Kai was being swept forward whether he wanted to or not. The streets had become a living tide, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, faces pale with a mix of dread and awe. Shouts tangled overhead—Aluth's name repeated, curses spat, prayers half-whispered. The city was moving as one, a storm given legs.
Merchants abandoned their stalls mid-sale. Gangs, usually at each other's throats, shoved together in the same direction, knives forgotten in clenched fists. Even the broken and the starving limped along, terrified of being left behind. Kai struggled, elbows digging, but the crowd was merciless. He wasn't the only one dragged—no one was immune to the pull.
The closer they drew to Aluth's domain, the louder it became. Gunfire popped in the distance, not at enemies but as warning shots, raw attempts to clear the way. Rumors raced faster than the bodies carrying them—some claimed Aluth had become divine, others swore a devil's shadow was on his throne.
Kai finally shoved sideways, hugging a wall. His chest heaved, his ribs sore from the crush. At least he wasn't being shoved anymore. From his vantage point, he could see the spectacle gathering ahead—the throne, the children, the limbless man.
They called themselves Numbers, and they looked like children, but there was nothing innocent in their stares. Six of them stood between the mob and their master, each one poised with a precision born from training and desperation.
One held the mounted .50 caliber, its tripod bolted into cracked pavement. His small frame shook with the recoil as he tested the trigger, spraying a warning burst into the air. It took five of the children together to steady and reload the monstrous weapon, their faces grim and practiced.
Two and Three flanked Aluth directly, blades longer than their arms strapped across their backs. They scanned the crowd with eyes too sharp, too old. Four crouched lower, his thread lines already laced across the entrance like a web, ready to slice anyone foolish enough to cross. Six, the youngest, leaned against the chair leg, both hands gripping a rusted submachine gun that looked nearly as heavy as him.
Every Number was alert, every finger tense on a trigger or string. They weren't just guarding Aluth—they were daring the city to test them. For all the chaos outside the domain, here was a ring of order built on blood and loyalty.
Aluth balanced himself on the chair, a limbless figure elevated on the backs of children and reputation. His voice was calm when he finally spoke.
"Kneel."
The word cracked like thunder. The mob collapsed as one. Resonants, mundanes, killers, thieves—every spine bent. Kai watched in awe as bodies folded like blades of grass in a storm. It wasn't magic in the sense of summoning fire or shaping stone. It was something sharper.
His words carried weight, undeniable and absolute, when heard. Commands sank into the mind and body like hooks, dragging compliance to the surface. But it wasn't creation. He couldn't conjure weapons, or heal wounds, or make matter from nothing. His power lived in the ears of others, in the air itself.
Aluth smiled, savoring it. A limbless man had become a king with nothing but breath.
Kai stared, entranced. He could command people.
A new sound split the air—boots striking stone in perfect rhythm. Someone shouted, "LOD is coming! Clear out!"
The crowd dissolved faster than bullets could have managed. The Numbers stiffened, their fingers tight on triggers, eyes darting toward Aluth.
Three figures entered the courtyard as though the city itself parted for them.
The first was pale-haired, eyes the cold blue of a frozen sea. His skin was unmarked, smooth—untouched by the scars of a life he should have carried. His faint smile didn't reach his eyes.
The second was a woman with hair falling long over her shoulders, her gaze clouded and distant. Her lips moved in a whisper, speaking answers no one else had asked, every word meant for her companions alone.
The third was massive, his frame broad, his black hair cut short. He carried no weapon in hand, yet his presence was a wall.
They moved as one, each dressed in the same uniform—black, slick leather that gleamed faintly in the torchlight, stitched tight to their bodies like a second skin. It wasn't scavenged or piecemeal gear like most gangs wore; this was tailored, deliberate. The surface was polished to a wet sheen, making them look less like people and more like shadows cut out of the night.
Under the leather, silver thread ran in precise lines, faintly catching the light whenever they shifted. It wasn't decoration—it pulsed faintly, like veins, an underline that suggested resonance was woven directly into the fabric. The patterns weren't identical either; each member's silver threads traced slightly different paths across their chest and arms, like the signatures of their burdens etched onto their clothes.
The effect was unnerving. They weren't armored like warriors, but dressed like predators—clean, sharp, and untouchable. Against the chaos of the Lawless City, their presence was surgical, almost inhuman. Even the air seemed to hesitate against the slick, silver-lined leather.
Aluth straightened in his chair, voice dripping with new power. "You come to kneel before your successor?"
The pale-haired one shook his head slowly. "No. We've come to bind you."
Aluth's mouth curled, forming a command—"Di—"
But the barrier man's hand rose. The air around Aluth warped, shimmered, then collapsed into silence. The barrier stole breath itself, pulling the air out until Aluth's voice broke against nothing. He gasped, throat straining, suffocating on his own authority.
The woman tilted her head, her voice soft. "Don't bother. You've already spoken this word in other loops. It ends here, the same as it always does."
The pale-haired one stepped closer, blue eyes catching the faint Sovereign glow beginning to stir. "The contract is set. You will no longer command others. Should you try, your heart will stop."
Symbols of light burned into the ground, curling like chains around Aluth's throne. They coiled upward, searing into his skin with silver fire. His scream rang out—not pain, but fury—as his power bent to Sovereign's law.
The three Legionnaires turned and walked away, their silhouettes vanishing into the silence they left behind. The Numbers trembled, pinned under the weight of a barrier they couldn't see.
No one in the crowd cheered. They only watched, hollow-eyed, as a god was made small.
Kai quickly got out of there.
He would be lying if he said he didn't fear the legion but they acted like they knew everything that would happen.