The pulsing beat of Renegade's music reverberated through Daglan's chest, the vibrations coursing through his veins. Around him, the crowd surged and swayed, caught up in the raw, electrifying energy of the performance.
Beside him, Kento bobbed his head in time with the music, a grin plastered across his face. "I can't believe we found this place!" he yelled over the din. "This is insane!"
Daglan nodded, unable to keep the smile from his own lips. After the tense encounter in the alley, the sheer exhilaration of the underground club was a welcome reprieve. Here, in the flickering shadows of The Deadroot, their troubles from above seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of freedom and possibility.
As Miaki's powerful vocals soared over the churning rhythm section, Daglan found himself caught up in the primal energy of the crowd. Fists pumped, bodies collided, and laughter rang out, creating an infectious atmosphere that spread through the cavern like wildfire.
For a moment, Daglan allowed himself to forget the looming threat of the knights, the ever-present smog, and the uneasy tension that had shadowed their every step since arriving in Bolgue. Here, in this hidden sanctuary, he felt alive in a way he hadn't since leaving the vibrant world of Graybarrow.
The song built to a climactic finish, the final chords echoing off the earthen walls as the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. Miaki grinned widely, her mismatched eyes sparkling with exhilaration as she surveyed the sea of faces before her.
"Alright, you've warmed us up nicely!" she called out, her voice rich with amusement. "Now let's really get this place shaking!"
The band launched into a new song, the opening riff sending a fresh surge of energy through the crowd. Daglan felt himself swept up in the moment, his feet moving of their own accord as he lost himself in the primal rhythm.
As he danced, he couldn't help but glance back toward the stage, his gaze drawn to Miaki's commanding presence. There was something captivating about the way she commanded the spotlight, her fierce energy radiating outward to envelop the entire cavern.
Catching his eye, Miaki winked, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. Daglan felt his cheeks grow warm, his heart pounding with a sudden flutter. Quickly, he turned back to Kento, hoping his friend hadn't noticed the momentary lapse in his composure.
But as Kento met his gaze, Daglan saw a familiar gleam in his eyes - one that told him he'd been caught. Kento's brows rose ever so slightly, a silent question hanging between them.
The final notes of Renegade's set faded into the earthen walls, leaving Daglan's ears ringing. His skin still tingled from the vibrations of the bass throughout their performance. A gnawing anxiety crept back as he realized how long they'd been below ground. Surely someone had noticed their absence by now.
Through the haze of body heat and scattered light, he watched two hulking figures trade blows in the fighting ring, their impacts carrying even over the explosion of the next band. "We should probably head back soon," he sighed to Kento, who nodded reluctantly.
Einar slumped against the bar beside them, the drummer's thick fingers tapping out phantom rhythms on the worn wood. The metallic grinding of his metics kept time with each movement. "Yeah, us too. Parents'll kill us if they catch us out again." His voice carried the sour weight of resignation as he stared into his posset. "Gotta work sun up to sun down," he groaned.
The spiced drink's aroma wafted past as Kento lifted his own mug, and Daglan noticed how the froth clung to his friend's upper lip. When Miaki threw back another clear spirit beside him, Daglan couldn't help but track the movement, watch how she squeezed her eyes shut against the burn. Her glass struck the bar and he caught the slight tremor in her hand as she set it down.
"What about you, Miaki?" The question slipped out before he could stop it. "Do you have to work in the morning?"
"Hell no! I'm a free spirit!" Her declaration rang out with a familiar bravado that made his chest tighten. Her mismatched eyes caught the light as she turned to him, and this close, Daglan saw something flicker behind her practiced grin - a shadow that vanished so quickly he might have imagined it. "Can't work the factories if they don't know you exist."
"What do you mean?" Kento asked, his body starting to sway slightly.
"My parents threw me out as a baby so I wouldn't be registered. If you're not registered you don't work, you just gotta steer clear of knights," she explained, tapping her glass on the table until it was refilled with a clear spirit.
Beside him, Kento's took on a deep crimson hue as he laughed. "Must be great! Do you just stay here and play all day?"
Miaki's expression shifted, the mischievous gleam in her eyes dimming as she let out a hollow chuckle. She tipped her head back, draining the refilled glass in a single, fluid motion. The clear liquid glistened on her lips as she set the empty tumbler back down.
"Not exactly," Miaki replied, her voice laced with resignation.
Galen leaned in, his towering frame casting a shadow across their little corner. "Uhm... I think you should stop now," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the pounding bass. "You're not gonna be able to walk if the knights find you."
"I don't care," Miaki cut him off, her words sharp and unyielding. She refused to meet Galen's concerned gaze, her mismatched eyes trained resolutely on the bartender.
"You guys should head home, take them with you and show 'em the way," Miaki said, waving them off.
Einar gave a reassuring nod. "We'll see you tomorrow night, be safe Miaki." Turning to Daglan and Kento, Einar jerked his head toward the distant tunnel entrance. "Alright gang, you heard the boss. Time to get you boys home."
