish thud in her ears. The moment clarity returned, she moved. Her head snapped to the side, scanning the unfamiliar medical wing. Anton. Susana. Chloe—still resting, but breathing.
But not him.
Her fingers gripped the edge of the cot as she pushed herself upright, ignoring the protest of her battered body. Where was he?
The fear that he was gone was irrational—wasn't it?
A quick scan of the room confirmed it. Nate wasn't there. Neither was his cot.
Elysia's stomach twisted. Dammit, Nate.
Swinging her legs over the side, she sucked in a sharp breath and forced herself onto unsteady feet. The cold tile bit at her skin as she moved, stepping past Susana's slumbering form. Her limbs ached, her body sluggish, but she barely noticed.
Find him.
The corridor outside stretched in sterile monotony—white walls, polished floors, the faint scent of magic-tinged antiseptic. A few doors down, a single light glowed from within an open room. Elysia's pace quickened.
And then—
She found him.
Nate sat slouched in a chair, elbows on his knees, head bowed, lost in whatever war still raged in his mind.
Relief hit her harder than she expected.
She stepped into the room, her voice hoarse but certain. "You stayed."
Nate exhaled but didn't look at her right away. "Yeah. Looks that way."
A small, wry smirk tugged at her lips despite the exhaustion weighing her down. "Huh. I half expected you to disappear under cover of darkness or something."
Now he looked at her, one brow arching. "Oi, come now, princess. Have a bit more faith in me, eh?"
Elysia huffed, shaking her head as she crossed her arms.
For a moment—just a moment—the weight of everything lifted.
Then the monitors flickered.
The faint hum of the facility warped, a sharp distortion crackling through the air. The screens along the wall glitched, flickering between static and distorted symbols—symbols that shouldn't exist.
And just like that, the moment was gone.
"Looks like that EMP really buggered the systems last night. Everything's still acting up," Nate muttered, watching the glitching monitors with narrowed eyes.
Elysia lingered by the doorway, arms crossed, shifting her weight as if she wanted to say something—but hesitated.
Her gaze flicked between the flickering screens and Nate, something unreadable in her expression. "Yeah… probably," she said slowly, her voice lacking conviction. A beat of silence passed before she exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck.
"You think it's going to cause more problems?" she asked, feigning casual curiosity.
Nate's lips twitched. "What, you worried about the lights going out again? Don't stress—I doubt it'll be as dramatic a second time."
She didn't laugh.
Instead, she frowned, her fingers tightening around her arm. "That's not really what I meant."
Nate's smirk faded. He tilted his head slightly, expression guarded. "Then what did you mean?"
Elysia hesitated, then let out a sigh, her frustration evident—though it wasn't clear if it was at him or herself. "I mean… you were the only one who didn't pass out. And you told the others you did." She finally met his eyes, searching. "Why?"
Nate held her gaze, but for the first time since the conversation began, he looked unsteady. He let out a slow breath, leaning back in his chair. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice quieter than before. "Guess I just… panicked."
Elysia blinked. "Panicked?"
"Yeah." He raked a hand through his hair, the movement sharp, restless. "I mean, think about it—that blast took everyone out. Anton, Susana, you, Chloe. Hell, even the bloody medics. And I was just… fine. Granted, it was probably because it was tied to demonic Aether, but still…"
Elysia's expression softened.
Nate scoffed, shaking his head. "Didn't exactly seem like the best time to announce, 'Oh yeah, by the way, I somehow tanked that while the rest of you dropped like flies.'"
He exhaled, fingers tapping against his knee. "I guess I played it on defence. Figured no one would question it if I said I blacked out too. Didn't want them looking at me like I was some walking hazard again."
Elysia was quiet for a moment, watching him. Then, slowly, she moved further into the room, stopping just a few feet from him. "Nate…"
He sighed, giving her a tired half-smile. "Look, I know lying probably wasn't the best move, but it's not like the truth was any better. Can you blame me?"
She studied him, something complicated flickering across her face.
"…No," she said finally. "I guess I can't."
But the weight in her tone told him she still wished he'd told the truth.
After a moment of silence, Nate said, "I'll probably tell them the truth once they wake up."
Elysia tilted her head slightly, watching him, but she didn't press. There was something unreadable in her gaze, though.
