They moved deeper into the city, still unaware that beneath its bright and bustling surface, the truth about the City of Graves was waiting for them.
The farther they went, the city's normal appearance started to crumble. The crowded streets and smell of cooked meat could not hide the tension in the air. People moved carefully, eyes down, as if afraid to draw the wrong kind of attention.
Thomas slowed down, eyes scanning the crowd. "Alright. This place feels... different."
Nevin looked around, his usual grin fading. "Yeah. Not the friendly kind of different. More like, don't ask questions if you want to stay out of trouble."
Before Thomas could answer, the same boy from the gate appeared beside them, flipping his coin with a smug grin. "Still lost?"
Thomas sighed. "Alright, kid. You win." He pulled out a Pink Fragment and handed it over. "Tell us what we need to know."
The boy grinned as he pocketed the fragment. "Smart choice. Welcome to the City of Graves, one of the biggest safe zones left. But don't let the name fool you. This isn't some hopeful settlement, and it's definitely not a democracy. Here, money talks and power decides who gets to live comfortably."
He glanced around before continuing, his voice lowering a little. "Five major factions run this place. If you plan to stick around, you better know who's who."
"The Hooks are the slavers. They hunt for easy targets, especially rare Glints. Elves, Succubae, anything unusual, they sell them for pleasure, labor, or worse. They're well connected, and anyone who crosses them tends to disappear without a trace."
"Then you've got the Gloves. Bounty hunters, mercenaries for hire. If someone wants you dead or alive, they get the job. They handle kidnappings, retrievals, protection, anything that keeps the market moving. If you're worth more alive, they'll bring you in breathing. If not, they'll make sure you never breathe again."
The boy flipped his coin lazily, his tone quieter now. "Next are the Orphans. Street kids, no homes, no families. They survive by scamming, stealing, and setting traps. Some just pick pockets, but the smart ones work in teams. Together, they can bring down a Glint if they plan it right."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "And then there are the cults, the Blood Creed and the Fog Walkers. Both insane in their own ways. The Blood Creed worships the Pink Fog and thinks Glints are chosen beings while everyone else is meant to be converted. The Fog Walkers believe the Fog should consume everything, that resisting it is unnatural. The only reason they're still around is because they keep each other in check."
Thomas exhaled. "Great. A whole city run by criminals, cults, and mercenaries. Just my kind of place."
The boy chuckled. "You haven't even met the boss yet. The Graves Family owns this city. They built the walls, made the rules, and keep everyone in line. Dante Graves runs it now, and let's just say he doesn't like competition. His Glint is called Blood Revenant. The longer he fights, the stronger he gets. He doesn't need to prove anything. Everyone already knows he's the top dog."
For a moment, Iris froze. Her fingers curled slightly before she forced them still, her face calm but tight. No one seemed to notice the small shift in her posture, the way she quietly turned away to hide whatever reaction had surfaced. The moment slipped by, buried under the ongoing conversation.
She knew that name. Dante Graves.
Iris was still lost in thought when Bryan and Thomas exchanged a look, both realizing the same thing at once.
"Wait, Dante Graves?" Bryan said, eyes widening. "Isn't he the son of our company's president?"
Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Then why build his own city? Couldn't he just run back to daddy in District 2?"
Bryan shot him a look. "You're one to talk. Isn't your grandfather in District 2 too?"
"Alright, alright," Thomas said, holding up a hand. "I barely even know Dante. Met him a few times, that's all. He didn't exactly stand out."
Bryan snorted. "Well, he sure stands out now."
Thomas glanced around the busy street. "Yeah. Look at this paradise he built." His tone dripped with sarcasm.
The boy smirked and flipped his coin one last time. "Enjoy your stay. Just don't end up on the wrong side of things."
Thomas watched him walk away before calling out, "Hey, kid. Got a name?"
The boy stopped, glancing back with a grin. "What, you gonna start being friendly now?"
Thomas shrugged. "Could happen."
