Novels by B. Mocin

The construct beast shrieked, a sound like tectonic plates grinding against tearing brass. The shockwave of its voice kicked up a wall of white, chalky dust that stung Santiago’s eyes."Santi, watch your left!" Nadia yelled, her boots sliding in the loose dirt. "Get back!""I’m not backing up, Nadia!" Santiago shouted, his hand already sparking with that cold, gray static. "If I run, this thing is just going to stomp the ridge. Can you read its signature?""It’s a complete mess!" she screamed over the roaring wind. "It’s not a standard golem! It’s a localized anchor made of the school’s backup defensive grid and whatever garbage was left in the deletion path. It doesn't have a stable rhythm, Santi!""Everything has a rhythm," Santiago gritted out, ducking as a massive arm of fused obsidian swept over his head, parting the air with a concussive hum. "Explain the gold wires. Why are they pulsing like that?""They’re carrying the residual harvest energy!" Nadia yelled, her staff raised l

"Don't look back," Nadia said, her voice barely a whisper against the dry, howling wind. "You said it yourself, remember? Just keep moving.""I’m trying not to," Santiago replied, his boots grinding into a pale, chalky dust that hadn't been there ten minutes ago. "But it's hard to ignore when the sky behind us looks like a torn piece of paper.""It's not just the sky, Santi. Look at the ground." She pointed her staff—still dark, still useless—at a patch of petrified earth. "The grass is completely gone. The dirt... it’s like ash. It’s totally dead.""It’s not dead," Santiago muttered, kneeling down to touch the cracked terrain. "It’s unwritten. The Council didn't just blow up the school, Nadia. They deleted the geography. This was a forest. Now it's a blank slate.""A blank slate with a hundred-mile radius," Nadia sighed, rubbing her temples with her free hand. "How are we supposed to find Blackwood if the map doesn't match the ground anymore? There are no landmarks. No hills. Just...

The smoke from the ruined Spire wasn't just gray; it was a heavy, suffocating purple, thick with the stench of ionized air and the bitter tang of failed enchantments. Santiago stood at the edge of the treeline, his fingers still tracing the jagged, silver-veined scars on his palm. The violet crystal in his pocket felt like a hot coal against his hip."Seven steps to the silver gate," Santiago whispered, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the stars were finally surrendering to a bruised, orange dawn. "My dad wasn’t just a bad poet, Nadia. He was giving me the map back then. Every bedtime story, every stupid nursery rhyme... it was all a set of coordinates."Nadia adjusted the strap of her satchel, her eyes darting between the burning library and the shifting shadows of the quad. "Can we appreciate the irony later? Right now, we’ve got a couple hundred terrified kids waiting for us to lead them into a forest that might be just as dangerous as the school.""I know," Santiago said, turni

The smoke rising from the knight’s cracked visor smelled like ozone and burnt hair. Santiago stood over him, his chest heaving, the silver-gray light in his palm dimming to a dull, throbbing ache. The quad was silent, save for the distant crackle of a fire in the library and the wet, ragged gasps coming from the man in the black armor.Santiago kicked the energy blade away, his eyes never leaving the single, human eye visible through the shattered visor. "You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about my dad like that. You don’t know anything about him."The knight let out a wet, rattling laugh. "I know more than you do, kid. You’ve been living in a fairy tale. You think Elias was some tragic hero? He was the smartest guy in the room, and he knew it. But he wasn’t a criminal. Not the way the Order tells it.""Then what was he?" Santiago demanded, leaning down, his hand sparking with a warning flicker of gray. "He spent his life hiding us in the middle of nowhere. He was terrified of this pl

