"Any engineer can build a 'dead man's switch.' It's a binary, 'if-this-then-that' piece of scrap. The real genius is figuring out how to steal the 'if' and the 'then' along with the switch. That, or just blow a hole in the wall."

  — The Artificer's Almanack

  The augmented voice of the Inquisitor Captain echoed in the obsidian room, a sound of cold triumph. "Welcome, little rats. We've been expecting you."

  The vault door slammed shut behind them with a deafening clang, sealing them in. The only light came from the six pairs of crimson eyes that burned in the gloom and the faint, ruby glow of the pulse rifles powering up. Rix and Réwenver were trapped, surrounded, their mission a catastrophic failure.

  With pulse rifles aimed at them and no way out, Réwenver did something insane. He didn't look at the Inquisitors, didn't even seem to register their presence. A wild, reckless light flared in his silver eyes. He dropped to his knees, slammed his hands flat against the obsidian floor, and pushed. Rix felt the air crackle around him, a massive, uncontrolled surge of his power pouring into the stone.

  The air in the small room began to crackle with a raw power. Shimmering lines of violet energy appeared on the floor, tracing the inside of the obsidian room. The Inquisitors, hesitated for a second, seemingly confused by his actions, their weapons still raised, unsure of what they were witnessing. The shimmer intensified, crawling up the walls and across the ceiling, encasing the entire room in a cage of spatial magic. Rix's breath caught in her throat as she realised what he was doing—he was going to tear the entire room from its foundations.

  [Arcanum: Akajváltó {Overdrive}—Spatial Rupture; World-Tear] A massive portal ripped open, a consuming void that engulfed the entirety of the room. It was then violently torn from the heart of the archives in a chaotic tumble of stone, energy, and the terrified shouts of the Inquisitors. They were all thrown through the vortex, landing hard on the grimy cobblestones of the street above the ironworks cistern.

  The portal snapped shut, leaving a massive, jagged chunk of the archives—the room of obsidian floors and walls, containing the humming containment unit of the Convergence Orb—sitting in the middle of the street, an impossible, reality-defying intrusion.

  In the distance, the spire that had housed the archives began to crumble, its upper levels collapsing in on themselves in a slow cascade of destruction.

  Rix coughed, covered in dust, but was otherwise unharmed. She looked over to see Réwenver on his hands and knees, his body wracked with violent, heaving coughs. A thin trickle of blood ran from his nose and matted his grey fur. He vomited, a thick gout of bile splattering the cobblestones, and then collapsed onto his side, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. A few feet away, the Inquisitors were haphazardly strewn across the cobblestones, their black armour dented and scraped, beginning to stir.

  The golden containment field around the orb was sputtering violently, the miniature galaxy within swirling with an angry, unstable energy. Rix knew she couldn't touch it directly; the raw power would tear her apart.

  Ignoring the stirring Inquisitors, she scrambled to the stolen unit, her tech rig immediately interfacing. The screen lit up with a terrifying, pulsing warning: [CRITICAL FIELD INSTABILITY: BREACH IN T-20 SECONDS]. "Scrap! It's not a software problem!" she yelled, her fingers flying across the interface to no effect. "The rupture must have fried the primary manifold!"

  The first Inquisitor groaned, pushing himself to his feet with a screech of damaged armor.

  Rix didn't have time. She couldn't fix it with code; she'd have to do it manually. She ripped a service panel from the side of the unit, the metal screaming in protest. A mess of sparking, severed conduits greeted her. The Inquisitor was up, raising his rifle.

  She pulled a thick, insulated cable from her belt. "Just need a few seconds!" she muttered, her heart pounding. She had to manually reroute the power, or they were all vapour. She found the two ports she needed—one sparking with lethal energy, the other dark.

  The Inquisitor aimed.

  "Come on, come on..." Rix jammed the cable into the dark port, then, bracing herself, plunged the other end toward the arcing socket. A blue-white bolt of energy leaped from the port and struck the cable. The force of it threw her back, and a lance of agony shot up her arm, her glove searing into her skin. But the cable held.

