"Sir! Please, come take a look at our fine wares!"
"Three kilos of Shaboot for just fifty pais!"
"Sekawi potions—the best healing money can buy! Hurry before the stock runs dry!"
The bazaar bustled with life. Hawkers shouted over each other, eager to pull in customers. Shoppers bargained and bartered, trying to squeeze every last pais out of their coins. But Jake ignored them all. He wasn't here to haggle.
He was hunting for a underground dealer.
Not just any dealer—a particularly nasty group known as Kaidya. He'd encountered one of them once, long ago, just before he left the city. Back then, he was a naive teen, desperate to learn why he remained unclaimed by a Divine Sign. They'd taken full advantage of his ignorance, cheating him out of his money with false promises and cryptic lies.
This time would be different.
He was here for something far more valuable than truth: information about the Skyhog.
Jake turned down a narrow alley and made his way toward a dim, run-down pub. A few patrons sat inside, slouched at tables, their drinks dull and their eyes duller. He headed straight for the bartender—a tall, broad man in his thirties with curly brown hair and a mustache bold enough to make an Argarian noble jealous.
Jake leaned in and spoke in a low voice.
"A bunch of scraps were found in the palace pool, while the king stared at his reflection and wondered why his face looked wrong."
The bartender squinted at Jake, then asked, "And what was the princess doing in the market?"
Jake didn't flinch. "She wondered if frogs could swim to the moon."
The bartender gave a grunt, then turned and opened a door behind him, motioning for Jake to follow.
They walked through a dusty storage room. As they moved, the bartender tapped his foot in a peculiar rhythm: four sharp taps, one pause, two slow steps. When they reached what looked like a dead-end wall, the bartender didn't stop—he walked straight through it.
Jake followed.
A brief shiver passed through him, then he found himself in a dim chamber, cloaked in shadow and reeking of decay. The stench of rotting flesh and rusting metal hit him like a punch. His eyes adjusted slowly to the faint candlelight. Racks lined the walls, crowded with strange, forbidden wares: rusted machine parts, jars holding corrupted wisps, glowmoth wings, jagged teeth, and other things Jake couldn't even name.
Then he felt it—a presence, lurking just beyond the candle's glow. Something inhuman watched him from the dark.
Jake stared into the shadows until a figure stepped out.
"Welcome, my good customer," said the man with a graceful bow. "How may I be of service?"
The bartender grunted and disappeared through the same wall, leaving Jake alone with the dealer. Jake didn't answer right away. Instead, he let his eyes drift behind the smiling man, to the deeper dark from which he'd emerged.
To an untrained eye, it looked empty.
But Jake could feel it—a presence, unexplainable and alive, nestled in the blackness beyond sight.
"I'm looking for arcane sequences," Jake said finally.
The dealer's face remained locked in a smile that felt just a little too practiced.
"Oh, arcane sequences? Wonderful," he said, clapping his hands softly. "May I ask—of what kind?"
"Tier 3. Skyhog. C-series," Jake replied.
The dealer's smile faltered, albeit barely. He stared at Jake for a moment, then gave a sigh while still maintaining his creepy smile.
"I'm terribly sorry, good customer, but we don't deal in weapons above Tier 2. And we strictly refrain from selling arcane sequences related to weaponry. I hope you'll forgive the inconvenience."
Jake didn't respond. Instead, he reached into his coat and placed a red coin on the table.
It was smooth, heavy, and engraved with a crude curved line near the edge. At its center, a reversed Y, with three diagonal strokes crossing the stem.
The shadows behind the dealer stirred.
For the first time, the dealer's smile seemed a little strained.
"Ah… I see," he said carefully. "A customer with affiliations to the Red Sword."
He gave a shallow, uneasy bow.
"It is an honor to meet one of your standing. But even so, I must regretfully repeat, we are not authorized to conduct business of that nature. Not even for you."
Jake said nothing. He had a feeling the Red Sword insignia wouldn't help him now. The Kaidya Association had recently fallen out with the Red Sword, an infamous assassin group.
He'd come across the coin during a past encounter with the group's assassins, who had once been contracted to kill his mentor.
Suddenly, a faint thud echoed down the corridor. Both Jake and the dealer turned toward the wall he had entered through.
"What was that?" Jake asked.