The clash of metal against light wasn’t just a sound; it was a physical blow that rattled the very air. Santiago slid back, his boots carving deep, jagged furrows into the mud of the quad. His arm was screaming, the gray-and-silver knot of his palm flickering in protest. The knight in black—his mirror, his shadow, his copy—didn't even look winded."You’re fast," Santiago spat, his chest heaving as he struggled to find his center. "But you’re a hack. A cheap, mass-produced knockoff."The knight stood perfectly still, his white visor pulsing with a rhythm that felt disturbingly like a mockery of Santiago’s own heartbeat. "Efficiency isn't about the origin, Santiago. It’s about the result. You struggle with the void. You fear it. I embrace it.""Embrace it?" Santiago laughed, though it sounded like dry leaves scraping over stone. "You’re just a battery with a fancy paint job. They didn't make you; they hollowed you out. I can see it in the way you move. There’s no soul in that armor, jus

The silence that followed Santiago’s declaration was shattered by the rhythmic, unnerving sound of heavy boots. The twelve knights in matte-black armor advanced across the quad, their movements so uniform it was as if they were a single organism. They did not shout. They did not posture. They simply raised their weapons—long, slender rifles that pulsed with a cold, white light—and fired."Get down!" Santiago shoved Nadia behind the base of a shattered statue, the stone erupting into shrapnel as a volley of plasma bolts slammed into it."They aren't even asking questions, Santi!" Nadia yelled, her hair matted with concrete dust. "They're just clearing the area. Look at the infirmary door!"Santiago peeked around the corner. A team of two knights had reached the infirmary’s side entrance. Without a word, they detonated a localized suppression charge, turning the heavy iron door into a mangled heap of scrap. Inside, there was a flash of white, followed by the sickening silence of a life

"We walk," Seraphelion said, his voice cutting through the rising wind with the absolute finality of a dropped portcullis."Into what?" Kael shot back, not moving an inch from his stubborn stance in the wet mud. "There are no maps out here, Commander. Just miles of rusted slag and acidic mist.""Then we walk until the mist eats the memory of those walls," Seraphelion replied, turning his back on the darkened skyline once and for all.Kael let out a sharp, bitter laugh that sounded more like a cough, but he finally turned to follow, his boots squelching against the frozen earth."Physics is the only law left out here," Kael muttered, adjusting the strap of his battered pack over his sore shoulder. "No gears, no mana-drains, no corrupted councils.""Just gravity, friction, and the cold," Seraphelion added, lengthening his stride as the jagged silhouette of the city finally vanished behind a rolling wall of gray fog.They walked in silence for the next hour, the rhythmic crunch of gravel

"You think this silence is a victory?" Kael demanded, his voice cracking slightly as the cold wind whipped a lock of dark hair across his soot-stained eyes."It is an absence," Seraphelion replied, his gaze never leaving the distant, jagged silhouette of the dark city wall."It is a survival, Commander, and you damn well know the difference," Kael snapped, stepping closer and jabbing a rigid finger toward the open expanse of the wasteland. "We are out. Silas bought us that exit with his blood. Are you going to waste it standing here staring at the horizon like a statue?"Seraphelion slowly turned his head, his cold, hardened eyes locking onto Kael with a sudden, oppressive intensity. "You talk about Silas as if he were a tactical expendable, Kael. Like a spent casing we simply kick aside to clear the chamber.""He made his choice!" Kael shouted back, refusing to flinch under the crushing weight of the former commander's glare. "Just like you made the choice to crush the Stabilizer and

The cold wind whipped through the industrial wasteland, carrying the distant, metallic echoes of shouting guards and slamming iron gates.Seraphelion stood motionless at the edge of the ridge, his eyes locked on the dark, jagged skyline of the city they had just fled."We have to keep moving," Kael insisted, his voice tight with lingering adrenaline as he checked the magazine of his sidearm."Moving where, Kael?" Seraphelion asked, his voice flat, devoid of the command that used to make regiments shake."Away from the wall, away from the Academy, and certainly away from that graveyard," Kael snapped, gesturing angrily toward the sprawling metropolis behind them."Silas is back there holding a dead gate against a live garrison," Seraphelion murmured, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek."And if we walk back into that slaughterhouse right now, his sacrifice means absolutely nothing," Kael argued, stepping directly into Seraphelion’s line of sight."His sacrifice?" S

