The streets of Block 5 grew quieter as Naryn and Marsha approached the eastern edge. Quiet didn't mean safe—it was the kind of silence that preceded danger, where the unseen eyes of predators followed your every move. Naryn's fingers brushed the hilt of his dagger, his gaze darting between the darkened alleys and decrepit buildings.
Marsha's footsteps were soft, but Naryn could hear the faint tremor in her breathing. He slowed his pace just enough to glance over his shoulder. "We'll make it," he assured her, though his voice lacked warmth.
She nodded, though her grip on the edge of his cloak betrayed her fear.
Ahead, the old warehouses loomed like silent behemoths, their rusting metal frames casting eerie shadows under the faint glow of lanterns. The air smelled of rot and stale blood, a sickening cocktail that made Marsha's stomach churn. Naryn didn't flinch.
"Here," he said quietly, ducking into a shadowed alcove. He crouched, pulling out the map the scarred man had given him. He traced the routes with his finger, lips moving in a silent calculation.
Marsha leaned against the wall, her voice a whisper. "Naryn… do you think we can do this ?"
"We don't have a choice," he replied, folding the map and tucking it away. "The Zmij. I want to deal with them first even if they have nothing to do with our father they still dangerous. But we're not taking them all on at once. For now, we scout. Learn their weaknesses."
Marsha's brow furrowed, but she stayed silent. She trusted him.
Naryn peeked around the corner, his sharp eyes scanning the area. The Zmij wouldn't leave their base unguarded. He spotted movement a figure slinking between two buildings, their gait slow and deliberate. Not a wanderer. A sentry.
"Stay here, if you feel in danger just yell strong i will come as fast to help you" he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Marsha wanted to protest but nodded instead, crouching low behind a stack of rusted crates. She watched as Naryn melted into the shadows, his movements eerily silent.
The oppressive silence of Block 5 seemed to deepen as Naryn crept forward, each step deliberate, his body a shadow. His eyes never lingered too long on one spot, his senses sharp to the faintest sound or movement. The sentry he'd spotted moved with a casual rhythm, their posture relaxed but not careless someone accustomed to surviving in a dangerous world.
Naryn crouched behind a stack of crumbling barrels, studying the sentry's patterns. They paused briefly near a boarded-up doorway, their head turning slightly as if listening. The faint glint of a blade at their hip caught the dim light.
Good, he thought. His armed but alone.
He waited for the sentry to resume their slow patrol, then darted forward, sticking close to the building's edge. The rough surface of the metal wall grazed his fingertips as he pressed against it, his breathing steady. The scent of blood and decay grew stronger the closer he got to the warehouse.
The sentry stopped again, this time near a flickering lantern. They leaned casually against a stack of crates, reaching into their coat pocket for something. A piece of something who look like meat. The glow of the match briefly illuminated their face a sharp jaw, sunken eyes, and a nasty scar running from temple to cheek.
Naryn watched. A frontal approach would be foolish. He scanned the area for a way to gain the upper hand. His gaze landed on a loose plank jutting out from the side of the building, high enough to avoid detection but close enough to strike from above. Perfect.
Back at the crates, Marsha tried to steady her nerves. The distant sound of boots crunching gravel made her stiffen. Her heart raced as she strained to pinpoint its source. A shadow passed across her line of sight, but it was too quick to discern if it was friend or foe.
She clutched the fabric of her cloak, whispering under her breath, "Come back soon, Naryn…"
Naryn scaled the side of the building, his movements fluid. The loose plank creaked under his weight, but the sound was drowned out by the wind rattling through the hollow warehouse. He crouched low, gripping the edge as he positioned himself directly above the sentry.
The moment came swiftly. The sentry took one last bit of his meat. Naryn dropped, his blade drawn.
Before the sentry could react, Naryn's dagger pressed against their throat, his other hand clamping over their mouth. "Scream, and you die," he hissed, his voice devoid of mercy.
The sentry froze, their eyes wide with fear. Naryn leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "How many of your are inside?"
The sentry's gaze darted toward the warehouse, panic flickering in their eyes. They mumbled something against his hand. Naryn loosened his grip slightly, enough for the sentry to speak.
"F-four," he stammered. "Four more. Inside. That's it, I swear."
Naryn's blade didn't waver. "Are they traps or hidden guards ?"