  The violent sputtering of the containment field immediately settled. [FIELD STABILITY: 45%].

  "Transferring!" she yelled, scrambling back to her rig. She activated the containment tube she'd pulled from her pack, and the miniature galaxy flowed from the damaged unit into her portable, stable container. [TRANSFER COMPLETE].

  The Inquisitor fired.

  Rix saw the movement out of the corner of her eye. With a desperate lunge, she threw herself sideways, scrambling behind the relative cover of a crumbling obsidian wall as a volley of crimson energy bolts slammed into the cobblestones where she had been kneeling. The other Inquisitors were getting to their feet and opening fire.

  Pinned down and with Réwenver unconscious, Rix resorted to her makeshift arsenal. She pulled several flat, disc-shaped grenades from her belt pouch and tossed them over their cover. They exploded with a deafening crack of displaced air and a blinding, pure-white flash designed to overload optic sensors. The concussive force staggered the Inquisitors, their heavy armour protecting them from the shrapnel but not the disorienting sensory assault.

  In the distance, the sound of approaching sirens and the heavy thud of armoured boots grow louder. More Krev forces are converging on their position.

  The Inquisitor Captain, recovering faster than his men, moved with a mana-enhanced burst of speed, a crimson blur that covered the distance in an instant. He landed beside Rix with a heavy thud, his armoured boot lashing out in a vicious kick that cracked against her ribs with a sickening crunch. She cried out, the air driven from her lungs as she slumped to the ground. Before she could recover, his boot came down again, stomping on her ankle with another sickening crunch.

  A fresh wave of agony shot up her leg as he jammed the barrel of his pulse rifle against her temple.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw another Inquisitor find Réwenver's unconscious body and, recognising the spatial residue, slap a pair of anti-magic cuffs on his wrists. "It's over," the Captain's augmented voice boomed. "Come quietly and—"

  The Captain never finished his sentence. A shimmering spear of green light—[Terra: Spell -- Javelin I]—erupted from just above his gorget. It punched through the gap in his neck armour but was deflected by the reinforced plating of his spine, exiting his shoulder in a spray of black blood.

  A deafening roar of pain and fury tore from the Captain. He staggered, but he wasn't dead. He rounded on the new threat. Leo was there, his expression a mask of cold fury.

  The wounded Captain swung his pulse rifle like a club, aiming to take Leo's head off. Leo was forced to summon his own weapon, [Arcanum: Manifest -- Short Sword I], appearing in his hand in a flash of white light to block the crushing blow.

  Behind him, Lysetta moved like a phantom. As Leo locked blades with the enraged Captain, her curved longsword became a blur of motion, dispatching the InGquisitor who had cuffed Réwenver with two precise strokes.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Rix, helpless on the ground, watched the chaos. The remaining, disoriented Inquisitors were recovering from the flashbangs, turning to engage. Lysetta met them, her blade a whirlwind of dark steel, a brutal, efficient ballet of death. But the Captain was Leo's.

  The Inquisitor Captain was a monster. Wounded and enraged, he fought with a terrifying brutality, his heavy armour shrugging off Leo's parries. He forced Leo back, step by step, his pulse rifle cracking against the Arcanum blade, sending showers of sparks into the air. He was strong and fast.

  Lysetta, having dispatched the last grunt, saw Leo in trouble. She pivoted. "Kentarch, low!" she barked.

  Leo didn't hesitate. He dropped, sliding down to block a low swing. The opening was all Lysetta needed. Her longsword flashed over Leo's head in a silver arc, severing the Captain's arm at the shoulder. He roared, and as he staggered, Leo surged up from his crouch, plunging his sword up and under the Captain's breastplate, silencing him for good.

  With the immediate threat neutralised, Lysetta rushed to the unconscious Réwenver, shattering the anti-magic cuffs with a single blow from the hilt of her sword before throwing him over her shoulder in a soldiers carry. Leo was at Rix's side in an instant, protectively scooping her up into his arms, his large frame a shield between her and the chaos. As he lifted her, she winced, her hand going to her cracked ribs.