The cold wind of the industrial wasteland hit them like a physical blow, smelling sharply of sulfur, rusted iron, and stagnant oil.Seraphelion pulled himself out of the narrow exhaust chute, his boots sinking deep into the greasy mud of the outer perimeter.Kael tumbled out right behind him, coughing violently as he wiped soot and black grime from his forehead."Are you hit?" Kael wheezed, his hand instinctively dropping to the empty scabbard at his hip."I'm fine," Seraphelion lied, his breath pluming white in the freezing dawn air as he turned his gaze back toward the city walls.Rising before them in the distance, the sprawling metropolis looked less like a glorious hub of technological progress and more like a massive, dormant beast.It was a silent, sprawling graveyard of gears, smoke-stacks, and towering iron spires that no longer pulsed with golden steam or blue mana."Look at it," Kael whispered, his voice dropping to a hollow, haunted pitch as he stared at the darkened skyli

The warning shot tore through the rotten floorboards with a deafening crack, sending up a vicious geyser of gray dust and splintered wood."Move, I said!" Silas roared again, keeping his weapon squarely locked on the flinching guards.Seraphelion jaw tightened into a rigid line of suppressed fury, his knuckles turning stark white as he gripped the hilt of his blade."If you die here, Silas, I will drag you out of hell myself," Seraphelion spat, spinning on his heel toward the dark mouth of the service shaft."Just make sure you actually make it out of this city!" Silas shouted back, his eyes darting to the straining iron door as the bolts began to groan under a massive external impact.Kael grabbed Seraphelion’s armored shoulder and shoved him headfirst into the narrow, soot-blackened exhaust chute."Come on, Commander, we're out of time!" Kael urged, ducking low as a heavy pneumatic slug punched a jagged hole through the pump-house wall inches from his ear.They scrambled blindly int

"There is no 'together' if you both get caught in the Academy dragnet," Silas barked, shoving Seraphelion’s hand off his shoulder with a rough, desperate motion."Silas, you can't hold this checkpoint alone against a full garrison," Kael warned, his eyes darting toward the trembling iron door as another heavy strike rattled the bolts."Watch me," Silas snarled, his thumb clicking the hammer of his sidearm back with a sharp, echoing snap that filled the damp pump-house."Take the western service shaft," Silas ordered, never glancing away from the two armed guards and their twitching pneumatic rifles."I am not leaving you to die for my past mistakes," Seraphelion growled, his boots planting firmly into the grease-stained concrete floor."This isn't about your past, Commander; it's about our future," Silas shouted back, his voice cracking with a raw, desperate edge of absolute finality."Move!" Silas roared, firing a warning shot directly at the floorboards between the rebel leader's bo

The silence that followed the blast was absolute, a ringing void that made Xavren’s ears ache. He hit the cold, polished floor of the Ministry archives with a thud, his lungs burning with the metallic tang of ozone. The room was dark, lined with rows of towering stone cabinets that hummed with a low, unnatural vibration. He was inside the lion’s den, but he felt more like a wounded animal crawling into a butcher’s shop.He scrambled to his feet, checking his arm. The glowing veins were pulsing rhythmically, a sickly, bioluminescent violet. He clutched his satchel, his fingers brushing the last of his unstable crystals."You really made a mess out there, didn't you?"Xavren spun around, his heart hammering against his ribs. Standing by the heavy oak desk at the center of the room was a man in an immaculate, slate-grey suit. Deyrik Dhal. He looked more like a scholar than a mastermind, his hair silvered at the temples and his hands folded neatly over a cane."Deyrik," Xavren wheezed, hi

