The lower districts of Arahara breathed differently than the upper tiers.
Up high, the air was thin and cold, filtered through silver duct spines and atmospheric regulators. Down here, it was heavy with oil, steam, cooked metal, and humanity. Neon signage bled into rain-slick pavement. Overcrowded balconies stacked like ribs along the sides of megastructures. Voices layered endlessly—vendors shouting, children arguing, transit alarms chiming in tired repetition.
Rei moved through it all in silence.
His coat was unmarked. No insignia. No rank displayed. Just another shadow threading through the city's veins. That was intentional. The Dominion did not want him recognized yet—not down here, not by civilians.
Not before the symbol was ready.
He passed a street shrine built from scrap steel and stripped wiring. Someone had twisted broken circuit halos into the shape of wings. Candles flickered inside mechanical rib cages. Names were carved into the base—some old, some fresh.
Rei did not stop.
Across the avenue, a supply convoy rolled past—six armored trucks, matte black, escort drones skating low along their sides like predatory fish. The civilian crowd parted without being told. Some bowed their heads. Some stared too long.
Fear and trust lived side by side now. No one could tell where one ended and the other began.
At the edge of the transit bridge, Rei paused.
The river below was not water.
It was coolant runoff from the core districts, glowing faintly blue as it slid through the city's skeletal underlayers. Heat shimmered above it like a hallucination. Old structures leaned inward over the channel, their undersides rusted into orange fangs.
This was where the city bled.
"You're walking like you expect something to reach up and grab you."
The voice came from behind him—low, precise.
Rei didn't turn immediately. "Doesn't mean it won't."
His commander stepped beside him. No uniform. No visible weapon. Just presence. The kind that bent space subtly around it.
They stood there together as transport rails roared overhead.
"The patrol routes changed again," the commander said. "Five minutes ago."
Rei's jaw tightened. "That's the third time today."
"Yes. And that means it isn't random."
Rei finally looked at him. "Then what is it?"
The commander's gaze stayed on the river. "Repositioning before pressure."
Rei exhaled slowly.
Pressure meant operations. Operations meant casualties. And casualties never stayed clean, no matter how surgical the Dominion claimed to be.
Far across the bridge, induction sirens wailed softly—students being herded from civic sectors into controlled learning zones. The sound was calm. Too calm. Like a lullaby sung through speakers.
"They're accelerating preparation," Rei said.
"Yes," the commander replied. "Because the world is no longer behaving."
Rei watched a group of children cross the upper span, holding identical slate packs against their chests. One of them tripped. Another helped him up. None of the drones intervened.For a moment, everything looked normal.That was the most dangerous illusion of all.
"You hesitated at the towers today," the commander said without looking at him.
Rei stiffened slightly. "You saw that?"
"I see most things."
A long silence stretched between them as the river steamed below.
"You're afraid," the commander continued. Not an accusation. An observation.
Rei's fingers curled slowly at his side. "No."
The commander finally turned his head. "You should be." The words didn't land like an insult.
They landed like truth.
High above the city, lights shifted again—another silent system recalculation rippled outward through traffic patterns, energy grids, and patrol densities. Arahara adjusted itself without ever asking permission from the people trapped inside it.
Rei felt it this time—like a faint tremor in his chest."What happens," he asked quietly, "when the symbol they're building finally stops looking human?"
The commander studied him for a long moment.
"Then," he said, "they will stop pretending this is still protection."