  "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice hushed and strained.

  She looked up at him, pulling her lips into a pained, half-sarcastic grin. "Peachy," she wheezed. "Just... peachy."

  "The orb?" he inquired, his voice quiet.

  Rix, wincing as a sharp pain lanced through her cracked ribs, shifted in his arms. She held the cylindrical containment tube against her chest with one hand. The miniature galaxy within was no longer swirling with an angry, unstable energy, but pulsed with a slow, steady, contained light. With her free hand, she fumbled with a heavy-duty strap, looping it over her shoulder and clipping it to the tube's harness with a soft click. Leo adjusted his grip, taking more of her weight to steady her as she worked.

  With more forces closing in, they knew they had seconds. Their only escape route was back down into the cistern and through the labyrinthine tunnels.

  Leo took charge, his voice a calm, steady anchor in the chaos. He issued a series of precise commands. Lysetta, with the unconscious Réwenver slung over her shoulder, took point, her longsword a sliver of dark steel in the gloom. Leo followed, Rix cradled securely in his arms.

  With their prize secure, they descended into the cistern, the sounds of the city's fury fading above them.

  They moved through the damp, echoing darkness of the tunnels, their only objective to put distance between themselves and the sounds of pursuit. The cistern was a hub for a dozen different tunnels, none of them marked on their map. They were lost.

  They stopped at a junction of three identical, dark tunnels. Lysetta staggered under the dead weight of Réwenver. Leo was breathing heavily, his own arms burning from carrying Rix. The air was thick with the smell of stagnant water and decay. They were deep beneath the enemy capital, their exit strategy was incapacitated, and they had no idea which way led to safety.

  Leo looked down each forbidding path in turn. "We're lost," he stated, the words a flat admission of their dire situation. "Let’s take a break and get our bearings."

  He moved over to the nearest wall, gently helping Rix down. As she slumped against the cold stone, he knelt to examine her ankle. [Lumina: Spell -- Cure I] A faint, warm golden light emanated from his hands as he gently probed the swollen joint.

  Rix, wincing as she pulled out her data-slate, froze. The grinding pain in her ankle vanished, replaced by a soothing warmth. The deeper, aching pain in her ribs faded at the same moment. She looked up from the cracked, but workable, screen of her slate. The golden light from Leo's hands was fading, but she she could see the cost of the magic on his face. Sweat beaded on his brow, and a familiar, deep exhaustion was etched around his eyes.

  "Don't," she said, her voice a hushed command. "Don't channel any more. We't afford for you to be mana-sick. I can't carry you without Bocce."

  "I'm fine," Leo said, though the exhaustion in his voice betrayed the lie. "But you're right." He looked at Rix. "Can that thing of yours tell us where we are?"

  Rix, her ankle now free of pain, pushed herself up straighter against the damp wall. With a few quick gestures, she activated her data-slate's internal navigation system. A shimmering, 3D map of their movements appeared in the air, a glowing green line tracing their path from the moment they entered the cistern. "Okay," she said, her voice a determined whisper. "I don't know what's ahead, but I know exactly where we've been. We won't get lost in circles."

  Leo studied the map, his eyes tracing the patterns of the tunnels. He pointed to a section of the map where the tunnels curved unnaturally. "This section is older, pre-Dominion. The Krev'an build in straight, efficient lines. This curve suggests it follows a buried riverbed, which would lead towards the industrial runoff... away from the central spires."

  Lysetta, shifting the dead weight of the unconscious Réwenver on her shoulder, looked at the map and then at the tunnel Leo indicated. "He's right," she confirmed, her voice strained with effort. "If that's an old riverbed, it wouldn’t be on a modern schematic because it's a waste duct now. An old-school sewage system. It will emerge outside the city walls, near the slag heaps. That could viably be our way out."

  They chose their tunnel and disappeared into the darkness.

  The journey was a foul, miserable affair. The air grew thick with the stench of sewage and industrial waste, and the floor was a slick of filth that made every step a treacherous one. They'd been moving for barely a minute when a chittering sound echoed from the darkness ahead.