The chittering sound grew louder, a wet, rhythmic scraping that echoed against the damp brickwork. Xavren stood his ground, the iron poker trembling in his hand. The creatures were small, hunched, and shimmering with an oily, shifting violet residue that seemed to drip onto the dirt floor, sizzling where it touched the soil."Are you seeing these things, or have I finally lost my mind?" Zorvik hissed, his eyes fixed on the lead creature, which tilted its head with a jerky, bird-like motion."I see them," Xavren muttered, his voice tight. "Don't move. They’re tracking the static. We’re still radiating residue from the void.""Radiating? Great. We’re walking beacons for space vermin now," Zorvik whispered, sliding his foot inches backward. "How do we kill them? Do we kill them? Is that even allowed?""I don't think they care about the guild bylaws, Zorvik. Just keep your eyes on the one in the center." Xavren took a cautious step forward, the iron poker raised. "If they lunge, swing for

The warehouse shook with the force of an earthquake, the impact of heavy boots vibrating through the floorboards like a death knell. Xavren didn’t wait for the doors to fly open. He grabbed his satchel, his fingers brushing against a jagged shard of obsidian, and sprinted toward the back corner where the air rippled like a heat haze over a desert road."Xavren! Don't you dare leave me here!"Zorvik Keld, a man who had only moments ago been helping Xavren move crates of illicit star-silk, was scrambling after him, his face pale with raw terror."Keep up, Zorvik!" Xavren barked, his voice straining against the roar of splintering wood behind them. "If you don't step through when I do, you're going to be facing those contractors alone!""Contractors? You didn't say anything about private military, you madman!" Zorvik wheezed, stumbling over a loose beam. "Is that why the air is turning violet? Is that your doing?""It’s not doing, it’s surviving!" Xavren shouted. He reached the tear, the

The silence in the cellar was heavy, layered with the scent of ozone and the dying hum of the rift. Xavren slumped against the cold stone, his breath hitching in his chest. Every muscle in his body felt like it had been stretched thin, pulled between worlds he barely understood.A sharp, rhythmic rapping at the heavy wooden door above shattered his fragile peace. It wasn't the tentative knock of a neighbor or the gruff pound of a guard. This was calculated—three firm strikes, a pause, then two more."Xavren Dalkorian," a voice drifted down. It was smooth, devoid of grit, and carried the effortless authority of a man who owned the air he breathed. "I’m sure you’re decent. I’m Mavrik Deyn. May I come down, or shall I have my men remove the hinges?"Xavren scrambled to his feet, panic spiking in his throat. He lunged for the tarp, throwing it over the rift just as the door groaned on its hinges."I didn't invite you," Xavren called out, his voice cracking slightly."Invitations are for s

The air in the golden-spire city tasted of ozone and expensive perfume. Xavren stood near the base of a towering statue, clutching the humming sensor in his palm. It was a lighthouse, and he was the ship, blindly signaling his location to a storm he didn't yet understand."Just one more," he muttered to the wind, his voice thin. "Just enough to disappear forever."He didn't head back to the alley. Instead, he ducked into a bustling trade hub, his boots echoing against tiles of polished marble. He needed a system. He couldn't keep jumping blindly. He had to build a circuit.*Three weeks later, the basement in World A—his base—looked more like a laboratory than a cellar. Crates were stacked in precise grids, labeled with strange, non-repeating symbols. He had established three distinct ‘nodes’ across three worlds. One for raw metal, one for textiles, and one for the strange, pulsing crystals that were becoming his primary currency."Too much," Xavren whispered, wiping grease from his f

Jhaevor’s footsteps receded, the rhythm measured and cold. Xavren stood in the center of the cellar, the air still humming with the lingering static of his transit. He clutched his side, his breath coming in sharp, shallow hitches. The realization that he had been watched settled over him like a shroud of lead."He knows," Xavren whispered, his voice trembling in the cavernous dark. "That snake saw it. He knows exactly what I’m doing."He paced the length of the room, the dirt floor crunching beneath his boots. The rift was still there, a violet gash that seemed to mock his vulnerability. If Jhaevor Kess—the man who controlled the city's ledgers—had seen the truth, then the protection deal was worth less than the dust under his fingernails. Jhaevor didn't want a cut; he wanted the source."I can't go back there," Xavren muttered, scrubbing his face with shaking hands. "If I show up at that stall again, I'm a dead man. I need to move, and I need to move fast."He turned his attention t