Nate stretched, pushing himself up from the chair. "I should check on Chloe and the others—"
Before he could take a step, a warm hand pressed lightly against his chest, stopping him.
Elysia.
Her touch wasn't forceful, but it was firm enough to make him pause. And suddenly, he became very aware of the lack of space between them.
She was close. Too close.
Her heterochromatic eyes locked onto his with quiet scrutiny. "You and Chloe…" she started, her voice light but laced with something else. "You two seem awfully close."
Nate's brow furrowed slightly. "I'm as close to her as I am to any of you."
Elysia hummed, unconvinced. "Mm. Right. Just like how you threw yourself into hell to save 'any of us' without hesitation?"
"Well, yes. That's exactly what I did. The magical grid explosion, remember? That's what caused Kenneth…" He paused and sighed. "Look, Kenneth was one of mine. A demon. That makes what happened my responsibility."
Elysia's expression softened, but the intensity in her gaze remained. "You know that's not true, Drakkar," she murmured. "You and Kenneth may be from the same place, but you're in no way, shape, or form the same."
Her words settled in the space between them, threading something warm and grounding into the conversation.
Nate didn't respond immediately. Maybe because part of him wasn't ready to believe it.
Elysia, however, wasn't finished.
She tilted her head slightly, a teasing lilt slipping into her voice. "Besides," she continued, "when we were all trying to get you to stay, you said some pretty nasty things to her. Things people don't usually say unless they're close."
Nate let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "I probably should apologise for that."
A slow smirk curled Elysia's lips, her fingers still resting lightly against his chest. "Avoiding the question, are we?"
Nate huffed a laugh, lowering his gaze just slightly—then flicked his eyes back up to hers, a familiar heat sparking in his expression.
"You know I'm only yours to command, milady," he murmured, voice dipping low and dangerously smooth.
The words hung there for half a second too long.
The tension shifted—charged, intimate, different.
Elysia's breath hitched, her fingers twitching against him. Her face suddenly felt hot.
Then—realisation.
She snapped her hand back so fast it was almost comical, clearing her throat as she looked anywhere but at him. "Uh—w-well, good to know you finally understand hierarchy," she muttered, crossing her arms.
Nate blinked, his own confidence visibly short-circuiting. "…Thank you?"
And just like that, the air between them turned awkward as hell.
The tension between Nate and Elysia still hung in the air like an unspoken challenge, neither willing to acknowledge it—until the door swung open.
Anton stepped inside, eyebrow raised, immediately sensing the tension. He leaned against the doorframe, smirking.
"You two look like you got caught doing something you shouldn't. Should I give you a minute?"
Elysia's head snapped toward him, face still slightly flushed, but her glare was sharp. "Shut up, Anton."
Nate, recovering his usual bravado, smirked. "Jealous?"
Anton chuckled, but the amusement faded quickly. "As much as I'd love to watch you two fumble through whatever this is, we've a bigger problem."
The words pulled them back into reality. Elysia exhaled, turning away. Nate rolled his shoulders, shaking off the last bit of awkwardness.
"Alright, then. Let's hear it."
Anton led them down a dimly lit corridor into a briefing room, where Susana was watching silently as a black ops operative scrolled through data on a holo-display.
The screen glitched, flickering between distorted images of the Abyss Districts. Reports of black-market Aetherium sales, tech modifications, and out-of-control abilities spread across the glowing interface.
Anton gestured at the screen. "This is all the information we've got about what's been going on for the past few weeks you've been gone. It isn't much since you left around the Solstice Eve Festival, and it's now the 19th of January, but it's contained to the Abyss Districts for now. Won't stay that way forever, though. Aetherium's already throwing things out of balance."
Elysia, arms crossed, scowled. "This wouldn't be happening if the grid was still up."
Nate let out a bitter laugh, his voice laced with something sharp. "Yeah. But it also wouldn't be happening if humans hadn't built it in the first place."
The resentment in his tone was unmistakable—disgust, anger, something deeper that had long since festered. Elysia's lips parted slightly, but she said nothing.
Anton exchanged a glance with Susana, then sighed. "Alright, clear the room. Give us some privacy."
The black ops operative hesitated only for a second before silently excusing himself, the door hissing shut behind him.
