Aurelion walked through the lower levels, his fists clenched, his jaw tight.
The shop was still there.
The same small market stall, the same cheerful demeanor—but now it felt different. Now it felt like a trap. The vendor had set him up. Sent him to a fake Navigator. Wasted his credits and his time.
Aurelion was done being played.
He walked into the shop.
The vendor looked up, its cheerful expression faltering. "Ah, welcome back! Did the Navigator—"
Aurelion's fist connected with the counter.
The wood splintered. The vendor stumbled back, its multiple eyes wide with shock.
"You set me up," Aurelion said. His voice was low, cold, absolute. "You sent me to a scammer. You wasted my time. My credits. My patience."
The vendor's mouth opened and closed. "I—I don't know what you're—"
Aurelion grabbed the edge of the counter and ripped it off its hinges, hurling it across the shop. It crashed into a display, shattering glass and scattering goods across the floor.
"WHERE IS THE FRACTURE?" he roared. "WHERE ARE THE WAYFARERS?"
"I don't know!" the vendor shrieked, scrambling backward. "I don't know anything! I just—I just send people to the Navigator! He pays me a cut! That's all!"
Aurelion's hand shot out, grabbing the vendor by its throat. He lifted it off the ground, its legs kicking uselessly.
"You don't know anything?" he repeated. "Then why did you tell me about the Fracture? Why did you mention the Wayfarers?"
"Because he told me to!" the vendor gasped. "The Navigator—he told me to say those things! To attract people! To make them curious! I didn't—I didn't know—"
Aurelion stared at the vendor, his grip tightening.
The being was pathetic. Desperate. Terrified.
It was telling the truth.
He released it.
The vendor collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. Its multiple eyes were wide, its body trembling.
"I don't know anything about the Fracture," it said, its voice barely a whisper. "I just wanted to make a living. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Aurelion turned away.
He was about to walk out when the door burst open.
Three figures entered the shop.
They were large—even larger than the loan shark's lackeys. Their bodies were covered in thick armor, their faces hidden behind intimidating helmets. They carried weapons—clubs, blades, and something that looked like a high-powered energy rifle.
One of them spoke, its voice distorted by its helmet.
"Step away from the vendor," it said. "He's under our protection."
Aurelion's eyes narrowed.
"Protection?" He glanced at the vendor, who was cowering behind the counter. "Protection from what?"
"From you," the thug said.
Aurelion looked at the weapon in his hand—a plasma sword that had been lying on the counter. It was sleek, its blade humming with contained energy. He had picked it up almost unconsciously.
He smiled.
"I'm the one you should be worried about."
He moved.
The first thug didn't even have time to raise its weapon.
Aurelion's plasma sword carved through its armor like it was paper. The thug crumpled, its body hitting the ground with a heavy thud.
The second thug swung its club. Aurelion ducked under the blow, driving his sword through its chest. It fell.
The third thug raised its energy rifle. Aurelion was faster. His blade sliced through the rifle, then through the thug's neck.
Three seconds. Three kills.
The vendor was screaming in the corner.
Aurelion ignored it.
He turned to the last thug—the one who had spoken. It was backing away, its hands raised in surrender.
"Wait!" it said. "Wait—I know who you are! The Demon King! The Coliseum fighter!"
Aurelion raised his sword. "That's right."
"Don't kill me!" the thug pleaded. "I can tell you things! I can tell you who sent us!"
Aurelion's sword stopped inches from its throat.
"Who?"
The thug's voice was trembling. "The same person who sent the others. The one who threatened the inn. He runs the lower levels. He's the one who collects debts, controls the vendors, runs the scams."
Aurelion's eyes narrowed. "A loan shark."
"Yes. A big one. He's been watching you. He knows you killed his men. He wants you dead."
Aurelion was silent for a moment.
Then he lowered his sword.
"Go," he said. "Tell your boss I'm coming for him."
The thug scrambled out of the shop.
Aurelion stood in the ruins of the store, the plasma sword still humming in his hand. The vendor was still cowering in the corner.
"You should leave," he told it.
The vendor scrambled out without a word.
Aurelion looked at the sword in his hand. It was a good weapon. Better than the one he had lost.
He sheathed it.
"Well," he said. "Looks like I have another job."
K-7 floated beside him.
"Are you going to confront the loan shark?"
"Yes." Aurelion walked toward the door. "But first, I'm going to find out what he actually knows about the Fracture."
Aurelion followed the thug.
It wasn't hard. The being was terrified, scrambling through the streets without looking back. It didn't notice Aurelion behind it, moving through the shadows with practiced ease.
He followed it through the lower levels, then up, into the gleaming spires of the upper city. The buildings grew taller, more ornate. The streets grew cleaner, the beings more refined.
The thug led him to a mansion.
It was massive—a sprawling estate that dominated an entire block. Its walls were covered in glowing runes, its gates reinforced with shimmering energy. A forcefield surrounded the property, its surface rippling with contained power.
The thug rushed through the gates, disappearing inside.
Aurelion stopped at the edge of the forcefield.
He studied it—the way it hummed, the way it shimmered. It was powerful. Advanced. The kind of defense that would stop most beings in their tracks.
He wasn't most beings.
He reached out, his fingers brushing the surface. The forcefield crackled, resisting his touch. He pushed harder, and the energy surged, trying to repel him.
He pulled his hand back.
"K-7," he said. "Can you get me through this?"
The robot hovered beside him, its sensor flickering. It was silent for a moment.
Then: "I cannot."
Aurelion blinked. "What?"
"I cannot disable the forcefield. It is illegal for guides to interfere with private security systems. I am bound by protocols that prevent me from engaging in unlawful activities."
Aurelion stared at the robot.
"You're telling me you have a sense of morality?"
"I am telling you I have protocols. They are not the same thing."
"That's exactly the same thing."
"It is not. Morality is subjective. Protocols are objective."
Aurelion sighed.
"Fine." He looked at the forcefield. "Is there any way I can get through without your help?"
K-7 was quiet for a moment. "There are ways. But they are not legal."
"I don't care about legal."
"Then I cannot assist you."
Aurelion stared at the robot.
"Seriously?"
"I am bound by my programming."
Aurelion shook his head. "Great. Just great."
He looked at the forcefield, then at the mansion beyond. The loan shark was in there. The man who had sent the thugs, who controlled the lower levels, who might know something about the Fracture.
He wasn't going to let a forcefield stop him.
"Fine," he said. "I'll find another way."