Where the hell do you even start looking for a cannon?
I figured it had to be in some kind of storage area. Maybe a weapons depot, an old armory, or even an underground bunker. But so far, nothing. Just the same ruined buildings, shattered windows, and crumbling walls.
The city felt even emptier than before—though I knew that was impossible.
Find the cannon, Kevin. Don't waste time.
But with every step I took, an uneasy feeling coiled tighter in my gut.
The silence was wrong.
Even in a dead city, there should have been something—a breeze rattling broken glass, the caw of a crow, the distant shifting of debris. But there was nothing.
Only my own footsteps, echoing too loudly off cracked stone walls.
Then, I saw them. Not people. Echoes.
A child's doll, its fabric singed at the edges, abandoned on a doorstep.
A faded painting, its family's faces blurred by soot and time.
A message scrawled across a wall in what looked like dried blood:
"We begged the stars to save us, but they did not answer."
I swallowed hard, my grip tightening around the hilt of my sword.
Just echoes. Nothing more.
Then my eyes caught something ahead—a pillar of stone, standing alone in the center of a ruined courtyard.
Unlike the rest of the city, it was untouched.
Not a single scratch marred its dark surface.
I stepped closer.
Intricate inscriptions covered its face, carved in precise, winding lines. At first, it looked like gibberish, but the longer I stared, the more it began to make sense.
Star maps.
Lines connecting symbols, forming constellations I recognized.
But something was wrong.
There was Orion, standing proud. And above it—Aldebaran.
The city was called Orion.
Could the inscription be referring to itself?
Then Scorpius, its tail curling forward—Shaula, the stinger, poised to strike.
Orion, struck down by the Scorpion.
My fingers brushed my chin. What does any of this mean? Could it be a clue to the cannon's location?
And then—I saw it.
Eridanus.
A long, winding constellation flowing between Orion and Scorpius.
But unlike the others, it was painted red. No—
I took a step closer.
Not paint.
Dried blood.
here were other stars to the left of the monolith—Regulus, Arneb—but my focus remained on the ones surrounding Orion.
If this city was named after the constellation, then what was this map trying to tell me?
And why did it feel like I was being watched?
Then there was the Weeping Star.
Fomalhaut.
Positioned at the easternmost edge of the monolith, its inscription stood alone beneath it:
Never again.
A shiver ran down my spine as I put the pieces together. Orion had once been an independent city. Before PrideFall took it.
So were Pert, Gerian, and at least thirty-two more cities. As someone whose father was proudly from PrideFall, I had never given much thought to how the kingdom had expanded.
But standing here, before a monument built in blood, it became impossible to ignore.
Each constellation carved into the stone had a story etched beneath it—too faded to read completely. But the words I could make out…
History, written in the language of the stars. I reached out, tracing the cold surface of the monolith—
And then I realized something. Fomalhaut, the Weeping Star, was positioned to the east.
If my hunch was correct...
I turned toward the eastern horizon. Beyond the ruins, there was a patch of land even more barren than the rest of the city. Scorched. Lifeless. That was it.
That was the place where Orion had fallen. Which meant there might be some weapons left there.
I exhaled sharply, tearing my gaze from the past. The others were waiting.
I had a cannon to find.
The path ahead was clearer now.
Ruined watchtowers and shattered fortifications marked what had once been Orion's battlefield.
The ground was different here. Scarred and uneven, the stone cracked from ancient wars. The remains of old weapons littered the area: rusted swords, broken shields, the skeletal remains of siege engines that hadn't moved in decades.
And then, there it was.
The cannon.
A massive iron weapon, its barrel half-buried in rubble. Rust covered its surface, its wheels long since rotted away.
But it was still intact.
I climbed over the wreckage, running my fingers along its cold, weathered metal.
It could work. I just had to—
CRACK.
Something shifted beneath me.
I barely had time to react before—
BOOM.
The cannon fired.
The explosion threw me backward. A deafening boom tore through the battlefield as smoke and dust filled the air. My ears rang violently as I slammed into the ground, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs.
I coughed, choking on dust—
And then I felt it. A tremor.