"Name's Finn," the boy said, slipping the coin into his pocket. "Try not to forget it."
Thomas watched him disappear into the crowd, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "Kid's gonna own this town someday."
Thomas's stomach growled again, cutting through the noise of the street. He scowled at himself. Meat first. Problems later.
They found a small restaurant wedged between market stalls, busy and loud, with the smell of grilled meat filling the air. It wasn't fancy, but in a world like this, it might as well have been fine dining.
Thomas dropped into a chair with a sigh. "Alright. Someone order me the biggest thing on the menu."
A young waiter, maybe sixteen or seventeen, approached carefully. "Uh, we have grilled Nightmare Boar and roasted Nightmare Cow," he said, putting extra emphasis on the word Nightmare for both.
Most people were still uneasy about eating Nightmare creatures. Even if they reverted to normal once brought inside a safe zone, the thought of eating something that had once mutated in the Fog was enough to turn stomachs.
"Perfect," Thomas said. "Bring both. And double the portions."
To him, food was food. Whether it had once been a Nightmare or not didn't matter. As long as it filled his stomach, that was all that counted.
As they waited for their food, Thomas and his crew watched the street through the open front of the restaurant. The city looked different now. Across the road, guards shoved people through the crowd while others pretended not to notice. Metal cages rolled past the market stalls, carrying people inside. They weren't criminals. They were merchandise.
A line of chained men and women was led toward a guarded section of the market.
Bruised, tired, and barely conscious, they shuffled forward in silence. No one stopped them. No one spoke up. It was just another deal in a city where slavery had become normal.
"That's the Hooks' work," Nevin muttered. "Can't say for sure, but they're not exactly hard to spot."
"They don't have to hide," Iris said quietly. "This place lets them."
Thomas's hands curled into fists. "We should…," he started, but Bryan cut him off.
"We can't," Bryan said. "Not yet."
Thomas let out a long breath, forcing himself to look away, but the image stayed in his mind. He had always had a soft spot for the helpless, kids, the elderly, even parents who tried their best, maybe because he never had any of that himself. He didn't talk about it, but it drove him more than he liked to admit.
He hadn't helped that old man and the stranded people in the Fog back in the settlement just for show. Or the Archivists. Or Iris's search for her parents. Or Mira. He did it because he couldn't stand watching people suffer while he did nothing.
Seeing those cages made his stomach twist in a way no battle ever did.
From their table, the group noticed a commotion outside near a side alley. A group of teens, barely older than kids, were arguing with two armed men.
Nevin frowned. "Those look like the Gloves organization. They just grabbed someone, and no one's helping. No one even cares!"
"They're bounty hunters," Iris said, eyes narrowing. "But that's not a bounty. That's a kidnapping. Look."
A teenage girl was being dragged across the ground, wrists bound as she fought against the men's grip. Her friends tried to help, but the mercenaries shoved them aside with brutal force.
One of the armed men sneered. "You Orphans are such a pain. She's not even family, so why bother? The Hooks pay well for an Elf Glint."
That explained everything. Elf Glints were rare, and in the Hooks' hands, that never ended well.
"Please!" one of the kids cried. "You can't take her! We'll pay! We'll do anything!"
The other bounty hunter laughed. "Not how it works, kid. You stole from the wrong people. The Hooks hired us, and they want her. Trust me, their buyers pay top price for her kind."
The girl thrashed harder, panic in her eyes. One of the younger Orphans pulled a knife and lunged, but the bounty hunter caught his wrist and twisted hard. The crack of bone made Thomas's gut tighten.
The boy screamed as he was thrown to the ground. "Idiots," the hunter muttered. "Now you've just made this messy."
The Orphans didn't stand a chance against the Gloves, the bounty hunters. But they weren't trying to fight or win. They were only trying to protect their own.
From the rooftops above, a few other Orphans pushed over a pile of debris, sending it crashing down. The sudden noise and falling rubble forced the Gloves to stumble back, giving the kids a brief chance to escape.
"Run! Now!" someone shouted.