The sentry hesitated, and Naryn pressed the dagger harder, drawing a thin line of blood. "Y-yeah! Tripwires. Near the east entrance. Please, I told you everything—don't kill me."
Naryn's expression didn't change. He leaned closer, his voice colder than the night. "Your a Zmij. You knew what end was coming for you."
Before the sentry could plead further, Naryn struck the hilt of his dagger against their temple, knocking them unconscious. He caught their body before it hit the ground, dragging them into the shadows.
He wiped the blade clean on the sentry's coat, his thoughts already shifting to the next step. Four inside. Tripwires at the east entrance. The information was useful, but he couldn't trust them. He needed to know more before making his move.
Naryn slipped back toward Marsha's hiding spot, his expression as cold and as ever. "Come on," he said softly. "We're moving to higher ground. I need to see the whole area before we act."
Marsha nodded, standing and following close behind. Though her heart still pounded, she found comfort in Naryn's steady determination. For now, the Zmij wouldn't know what will coming for them.
The oppressive atmosphere deepened as Naryn led Marsha toward a crumbling structure that overlooked the warehouse. It wasn't much a dilapidated second-story platform but it offered just enough height and cover to observe without being spotted.
Naryn crouched low on the edge, his eyes scanning the layout below. Lanterns hung sporadically around the warehouse's perimeter, their dim light casting long, flickering shadows. He counted two other sentries patrolling near the main entrance, their movements lazy but predictable. Beyond them, the east side remained shrouded in darkness—the area the unconscious sentry had mentioned.
"Four inside," Naryn murmured to himself, piecing together the sentry's words with what he could see. "Tripwires near the east. And if they're guarding something, it's not just supplies it may be important."
Marsha stayed a step behind him, her breath steadying as she tried to match his calm. "Are we going in tonight ?" she whispered.
Naryn didn't answer immediately. His mind was already racing through the possibilities—timing, angles, weaknesses. "Not yet," he finally said. "We're not ready. I need to know if there's more to this place than we cant see."
Marsha frowned but nodded. She knew better than to question his decisions in moments like these. "So… what's the plan ?"
"First, we wait," Naryn said, leaning back slightly. "Their Sentries get, lazy like there not taking it seriously. If there's a shift change, we'll see it. Once we're sure, I'll make a move to disable the tripwires and…"
A sudden noise cut him off a muffled shout from within the warehouse. Both siblings froze, their eyes locking briefly before Naryn returned his focus to the building. He gestured for Marsha to stay low as he crept toward the edge, his senses on high alert.
The shout came again, sharper this time, followed by a series of heavy thuds. Naryn tensed. Either the Zmij were dealing with trouble inside, or something had gone wrong.
Marsha crawled closer, her voice barely audible. "What's happening ?"
"Not sure but its maybe an opportunity," Naryn replied, his tone clipped. "If someone's causing trouble, we'll use it."
He reached into his pouch, pulling out a small, polished shard of glass. Angling it just right, he caught a glimpse through one of the warehouse's broken windows. Inside, figures moved erratically—one slamming another against a wall, while others scrambled toward the commotion.
"Infighting," Naryn muttered. "They're distracted."
Marsha's brow furrowed. "That's good for us, right?"
Naryn nodded, his lips curling into a grim smile. "Yes. But its also dangerous if we move now, we might catch them off guard or walk into chaos. Either way, we have to be ready."
He tucked the glass shard away, turning to Marsha. "Stay up here and keep watch. If anything changes outside—new sentries, alarms, anything—you signal me."
"What about you ?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry.
"I'm going in," he said, already securing his weapons. "If they're distracted, I need to use it. But I'll be quick."
Marsha's grip tightened on his sleeve before she reluctantly let go. "Be careful," she whispered.
Naryn gave a brief nod before disappearing in the shadows below, his movements silent and precise. Whatever awaited him inside the warehouse, he was ready to face it. For the Zmij, the night would end in blood or answers.
Naryn moved in the shadow, his steps silent against the cracked pavement. The faint sounds of conflict from inside the warehouse masked his approach, but he didn't let his guard down. The Zmij were known for being ruthless, and the slightest misstep could cost him everything.
Reaching the east side of the building, Naryn crouched low, his eyes scanning for the tripwires the sentry had mentioned. The dim moonlight reflected off the thin, almost invisible threads stretched across the entrance. Clever. They'd tied the wires to crude alarms rusted cans filled with nails and broken glass. If tripped, the racket would echo throughout the warehouse.
