The ruins stretched endlessly, a labyrinth of broken towers and twisted metal. Fog slithered through the streets, hugging the jagged remains of skyscrapers like a living thing. Somewhere below, faint hums pulsed through cracked concrete—the heartbeat of dead machinery that still refused to die.
Captain Iver led the way, her violet hair catching the pale glow of the sun-struggling-through-clouds. Her rifle rested lightly across her back, but it felt more like an extension of her than a tool. Every movement she made carried authority, and faintly, I could feel it—the ghost of her Bloodlust pressing outward, subtle but undeniable. Only the strongest felt it fully, yet even I caught the edges.
The squad followed in formation. Reid adjusted the calibration on his gauntlet, sending tiny flames dancing over his mechanical arm. Sera's eyes flickered across the ruins, each blink warping reality slightly as she scanned for anomalies. Barel's living blade hummed faintly, veins of red light pulsing as though it remembered every kill it had ever made. Lune walked beside her mount, a mechanical wolf hybrid, sleek and low-slung, its metal-plated legs moving with eerie grace. Its eyes glimmered faintly blue in the mist.
"This city," Iver said quietly, "wasn't always dead."
I tried to imagine it — glass towers shimmering under sunlight, streets crowded with people. Now, it was a graveyard. Machines rusted, structures half-swallowed by black vines, and shadows that felt alive moved with each step.
We passed the remains of a skybridge. Below, the fog twisted into shapes—flesh fused with machine, creatures long dead or modified beyond recognition. They didn't attack, not yet. They were observing. Waiting.
Iver's eyes narrowed. "They're aware of us. Not hungry yet… but wary."
"Why aren't they attacking?" I asked.
"Because they recognize weakness," she replied. "And we don't display it. Not yet."
The squad moved closer to the old city square. Debris crunched underfoot. In the center, a massive, shattered screen flickered faintly, displaying corrupted data. Nearby, a rusted hover mount lay dormant, its sensors dim. Lune knelt beside it, inspecting the wiring and the mechanical spine.
"I can get it running," she said quietly. "But it'll need energy cores from the lower tunnels."
Iver glanced at me. "Someday, you'll understand that survival isn't just strength. It's tools, strategy… and occasionally, luck."
I felt a vibration in my chest again. Faint. It wasn't Bloodlust. Not yet. But it was something. Resonance. The world seemed to whisper in response, subtle tremors in the concrete, the hum of hidden machinery, the way even the fog twisted around me.
"Captain," Reid muttered, pointing toward the shadows of a collapsed building. "Movement."
Shadows moved—scavengers, not Parasites. Humans. Ragged, armed, eyes glinting with caution and desperation. They didn't smile. They didn't speak. Their weapons were crude but lethal—blades fused with tech, small firearms with glowing circuits.
Iver's Bloodlust flared faintly—just the edge of it. The scavengers paused instinctively, fear threading through their eyes. Only a few seconds, but enough.
"They're not our enemies," she said. "Yet. We observe first."
The humans watched us as much as we watched them. A silent standoff. Then, one of them raised a hand—a simple gesture. One of caution. One of curiosity.
I realized then that this city wasn't just haunted by machines or Parasites. It was haunted by survival itself. By people who had adapted, changed, become something new to endure.
The mounts stirred beside us, low growls and mechanical whines. Lune's wolf sniffed the air, sensing something beyond our eyes. Even Barel's blade seemed to hum louder, alive to the tension in the square.
Iver took a step forward. Her presence pressed outward, quiet but commanding. For a moment, the scavengers' weapons wavered. They understood, even without words, that this was not a fight they could win easily.
I clenched my fists, feeling the faint tremor again in my chest. Whatever this Resonance was, it wasn't just in Iver. Something inside me stirred. Small. Weak. But undeniable.
And I knew one day, it would wake.