The town smelled like wet ash and rotting hope.
Not the clean stone-and-sigil stink of a demon fortress. Not the cold steel and oil of a war foundry. This place reeked of burned wood, old blood, and too many people pretending they weren't already ghosts.
Human town. Human streets. Human voices.
All of it behind demon lines.
Kaiden moved through the slums with his coat pulled tight, hood low, collar high. Steam hissed faintly from a vent along his spine, the vapour swallowed quickly by the chill night air. His metal foot clicked once on a loose cobble before he corrected the weight; the next step landed silent.
Sylen walked at his right, hood up, ears flat beneath the fabric. Her eyes never stopped moving. They tracked alley mouths, broken windows, silhouettes at the edge of lantern light.
Behind them, the rest of the squad spread out just enough to look like a tired group of refugees instead of what they were.
Rein.
Heavy, broad, too many scars to be new to this. Human… mostly. Old demon shrapnel glowed faintly under his skin when he flexed his fingers. He carried a shield disguised as a scrap of sheet metal and a hammer wrapped in cloth.
Mara.
Mage-mechanic. Thin, sharp, ink-stained fingers hidden in worn gloves. A human-born artificer who had been "recruited" by the Empire and then assigned to Kaiden like a leash in softer form. She kept her focus on the small satchel of parts hanging at her hip more than the people around them.
Jex.
Scout. Young, quiet, eyes too big for his face. Demon-blooded with human softness around the edges. He walked half a step ahead, pretending not to be terrified of the man made of iron and ghosts behind him.
Sylen was the only one who walked like she belonged beside Kaiden.
The slums crowded around them — narrow alleys, leaning wooden homes patched with stone and scrap metal, tarps flapping in the wind where roofs had been half-flayed by artillery spells. A distant thunder rolled from the north as another barrage struck the outer walls. The ground shook a little. Dust slipped from cracked beams overhead.
No one screamed anymore when that happened.
They just flinched. Then went back to whatever they were doing — huddling around barrel fires, patching holes, trading stolen rations, watching strangers with the feral narrowness of people who'd run out of trust months ago.
"Eyes on you," Sylen muttered under her breath, not looking at him.
Kaiden didn't need the reminder. He felt them already.
Mana signatures. Weak, guttering. Human. A few demon flickers mixed in — rebels, most likely, dampened low so the Empire's scrying nets wouldn't catch them. They clustered in doorways and behind half-closed shutters, watching the stranger whose heartbeat hummed like a faulty engine.
He drew stares even with the hood.
Too stiff. Too precise. Too quiet.
He tried to loosen his walk. To move like he had weight in the wrong places, like a man with a limp instead of a creature compensating constantly for a misaligned joint and a Core that wouldn't stop muttering beneath his ribs.
It helped. A little.
"Target district's ahead," Jex whispered, tilting his chin toward a cluster of sagging buildings near a dried-up canal. "Gate's deeper in. Rebel traffic was heavy here last scouting pass."
"Last scouting pass you had a different commander." Sylen's voice was flat.
Jex flinched. "Yes, ma'am."
Kaiden said nothing.
He remembered the dossier. Human town inside demon territory, clawed back during a failed human offensive and somehow never fully razed. The Empire used it as a bleeding wound — starve it, shell it, let it scream loud enough that the human empire kept wasting resources to hold it.
Recently, demon rebels had started funneling supplies and information into that wound.
And humans here, stubborn or stupid enough to stay behind, had started trusting them.
Zarkus didn't like that.
So Kaiden had been given a mission sigil that pulsed with a familiar weight and two lines of instruction burned into its metal:
Disrupt the human–rebel alliance. Secure or destroy the gate.
That was it. No long speech. No theatrics.
"You don't need anyone," Zarkus had said once. "You just need to work."
Now Kaiden walked through the slums of a human town behind enemy lines, pretending he wasn't exactly what every whispered rumour here feared.
A demon's weapon that looked almost like a man.
His Core thudded softly.
THUM.
The air shivered. For a second, the lantern light stretched too long, colours smearing. He smelled… not ash.
Fluorescent buzz. Train brakes. Vodka.
Kaiden blinked.
The world snapped back. The alley was just an alley again. Sylen was talking.