As the door sealed, Anton turned his gaze back to Nate.
"Now, since we're on the topic of people causing problems… Care to explain what the hell actually happened back there?"
Nate exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"It wasn't me. Not really. Kenneth's soul had still been clinging to them. He was trying to take over. I—I reacted. And when our energies clashed, it just… happened."
Elysia narrowed her eyes. "Then why lie about passing out too?"
Nate hesitated. The weight of their stares pinned him down, but he forced himself to answer.
"I don't know. I guess I got nervous about what you'd all think. That I'd put you in danger. Again. So I played it safe and went on defence."
A brief silence stretched in the room—until Chloe weakly lifted her arm and punched Nate in the shoulder.
"That's for lying, dumbarse."
She let her hand drop, expression softening slightly. "But I get it. And I'm still here."
Elysia, arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. "I assume that's all the apologising you're going to do?"
Nate sighed and turned toward Chloe, this time more serious.
"And… about before. I said some things that weren't fair. I didn't mean to—"
Chloe cut him off, smirking despite the exhaustion still clinging to her. "Yeah, yeah. You were being a dramatic idiot. I'm used to it."
"But?" Nate prompted.
"But…" Chloe's smirk faded into something softer. "I still meant what I said. You belong with us."
Elysia, watching the exchange closely, said nothing. But her gaze held something unreadable.
Anton cleared his throat. "Alright. Now that we're all feeling sentimental, let's get back to reality."
Anton tapped a command into the holo-display, pulling up several key reports. Now, he was the one presenting them.
"We've two major problems right now." His voice was all business.
"The Syndicate and demons are still looking for Nate.
The Abyss Districts are turning into a warzone.
"So far, they haven't tried anything major, but it's only a matter of time." Anton's expression darkened.
"They think you're an easy target right now, Nate. We need to get ahead of this before they get bold."
Nate leaned against the wall, arms crossed, letting the words settle.
"So what's the plan?"
Anton exhaled. "That's what we need to decide." He gestured at the map of New London, pulsing with points of interest.
"NovaMyst isn't waiting for answers. They're pinning everything on you, Nate. The attack on the academy, the explosion of the grid—all of it, as we well know." Anton's expression darkened.
"That little stunt you pulled with the mercs may have bought you some time, but eventually they'll return for their scapegoat. So we've to act fast," Anton continued, bringing up the city map. "We need a way to move before they lock things down even harder."
"We split up," Elysia said, cutting through the tension.
Everyone turned to her.
"What do you mean?" Susana asked cautiously.
"We can't just rush into NovaMyst together. We need to be smart about this. Some of us should go back to the academy to keep up appearances. The rest should go to the Abyss District."
"I'll go," said Nate.
"Absolutely not!" said Elysia and Chloe in unison.
"Then who?"
That shifted the energy in the room.
Anton crossed his arms. "So we've six days left before anyone expects you back at the academy."
"Exactly," Chloe confirmed. "Which means we can focus on stabilising things here before making our next move."
Elysia looked thoughtful, tapping her fingers against her arm. "That could work. It gives us breathing room to figure out how to deal with the Syndicate's bounty on Nate and what's happening in the Abyss District."
"And we don't waste time going back to NovaMyst with no real plan," Susana added.
Nate leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. "So you're saying we all stay together for the next six days?"
Elysia met his gaze. "That's exactly what I'm saying."
"Are you sure you two are up for this?" Anton asked, looking pointedly at Elysia and Chloe. "You're both still recovering."
Elysia scoffed, rolling her shoulders. "I've been through worse."
Chloe crossed her arms. "And I'm not sitting around just because I got roughed up."
Anton sighed. "Of course. Stubborn royals."
The group changed into attire better suited for blending into the Abyss District—worn cloaks, dark street gear, and enough grime to avoid standing out. They left behind anything that screamed NovaMyst wealth and status.
By midday, they arrived at the Abyss District, stepping into a world entirely different from NovaMyst's pristine walls. The streets were slick with rain, neon signs flickered weakly, and the air buzzed with the energy of those testing newfound Aetherium-infused abilities. Shady merchants peddled counterfeit tech, and in the distance, the sound of an underground fight roared, punctuated by unnatural bursts of power.
