## Chapter 16: Shattered Facade
Kelvin hit the gravel rooftop of the parking structure hard, the impact jarring his teeth, gravel scraping his palms. He ignored it, rolling to his feet in a single, adrenaline-fueled motion. The **System** flashed a warning: **<< MP: 42/180 >>**. Dangerously low. But the sight before him banished all caution.
The churning, green-tinged fog pressed against the reinforced lecture hall complex like a living wall. From within came a cacophony – guttural shrieks that raised the hairs on his neck, the sharp *crack-hiss* of security stun-staves, panicked human screams, and the sickening crunch of rending metal. The main doors were buckled inward, thick steel warped by immense force. A secondary entrance – a heavy fire door near the back – was partially torn off its hinges, the opening choked with the unnatural mist. That was his way in.
He didn't hesitate. Drawing on the last dregs of his MP and the cold focus of **Combat Acumen**, he sprinted across the roof and vaulted the low wall. He dropped the two stories down, landing in a crouch behind an overturned campus security cart, momentarily hidden from the chaos swirling near the breached entrance. The metallic-rotten stench of the fog was overwhelming here. He saw flickers of movement within – hunched, green-skinned figures with too-long limbs and jagged teeth. Goblins. Low-tier, but deadly in swarms, especially to unarmed civilians.
Gritting his teeth, he manifested a single **Blood War Chain**. The liquid shadow and crimson energy coiled around his right wrist, humming with lethal intent, draining precious MP. **<< MP: 32/180 >>**. *Just enough. Just for her.* He moved like a wraith, sticking to the shadows cast by the swirling fog and damaged structures, heading for the torn fire door.
***
Inside Lecture Hall B, the fragile sanctuary had shattered. The reinforced blast doors held the main entrance, but the smaller service entrance near the stage had been compromised – a ventilation shaft cover ripped away. Through it, screeching and snarling, poured a tide of wiry, green-skinned goblins. Eight of them, eyes burning with malicious hunger, crude stone knives and jagged metal shards clutched in clawed hands.
Panic erupted. Screams tore through the air, louder than the emergency klaxons. Students and faculty surged away from the stage, a terrified stampede towards the sealed main doors. Chairs overturned, bags were abandoned, the air thick with pure, unadulterated terror.
Elara, shoved forward in the panicked rush, stumbled over an abandoned backpack. She hit the hard linoleum floor hard, the breath knocked out of her. Sasha, pulled away by the surging crowd, screamed her name, but the tide was too strong. Elara scrambled to push herself up, her palms stinging, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
A guttural snarl cut through the din. One of the goblins, faster than the others, had broken from the pack. It leapt over an overturned chair, beady eyes fixed on Elara, the easy prey separated from the herd. Saliva dripped from its fanged maw as it raised a jagged piece of rebar, poised to stab down.
Time slowed. Elara saw death descending. Not just her death, but Kelvin's sentence. Alone. Helpless. Abandoned. A sob choked her. *I'm sorry, Kel.* She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the impact.
The sickening *thud* of punctured flesh echoed, shockingly loud. But no pain came.
Elara flinched, eyes snapping open.
The goblin hung suspended in mid-air, inches from her. Its eyes bulged, mouth slack. Protruding from the center of its scrawny chest was a length of dark, impossibly solid metal, barbed and cruel, pulsing with faint crimson veins deep within its shadowy substance. A chain. A chain forged of night and blood.
A wave of stunned silence washed over the immediate area. Students nearby froze mid-scream, staring in disbelief at the skewered monster. The other goblins hissed, momentarily confused.
Elara's gaze followed the chain back to its source. It snaked across the floor, through the legs of overturned chairs, back towards the torn service entrance shrouded in fog.
And there, standing framed in the swirling green mist, one arm outstretched, was Kelvin.
He looked like a figure from a nightmare. Sweat and grime streaked his face. His clothes were torn and dirty from his mad dash and rooftop landing. His eyes burned with an intensity she'd never seen before – fierce, protective, and terrifyingly focused. The chain connected to his wrist pulsed with dark energy.
Joy, pure and blinding, exploded in Elara's chest. *Kelvin! He came! He's here!* A sob of relief escaped her lips.
But the joy lasted only a heartbeat.
It crashed into the horrifying reality. Kelvin was *here*. In the middle of a dungeon breach. Kelvin, who could barely walk . Kelvin, who should be resting on the couch, safe. Kelvin, whose eyes held a ferocity that spoke of violence she couldn't comprehend. Kelvin, wielding a weapon that looked like it was forged in hell itself.
The look of pure, desperate sadness that washed over her face was profound. It wasn't fear for herself anymore. It was terror *for him*.
"Kelvin!" she screamed, her voice raw with anguish, cutting through the stunned silence. "NO! Run! Get out of here! Save yourself!" Her plea wasn't born of self-preservation, but of the crushing fear of losing him *because* of her. He shouldn't be here. He couldn't survive this. Whatever he was doing, whatever that chain was... it wasn't worth his life. *"Save yourself!"* she cried again, tears streaming down her face.
Kelvin met her eyes across the chaotic room. He saw the joy extinguished by despair, the desperate plea for *his* safety. It struck him harder than any physical blow. But there was no retreat. The other goblins, recovering from their shock, turned their hungry eyes towards him, the new threat. The chain retracted from the dead goblin with a sickening slurp, dissolving back into his wrist. **<< MP: 24/180 >>**. Dangerously low.
He stepped fully into the room, the fog swirling around his legs. The Forsaken Architect faced the pack, his sister's desperate plea echoing in his ears, the **Blood War Chains** humming with the promise of violence. Saving himself was never an option. Protecting Elara was the only path.
"Stay behind me," he growled, his voice low and rough, unlike anything she'd ever heard from him. The chains began to manifest again, one coiling around each wrist, ready to paint the lecture hall floor in goblin blood. The facade was utterly, irrevocably shattered.