The men's laughter was a low, guttural sound that seemed to make the narrow, rust-stained alley feel even colder. The little girl, pressed back against the corrugated metal, was trembling so hard I could hear her teeth chattering from the mouth of the alley.
My job was to inspect the city. To log structural failings. I was a scout, a glorified repairman's assistant. This… this was not a structural failing. This was a moral one. And I couldn't just log it in my data-slate and walk away.
I took a step into the alley, my boots crunching on the unseen grit. The black and gold cloak, a symbol of my new, unearned status, felt heavy on my shoulders. "Hey," I called out, my voice sounding louder than I intended. "Leave her alone."
The three men turned, their movements slow, almost theatrical. They were large, rough, and carried the same weary, hollow-eyed look as everyone else in this district. But theirs was twisted with a predatory malice.
"Well, well," the one in the center sneered, a jagged scar pulling at his lip. "What do we have here? A Faction-man, slumming it. You lost, pretty boy?"
"Violence in this city isn't allowed," I said, reciting the official Administrator line, though the words tasted like ash in my mouth. Here, in this forgotten sector, the rules felt like a distant, hollow echo.
The man laughed, a short, barking sound. "Rules? You see any Administrators here, 'pretty boy'? You see any Adventurers on patrol? There's only us." He took a step toward me, his two companions fanning out, their intentions clear. They weren't just going to ignore me; they were going to make me an example. "This is our sector. We make the rules. And our rule says: what we find, we keep."
His gaze flickered back to the terrified little girl. My stomach twisted.
"Last warning," I said, my voice dropping, the coldness I'd felt in the basin with the Founder beginning to creep back in. "Back off."
"Or what?" the leader challenged. He pulled a long, rust-pitted knife from his belt. His companions did the same, one producing a heavy-looking pipe. "You gonna report us? File a complaint?" They began to circle, their movements practiced. They'd done this before.
My hand went to the spare magun at my hip. And I hesitated.
My mind froze. This wasn't a monster. It wasn't a glitch in the code, a data-ghost, or a combat golem. These were people. Deleted characters, just like me, just like Erina, just like everyone else. They were driven by desperation, by poverty, by whatever dark impulses had survived their 'death' in the real world.
To draw my weapon… to point it at another person… that was a line I hadn't crossed. My maguns were weapons of war, designed to delete monsters. If I used it on them, what did that make me? A murderer? An executioner? I wasn't an Administrator or an Adventurer. I was a Builder. I was supposed to fix things.
The leader saw my hesitation. He saw the conflict in my eyes. His sneer widened. "Not so tough without your Faction buddies, are you?" he spat. "He's scared. Get him."
They lunged.
The little girl let out a high-pitched, terrified scream.
That sound shattered my paralysis. It cut through my moral debate like a bolt of lightning. What was I doing? I was standing here, debating the philosophical implications of violence, while a child was about to be...
I thought of Silas. Of his final, silent act. He hadn't hesitated. He had seen a threat to his companions, and he had acted. He had sacrificed himself to protect others. And I was standing here, afraid to even draw my weapon to protect a child.
My resolve hardened into steel.
I didn't draw and aim. It was a single, fluid motion. The heavy, standard-issue magun was in my hand, its weight solid and real. The low, powerful hum of its energy core sang to life.
"I said," I snarled, my voice a low growl I barely recognized, "back off."
The men stopped. They hadn't expected the weapon. They hadn't expected the sudden, cold killing intent that was now rolling off me in waves. They were thugs, not warriors. They were used to preying on the weak, not facing down a Faction member who looked like he was one second away from atomizing them.
But they were trapped, too. Their pride was on the line, and they were three-to-one. The leader's eyes darted from me to the girl and back. He made his choice.
"He's just one man! Take him!" he roared, a desperate, foolish command.
They charged.
I didn't even feel the recoil. My mind was already two steps ahead. I wasn't going to kill them. I wasn't a murderer. But I was going to end this.
"Enchant: Lightning!"
The command was a whisper, but the magun obeyed. The energy it channeled was a brilliant, crackling yellow. I didn't aim for their chests. I didn't aim for their heads. I aimed for their legs.
Zzzt. Zzzt. Zzzt.
Three shots, so fast they sounded like one. Three precise bolts of paralytic energy. All three men dropped as if their strings had been cut. They collapsed onto the hard, cracked pavement, their bodies seizing and twitching, their knives clattering uselessly from their nerveless fingers. They were alive, they were conscious, but they weren't going anywhere for a while.
The alley went silent, the only sound the faint crackle of ozone and the terrified, whimpering breaths of the little girl.
I stood there for a long moment, the magun still hot in my hand, my heart hammering. I had done it. I had shot three people. The non-lethal choice felt right, but it still left a sick, coiling feeling in my gut. This sector was more broken than any sagging roof could ever be.
My job, the inspection, it was completely gone from my mind. I holstered my weapon and turned to the girl. She was staring at me now, her eyes wide with a new kind of fear. I wasn't just a stranger; I was a man who could call down lightning. I had become the new monster in her alley.
I forced myself to relax, to soften my voice. "It's okay," I said, taking a slow step back, showing her my empty hands. "They can't hurt you. You're safe."
I looked at the paralyzed thugs, then at the dark, unwelcoming street. Staying here was not an option. The girl was clearly their objective. The safest thing to do was to get her out of this sector entirely. My mission was officially on pause. A person's life was more important than a building's.
"Come on," I said gently, holding out a hand. "Let's get you somewhere safe."
She hesitated for a long, agonizing moment, her gaze darting between me and the twitching men. Finally, slowly, she took a tiny, trembling step forward and placed her small, grimy hand in mine.
I didn't look back. I pulled her close and walked quickly, my head on a swivel, my hand on my magun, and left the Neutral Sector. The cold, suspicious stares of the residents followed us all the way out.
We didn't stop until we were back in the bright, noisy, and chaotic safety of the Merchant's plaza. The sheer volume of people, the sounds of laughter and commerce, washed over us, and I felt the tension drain from my shoulders. No one would dare try anything here.
I found a quiet bench near a fountain and sat down, guiding the little girl to sit beside me. She was still trembling, her eyes wide as she stared at the sheer, overwhelming life of the district.
"You're safe here," I said again, my voice softer now. "My name is Kael. What's yours?"
She looked down, her voice a tiny whisper. "Nara."
"Nara," I repeated. A nice name. "Nara… those men back there. Why were they after you? Do you know them?"
She opened her mouth, her small face crumpling as if she were about to cry. Her lips formed a word, but before she could speak—
"Kael!"
A familiar, cheerful voice cut through the plaza's din. I looked up. Erina was waving at me from across the way, a triumphant grin on her face and a bag of what I assumed were honey-cakes in her hand. Her smile faltered as she got closer, her gaze dropping from my face to the small, ragged, and terrified child I had in tow.
Her eyes widened. "Kael… what in the world did you get into now?"