He smirked faintly. "Amateurs," he muttered under his breath.
Pulling out a small blade, he carefully cut the wires one by one, catching the cans before they could fall. His hands steady. Within moments, the trap was neutralized.
Naryn eased the door open, slipping inside the warehouse. The stench of blood and sweat hit him immediately. The interior was dimly lit, with a few lanterns hanging from beams, their weak glow casting long shadows across the cluttered space.
To his left, stacks of crates formed a haphazard maze, while to his right, a large open area was filled with makeshift tables and chairs. At the far end, a group of figures was gathered, their voices raised in anger.
Naryn stayed low, moving behind a row of crates to get a better look.
Three of the Zmij were standing over a fourth, who was slumped against a table, their face bloodied. One of the standing figures—a burly man with scars crisscrossing his arms slammed his fist onto the table, shouting. "You think you can screw us over and walk away? You think we wouldn't notice ?"
The bloodied figure mumbled something incoherent, their head lolling to the side. Another Zmij, a wiry woman with a dagger in each hand, kicked the chair out from under the captive, sending them sprawling to the floor.
Naryn's eyes narrowed. Infighting wasn't uncommon among them, but this level of brutality suggested something more personal.
He shifted his gaze to the rest of the room. The fourth Zmij, a lanky man with a crossbow slung across his back, leaned against the wall near a stack of crates. His stance was relaxed, but his sharp eyes swept the room, occasionally darting toward the shadows where Naryn hid.
Naryn noted every detail their weapons, their positions. He could take down one, maybe two before the others reacted, but that wasn't his goal. Not yet.
He moved closer, his steps as silent as death, stopping just behind the lanky man's position. If things went wrong, he'd strike quickly and retreat.
The burly man's voice cut through the tense air. "You've got one more chance to tell us where you stashed it. Otherwise, you're leaving here in pieces."
The bloodied figure coughed, spitting blood onto the floor. "Go to hell," he rasped, he's voice barely audible.
The wiry woman laughed coldly, raising one of her daggers. "Wrong answer."
Naryn's mind raced. The "it" they were talking about might be important. But if he waited too long, the captive would be dead—and so would his chance to learn more about the Zmij's plans.
His grip on his dagger tightened. He had to make a decision.
Would he risk revealing himself to save the captive ? Or stay hidden and gather more information, no matter the cost ?
Naryn tightened his grip on his dagger, his eyes locked on the scene before him. He muttered under his breath, barely audible even to himself, "I'm not a hero. I didn't come here to save anyone… I came to wipe them all out." His gaze flickered to the bloodied captive, then to the burly man who looked ready to end their life. "But if they're hiding something important… that changes things."
His body tensed as he considered his options. The big man was a problem. His sheer size and strength meant taking him head-on would be a gamble, even with the element of surprise. The wiry woman with the daggers was no less dangerous, her stance balanced and ready, like a predator waiting to pounce. And the crossbow-wielding man leaning against the wall ? He wasn't as relaxed as he seemed. Naryn exhaled quietly, forcing his racing thoughts to slow. "I can't take them all… Not yet," he murmured. "Better to wait… to see what else i can learn."
He edged back slightly, melding deeper into the shadows. From his vantage point, he could hear the strained breathing of the captive, the muted hum of distant machinery, and the occasional clink of metal as the Zmij adjusted their weapons.
The burly man grabbed the captive by the collar, lifting them effortlessly. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But its mean nothing if you're dead." He raised his fist, preparing another blow.
The captive spat blood and forced a weak smile. "You're too stupid to find it anyway."
The wiry woman smirked, twirling one of her daggers. "Oh, we'll find it."
Naryn's jaw tightened. Whatever "it" was, it was clearly valuable enough to cause fractures within the Zmij. He'd seen this kind of desperation before factions tearing themselves apart over greed and power. AZERTY
The crossbow-wielder finally spoke, his voice smooth and calculated. "Enough playing with your food. We're wasting time. If he won't talk, we put him out of his misery and move on. We can search the rest of the sector without him."
Naryn's eyes narrowed. The Zmij were planning something bigger than just holding their territory. This was about control, control of Block 5, maybe more. Whatever they were after, it could be something dangerous.
As the burly man raised his knife for the finishing blow, Naryn's instincts screamed at him to move. But he forced himself to stay rooted in place. Wait you need to know more.