Nate took in the scene. "Lively place, as always."
"Chaotic, as always," Susana muttered.
"Controlled chaos," Elysia corrected. "If you know where to look, you'll see who really runs this place."
"Eh, you haven't been around the place much, princess. There's nothing controlled about any of this," Nate said, glancing at her.
"So you wouldn't say they have a leader?" Elysia questioned.
"Not really, no." He strapped his pink katana tighter around his waist. "Which reminds me, who exactly are the Syndicate?"
Elysia and Chloe exchanged a glance before Chloe spoke. "The Syndicate isn't just a criminal group—it's a shadow empire. They've ties with some of the most powerful people in the world. Some say they rival the royal families. Others think they secretly control them."
Anton's usual stoic expression faltered for a moment. "They do worse than control things." His voice held an edge of something unfamiliar—something raw. "They experiment. They break people. They turn them into something else." Anton said this with such emotion that it took the group a second to adjust to his unusual display, until Elysia spoke first.
"We should find that makeshift school Susana and I came across before."
"A school?" Anton frowned. "What good is that?"
"Do you know what we're looking for? Because I don't want to walk around aimlessly," Elysia countered.
"We need something that actually leads us somewhere, and a school isn't it," Anton said.
Chloe tilted her head. "You never know. The Syndicate's always looking to do some fucked-up stuff. And what's more fucked up than messing with kids?"
The group stared at her.
Nate smirked. "You know, for a royal, you're terrible at structuring your words."
"What do you mean?" she asked innocently. "I had perfect structuring."
That, at least, lightened the tension as they pressed forward into the district's depths.
The group wandered through the district for hours, searching for signs of where the school had relocated. After countless dead ends, they finally found it. The makeshift school was barely standing, a repurposed industrial facility in the heart of the Abyss District. The building's metal frame was rusted, the walls stained with grime, and the occasional flicker of failing fluorescent lights cast eerie shadows on the cracked floors. The scent of damp concrete mixed with sweat, unwashed bodies, and the faint but ever-present metallic tang of blood.
The inside was no better. The so-called "classrooms" were hastily sectioned-off areas with salvaged partitions, stacked crates, and scavenged furniture. The few operational heaters were surrounded by huddled figures, desperate for warmth. Mattresses and thin blankets were scattered across the ground, offering little comfort to those who had nowhere else to go.
Children sat on the floor, clutching makeshift slates or battered old books with missing pages. Some listened intently to a weary-looking instructor—an older woman with cybernetic arms that had clearly seen better days—while others simply stared blankly, their eyes devoid of hope.
A group of disabled individuals, too weak or unable to fight, were pushed to the farthest corners, barely acknowledged. Some were missing limbs, others had cybernetic augmentations that had long since stopped functioning, turning them into dead weight in the eyes of a society that had already cast them aside. A man in a wheelchair struggled to reach a battered table, his metal fingers dragging against the floor as he tried to pull himself forward, ignored by the rest of the room.
Nate took it all in, his usual smirk absent. "Humans," he muttered. "I used to think demons were cruel compared to humans… At least in Hell, there's a logic to it. The strong rule, the weak serve or die. It's brutal, but it's natural. This?" He gestured to the suffering around them. "This is just… pointless. You people could be different. You could choose to be different. But instead, you're worse."
A few heads turned at his words, suspicion and resentment clear in their eyes. They weren't wrong to be wary. To them, Nate was just another outsider, someone who could pose as much danger as anyone else they didn't recognise.
Anton stood beside him, arms crossed, gaze locked on a group of young teens sorting through a pile of scavenged goods—scraps of food, broken tech, old clothes. He was quiet, but there was a tension in his jaw, a stiffness in his posture. His gaze flickered toward a small girl with silver-white hair, a child who reminded him of someone he used to know when he was younger.
Susana stepped closer to Anton, following his gaze toward the silver-haired girl. She studied the child in silence for a moment, then turned her attention to Anton, her expression thoughtful. "Oh," she murmured, tilting her head. "I just noticed—you and Irina have different coloured eyes, even though you're twins."
Anton didn't respond immediately. Instead, he inhaled sharply and turned to her. "Are you asking if that's possible?"
"Yeah," she said. "I'm genuinely curious."