"—watch the patrol pattern," she murmured. "Humans are stretched thin, but they still sweep the main streets. We stick to the gutters unless we want to answer questions we can't afford."
He nodded once.
"I'm fine," he lied.
She didn't challenge it. That was the problem.
They turned down a narrower lane where the houses leaned close enough to gossip about their neighbours. Laundry lines sagged overhead with shirts that had seen too many winters. Someone had painted a crude sigil of the human empire on a wall — partially scrubbed away, like they'd thought better of being that brave.
Feet shuffled behind them. A body bumped Kaiden's side and bounced off like they'd hit a wall.
"Hey!" Rein snapped.
A small hand vanished from Kaiden's coat pocket a fraction of a second before his metal fingers closed around a wrist.
It was thin. Warm. Trembling.
He looked down.
A kid. Eight, maybe nine. Filthy hair, threadbare clothes, eyes wide and feral. Human. She stared at his hand clamped around her arm, then at the coin she hadn't actually managed to steal yet.
"Let go," she hissed, trying to twist free. "Let go, you freak—"
Rein took a step forward. "Want me to—?"
"No." Kaiden's voice came out low. Too low.
The girl froze at the sound. So did Rein.
Kaiden loosened his grip a fraction. Metal fingers eased off skin, leaving pale marks that would fade, hopefully. He could feel her pulse jolting under his touch — rapid, rabbit-fast.
His Core hummed again, reacting to fear.
THUM-THUM.
The world nudged sideways.
For a heartbeat, he saw a different station. Not this alley. A train platform. Yellow tiles. A smaller hand grabbing at his suit jacket, trying to pick his wallet. He heard himself slur something arrogant, some half-drunk threat, and then—
"Kaiden." Sylen's voice was a hook in his spine.
He exhaled. The alley snapped back into place.
The kid yanked her arm free the moment his hand opened. She stumbled back, eyes wild, half ready to bolt and half ready to spit in his face.
"Take it," Kaiden said.
He pulled the coin from his pocket and tossed it. It arced, catching a strip of lantern light before landing in her hands. A whole ration's worth by the look of it.
Her brow furrowed. Suspicion warred with hunger.
"Why?" she whispered.
Because I've killed enough children this week.
The image of a boy's head rolling in the grass flickered at the edge of his mind. A newborn hero with no mana and too much courage. Zarkus's order humming in his bones. The way Kaiden's body had moved on its own.
He pushed the memory down. It didn't move far.
"Because you're bad at stealing," he said instead. "And because if you try it again on the wrong person, you'll die."
Her jaw clenched. Pride. Even now.
"I don't need your—"
"Go," he cut in. "Before someone else notices you."
She glared at him for one more heartbeat. Then she turned and vanished between two warped doors, swallowed by the slum like she'd never existed.
Mara exhaled softly. "That was… kind."
Rein snorted. "We're behind enemy lines, and we're buying snacks for pickpockets. Great use of resources."
Kaiden started walking again.
"It's one coin," he said. "If that breaks the Empire, it deserves to fall."
Sylen's mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.
They moved on.
The slums grew tighter as they approached the old canal. Buildings were more broken here, some collapsed in on themselves like tired men falling to their knees. A few had been hollowed out entirely, turned into makeshift bunkers or supply caches. The distant boom of artillery echoed through the cracked stone like someone knocking on a coffin lid.
Jex lifted a hand, signalling halt.
"Guard ahead," he whispered. "Solo. Human. Looks bored, not alert."
Kaiden stepped up beside him and peered around the edge of a sagging wall.
The guard leaned against a lamppost that no longer worked, spear resting on his shoulder. Patchy armor. Human empire colours, faded. He watched the street with the dull exhaustion of someone who'd seen too much, not enough, and nothing that made sense in between.
"Not our problem," Mara murmured. "We're not hitting positions yet. We're supposed to stay quiet."
Kaiden's mission sigil burned faintly against his chest.
Disrupt the alliance. Secure or destroy the gate.
Not yet. Not here.
"We skirt him," Kaiden said. "He doesn't see us, he doesn't die."
Rein grunted. "Soft orders today."
"Enjoy it," Sylen muttered. "It won't last."
