2026-10-28 20:01:32"Move, damn you! Everyone into the flue!" Lysenne grabbed a half-conscious militiaman by the collar, hauling him toward the gaping maw of the central exhaust chimney.
The forge was screaming. It was no longer a workshop; it was a dying beast, its foundations groaning under the sheer, unnatural pressure of the Scrap-Core bomb. Sparks rained down like golden needles, searing the flesh of anyone who dared to linger.
"Drovic! Now!" Lysenne bellowed, her voice cracking.
Drovic
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Chapter 82: The God-Killer Concept
"Higher, Drovic. If they look up, they see the silhouette against the moonlight," Lysenne whispered, her voice barely a thread of sound amidst the ambient groaning of the district. Her boots found purchase on a rusted girder, the metal slick with oil and frost. "We’re almost at the ventilation shaft. Once we reach the sub-mint, the acoustics of the old coin vaults will swallow the sounds of the hammer."Drovic hauled his body up, the effort turning his face a mottled, unhealthy purple. "Hammer? The old man can barely hold a quill, let alone a forging tool. Look at him, Lysenne. He’s spent. The arcane-metallurgy didn't just age his body; it gutted his spark. He’s burning through the last of his marrow just to stay conscious."Aerovan stirred, his eyes snapping open. They were cloudy, rimmed with the deep, bruised purple of extreme exhaustion, but the intelligence within them remained terrifyingly sharp. He leaned his head away from Lysenne, his gaze fi
Chapter 81: Whispered Blueprints
"They aren't even searching for us, Lysenne," Drovic whispered, his voice a jagged rasp as they reached the rusted service ladder. Below, a patrol of Duchy iron-clad sentries crunched over the debris, their hydraulic limbs hissing with every heavy, mechanical step. "They’re marching like they’re on a victory parade. They don't believe we exist anymore."Lysenne looked up at the dark, looming expanse of the sky-walk. "That is our only advantage. Keep your head down. If those steam-pistons catch a glint of metal, they’ll vaporize us before we can scream."She hoisted Aerovan’s limp, shivering frame, his head lolling against her shoulder. The blacksmith was a shadow of the man who had forged the world, his skin papery and sallow, his breathing a frantic, wet rattle. Drovic moved with a grim, rhythmic thud, his one good hand locked onto the ladder’s frozen rungs. They climbed in silence, the iron groaning under their combined weight, vibrating
Chapter 80: The Secret Foundry
"Fine. We move," Drovic grunted, the muscles in his neck corded with effort as he braced himself against Aerovan’s dead weight. "But if a searchlight sweeps over us, you let him drop and you run. That’s an order, Your Highness."Lysenne didn't bother to dignify the 'Your Highness' with a rebuttal. Her focus was entirely on the precarious, hanging framework of the sky-walks above. "Save your breath, Drovic. You’ll need it for the stairs."They moved into the shadows, a jagged, limping tripod of survival. Every step on the pulverized stone echoed like a gunshot in the oppressive silence of the district. The sky-walks, remnants of the old trade routes that once connected the high-tier workshops, were twisted skeletons of iron and rot. They hovered twenty feet above the main artery—an artery currently patrolled by the heavy, rhythmic tread of Iron Duchy sentries."Look at them," Drovic whispered, his voice a jagged rasp as they reached the ru
Chapter 79: The Royal Decree of Iron
"They are looking for an army, Drovic, not for a dying old man and a woman in rags," Lysenne spat, her grip on Aerovan’s shoulder tightening until her knuckles turned white. "The Duchy’s command is arrogant. They assume that since the forge collapsed, the resistance died with the structure. They aren't scanning the rafters for a ghost and a girl."Drovic shook his head, his breath coming in ragged, whistling gasps. "And if you’re wrong? If a scout happens to look up? We’re dead. This city is dead.""If we stay here, we’re dead anyway," Lysenne retorted, stepping over a puddle of blackened, viscous oil that shimmered with an iridescent, toxic sheen. "The High Ward is a mile away. If we don't get him to a surgeon, the man who built the walls that saved your life will be nothing more than a memory by dawn."Drovic gritted his teeth, the movement pulling at the ruined flesh of his hand. He limped closer, shoving his shoulder under Aerov
Chapter 78: The Crown of Iron and Ash
"The sewers are a death trap, Lysenne," Drovic grunted, his one good hand tightening around the heavy, iron-bound staff he used as a crutch. "The pressure from the collapse has back-flooded the lower channels. We’ll be swimming in stagnant filth while those scouts hunt for survivors in the light."Lysenne didn't look back at him. She was already dragging Aerovan’s dead weight toward the mouth of the alleyway, her boots scraping against the jagged, pulverized stone of the ruins. "Then we don't use the sewers. We use the sky-walks."Drovic limped after her, his eyes widening. "The sky-walks? They’re exposed. They’re hanging over the main artery of the district. The Duchy has searchlights mounted on every ridge. We’d be silhouettes in a target gallery.""They aren't looking for us," Lysenne snapped, her voice cold and hollow. She stopped, shifting Aerovan’s limp form so she could better support his head. "They’re looking fo
Chapter 77: The Broken Master
"Aerovan, look at me!" Lysenne’s voice wasn't a command anymore; it was a plea, shattered and thin. She pressed two fingers to his throat. The pulse was there—a weak, fluttering bird trapped behind parchment-thin skin. "Drovic! He’s breathing, but he’s failing. We need to move him. Now!"Drovic peered into the crater, his face caked in grey ash and streaked with the dark, copper-scented blood of his own untreated wounds. He stared at the smith, then at the precarious pile of rubble above them. "The High Ward, Lysenne. It’s the only place with a surgeon who hasn't been turned to charcoal yet. But if we try to carry him across the open stretch, the Duchy scouts will pick us off before we reach the third intersection.""I don't care about the scouts," Lysenne hissed, her eyes snapping up to meet his. She adjusted her grip, pulling the heavy, charred weight of the blacksmith against her chest. "Clear a path through the storm drains. Use the ol
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