The morning sky hung low over the industrial quarter of Silex, clouds dense and slow, like they were reluctant to leave. The air smelled like iron and steam, a sign they had finally reached the city's edge—a zone nicknamed the Iron Lung, where factories recycled exhaust into usable gas. It was loud. It was hot. And it was humming with energy.
Luma wiped sweat from her brow, squinting at the spiraling towers ahead. "So this is where science smells like feet," she muttered.
"Sulfur and ammonia," Ion corrected, half-smiling. "Which means they're overcompressing the secondary chambers. Not safe."
Juno leaned over a rusted guardrail. "Or they just like living on the edge. You think someone here might be hiding entropy tech?"
"I think someone's about to learn what happens when you ignore Boyle's Law," Ion replied grimly.
As they entered the central gas plant, they found chaos: engineers shouting, alarms blaring, and gauges in the red. The massive cylindrical tanks that stored compressed gas were vibrating.
Luma ran toward one of the trembling tanks, her gauntlet lighting up. "There's a pressure spike!"
"They didn't account for temperature rise," Ion said. "Entropy fluctuations are accelerating the reaction."
"So… pop goes the factory?" Juno asked.
"Unless we balance the internal forces," Luma said, already kneeling and prying open a side panel.
As she worked, the floor quaked. A junior technician, pale and shaking, tried to shut off a valve—only to be blown back by a vent of scalding steam.
Without thinking, Luma grabbed an emergency hose and redirected the overflow. Her gauntlet hissed as it adjusted to the thermal surge.
"Ion! What if we vent the secondaries into the cooling basin?" she shouted.
He checked a nearby control map. "Risky, but if we time the gas flow just right—"
"Science ping pong. Got it."
Juno and the younger workers scrambled to help, using makeshift reflectors to divert heat while Ion rerouted energy flow through magnetic rails.
Luma counted down. "Three… two… one… punch it!"
They activated the reroute. For a moment, nothing happened—then a deafening thrum rocked the factory as the excess gas exploded harmlessly into the outer vents, releasing a plume of glowing mist into the air.
Everyone froze. The tanks stopped shaking.
The factory manager dropped his clipboard. "How did you…?"
"Gas laws," Luma said, grinning, breathless. "Pressure, temperature, volume. If they fight, you negotiate."
Juno whooped and slapped Luma on the back. "And that, kids, is how you save the day with thermodynamics!"
Ion nodded, quiet pride in his eyes.
Later, as they walked through the cooling yard, Luma glanced back at the plume still rising into the sky.
"Entropy poisoning might not come as explosions," she said. "Sometimes it's just… slow damage. Systems cracking under invisible strain."
Ion placed a hand on her shoulder. "Which is why knowledge needs to be shared. Ignorance is the most volatile fuel of all."
The wind shifted. From beyond the industrial yard, a mechanical bird swooped low.
A message capsule landed softly in Ion's hand.
He read it once. Then again.
"We have coordinates," he said. "To the Underlight Citadel. Selka and Rhon cracked the code."
Juno clenched her fists. "Then we head underground."
Luma nodded, resolve firm. "Let's shut it down from the root."