They waited until the guard's gaze drifted the other way, then slipped down a parallel alley, shadows wrapped around them like thin blankets. No confrontation. No blood.
Kaiden's Core stayed quiet.
For a while.
By the time night clawed its way fully across the sky, they'd mapped enough streets and alleys to make Mara's rough sketch look like a nervous child's doodle instead of a plan. She spread the parchment on a broken crate inside an abandoned tenement room, lantern light painting their faces in yellow.
"Gate's here," she said, tapping a spot near the town's heart. "Or what's left of it. I caught residual mana on three passes — human circle-logic, not demon. It's sleeping, but not dead."
"Defenses?" Rein asked.
"Human garrison, thin. Some rebel signatures hanging close but trying to look like civilians. And… something else." Mara chewed the inside of her lip. "There's a hole where mana should be."
Kaiden's heartbeat stumbled.
"Arvan," he said.
They all looked up.
"You're sure?" Sylen's voice was too steady.
"No." Kaiden stared at the map, but he saw a field and a man in clean robes instead. "But last time I felt something like that, it was him."
A shape of power that didn't flare like everyone else. A null spot with teeth.
"You weren't meant to be here."
His Core twitched.
THUM-THUM-THUM.
The lantern light flickered. For a second, the cracked tenement ceiling became the smooth white of his old office, fluorescent lights humming above a manager with a potato-shaped head. Kaiden smelled cheap coffee and cheaper lies.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
The world didn't change.
"Kaiden." Sylen again. Closer this time. "You with us?"
He opened his eyes.
The map was still there. The cracked walls. The squad.
"I'm fine," he said.
Mara frowned. "Your Core's humming loud enough to make my teeth itch. That doesn't sound fine."
Rein shifted his weight, gaze narrowing. "If you're going to melt down, boss, do it away from the rest of us."
Silence slid into the room for a moment. Heavy. Thick.
Kaiden flexed his hand. The metal joints creaked faintly. "We rest in shifts. No fires, no noise. At dawn, we move closer to the gate and start looking for access points. Mara, you focus on identifying which parts are salvageable. Jex, patrol routes. Rein, fallback paths. Sylen… keep us alive."
She snorted softly. "As usual."
They settled into the dead building like parasites, filling corners the original owners had abandoned or buried in. Matted blankets. Broken furniture pushed against windows. Cracked doorframes wedged shut.
Kaiden took first watch.
He stood by a shattered window, half of the sill missing, the rest digging into his palms. The slums below lay in uneven darkness, pockets of light where brave or desperate souls kept lanterns burning. Farther out, the main streets glowed with a harsher, steadier light. Patrol routes. Watch posts.
He could almost map the town just by listening.
Footsteps. Voices. Distant shouts. The humming throb of artillery spells streaking overhead toward some other part of the wall.
His Core pulsed in time with the distant impacts.
THUM.
Boom.
THUM.
Boom.
After a while, the rhythm blurred.
His vision drifted. The town below flickered.
Lanterns became neon signs. Cobblestone turned to cracked concrete. The distant thunder became the roar of subway trains.
He saw himself reflected in the glass of an office window — tie crooked, eyes dead. He saw his manager's mouth moving, heard nothing but static.
"You weren't meant to be here."
Arvan's voice, not the manager's.
Kaiden blinked.
The glass was gone. Just a broken window, cold air on his face.
"Get out of my head," he muttered.
No one answered.
Time stretched. Compressed. He lost track.
At some point, footsteps sounded behind him.
Soft. Barely a whisper.
Not Sylen. She always let him hear her.
Kaiden turned.
The human guard from earlier stood in the doorway, spear held loosely, confusion and anger wrestling on his face.
For a second, the image didn't make sense.
He shouldn't be here. Should be on his route, leaning against a lamppost, bored out of his skull. Not inside their hideout, not looking at Kaiden like he'd found a rat in his house.
"How did you—" Kaiden started.
The guard reacted like any soldier who'd stumbled onto a threat behind his own lines.
He lowered the spear point, stance shifting. "Who the hell are you? This block is supposed to be empty. You're not on the civ lists. Show your—"
Kaiden's Core went cold.
Then hot.
Then—
Something grabbed the reins.