As they navigated the pulsing crowd, Daglan couldn't help but glance back at Miaki. She sat alone now, shoulders hunched, a stark contrast to the vibrant performer he'd witnessed on stage. Something tugged at his chest, an unfamiliar ache that he couldn't quite place. He wanted to understand, to know what demons lurked beneath her defiant exterior. But the throng of bodies surged between them, swallowing her from view, and Daglan reluctantly turned to follow Einar and Galen through the winding tunnel.
The biting chill of Bolgue's night air hit Daglan like a smack to the face as he emerged from the tunnel, his senses reeling from the abrupt transition. After the thunderous cacophony and close, sweat-soaked atmosphere of The Deadroot, the city's familiar mechanical drone and acrid smog felt alien and harsh. His shoulders slumped beneath the weight of disappointment. I got nothing I came for, just more questions. A deep sigh escaped his lips in a cloud of vapor that dissipated into the bristling night. Above, the eternal industrial haze choked out any hint of stars, leaving only an impenetrable darkness that matched his mood. All he came away with was that his description of Vilrux matched a merc the government often used for their dirty work. The Wolf.
"That was crazy!" Kento's enthusiastic voice shattered the quiet, echoing off the narrow walls before he clapped his hands over his mouth. His eyes widened with sudden sobriety as he darted glances in every direction, withering under the venomous glares from their companions. "Sorry..." he whispered, though excitement still danced in his eyes. "But it was amazing! I can't wait till our next visit to Bolgue."
Einar's weathered features hardened as he guided them toward an alley so narrow their shoulders nearly brushed both walls. "I wouldn't be so keen on coming and going from here," he warned, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "If you're caught by the knights, you'll be lucky to get away with broken bones."
Daglan nodded, his gut twisting as they moved through the maze-like streets. The slick cobblestones beneath his feet forced him to focus on each step, but his mind churned. He couldn't shake the feeling that the shadows between the buildings were growing longer, darker, swallowing the light from the dim streetlamps. Keep it together, he told himself, forcing his breathing to slow. You're imagining things. Just get through this and you'll be fine.
The stone beneath their feet was slick with condensation from the factory exhaust, making each step treacherous as they followed Einar and Galen through Bolgue's maze-like streets. Every few minutes, the ground would shudder from massive machinery churning away in the industrial towers above, their metal frames groaning like dying beasts.
"Watch your step here," Einar warned, gesturing to a section where the cobblestones had completely eroded, replaced by a patchwork of metal plates that had been hastily welded in place. "They never bother fixing anything properly."
A patrol of knights marched past a parallel street, their heavy boots creating a counterpoint to the city's industrial symphony. The group pressed themselves into the shadow of a defunct ventilation shaft, its rusted surface cool against their backs as they waited for the danger to pass.
"Different route," Galen whispered, his usual silence broken. He gestured toward a narrow gap between two building, where steam hissed from corroded pipes in irregular bursts. "Maintenance tunnels."
They ducked into the space single file, the walls so close that Daglan's shoulders brushed against decades of accumulated grime. The steam made visibility poor, but through the haze, he could make out the skeletal frames of abandoned machinery, their purposes long forgotten as newer, more efficient models replaced them.
The passage opened into what must have once been a loading dock, now serving as an impromptu marketplace for those who couldn't afford the registered shops. A few vendors still lingered despite the late hour, their wares spread across makeshift tables fashioned from discarded machine parts. One elderly woman caught Daglan's eye, her metics so ancient they barely functioned, clicking and whirring with each subtle movement as she arranged scraps of recycled metal.
"Almost there," Einar assured them, leading them past a collection of storage tanks that loomed overhead like silent sentinels. "There's a breach in the outer wall where they never finished replacing the old foundations." The air grew thicker as they approached their destination, carrying a chemical odor that made Daglan's eyes water.
"Here," Galen indicated, pointing to what appeared to be a solid section of wall. But as they drew closer, Daglan could see how the stone had been carefully cut away, creating a passage just wide enough for a person to squeeze through if they turned sideways.
As they neared the breach in the outer wall, his unease solidified into dread. The rhythm of the city had changed. The familiar hum of machinery was now punctuated by something... off. A faint, rhythmic tapping, like a predator's claws on stone. Daglan stopped in his tracks, his stomach sinking. Wait, his mind urged, the word forming on his lips.
"Wait—" he began, but the words barely left his mouth before the steam around them suddenly blazed with artificial light, cutting through the haze like knives. The sound of multiple weapons being drawn echoed off the narrow walls, and through his enhanced perception, Daglan felt them. At least a dozen knights, their armor humming with powered systems, surrounding them on all sides. How did I not notice them! I was careless!
"Well, well," a voice cut through the chaos. "Looks like we caught ourselves a couple rats." A knight stepped into view, his scarred face twisted into a predatory smile. The light gleamed off his ceremonial armor, turning him into a creature of metal and shadow.
Einar and Galen moved instinctively to run, but more knights materialized from the steam, cutting off every possible escape route. Daglan's mind raced, searching for options, but the reality was crushing, they were trapped, cornered like animals against the very wall that had promised freedom. No, no, no—this can't be happening.