"Well," Anton started, "genetically? Yeah, it's possible. Twins like us aren't always carbon copies—fraternal, not identical. We're just siblings born at the same time. Eye colour's a dice roll of genes. Both my mother and father carried blue or green somewhere in their blood, so the odds jumped. My sister got the green; I got the blue. Simple as that."
Susana leaned in gently towards Anton's face. "But yours seem… off? Like something's alive, swimming in the iris?"
He paused, his gaze hardening. A cold smirk flickered, betraying old pain.
"That's not genetics. That's the mages' tinkering. When they shoved their magic into my veins as a kid, it rewrote things. Eyes, bones, even my blood. They called it 'enhancement.' Felt like being skinned alive. So yeah—blame their experiments for the tinge. Makes us twins, but not quite mirrors."
He shrugged, voice dropping to a near-whisper.
"Funny, isn't it? They wanted to make me special. Turns out they just made me a walking reminder of how easily things break."
After he said this, Anton turned slightly to the side, looking back briefly at Susana and said, "Anyways, doesn't matter," before walking away to help the man in the wheelchair.
Elysia and Chloe stood in the centre of the room, taking in the despair around them. They had seen poverty before, heard stories of the Abyss District, but standing here—feeling the weight of a reality they'd never been forced to face—was different.
"How did we let it get this bad?" Chloe murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
Elysia frowned. "Did we let it get this bad? Or did we just not look?"
Chloe turned to her, a conflicted expression on her face. "We always knew it was bad. We gave aid. We pushed for policies. But… we never really saw it, did we? Not like this."
Elysia didn't answer right away. The uncomfortable realisation settled between them like a physical weight. It was easy to speak of change from the safety of palaces and council chambers. But what had they really done? Had their efforts ever truly reached places like this?
A small tug at her sleeve broke her thoughts. She looked down to see a young boy—barefoot, his face smudged with dirt—staring up at her with wide, cautious eyes.
"Are you here because you need help too?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but heavy with something deeper—an understanding, a shared burden. His small hands clenched at the hem of his tattered shirt, and his wide eyes, though filled with exhaustion, held a flicker of something else—concern, as if he were ready to share what little he had if she needed it.
Elysia hesitated. For the first time in her life, she didn't have an immediate answer.
Meanwhile, Chloe found herself surrounded by a few curious children. At first, they kept their distance, studying her like a strange new creature. But when she knelt down to their level and offered a hesitant smile, one of the younger ones—a girl with tangled brown hair—reached out and touched the fabric of Chloe's coat as if testing if she was real.
"Your clothes are pretty," the girl said.
Chloe blinked in surprise before chuckling softly. "Thank you."
The interaction seemed to ease the tension. One by one, the children grew bolder, inching closer, asking quiet questions. "Where are you from?" "Do you have food?" "Are you a princess?"
Anton, despite himself, found a small group of older teens watching him. They weren't as quick to trust, their eyes filled with a wariness that only came from surviving in a world that saw them as expendable.
The oldest of the group, a boy barely in his teens but with the hardened expression of someone far older, took a step forward. His sharp eyes scrutinised Anton, flicking over his stance, his clothes, the way he held himself. "Who are you?" he asked, voice firm but wary. "You're not from here. None of you are."
Anton exhaled, shifting his weight slightly. "Yeah? What gave it away?" His voice was as dismissive as ever, but the sharp-eyed boy didn't flinch.
The kid studied him for a moment longer, then scoffed. "Your clothes," the boy said, tone flat. "They're made to look like ours—dirty, worn-out, patched together. But they're too clean. Too new. If you'd been here long, they wouldn't be."
Anton's smirk thinned. "Sharp."
The boy took a step forward, posture tense but deliberate. "So tell me, stranger—who are you? Who are they? And why the hell are you here?"
A quiet threat hung in his voice, and as he spoke, he rested a hand on the crude but functional counterfeit CAT at his side, his stance daring Anton to lie to him.
Anton sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly? I don't know." He met the boy's gaze, his expression unusually open. "We're here because we felt like we should be. Because we needed to see it for ourselves."
The teen remained on guard, but his posture eased slightly. He exhaled, gaze steady on Anton. "Then grab your people and keep moving. This isn't a place for sightseeing. We don't have the resources to help you if you need it, and I'm not looking to turn anyone into a liability or a stepping stone. No hard feelings."