  Rix's data-slate, still active, pinged with a proximity alert. "Leo... movement. Lots of it. Ahead."

  Lysetta hissed a curse, trying to shift Réwenver's weight and draw her sword at the same time. "Stay back," Leo commanded, his voice a low growl as he moved to intercept the swarm.

  From the sludge and side-pipes, they emerged. Plague-Rats. Dozens of them, each the size of a small dog, their eyes glowing a sickly green, fur matted with filth and sewage. They swarmed into the tunnel, a tide of diseased vermin.

  Lysetta was pinned by Réwenver's weight, unable to form a proper defence. "I can't...!" she grunted.

  "I know," Leo growled. He stepped in front of them, his hands held out. [Ignium: Manifest -- Zweihander I]. A massive, two-handed sword of molten fire materialised in his grip, its intense heat vaporising the filth at his feet and filling the tunnel with a blinding, orange light.

  He didn't wait. He swept the massive, molten blade in a low arc. [Ignium: Zweihander — Heat wave I]. A wave of incinerating fire roared down the tunnel, turning the first wave of rats to ash. The rest squealed, tumbling over each other as they recoiled from the scorching heat.

  "The grate is just ahead!" Lysetta yelled over the roar of the flames. "Go!"

  Leo held his ground, the fiery blade a wall of light, holding the skittering horde at bay. "Get to the exit!" he commanded.

  Lysetta nodded, grabbing Rix's arm and hauling her forward. Together, they ran the last twenty yards to the rusted iron grate that blocked the tunnel.

  Leo backed toward them, his Zweihander pulsing with heat. The rats, driven by hunger, were surging again. He swept another wave of heat against them, buying himself enough time to lay the glowing blade against the rusted iron bars. The metal groaned, glowed cherry-red, and then began to melt away under the sword's heat, dripping to the floor in molten slag.

  "Go! Get through!" he roared.

  Lysetta shoved Rix through the warped, molten opening and scrambled out after her dragging Rewenver behind her. Leo was last. He took one final, sweeping swing, sending a plume of fire back into the tunnel to scatter the vermin, then doused the blade and dove through the opening, emerging into the cold night air outside the city walls, near the slag heaps. They were finally out.

  They moved under the cover of darkness, using the terrain to their advantage, making their way back to the safe house, exhausted and wounded, but successful.

  They reached the safe house. Rix shrugged off her pack with a weary sigh and slumped against the nearest wall. Lysetta lowered the unconscious Réwenver to the floor with a grunt of effort, her own shoulders sagging with exhaustion. But Leo didn't stop. His gaze swept the room, and he went rigid, his body radiating a cold tension.

  The chair where they had left the captive Lord-General Kradus was empty. The ropes, cleanly cut, lay on the floor. He was gone.

  Rix's breath hitched, her eyes wide. "Scrap. How?"

  Leo knelt, examining the cut ropes. "Not how," he said. "Whom." His gaze swept the room, his eyes seemingly missing nothing. He looked at the unconscious smuggler on the floor. "We need him awake. Now."

  Lysetta nodded. She knelt beside Réwenver and produced a reinforced pouch from her belt. From it, she carefully extracted a single, shimmering feather. [Item: Phoenix Feather] It was breathtaking. About the length of her hand, it was a brilliant, impossible golden-red, so bright it seemed to pulse with its own inner light, like a sliver of trapped dawn. Faint motes of golden-red light shedding from it, dissolving into the air before they could even touch the grimy floor. Even from a few feet away, Rix could feel a faint, cleansing warmth radiating from it. Lysetta handled it with immense care, as if holding a priceless, volatile treasure. She laid the feather against Réwenver's forehead. The moment it made contact with his skin, it dissolved in a brilliant, blinding flash of soft, golden light.

  Réwenver's body convulsed with a violent, gasping breath, his eyes flying open in a mixture of panic and pain. He scrambled back, coughing, the light fading from his skin. He was awake, but he was far from recovered. And their prisoner was in a wisp of smoke.