The night had teeth.
Rain still poured from the fractured sky, drumming against the shattered streets in a ceaseless rhythm. The glow of the fortress was gone now, swallowed by the distance and the skeletal silhouettes of collapsed towers, but Darrel could still feel it — a phantom pressure at the back of his skull, like an unseen hand reminding him he was being watched.
They had found a shallow shelter beneath the overhang of a derelict tram station. Rusted beams sagged under the weight of years, and the once-proud signage above the platform was nothing but streaks of peeling paint. The storm's wind carried the faint, metallic scent of blood from somewhere far off.
Kaelen sat cross-legged near the wall, checking the edge of her dagger with slow, deliberate strokes. Arden, still clutching the cube as if it were a fragile heart, paced in short, tight movements. Darrel sat apart from them, stripping down the rifle he had salvaged, cleaning it with a rag that was already streaked with oil and rainwater.
The quiet between them wasn't the comfortable kind.
"You didn't tell me about that thing in the tunnels," Darrel said finally, without looking up from the weapon.
Arden's pacing slowed. "Because I didn't think it would find us this soon."
"That wasn't a hunter," Kaelen added, her voice like a knife scraping stone. "That was something else. Something… older."
Darrel glanced between them. "Older?"
Arden stopped pacing and met his eyes. "Before the hunters, before the trials as you know them, the Core had enforcers. Machines built for one purpose — to kill those who threatened the system itself. Most were dismantled when the hunters became more efficient. But not all. The one you saw… they call it the Pale Warden."
Darrel let the name roll in his mind, heavy as lead. "And it's hunting us."
"It's not just hunting you," Kaelen said, slipping her dagger back into its sheath. "It's hunting anyone who tries to break the rules."
The cube in Arden's hands pulsed faintly, as if reacting to the conversation.
Darrel leaned forward. "Tell me what this thing actually does."
Arden hesitated, then crouched so the cube was between them all. Its surface was like black glass, but as Darrel watched, faint lines of light traced across it — not randomly, but in patterns, fractal and precise.
"This," Arden said, "is a fragment of the Core's root code. With it, you can access subroutines the system keeps hidden — change environmental variables, disable hunter patrol grids, even alter the rules of engagement."
Darrel frowned. "You're telling me we can… cheat?"
"Not cheat," Arden said sharply. "Rewrite. But the Core isn't passive. The more you use it, the more it will respond. And that means more Wardens."
Kaelen's eyes flicked toward Darrel. "Which means if you want to live, you learn to use it fast. Or we die in the Ash Road."
Darrel had never heard the term before, but from the way both Arden and Kaelen said it, he knew it wasn't just a place.
---
They moved again at first light — if the dim, grey haze creeping through the ruins could be called light at all. The rain had lessened to a cold mist, clinging to their clothes and hair. The city here was different: less vertical, more sprawling. Streets buckled with deep cracks, and skeletal remains of vehicles jutted from the asphalt like the bones of forgotten beasts.
Darrel walked point, scanning intersections through the rifle's cracked scope. Kaelen moved ahead in bursts, vanishing into side alleys, reappearing only when she'd cleared the path. Arden followed close behind, one hand always on the cube beneath his coat.
An hour in, they came to a wide avenue choked with ash. It was like stepping into another world — the ground was carpeted in fine grey dust, and the air carried a burnt, chemical tang that clung to the back of the throat.
Kaelen's pace slowed. "Welcome to the Ash Road," she said quietly.
Darrel swept his gaze over the street. On either side, buildings leaned inward, their windows shattered, their walls scorched black. And there was no sound here — not the distant groan of metal, not the whisper of wind — just a heavy, unnatural stillness.
"What happened here?" he asked.
"Purge," Arden said, his voice low. "Years ago, the Core decided this sector was unsalvageable. Burned it clean. Everything — and everyone — turned to ash."
Darrel adjusted the scarf around his mouth and stepped forward, each footfall sending up a faint puff of grey.
Halfway down the road, Kaelen raised her hand in a sharp signal. Darrel froze. Ahead, the ash shifted — just slightly, but enough to catch the eye.
And then something began to rise from it.
At first it looked like the street itself was folding upward, but as the shape took form, Darrel saw limbs — long, jointed, coated in a thin layer of ash that cracked away as the creature moved. It had no face, only a smooth plate where features should have been, and its movements were too fluid for something so tall.
[Threat Detected – Type: Ashborn]
[Recommendation: Avoid Direct Engagement]
Kaelen's dagger was already in her hand. "Keep moving. Slow."
They edged along the edge of the street, careful not to disturb the ash more than necessary. The Ashborn turned its head — or what passed for its head — as if tasting the air. Darrel's muscles tensed, finger brushing the rifle's trigger.
A faint crunch behind them broke the silence.
Darrel didn't look back — he didn't need to. The Ashborn moved instantly, covering the distance between them with terrifying speed. Its limbs struck the ground like spears, ash exploding upward in choking clouds.
"Run!" Kaelen's voice was sharp as gunfire.
They sprinted, boots slipping on the unstable surface. The Ashborn's limbs smashed into the road behind them, splintering asphalt. Darrel fired over his shoulder, bullets sparking off its armored hide.
Arden shouted something, but the roar of collapsing debris drowned him out.
Kaelen veered into a side alley, Darrel right behind her. The space was narrow, the walls pressing close, but it forced the Ashborn to slow. That was enough.
Arden skidded to a stop and pulled the cube from his coat. "Cover me!"
Darrel planted himself at the mouth of the alley, firing in controlled bursts. The Ashborn's smooth plate now glowed faintly, as if the bullets were waking something inside it.
Arden pressed his palm to the cube. The air seemed to thicken, static crawling across Darrel's skin. The overlay in his vision flickered, its usual blue turning a strange amber.
[System Override Engaged]
[Local Terrain Variable: Adjusted]
The ground beneath the Ashborn shifted — the ash liquefied into a thick, tar-like substance. Its limbs sank, movement slowing.
"Now!" Arden barked.
Kaelen was a blur — darting past Darrel, vaulting onto a pile of debris, and driving her dagger into a seam between the creature's plates. It screamed, though not with sound — the vibration rattled Darrel's teeth.
The Ashborn collapsed, its body breaking apart into brittle shards. The tar reverted to ash, swallowing what remained.
---
They didn't stop until they had crossed the Ash Road entirely. The city beyond felt alive again — wind through broken windows, the distant rumble of shifting steel.
They found shelter in what had once been a library. The roof was mostly intact, and the long rows of collapsed shelves offered cover from sight. Dust coated everything, but it was dry, and for the first time since they'd met, Kaelen let her shoulders ease.
Arden set the cube on a table between them. "That," he said, "is just the beginning. The Core will have logged the override. Which means it knows we can interfere."
Darrel leaned back against a cracked pillar, breathing slow. "And the Pale Warden?"
Kaelen's gaze was unreadable. "If it wasn't already coming for us… it will be now."
Arden nodded grimly. "We have to reach the Relay before it finds us. If we can link the cube to the Relay's uplink, we can rewrite more than just local terrain. We can change the whole map."
Darrel studied him. "And then what?"
"Then," Arden said, "we end the trial."
Outside, the rain had stopped. The city smelled of ash and wet stone. Somewhere in the distance, a faint, inhuman cry rose and fell — a sound that didn't belong to any hunter.
Darrel rested his rifle across his knees, eyes fixed on the shadows between the shelves.
The night still had teeth. And it was hungry.