"You two aren't from around here," The knight continued, gesturing to his knights, who began to close in, their mechanized movements perfectly synchronized. "Now, who wants to explain what you were doing in my city?"
The first blow caught Daglan in the stomach, the powered armor turning what should have been a punch into something that felt like being hit by a sledgehammer. His organs seemed to compress against his spine as bile surged up his throat. He doubled over, retching, only to meet a metal-clad knee that snapped his head back with a wet crunch. Stars exploded behind his eyes as he crashed to the ground, teeth cutting deep into his cheek. Blood and saliva mixed into a frothy paste that he spat onto the stones.
Not like this... The words echoed in Daglan's mind, a desperate mantra as his body refused to obey him. I'm not strong enough... I wasn't ready... Panic clawed at his chest, choking his thoughts with dread. Please...
The scarred knight's voice held a cruel amusement as he gestured to his men. "Show these rats what happens when they scurry where they don't belong."
Two knights seized Kento, their powered armor whining as hands clamped his arms behind him. Another began methodically striking him, metal fists pulping flesh. Each impact landed with a sickening thud that Daglan felt in his own bones. The wet snap of Kento's nose breaking punctuated his scream, blood sheeting down his face and soaking his collar. His legs buckled, but the knights held him upright, forcing him to endure every blow.
When Kento's scream broke through the haze of his pain, Daglan's eyes snapped open, horror sharpening his focus. He thrashed against the boot pinning him down, desperation fueling him. Not Kento. Not him. Each impact on his friend's body felt like it reverberated in Daglan's chest, a silent accusation. Do something. Move!
"Stop!" Daglan tried to push himself up, but the boot pressed between his shoulder blades with crushing force. His ribs creaked against the stone as grit and broken teeth cut into his cheek. He could only watch as Kento's face transformed into a mass of purple-black swelling, one eye completely disappearing beneath the inflammation. Blood bubbled from his lips with each labored breath.
Near the wall, Einar and Galen's screams mixed into a horrific duet. The knights targeted their metics with surgical precision, the mechanisms shrieking as they were being torn apart. Sparks showered the ground as delicate gears and pistons shattered. Einar's defiant curses transformed into animal sounds as a knight methodically crushed each finger of his drumming hand. Bones splintered like twigs, joints popping wetly as they were pulverized.
"Please," Daglan choked out through the blood filling his mouth, "they were just showing us around-"
The boot lifted, only for a gauntleted hand to seize his hair, yanking him to his knees with enough force to tear scalp from skull. The scarred knight leaned close, his breath hot and rank against Daglan's face. "Did you come through the front gate?" He whispered, "I didn't think so." The punch that followed caught Daglan's temple with an impact that made his consciousness flicker like a dying light.
Through swollen eyes, he saw Kento finally go limp, suspended like a broken puppet between his captors. Galen lay curled in a corner, his massive frame convulsing as he struggled to breathe through shattered ribs. Einar stared at the mangled ruin of his hand, fingers bent at impossible angles, tendons visible through split skin.
"Let this be a lesson," the scarred knight announced, delivering one final kick to Daglan's side. The crack of breaking ribs echoed off the walls as something tore inside him, sending white-hot agony through his chest. "Bolgue doesn't welcome strays." He turned to his men. "Throw them in the holding cells. Let them think about their choices for a few days."
Just then a blood-curdling scream pierced the cold night air. In a flash of black smoke one of the knights fell to his knees, eyes wide with terror, jaw ripped clean off in a spray of crimson. His throat gaped open like a second mouth, arterial blood painting the cobblestones in pulsing arcs. His fingers clawed uselessly at the ruined mess of his face as he toppled forward.
The knights immediately snapped into attack formation, their powered armor whining as weapons whirled into position. Steam hissed from their joints as they moved back-to-back, eyes darting through the fog for any sign of movement. The scarred knight's hand trembled slightly as he drew his blade, its edge gleaming dully in the artificial light.
Before they could react, another cloud of black smoke enveloped a screaming knight. His terrified cry echoed off the narrow walls as he vanished into the mist. For a moment, only his panicked screams could be heard, growing more distant by the second. Then came the wet impact - a sound like a melon being crushed underfoot. What remained of him rained down from above, splattering his fellow knights in gore. Pieces of shattered armor mixed with pulped flesh and splintered bone, creating a grotesque constellation across the alley floor.
"It's a yokai!" One knight yelled, his professional demeanor cracking as he stumbled backward. The acrid stench of fear-sweat leaked from his armor's joints.
"Keep it together men, this one is strong," the scarred knight barked, but even his voice carried an edge of desperation. His eyes darted between his remaining soldiers, his fear undeniable.
Through his swollen eyes, Daglan watched as tendrils of black smoke curled around the boy's feet like hungry serpents. The temperature plummeted, his ragged breath forming clouds in the suddenly frigid air. Even in his pain-addled state, something stirred within him—a faint, instinctual recognition. It wasn't just the smoke or the cold. It was the presence itself. Ancient. Angry. And, somehow, familiar.