"Ah, my honorable customer," the dealer replied with a polite smile, "it seems there's some trouble at the front. I must apologize for the inconvenience. Rest assured, the Kaidya Association takes great pride in its service. We shall make it up to you next time. But for now, I'm afraid this is goodbye."
He gave a slight bow.
Without warning, the entire room spiraled inward collapsing into itself like a black hole. In the blink of an eye, Jake was back where he started, standing before the same wall he'd entered through.
Void manipulation, he thought. So the traders do have their own tricks.
His thoughts were interrupted by another loud bang from outside. An unnatural presence loomed beyond the room. Jake tensed and drew his short sword.
He crept toward the door, hand on the knob, ready to investigate. But then, his instincts screamed.
Run.
He turned, trying to leap away, but it was too late.
A deafening sonic boom shattered the air. The door burst into splinters, sending Jake flying across the room. He crashed into a fallen wine rack, pain exploding through his lower back. Groaning, he rolled onto his side.
Cries and shouts echoed from outside. But the sound that froze Jake's blood was a low, guttural growl, unnatural and terrifying. It made his entire body shudder.
He gritted his teeth and tried to stand, using the shattered rack for support. As he pushed himself up, he noticed a thick splinter of wood jutting from his bloodied coat. Gasping, he grabbed the shard's outer edge, took a deep breath, and yanked it out. The pain was blinding.
He stood there for a moment, hunched and shaking, waiting for his body to adjust. Then, step by agonizing step, he moved through the ruined bar. The ceiling had collapsed, bodies lay trapped beneath rubble, and broken glass glittered like stars in the dim light.
Jake winced with every step. The street beyond was no longer alive with music and laughter. Flames danced across the cobblestones. People ran screaming, some weeping as they clutched their loved ones.
It was as if hell had broken through, right into the heart of this town.
***
"First group, secure the Nexus Bridge and all outer routes. No one gets in or out, use force if necessary. Second group, gather every scrap of intel and report back to the command center. Third group, coordinate with local coppers and erect barricades at key chokepoints. Reinforcements are en route, but until then, we hold the line. Fourth group, analyze incoming reports and devise immediate containment strategies."
The captain's voice rang clear and sharp over the chaos, cutting through the tension like a blade. Troops stood tense outside Nexus County, border guards of Nalendia State under Wenistain's central armed forces. The attack had come fast, igniting from the market center, and though they'd had barely any time to react, the captain's directives brought structure to the growing panic.
One squad advanced toward the most recent site flagged by the command center. The destruction was... surreal. Buildings lay in ruins, the ground torn open, blood splattered across broken stone and shattered glass. It stretched endlessly.
A young soldier's breath caught in his throat. It was his first deployment, his first encounter with this level of carnage. He'd heard stories, of course. Legends of powerful Awakened who could level cities. He'd thought them exaggerated.
But this... this wasn't myth. It was madness made real.
As he scanned the devastation, desperate for any sign of life, his eyes caught movement. A woman stumbled forward through the wreckage, clutching a bleeding left arm. Despite her injury, she seemed otherwise intact. He waved to his superior.
"Sir, I see a survivor. Requesting permission to assist."
The leader gave a nod.
The woman wore a brown dress and black pants, her bobbed hair matted with dust. Blue-rimmed glasses clung to her face, one lens cracked through. Her jaw was clenched as she limped toward them.
"Hey, miss, are you alright?" the young soldier called out.
She glanced up, gritting her teeth. "For Thogarr's sake... why the fucking hell did I even come to this cursed town?" she muttered before crumpling to the ground.
The soldier rushed forward, but she waved him off with a pained grunt. Before he could insist, his squad leader barked a command. He hesitated, torn.
"I'll take her to the emergency tents," came a voice from behind.
Jake stepped forward, emerging from the shadows of a collapsed building. He had been silently surveying the ruins, tracing the path of destruction in search of answers.
The young soldier looked at him, then back at the woman. "Alright... make sure you both get treated," he said quietly before running to rejoin his unit.
Jake knelt beside the woman, offering a steady hand. "You're suppressing the pain with a healing spell, right? I can help you to the tents."
She narrowed her eyes. "You're... an Awakened?"
He sighed. "It's complicated. But you need real treatment. That wound's worse than it looks."
She hesitated, then placed her hand in his. He helped her to her feet, and together, they began walking toward the northern tents where the injured were being gathered, both of them knowing that this day was far from over.