The steel finger on the trigger tightened, the hammer halfway down. Murderous intent burned in Danan’s dark, gutter-like eyes as he glared at the white-clad girl, stepping slowly—one step, then another—toward the canopied bed.
“Where did you learn about me and Eve?” he demanded.
“I saw you in the pleasure district and the commercial district. I only spoke briefly with Eve on the pleasure district’s main street, but she had a different vibe from the undercity’s residents,” the girl replied.
“I don’t remember seeing you. And Eve—”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t have a physical form then… Perhaps it’s easier to say I was a virtual image made of digital data?”
Danan shook his head, uncomprehending, his sharp gaze unwavering as he aimed the rifle at the girl with closed eyes. He forced calm into his heated mind. Killing her here would yield no benefit and would only pit him against the Parade of the Dead—a fight he couldn’t win. What she discussed with Eve, how she knew him despite this being their first meeting—those questions could wait.
Secure the girl, escape the palace, and hand her over to the man claiming to be from the Parade of the Dead. That was the plan. Tucking the girl, who faced an entirely different direction, under his arm, Danan heard banging on the barricaded door and flung open the room’s window.
“W-Wait, what’s—”
“Shut up. You’ll bite your tongue.”
Cold, murky air and blazing neon light flooded in. Below, a frenzied orgy of naked men and women unfolded. Jumping from the second floor to the ground would risk breaking a bone or two for an unenhanced body.
But there was no time to hesitate. Beyond the door, the roar of machinery and the screech of caterpillar tracks scraping tiles echoed.
Swallowing hard, Danan muttered “idiot” to himself and took deep breaths, mentally mapping his body’s movements to judge feasibility. A single misstep could shatter bones or rupture organs. If it were just him, he’d take the reckless leap without hesitation if it meant survival.
But could the girl’s delicate, fragile body withstand the impact? Could her bones endure such a shock? He didn’t know—he had no confidence in achieving the goal with her unharmed. If he failed here, if he let her die gruesomely, the Parade of the Dead would demand a steep price—not just his life, but a fate far worse. And… he’d lose the means to save Eve.
“It’s okay,” the girl murmured, sensing his hesitation.
“Even if something happens, I’ll make sure my brother understands, so don’t worry. Do what you want, how you want.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Fine, then.” Danan stepped onto the window’s edge. As the door splintered, he jumped. The wind whipped his cheeks, darkness closing in. Deploying his mechanical arm’s high-frequency blade, he stabbed it into the wall, then slid his boot soles against it, sparks flying from his knee armor. Judging it still insufficient to slow his fall, he extended his mechanical fingers, tearing through the palace’s outer wall as he landed.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Huh? Okay from what?” the girl replied, dazed, eyes still closed.
Muttering about her nerve, Danan glanced at her, then kicked aside a couple engaged in sex. “Out of the way,” he growled. Slicing the neck of the enraged, aroused man with his blade, he passed the cackling woman and scanned the map on his goggles.
The nearest manhole to the sewer was some distance away. The only exits were the front gate or the back gate. The front gate was guarded by hundreds of armed Crucible members. The back gate would take over ten minutes to reach at a full sprint. The sewer via the manhole was the only way back to the pleasure district. Gripping the single antidote vial—a thin calcium ampoule filled with red liquid—he asked the girl, “Anything feel off?”
“Off?” she echoed.
“Yeah, like unnatural heat or hallucinations. Any small anomaly. Speak fast.”
“Um… nothing, really. Is something wrong?”
“I’m asking about symptoms from the airborne narcotics. If you feel *anything*—”
“Oh, that? I’m fine.”
“How?”
“Well, I’ve been given a neutralizer. My brother makes me take it with my medicine every day, so you don’t need to worry about that.”
Aneutralizer… A drug capable of nullifying the potent gaseous narcotics flooding Aeshma’s stronghold? Unlikely, but not impossible for the Parade of the Dead, with their unique connections to the mid-level city. Their standards weren’t those of the undercity. Injecting the antidote into his own neck and removing his gas mask, Danan placed it on the girl, choking on the sweet rot in the air.
“Um, I don’t need it…”
“We’re going through the sewer.”
“The sewer?”
“Yeah. Neutralizer or not, toxins are another matter. Don’t take it off.”
No matter how advanced her neutralizer, the ruins’ toxins leaking into the undercity were a different beast. Nanomicro-level poisons infiltrated the body, damaging organs and blood until expelled. Danan’s Lumina bugs could neutralize them, but the girl couldn’t. Prioritizing her safety, giving her his mask was the efficient, rational choice.
“Danan,” Nephthys’ voice chimed.
“What?”
“Incoming transmission from Lils.”
“Connect.”
“Understood.”
After Nephthys’ voice, Lils spoke. “Danan, bad news and good news. Which first?”
“Bad news.”
“Okay. Damocles is heading your way.”
“Worst timing ever. The good news?”
“The leader of the Parade of the Dead sent a message. They’ve secured the Deck and will deliver it once you retrieve her.”
“Then…”
He’d have to deal with Damocles. Heavy steel clanged through the pleasure district, the sounds of a fierce gunfight erupting. A distant electromagnetic pulse flashed, obliterating a section of the district.
Damocles’ target couldn’t be Danan. Was it Aeshma, the Crucible’s leader, or the pleasure district itself? But what benefit would he gain from destroying it? None. There shouldn’t be. The ruffians and the Crucible, despite their killing, profited economically from each other. So why…?
“Um,” the girl spoke.
“What?”
“Is someone setting off fireworks? I heard a really loud noise…”
“Well said. Sarcasm?”
“Huh? But my brother said explosions are fireworks. Isn’t that right?”
Ridiculous. Tucking the girl under his arm, Danan deftly descended an iron ladder into the sewer, standing amid crawling cockroaches and rats.
“Fireworks for an explosion? Don’t be stupid. You’d never see that in the undercity.”
“But my brother—”
“Shut up.”
“…”
“I don’t care about your brother. The Parade of the Dead, a company? If you know nothing, if you believe every idiot who tells you something, don’t spew words that get on my nerves. What’s that? Why don’t you open those pretty closed eyes? Grimace at the sewer’s stench.”
“…I’m sorry. I really thought it was fireworks. If I upset you, I apologize…”
“…”
His irritation stabbed at the girl’s heart like a blade. Holding her small frame, Danan sighed, his brow furrowing at the sewer’s stench.
He was off-balance. Normally, he’d ignore someone spouting such nonsense, scoffing at dreams without a second thought. So why had he snapped back so fiercely? Idiot…
Shrugging, staring into the darkness, Danan muttered, “Your name.”
He added, “I went too far. Sorry,” and quickened his pace.
“…Tefira,” she replied.
“Danan.”
“Huh?”
“Danan. My name. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Danan…”
“Got something to say?”
“No, just… it’s a nice name.”
“Yeah.”
The name his foster father, the old man, gave him—a title to recognize him as an individual. Tefira, with a faint smile, repeated Danan’s name as if etching it into her mind.