The wiry woman leaned closer, her dagger glinting in the lantern light. "Last chance," she hissed. "Where is it ?"
The captive chuckled weakly, defiant even in the face of death. "You'll never—"
A sharp sound echoed through the room. The burly man's knife slammed into the table beside the captive, missing their neck by mere inches. The impact silenced the room for a moment.
The wiry woman sighed dramatically. "Fine. Let's finish this."
Naryn's mind raced. He couldn't save the captive without revealing himself, but if he waited any longer, the Zmij might leave him with no leads.
He clenched his fist. This game was more dangerous than he'd anticipated. But for now, he stayed in the shadows, his eyes and ears ready to catch every scrap of information they let slip.
The wiry woman stepped forward, her dagger under the dim light as she grinned at the captive. "You're stubborn. But stubbornness doesn't win against a blade, sweetheart."
The captive glared at her, blood dripping from their split lip. "Kill me if you want. But you'll never get it. You think you're so clever, but you don't even know what you're looking for."
The big man growled, his fist smashing into the table, splintering the wood. "Enough of this cryptic bullshit ! Just tell us where it is !"
Naryn watched the scene, his mind working quickly. They don't have all the pieces. They're desperate. This thing they're hunting what he could be for them to split up against themselves. He leaned closer to the edge of the rafters, careful not to disturb the fragile beams.
The crossbow-wielder let out a long sigh, stepping forward. He placed a bolt into the mechanism with deliberate slowness, the sound loud in the tense room. "You think you're clever, don't you ?" he said, his voice unnervingly calm. "But it will gets you nowhere when you're dead. I'll give you one last chance to talk before I let this bolt fly."
The captive chuckled weakly, their voice hoarse but defiant. "You are all the same. no loyalty. Just scavengers picking at the weakest."
The wiry woman snarled, raising her dagger high. "Fine. Let's see if your corpse has anything useful to say !"
Naryn's grip on the beam tightened. His instincts screamed to act, but his logic reminded him of the odds. Three against one, and all of them were armed and trained. Still, letting this opportunity slip meant he might never know what they were after or why it mattered.
Just as the woman's dagger descended, a loud crash echoed from outside the warehouse. The Zmij froze, their weapons instinctively drawn.
"What was that ?" the big man barked, his eyes darting toward the source of the noise.
The crossbow-wielder gestured sharply. "Heger, go check it out. Now."
The big man grumbled but obeyed, go toward the entrance with his blade in hand.
Naryn's heart quickened. A distraction. He didn't know who or what caused it, but it was his chance. Silently, he shifted his position, looking for his next move. If he could take one of them out before the others noticed, he might have a chance.
The wiry woman turned back to the captive, clearly unfazed by the interruption. "Looks like your luck's run out, friend."
Naryn's dagger slid silently from its sheath, his muscles coiling like a spring. He didn't have long before the big man returned. If he wanted answers, he'd have to make this count.
In one fluid motion, he dropped from the rafters, his blade aimed straight for the crossbow-wielder. The man's eyes widened in shock, but it was too late. Naryn's dagger found its mark, going deep into the man's side.
The wiry woman spun around, her eyes narrowing in fury. "Who the hell—"
Naryn didn't let her finish. He grabbed the crossbow as the wounded man fell, aiming it directly at her. "Drop the knife," he commanded, his voice ice.
She hesitated, her gaze flicking between him and her weapon. The big man's footsteps were already thundering back toward the room.
"Last chance," Naryn growled. "Drop it, or you're next."
The wiry woman hesitated, her dagger trembling in her hand as she weighed her chances. Her eyes darted to the crossbow aimed directly at her chest, then toward the door where the heavy footsteps of the big man grew louder.
Naryn didn't flinch, his grip steady. "You think you can take me before I fire? Try it. they say the luck smile to the audacious..but for me she choose the one who putting their life on."
Her sneer faltered. With a sharp exhale, she let the dagger clatter to the floor. "Fine. You've got the drop on me," she hissed. "But you've just made enemies you can't handle, kid."
"Save your spit to my questions." Naryn kept the crossbow trained on her, his mind racing. The big man was seconds away, and he didn't have the time or resources for a prolonged fight. "Sit. Over there. Now." He gestured with the weapon toward a darkened corner.
The woman glared at him but obeyed, backing toward the corner as the door slammed open. The big man burst into the room, his blade drawn, his massive frame filling the doorway.
