Cain moved like a shadow through the dense forest, his breath steady despite the lingering ache in his muscles. The Titan Core inside him had settled into a slow, rhythmic pulse, no longer flaring wildly with every step. He was learning to control it, to let it enhance his movements without consuming him.
The battle with the Enforcers had drained him, but he had left them alive—a message.
Elysium had come for him. And they had failed.
But he knew that wouldn't stop them. They would come again. Stronger, smarter. And next time, they wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating him.
He had to move first.
The floating city of Elysium loomed high above, its golden spires piercing the sky. From the ground, it looked like a beacon of civilization—untouchable, divine. But Cain knew the truth.
The city was rotting from within.
Beneath its pristine streets, corruption ran deep. The Council controlled everything—knowledge, history, the truth. They erased what didn't fit their perfect narrative. The Abyss, the Titans, his very existence—all of it had been buried.
Cain had spent his life in the slums below, struggling for scraps, never questioning why the world was built to crush people like him.
Now, he knew.
And he was going to burn their lies to the ground.
His fingers curled into fists as he continued forward. The forest thinned as he reached the outskirts of a larger settlement—one of the trade hubs beneath Elysium's rule. Unlike the smaller villages, this place thrived under the city's shadow, filled with merchants, travelers, and soldiers who enforced Elysium's will.
Cain pulled his hood lower over his face. He needed information. Supplies. And, most importantly, a way into the floating city.
He stepped onto the main road leading toward the settlement, blending into the steady stream of traders and travelers heading toward the gates. Keep your head down. Move like you belong.
The guards barely spared him a glance as he entered. Good.
The city streets were alive with noise and movement—merchants shouting over their stalls, laborers hauling goods, mercenaries eyeing potential clients. The scent of roasted meat and burning incense filled the air, mixing with the ever-present dust of travel.
Cain moved carefully, his senses on high alert. He needed to be fast.
A group of soldiers passed by, their uniforms bearing the sigil of the Elysium Guard. They weren't Enforcers—not yet. But these were the kind of men who got promoted when people like Cain disappeared.
His jaw clenched.
He made his way toward the heart of the trade hub, where information flowed as freely as stolen coin. Taverns, gambling halls, underground dealings—every city had a place where the forgotten gathered.
He found it at the edge of the market square—a dimly lit tavern with no sign above the door, just the symbol of a broken chain carved into the wood. A place for those who had slipped through the cracks of Elysium's perfect world.
Cain stepped inside.
The air was thick with smoke and low murmurs, the scent of stale ale mingling with sweat and secrets. The patrons were exactly the kind of people he was looking for—drifters, mercenaries, thieves. People who knew how to survive.
He approached the bar, sliding into a seat. The bartender, a broad-shouldered man with a scar down his cheek, eyed him with suspicion.
"You're new," he said. Not a question.
Cain met his gaze. "I'm looking for a way up."
The bartender exhaled through his nose, wiping a glass with a dirty rag. "Lot of people want to go to Elysium."
Cain reached into his cloak and placed a single golden coin on the counter.
Not standard currency.
Elysium mint.
The bartender's eyes flickered to it, then back to Cain. His expression didn't change, but the air shifted.
"Who told you to come here?" the man asked quietly.
"No one," Cain said. "I make my own paths."
The bartender studied him for a moment, then nodded toward the far corner of the tavern. "Talk to her."
Cain followed his gaze.
A woman sat alone at a table, hood drawn low, her fingers absently tracing patterns in the condensation on her glass. Something about the way she held herself—still, but ready—set her apart from the rest of the room.
A predator waiting for the right moment to strike.
Cain approached.
"You looking for a way into Elysium?" the woman said without looking up.
"Depends," Cain said. "You offering one?"
She finally lifted her gaze, and Cain's breath hitched.
Her eyes glowed.
Not like the Enforcers, whose visors reflected artificial light.
Not like the Titans, whose golden flames burned with ancient fury.
Her eyes glowed with something different. A deep, unnatural blue, faint but unmistakable.
Cain's muscles tensed. He had seen that glow before.
"You're not just looking for a way in," she said. "You're looking for something else."
Cain forced himself to stay calm. "And what is that?"
She smirked. "Answers."
His fingers twitched. Who was she? How did she know?
As if reading his thoughts, she leaned forward, lowering her voice. "I know what you are."
The air thickened.
Cain didn't move. Didn't breathe.
Then she said the words that changed everything.
"I know about the Titans."
Every muscle in Cain's body locked.
He stared at her, heart hammering against his ribs, his mind racing.
No one knew. No one was supposed to know.
And yet—she did.
"Who are you?" he asked, voice low.
She tilted her head, watching him. Then she smiled.
"Someone who can get you inside," she said. "And someone who can tell you the truth about what really happened to the Titans."
Cain exhaled slowly. This wasn't a coincidence.
His journey had led him here for a reason.
The world had buried the past. But the past was crawling back to the surface.
And he was going to find out why.