Chapter 13
The next day, the Forge was louder than usual. Steam vents hissed, engines roared, and workers shouted over the noise. Ark and Tina walked along a narrow metal walkway, trying to look like just another pair of scavengers. The air smelled of smoke and oil, and every breath tasted like rust.
They turned a corner—and froze.
Their own faces stared back at them from a rusted wall. The posters were new, still warm from the printer. The drawings were rough, but clear enough: Ark and Tina — Wanted. Reward: 500 Mana. Dead or alive.
Tina sighed while looking at their wanted poster. "Well, that didn't take long."
Ark looks at the poster of them with amazement. "They work fast."
Before they could move, two guards appeared from the other end of the walkway. Their armor was patched together from old machine parts, but their eyes were sharp. One of them raised a hand to his comm unit.
"Targets sighted, sector seven! All units, converge!"
The alarm in Ark's head was louder than the one echoing through the Forge. "Run!"
They took off down the walkway, boots clanging against the metal. Behind them, the guards shouted and fired. Blue bolts of mana cracked against the railings, leaving scorch marks and bursts of smoke.
A System window blinked to life in front of Ark's vision:
[Mission: Escape the Rust Hounds][Reward: 10 Roulette Spins]
"Great," Ark muttered while looking at the window in front of him. "At least the system still has a sense of humor."
They slid down a cable to a lower level, the friction heating their hands through the gloves. Guards rappelled from above, their armor scraping the steel beams. Ark hit the ground hard, rolling to his feet.
Tina was already moving. "Left!" she shouted.
They ducked through a half-collapsed tunnel. Sparks rained from broken wires, lighting the narrow space with flashes of blue. A heavy crash followed as one of the guards landed behind them.
Ark turned, raised his mana pistol, and fired. The shot struck a support beam overhead. With a sharp crack, the beam gave way, sending a pile of loose scrap crashing down.
"Move!" he yelled.
They ran through clouds of dust and smoke. A minute later, they burst into a wide open area filled with market stalls. Vendors shouted, smoke rose from cooking pots, and the air was thick with spice and heat.
"Don't draw attention," Ark hissed, looking around for something.
Tina glanced at him. "You mean while we're running for our lives?"
A shout went up from behind them. "There they are!"
The crowd scattered as guards pushed through. Ark aimed upward and fired at the metal awning above them. The supports broke, and the whole sheet of scrap came crashing down between them and the guards. The sound was like thunder.
They darted through the confusion, weaving between stalls. A blast of air hit Ark's back—a net launcher firing. Tina stumbled as the weighted mesh flew toward her.
Ark didn't think. He focused his remaining stat point and dumped it into Speed.
His body surged with energy. In one burst, he slammed into her side, knocking her clear. The net wrapped around a pile of crates instead.
Tina blinked, catching her breath. "You saved me again."
"Yeah," Ark said between breaths. "Let's not make it a habit."
The chase had gone too far now. Every light in the Forge turned red. A loud siren blared through the metal corridors.
"LOCKDOWN PROTOCOL INITIATED. ALL BAY DOORS SEALED."
Massive shutters began to grind shut, cutting off the exits. The sound was deep and final, like the closing of a tomb.
Tina cursed. "They're sealing the docks."
"Then we go down," Ark said.
They found a small service hatch hidden behind a pile of old crates. The metal was hot and slick with grease, but Tina managed to pry it open. The air that came from below was cold and sharp, carrying the stink of chemicals and mold.
They dropped inside, landing in the dark.
This was the lower level—the Depths.
It was silent except for the hum of old pipes and the drip of leaking water. The floor trembled under their feet. The walls glowed faintly with blue moss that gave off a soft, eerie light. The air was thin, and Ark could taste the metallic tang of old ozone.
"What is this place?" Tina whispered.
"Maintenance tunnels, maybe," Ark said. "Or somewhere they don't want people to go."
Something scuttled in the dark. Both of them froze. A wet gurgle echoed from deeper in the corridor.
Tina reached for her knife. "That doesn't sound like a guard."
A faint voice broke through the noise. "Hey! Over here!"
They turned. A small face peeked from a pipe—a boy, maybe twelve years old, wearing a cracked breather mask. His eyes were wide and bright in the dim light.
"Quick," the boy whispered. "Before the Crawlers smell you!"
Ark didn't ask questions. He followed. The boy crawled through a maze of pipes and narrow walkways. The air grew colder with every step. Once, Ark slipped and caught himself on a railing slick with oil. The sound echoed, and somewhere in the dark, something hissed in reply.
After what felt like forever, they reached a large, rusted door. The boy knocked in a strange pattern—three fast, two slow, one long. The metal groaned, and the door slid open.
Warm light spilled out, along with the smell of food and oil. Behind it was a wide space filled with people, machines, and makeshift walls built from ship parts.
A voice spoke from inside. "Who's there?"
The boy pulled off his mask and grinned. "Strays. The kind we like."
The man who stepped forward had sharp blue eyes and a metal arm that clicked when he moved. The arm shifted slightly, transforming from a hand into a wrench and back again.
"Well," the man said with a rough grin. "Looks like the surface finally sent us some troublemakers."
Tina glanced at Ark. "I think we found the locals."
The man nodded once. "Name's Jax. Welcome to the Cogs."