The night air was thick with iron and static, the kind of silence that came before a storm. Sector E-92 slept uneasily under the ghostly glow of half-dead streetlamps, their flickering light bouncing off broken windows and rusted rooftops.
Rex slung his backpack over his shoulder, the sound of clinking metal echoing softly as he stepped over the junkyard fence. Every shadow looked like a waiting blade. He wasn't supposed to leave the Undersprawls—no one did, not without a sponsor or a death wish—but staying meant certain death.
The Spinebreakers would come.
They always came for unfinished business.
He tightened his grip on a length of reinforced pipe, one of his new makeshift weapons. He'd used Scrapmeld to reinforce it earlier—melting scavenged iron with mana until it formed a crude but solid club. It wasn't elegant, but it could break bones if swung hard enough.
Rex opened his interface briefly.
---
> [System Interface: Devourer Protocol v1.0]
Level: 6
Mana: 30 / 30
Equipped Weapon: Scrap-Forged Pipe (Grade E)
Inventory: 13/16
Active Ability: Shadowstep (Tier D)
Support Ability: Scrapmeld (Tier E)
---
He exhaled slowly. Enough reading. Time to move.
The route to the Spill Zones wasn't exactly mapped—it was a graveyard of machines and twisted steel, a long-abandoned metro tunnel that connected the old city to the infected wilds beyond. Rumor said that the tunnels led under the city walls, right into the outer decay.
He didn't care if it was suicide. Anything was better than dying in an alley.
The metallic taste of fear coated his tongue as he crossed through the scrapyard, stepping over rusted frames of old cars and broken mech suits. Somewhere behind him, a bottle shattered.
Rex froze.
Then came the laughter.
"Found you, rat."
Ten silhouettes emerged from the darkness, weapons glinting under the dull light. Their insignia—a coiled spine made of bones—gleamed faintly on their jackets.
The Spinebreakers.
Rex's heart dropped.
At the front was a tall man with a jagged scar cutting across his chin—Rico, one of the mid-tier users. His system was well-known around E-92: Kinetic Vault. It allowed him to store and release momentum at will, turning every punch or kick into a miniature explosion.
Beside him was Luma, a woman with violet braids and cold eyes. She carried a short-range rifle powered by her Ion Surge system, an ability that overcharged her bullets with electric discharge.
The rest of the gang were low-level trash—but they had numbers, armor, and confidence.
"Thought you could run, huh?" Rico said, cracking his knuckles. "Boss said to bring you in alive, but honestly, I've been dying to break a few ribs."
Rex's mind raced. He counted six armed with melee weapons, two carrying guns, and two with energy gloves.
Ten of them.
One of him.
Home advantage, he reminded himself. You know this terrain. Use it.
Without a word, he darted sideways between two piles of metal scraps, kicking up dirt. The Spinebreakers followed immediately, boots pounding the ground.
A gunshot cracked the air—then another. Sparks flew as a bullet ricocheted off a piece of rusted plating near his head. Rex ducked behind a half-buried engine block, breathing hard.
> [Mana Remaining: 25 / 30]
Shadowstep ready.
He waited for a pause in the firing, then whispered, "Shadowstep."
The world blurred.
He vanished from behind the block and reappeared five meters ahead—directly behind one of the Spinebreakers who had been circling left.
Rex swung his pipe. It connected with a sickening crack, sending the man sprawling.
> [Shadowstep Progress: 22 / 100]
The others shouted and charged.
Rico slammed his fist into the ground, releasing a shockwave that threw metal shards into the air. "Don't let him get away!"
Rex stumbled back, shielding his face. He tried to move again, but one of the riflemen fired. The bullet grazed his arm, leaving a burning line of pain.
> [HP -12]
He gritted his teeth and dove behind a mound of junk. Think! Think!
He could fight one or two at best—but ten? Even with Shadowstep, it was suicide. His best bet was to thin their numbers, use traps or distractions.
He reached into his bag, grabbing several scrap knives he'd forged earlier. Their edges weren't sharp, but at least they flew straight.
He took a breath, peeked out, and threw two.
Both struck one of the advancing men in the chest and shoulder. The thug howled, stumbling backward. The others flinched, just long enough for Rex to step again—appearing behind another pile.
But then Rico spotted him.
"You really think you can run, huh?" Rico grinned, veins pulsing along his arms. "Let me show you what real power looks like!"
He slammed his foot down, and the ground cracked. A burst of kinetic energy surged from his body as he launched forward—faster than Rex could blink.
Rex raised his pipe to block, but the hit came like a freight train.
BOOM!
The blow threw him several meters through the air. He crashed into a heap of rusted plating, coughing blood. His system flickered red.
> [Warning: HP Critical. 8% Remaining]
[Endurance insufficient for further damage absorption]
Rex groaned, dragging himself up. Blood trickled from his temple.
He could barely stand.
The Spinebreakers surrounded him, weapons raised. Luma aimed her rifle at his head.
"End of the line, kid. Should've stayed under your scrap pile."
Rex spat blood and tried to lift his weapon again—but his arm trembled too much.
Then—crack!
A gunshot.
Not Luma's.
One of the Spinebreakers' heads snapped back, a clean hole between his eyes. He dropped instantly.
"What the—?!" Luma shouted, turning around.
From the shadows of the rooftops, a figure stepped forward—a slim woman in dark tactical gear, wearing a torn ski mask and a black leather jacket patched with dust. Her skin glimmered deep brown under the pale light, and her stance was sharp, military-like.
Two curved machetes hung crossed on her back, and a silver handgun smoked in her right hand.
She moved like a ghost.
"Ten of you to kill one boy?" she said coldly. "Pathetic."
"Who the hell are you?!" Rico roared.
She didn't answer. Instead, she raised her hand—and the air around her shimmered faintly, a pulse of mana rippling through the ground.
---
> [System Detected: Phantom Vanguard]
Tier: Mid-Level
Active Skill: Blink Cut (D-tier)
Passive: Ghost Veil (reduces enemy detection by 60%)
User Sync Rate: 83%
---
Rico lunged at her with another kinetic burst—but she sidestepped cleanly, her machete slicing once, twice—too fast to follow. Blood sprayed the dirt as Rico stumbled backward, clutching his side.
Luma fired her rifle, electricity arcing through the night—but the woman blinked forward in a burst of faint blue light, appearing beside her. The machete rose again, and Luma's gun fell in two smoking halves.
Within seconds, the chaos turned one-sided.
The Spinebreakers broke formation, trying to retreat. The masked woman didn't pursue. She simply reloaded her handgun, eyes still on Rex.
"You alive, kid?" she called out.
Rex tried to speak, but only managed a groan.
She walked over, boots crunching glass, and crouched beside him. Her eyes scanned him through the slits of the mask—calculating, assessing.
"Still breathing. Good. You've got guts, I'll give you that."
"Who… are you?" Rex managed.
She holstered her weapon. "Someone who doesn't like Spinebreakers. Let's leave it at that."
Then she offered her hand. "Can you walk?"
Rex hesitated, then took it. Her grip was strong, grounding. She pulled him up and slung his arm around her shoulder.
"Lucky night for you," she said as they started moving toward the edge of the scrapyard. "Sector E-92's about to turn into a warzone. You picked a hell of a time to run."
Rex looked back at the carnage, then at her masked face.
"Where are we going?"
She didn't answer immediately. The hum of distant sirens filled the silence.
"Somewhere past the wall," she said finally. "You headed to the Spill Zones, right? Let's just say I know the way."
And with that, they disappeared into the night.