Anton said nothing for a long moment. Then, he exhaled and tilted his head slightly, studying the boy. "We'll be moving on soon enough," he said evenly. "But are you sure? No hard feelings?"
The teen's expression remained guarded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—acknowledgement, perhaps. "Just get moving. And don't give me a reason to change my mind."
"What if we do give you a reason to change your mind?" Anton asked, his voice steady. "Will you be treating us like you did the man in the wheelchair, who clearly needed help?" He knew things weren't that simple, that it was never black and white. Survival demanded sacrifices, choices no one wanted to make. But he wanted to push, to see where the boy truly stood.
The boy's posture stiffened, his eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"
"It was a simple question," Anton said. "Will you be treating us the same way? Was it because he's seen as a liability? Sure, I can see having to ration resources, but surely you could at least spare some common courtesy, no?"
The boy's grip tightened on the counterfeit CAT at his side, his sharp gaze locking onto Anton's. For a moment, the air between them crackled with unspoken challenge. Then, he exhaled sharply through his nose, his voice low and deliberate. "Oh, I'm quite aware of that, but I don't exactly like his kind or yours."
Anton's brow arched, his expression shifting to something more inquisitive. "His kind? You mean because he's disabled?"
The boy scoffed, shaking his head as if Anton had missed the point entirely. "No, what I mean is the kind that just shows up and looks very, very suspicious."
Anton crossed his arms, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. "Suspicious how? The man's in a wheelchair. How's he a threat?"
The boy's lips pressed into a thin line, his voice turning blunt and unapologetic. "Because no one in his condition would realistically make it out here, and the fact that he did means he's either hiding something, lying, or has someone else helping him. And until I can verify which one, we all keep our distance as much as humanly possible."
The words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the Abyss District's brutal logic. Anton studied the boy for a long moment, his cold smirk fading into something more contemplative. He recognised that survival here wasn't about kindness—it was about calculated risks. Still, the boy's pragmatism mirrored his own in a way that unsettled him.
"Fair enough," Anton said finally, his tone neutral but his gaze steady. "But you're wrong about one thing. Suspicion doesn't always mean danger. Sometimes it just means someone's got a story you haven't heard yet."
The boy's eyes flicked over Anton, assessing, but he didn't respond immediately. Instead, he shifted his weight, glancing toward the man in the wheelchair, who was now silently watching them from the corner, his metal fingers twitching against the armrest. The tension lingered.
Anton tilted his head slightly, breaking the silence. "What's your name, anyway? If we're going to keep talking, I'd rather not call you 'kid' in my head."
The boy paused, his sharp gaze flicking back to Anton. For a moment, it seemed he might not answer. Then, he exhaled, his voice flat but firm. "Dax."
Anton nodded once, committing it to memory. "Dax it is."
Dax didn't reply. Instead, he stepped back, his posture signalling the conversation was over. He turned slightly, his eyes lingering on the group for a beat longer before he moved toward the other teens, leaving Anton to process the exchange.
The heavy atmosphere of the Abyss District pressed in around them, but the group had adjusted—at least somewhat. There was no comfort to be found here, no illusion of safety. And yet, in some strange way, they felt more aware, more alive than they had back at NovaMyst.
Anton watched as Dax melted back into his group, their hushed voices blending into the dull murmur of the district. He had a feeling that wouldn't be their last conversation. He turned back to find Susana still watching him, her expression unreadable. He sighed, shaking his head. "Let's just keep moving."
As they continued deeper into the district, the sheer weight of suffering became more apparent. The streets were lined with makeshift tents, constructed from tarps and scavenged debris. Families huddled together for warmth, eyes hollow and weary. The air smelled of rust, burnt metal, and the unmistakable scent of desperation.
Chloe and Elysia kept close, their expressions guarded. But their eyes… their eyes betrayed something raw. They had known suffering existed, but standing in the heart of it was something else entirely.
A sudden, sharp cry broke through the murmur of the district. The group snapped their attention toward the sound, their hands instinctively drifting toward their weapons. A commotion near the entrance of an alleyway drew their attention.