"What the—" His eyes swept the scene, landing on Naryn, the crossbow, and his fallen ally. Fury flashed across his face. "Who the hell are you ?!"
"Your enemy," Naryn said coolly, adjusting his aim toward the big man. "You move, I fire. You talk, maybe you live."
The big man snorted, his expression hardening. "You think a little thing like that will stop me ? You don't know what you're messing with, boy." AZERTY
"Maybe. But I know enough to take the shot." Naryn's voice was cold, calculated. "You've got a captive here. I want answers, and you're going to give them."
The big man took a cautious step forward, his movements slow. "You're out of your depth. You don't know what the Zmij are capable of."
Naryn's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Oh, I know more than you think. But you're also desperate. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here torturing someone for scraps of information."
The big man growled, but his movements stopped. "What do you want ?"
"First, step away from the door." Naryn's tone left no room for negotiation. "And don't test me every time you will disobey i will shot at the woman."
After a tense moment, the big man relented, backing up slightly. Naryn gestured toward the captive, who was slumped in the chair, their breathing shallow but steady. "What are you after ? Why does this person matter?"
The big man hesitated, his jaw tightening. "It's none of your business."
Naryn adjusted the crossbow to the woman, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Wrong answer." Naryn shot at the woman, she muttered in pain.
the big man grumbling, a weak voice cut through the tension. "They're... after the Codex," the captive croaked, their voice strained but defiant. "And they'll kill anyone who stands in their way."
The big man's expression darkened. "Shut up !"
But it was too late. Naryn's interest piqued, his gaze narrowing. "Codex ? What is it ? And why are the Zmij so desperate to find it ?"
The captive coughed, blood flecking their lips. "It's... it's a relic. Ancient. Powerful. Something no one should have."
"And yet you were willing to die to keep it from them," Naryn pressed, his tone sharp. "Where is it?"
The captive's gaze flicked to the big man, then back to Naryn. "I... don't have it. But I know where it is."
Naryn's mind raced. This "Codex" was more than just a trinket; it was the key to something far bigger. He had no intention of letting it fall into the Zmij's hands—or anyone else's.
"Good." Naryn's voice was low, dangerous. "Because you're going to show me."
The captive's head tilted weakly, their eyes half-closed. "Show you ?" they rasped. "You think I'll survive long enough for that ?"
"You don't have a choice," Naryn replied, his tone steely. "Either you show me, or you die here, and I'll find it myself."
The big man took a step forward, anger and frustration twisting his face. "You're meddling in things you can't comprehend, boy. Walk away now, and maybe you'll live to regret it."
Naryn shifted his aim back toward the big man, keeping his body between the woman and the door. "Funny. From where I'm standing, you're the one who should be more cautious."
The tension in the room grew bigger. The woman clutched her wounded arm, her eyes darting between the players in this deadly standoff. The big man flexed his fingers around the hilt of his blade, weighing his options.
The captive coughed again, a wet, pained sound that made Naryn glance their way. "You don't... get it," they muttered, their voice trembling. "The Codex isn't just... power. It's destruction. No one... should have it."
"I don't care what it is," Naryn said, his voice cutting through their gasps. "I'm not here to protect it. I'm here to make sure none of you they get it."
The captive's eyes searched Naryn's face, something like hope flickering in their gaze before dimming again. "You... don't know what you're walking into."
"Then just tell me." Naryn stepped closer, his crossbow still aimed. "Where is it ?"
The captive hesitated, their head lolling to the side as exhaustion and pain took their toll. He whispered something, his words barely audible.
"What was that ?" Naryn demanded, leaning in.
"The crypt... in the southern cliffs," they managed, their voice fading. "You'll... find the answers there."
The big man let out a growl, his patience snapping. "You've said enough!" He lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air.
Naryn reacted instantly, firing the crossbow. The bolt struck the big man in the shoulder, staggering him but not stopping him entirely. He roared in pain, clutching at the wound as blood seeped through his fingers.
Naryn used the opening to grab the captive, slinging their arm over his shoulder. "Stay close!" he barked at the woman, who stumbled to her feet, clutching her bleeding arm.
"You're insane!" she spat, but she followed him anyway.
The three of them bolted out of the room, the big man's furious shouts echoing behind them. Naryn knew this was far from over. The Zmij wouldn't let them escape easily.