Kai was starting to understand the city. Not enough to survive it, maybe, but enough to sense its teeth. Azura Tower wasn't just dangerous to enter—it was dangerous to even think about. People whispered the name like it was a curse.
The upstairs room of the Gallows Rest groaned with conflict. Floorboards strained under footsteps and muffled shouts bled through the thin walls. Kai brushed the blood from his clothes, eyes lingering on the corpse sprawled across the bed. The knife still jutted from the chest, its handle angled like an exclamation mark.
He decided it wasn't safe.
The Gallows Rest was a cesspit steeped in malice.
Kai slipped out, boots grinding against the stairs as he descended. Each step made the wood complain, like the place wanted him gone.
The main room opened before him. He hadn't noticed much when he first came through—too focused on survival, too guarded to really look. Now he forced himself to take it in.
The bar stretched long and ugly, its surface plated with bulletproof glass. A noose dangled from the rafters above, swinging ever so slightly as if stirred by some unseen draft. The tables were claimed by men and women who looked carved out of crime—scarred knuckles, sunken eyes, voices low and sharp.
Kai's throat burned with thirst. Against better judgment, he walked to the bar.
"I'll… I'll have some water, please."
The silence was instant. Heads turned. For a heartbeat, even the air seemed to hold still. Then laughter broke like shattering glass.
"Ahahaha—kid, you're funny, aren't you? Fine. One blood coin, and you get a glass of water."
Kai sighed, fished out the coin, and sat down with the cup. The water tasted faintly of rust, but he drank anyway.
That was when he caught the conversation nearby. A woman leaned against her chair, two pistols slung low under her arms, the metal glinting in the bar's dim light.
"Jeez, Mage," she muttered, "you really went all the way to the zones for alcohol? Rough trip. I'm sure one of the factions would've let you borrow one of their rifts."
Kai froze. Rifts? He shouldn't ask. He knew he shouldn't. But the word gnawed at him, and he couldn't help it.
"Umm… rifts? You said factions own them. Can you… tell me more?" He rubbed at his bandaged arm, nerves showing through every fidget.
The woman's head snapped toward him. A sharp tch escaped her lips as she pulled one of her guns free, leveling it at his chest.
Kai raised his hands, words tumbling out. "I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean… I just… I just want to get home."
For a long moment, the weight of the room pressed down on him. Then she exhaled, clicked her tongue again, and slid the pistol back into its holster. Not mercy—just disinterest.
"You really don't know what kind of ground you're walking on," she said, voice flat.
Her explanation came grudgingly, like each word cost her patience.
The Legion of Death: perched on the highest floors of Azura Tower. Their rift reached Zone Beta—and beyond, even to America. They controlled the skyline and every shipment that came with it.
The Russians: they ran the routes. From Zone Delta all the way to Romeo, their grip on the gates made them a shadow empire. Smugglers, traffickers, mercenaries—none moved without their blessing.
The Ghouls: grotesque and territorial. Their portal spat directly into Zone Alpha, and anyone who strayed too close rarely returned.
These rifts weren't doors—they were crowns. The factions didn't share them with strays.
Kai listened, heart heavy. "…I see. Thank you. I'm Kai. Malakai."
Her only response was a derisive scoff.
"Yeah, yeah. Just try to die quietly."
That was all.
Kai set down the empty glass, shoulders hunched, and stepped back into the streets.
The city swallowed him whole.
The night air hit him like a slap. Outside, the streets pressed in—narrow veins of cracked pavement, neon signs flickering half-dead, shadows that seemed thicker than they should've been. Every alley whispered danger. Every open door felt like a throat waiting to close.
Kai pulled his coat tighter. He still smelled of rust and blood from upstairs. The laughter from the bar chased him into the street, echoing in his head long after the door shut behind him.
People moved like ghosts. A pair of men haggled over a sack that dripped dark liquid. A boy no older than twelve dragged a broken rifle, his eyes hollow. On a rooftop, silhouettes shifted—watchers or predators, Kai couldn't tell. No one here walked without purpose. No one looked lost. Except him.
He passed a wall scrawled with signs of the factions: crude symbols painted over each other in a war of territory. A skull wreathed in threads—LOD. A double-headed eagle—Russians. Smears of claw marks gouged into the brick—ghouls. The marks layered thick, like the city itself couldn't remember who owned it.
Kai's stomach twisted at the thought of rifts. Doors home, locked behind men who'd never give him the key. The Legion in their tower, Russians at the gates, ghouls in the dark… every path chained shut. He wondered if he'd already made a mistake asking. If her warning—die silently—wasn't a threat but advice.
A scream cut through the night. Kai ducked into an alley before he could think. A figure stumbled past the mouth of the street—bleeding, hands tied, dragged by three men. No one intervened. No one even looked. The city swallowed the sound like it always had.
He crouched there, pressing his back to the wall, breathing shallow. His bandages itched. His hunger itched worse. The water hadn't helped. It never did. His throat felt raw, his veins like wires buzzing. He tried to ignore it, tried to remember quiet nights on rooftops before all this. Tried, and failed.
When the street finally emptied, he slipped back out, moving fast.
Above him, Azura Tower loomed—a black monolith stabbing the skyline. Windows glowed faint, like watching eyes. He couldn't stop staring. Everyone said not to think about it. He thought about it anyway. Thought about the rift at the top. Thought about the impossible stairs between him and it.
The city stretched endless in every direction. Factions, gangs, ghouls, killers. He had no allies here. No coin left for water. And no path home.
Still, Kai kept walking. Because stopping in this city meant dying, and he wasn't ready for that. Not yet.