Anton moved first, weaving through the crowded street. As he reached the source of the noise, he saw two men looming over a frail teenager, the boy barely old enough to be considered more than a child. His arms were thin, ribs visible beneath his tattered clothes, but his face was set in a hard glare, teeth clenched. One of the men held a jagged piece of metal—makeshift, but sharp enough to kill.
"I already told you," the boy spat, his voice trembling but defiant. "I don't have anything else to give you."
The larger of the two men sneered. "Wrong answer."
Anton moved without thinking. In an instant, he was between them, his hand locking onto the attacker's wrist before the makeshift blade could strike. His grip was iron.
The man stiffened, his gaze snapping up to Anton's cold blue eyes. "Who the hell—"
Anton twisted the man's wrist just enough to make him drop the weapon. It clattered to the ground, the noise cutting through the street like a gunshot.
"Walk away," Anton said, voice dangerously quiet. "Now."
The second thug hesitated, eyes darting between Anton and the others—Nate, now leaning against a wall, watching with a casual but unmistakably deadly air; Chloe, her stance firm, her hands glowing faintly with suppressed magic; Elysia, already calculating the distance between them and their opponents.
The first man yanked his wrist back, rubbing the reddened skin where Anton had gripped him. He spat on the ground. "Not worth it," he muttered, stepping back. "Come on."
The second man hesitated a second longer before following. The tension in the air didn't dissipate until they vanished into the crowd.
Anton turned to the boy, who was still standing, fists clenched, breathing uneven. He looked up at Anton with something between suspicion and reluctant gratitude. "…I didn't need your help."
Anton smirked faintly. "Clearly."
The boy scowled but didn't argue. Instead, he gave Anton one last searching glance before turning and vanishing into the maze of alleyways.
Susana exhaled, shaking her head. "You really can't help yourself, can you?"
Anton shrugged. "Nope."
Nate chuckled under his breath. "Well, at least we know he's consistent."
The weight of reality pressed down again as they refocused. Their presence here wasn't just about observation. They needed answers—about the district, about what was coming next, about what role they had to play in this crumbling system.
Over the next six days, the group immersed themselves in the Abyss District's grim tapestry, witnessing the depths of a society abandoned by the government and crushed under systemic neglect. Each corner revealed a new layer of despair, yet also flickers of resilience that gnawed at their consciences.
In one shadowed alley, they stumbled upon a woman clutching a toddler, her cybernetic leg sparking and useless, her face gaunt from hunger. Elysia knelt beside her, dismantling a broken CAT device from a nearby scrap pile to fashion a crude power source, stabilising the prosthetic enough for her to stand. The woman's whispered thanks lingered as Anton and Nate guided her back to Dax's makeshift school, her child clinging to her side.
Further in, Chloe spotted a group of teens cornered by a thug peddling black-market Aetherium tech, his threats laced with promises of power. Before the deal could turn violent, Nate stepped in, his pink katana flashing as he disarmed the man with a single, precise strike. The teens hesitated, then scattered—except for one, a girl with a burn-scarred arm, whom Nate sent to Dax with a gruff, "You'll be safer there."
Near the district's edge, Anton found an old man collapsed under a tarp, his breath ragged, his hands clutching a cracked slate inscribed with forbidden runes. The man's eyes, clouded but sharp, met Anton's as he offered a hand. "Not worth saving," the man rasped, but Anton hauled him up anyway, murmuring, "That's not your call." He and Nate escorted him to Dax's group, the old man muttering about lost knowledge the whole way.
Day after day, the pattern repeated—Anton's calculated interventions and Nate's instinctive rescues pulling survivors from the district's jaws. A mute boy hiding from scavengers, a woman shielding her infant from a collapsing shelter, a crippled fighter left for dead by his crew—all sent to Dax's care, their numbers swelling the makeshift school's fragile sanctuary.
By the sixth day, exhaustion shadowed their steps, but the group's resolve had hardened. The Abyss District wasn't just a place to witness—it was a call to act, a mirror reflecting the failures they'd once ignored.
As the deadline loomed, they returned to the school, its rusted walls now a familiar sight. The air buzzed with the energy of the rescued—some mending clothes, others tending to the weak, a fragile community taking shape. But Dax stood apart, his sharp eyes tracking the group's approach, his posture tense.