For a moment, he was back on that battlefield, Zarkus's order thrumming through his spine. He felt his muscles coil before he decided to move. He heard a boy shouting, "Run! I'll hold him back!" and felt the impact of bone cracking under his weight.
His body moved.
He crossed the room in a blur of metal and intent.
The guard's eyes widened, but the spear never finished its arc. Kaiden's hand clamped around his throat, lifting him off the floor with insulting ease. The man's boots kicked, scraping against the wall.
"Stop—" the guard choked.
Kaiden didn't hear the rest.
His fingers tightened. Tendons and vertebrae strained under steel.
The Core roared.
THUM-THUM-THUM-THUM—
A sharp crack cut through the room. The guard's struggles went limp. His spear clattered to the floor, tip sparking against stone.
Kaiden held him there for one more heartbeat.
Then two.
Then he let go.
The body crumpled in an awkward heap, head at a wrong angle. Eyes still open. Mouth still parted around a question that never made it out.
Silence.
Kaiden stared down at what he'd done.
He didn't remember deciding.
He didn't remember weighing options, considering consequences, choosing.
One moment, there had been a problem.
The next, his hands were bloody.
"Kaiden."
Sylen's voice was quiet. She stood in the doorway now, half-shadowed. Her gaze flicked from the corpse to his hand, then to his face.
Behind her, Jex peered over her shoulder, eyes wide. Mara pushed past him, hand over her mouth. Rein didn't bother hiding the way his grip shifted closer to his hidden hammer.
Kaiden realized he was still standing in the middle of the room like a statue carved from shrapnel and regret.
"I…" His throat felt dry. Useless human reflex. "He found us. He was going to raise an alarm."
Sylen stepped closer. Carefully. Like someone approaching a wounded animal that might still bite.
"He wasn't shouting," she said. "We barely heard anything."
"He didn't have time," Kaiden replied.
"Because you crushed his neck before he could finish a sentence," Mara whispered.
Kaiden looked at his hand.
His fingers were steady. No tremor. No sign of strain.
His Core had gone quiet. Too quiet.
The only sound in the room was the slow drip of blood from the guard's fingertips onto rotten floorboards.
"You spared a kid for one coin," Rein said slowly. "Then you snapped a man's neck for existing."
His tone wasn't accusing.
Not yet.
Just… measuring.
Jex swallowed hard. "Sir… are you… in control?"
That was the question, wasn't it?
Kaiden opened his mouth.
No words came out.
He saw the boy's head again. The wind in the grass. Zarkus's voice saying Plan B. Arvan's voice saying you weren't meant to be here. The train. The manager's hand letting go of his shoulder as Kaiden pitched forward.
Two worlds. Two deaths.
One Core.
The silence stretched until it felt like another body on the floor.
Finally, Kaiden said the only thing that didn't sound like a lie or confession.
"Clean this up," he murmured. "We move hideouts. Now. Mara, get the map. Jex, find us another hole. Rein, strip him of anything that ties him to this patrol. Sylen—"
"Keep you from doing that again?" she asked.
Her eyes were sharp. Not cruel. Not afraid.
Not yet.
"Watch me," Kaiden said.
It wasn't an order. It was permission.
She nodded once.
As the others moved, as Rein knelt by the body and Jex tried not to look at the man's face, Kaiden stepped back to the broken window.
The town below hadn't changed.
Lanterns still burned. Artillery still thundered in the distance. Somewhere, a child counted stolen coins in a dark room and wondered why the monster in the alley had let her go.
Kaiden pressed his palm to his chest.
The plating was warm.
His Core hummed once, like a satisfied animal after a kill.
He didn't know which part of him had spared the girl.
And he didn't know which part of him had killed the guard.
Mercy when lucid. Murder when he broke.
A walking contradiction wrapped in steel and scar tissue.
The Empire's weapon.
The humans' nightmare.
And increasingly, something Kaiden himself didn't recognize.
"Rust in the mind," he whispered.
No one heard him.
The slum didn't care what names he gave his own collapse.
It only knew that tonight, another body had joined the ones hiding in its walls.
And that somewhere deeper in the town, under broken stone and artillery scars, a sleeping gate waited for a madman with a Core to wake it up.