But not from the cannon. From something else.
I turned my head, squinting through the smoke—
And froze.
At the very edge of the battlefield, a cave had been revealed.
I hadn't noticed it before. But the cannonball had blown the rocks away at the entrance.
And now, something was moving inside.
The first thing to emerge were the tendrils.
Thick, slithering coils of slime. Green. Then red. Then yellow.
And finally—
Something massive began to rise.
A monstrous shape loomed from the abyss, its form shimmering an unnatural shade of blue.
Bigger than anything I had ever seen.
A King.
The slime army surged from the cave.
The red ones took the lead, gliding across the cracked battlefield with unnatural speed.
And behind them, looming like a war general, was the giant blue King Slime.
I stood frozen. Not again. Not again! We were outmatched.
The Queen in the forest had left us alone because there was nothing left to consume. But the King? It was charging forward.
Did it think the cannon fire meant there were more humans here?
Was it hunting me specifically?
It didn't matter. It was coming. I clenched my jaw. I couldn't run back to the others in time.
If the slime army reached the city ruins, we'd be overrun.
If we retreated to the forest, the Queen would consume us instead.
We were trapped. I messed up. I messed up.
Something tapped against my boot.
A rabbit. White fur. Small frame.
Arneb.
Connie.
She had said she could see through them. Did that mean she was watching now? I hesitated, then crouched lower.
"Tell Lance and the others we have a HUGE slime problem."
The rabbit blinked. And then—nothing. It didn't run. It just sat there, watching me.
Did it get the message? I had no idea. But I didn't have time to doubt it. I had to fix this.
I jumped into the trenches. My heartbeat hammered in my chest.
This must have been what soldiers felt like before a battle.
The cannonball I fired earlier must have been left here for decades because the barrel was now completely empty. Dented, discarded cannonballs lay scattered in the trenches.
I had no idea how to operate this thing.
PrideFall's military didn't use cannons.
Bows, swords, and spears? Sure.
But cannons? They belonged to Phloj, one of the old city-states PrideFall had conquered.
The Kingdom even banned them, calling them weapons of indiscriminate slaughter. Not "honorable" like hand-to-hand combat.
Well, I didn't care about honor right now.
I looked around for other cannons. But only this one was left. There should have been more, right? You can't fight a battle with only one cannon.
Then I saw it. Footprints, bare, on the soft earth. And the trail of wheels imprinted on the ground. Someone had carried the cannons. But why leave this last one.
The Slime's unnatural screech tore me from my thoughts.
I crouched beside the battered frame, running my fingers along its rusted surface.
The powder chamber.
A small, rusted box welded behind the barrel.
I needed gunpowder, right?
I dug through the debris, overturning shattered crates, broken weapons, anything that might contain explosives.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
I swallowed. The orange liquid.
The same volatile substance that had blown up our camp. The same liquid that had killed the Queen.
Would it work? Probably. But there was one problem.
It might blow me up too. My fingers closed around something cold—a dented metal tin, its label peeling.
I unscrewed the lid. Fine black powder.
I exhaled sharply. "Gotcha."
I dumped the powder into the chamber, packing it down with a jagged metal rod. My arms ached, every muscle burning with fatigue.
Then, the cannonball.
I pushed one towards the cannon, heaving it into the muzzle. It was heavier than I expected, the weight pressing into my hands like the burden we all carried.
Clang.
We were so close. It was supposed to be smooth sailing from here to PrideFall.
But if this didn't work—if we didn't make it. . .
No. I shoved the thought away. No time for doubt.
Voices.
I turned sharply, breath still heavy from the exertion.
Lance, Hogan, Meili, and Connie emerged from the ruins, their weapons drawn. Connie's rabbits darted around their feet, their ears twitching nervously.
Hogan's eyes locked onto the blue behemoth behind me.
"Goddamn," he muttered, half in awe, half in fear.
Lance. I swallowed. I messed up.
"Lance, I'm sorry. I—"
"Don't worry." Lance cut me off, his voice calm. "Connie already told us what happened, and we don't have much time."
He was right. No time for guilt. No time for explanations. We had to act.