Anton led the way, Nate at his side, as they ushered in their latest find—a young woman with a limp, her hands trembling but her gaze fierce. Dax intercepted them before they reached the entrance, his voice cutting through the district's hum.
"Why do you keep doing this?" Dax demanded, his tone sharp with frustration. "Bringing all these new people here, risking us having to move—you think this is a game? We're stretched thin as it is."
Anton met his gaze, unflinching. "You need to have more trust."
Dax's jaw tightened, his hand twitching toward his CAT. "Trust? Out here? That's how you die. You're piling bodies on us like we're some bloody charity, and I'm the one who has to figure out how to keep them alive."
"You're already doing it," Anton said, his voice steady. "You've got a system. These people—they're not burdens. They're survivors, like you. They'll pull their weight."
Dax scoffed, shaking his head. "And if they don't? If the people doing this notice? You're not the one who pays for this."
Nate stepped forward, his tone low but firm. "They won't notice if we keep moving. I'm staying here with you. We'll make it work."
Dax's eyes widened, then narrowed. "You're what?"
"You heard me," Nate said, crossing his arms. "I'm sticking around. You need someone who can handle the heat when it comes—and it will. I'm not leaving you to deal with this alone."
Dax stared at him, incredulity warring with resignation. "You're insane. Fine. But don't expect me to like it."
"Didn't ask you to," Nate replied, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
The group exchanged glances, the weight of the decision settling over them. Six days had passed, and NovaMyst awaited.
Elysia stepped closer, her heterochromatic eyes locking onto Nate's. "You're sure about this?" Her voice was steady, but a flicker of something raw—worry, maybe regret—shone through.
Nate's gaze softened, just for a moment. "Yeah. You lot need to sort out the academy and the families. I'd just be a liability there right now. Here…" He gestured vaguely at the district's chaos. "I can do some good. Keep the Syndicate and everyone else off your backs."
Elysia's lips pressed into a thin line, her hand brushing his arm—light, hesitant, but lingering longer than necessary. "You better not get yourself caught, Drakkar," she murmured, her voice dropping low, threaded with an ache she couldn't hide. "We can't fix this without you."
Nate's smirk faltered, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made the air feel too small. "I'll be waiting, princess," he said softly, the words a quiet promise that sent a shiver through her. "Don't take too long."
Chloe approached next, her posture stiff, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "This is stupid," she said, her tone sharp but brittle. "You're not some martyr, Nate. The Syndicate's after you, the families are after you, and now you're just… what, hiding out here?"
Nate tilted his head, his grin faint but edged with something gentler. "Not hiding. Fighting on a different front. You'll figure out the proof—I know you will. Just don't let them pin it all on me forever, yeah?"
Chloe's jaw tightened, her eyes flashing with frustration—and something deeper, something that made her step closer despite herself. "You're impossible," she muttered, her hand hovering near his shoulder before settling there briefly, her touch firm but fleeting. "Stay alive. We're not done with you." Her voice cracked slightly, and she glanced at Elysia, a flicker of tension passing between them.
Elysia's gaze sharpened, her fingers curling into her palm as she caught Chloe's look. The air thickened—loyalty, rivalry, and unspoken longing twisting into a knot neither would name. She turned away first, breaking the moment with a sharp exhale. "We'll be back for you, Nate. Soon."
Anton clapped Nate on the shoulder, his smirk faint but genuine. "Don't scare them too much. We've enough enemies."
Susana nodded, her voice soft but resolute. "Take care of them. And yourself."
Nate shrugged, his casual bravado slipping back into place. "Yeah, yeah. Go play detectives at NovaMyst. I'll hold the line here."
The group turned to leave, their footsteps heavy against the cracked concrete.
Elysia paused at the edge of the school's shadow, glancing back at Nate one last time. His silhouette stood against the flickering neon, pink katana strapped tight, a lone figure in the district's chaos. Her chest tightened, a pang of something she couldn't voice pulling at her, but she forced herself to keep walking.
Chloe lingered a moment longer, her expression unreadable, her cloak brushing the ground as she watched him. Then, with a quiet huff, she followed, her steps quick to mask the hesitation in her eyes. The goodbye hung between them all—temporary, but heavy with the stakes of their fractured mission.