Chapter 68 – Mud, Fire, and Blood
Cité Madeline was never meant to look like this.
Once, long before the world cracked open, the streets here had been dry. Dusty in places, sure—but solid. Predictable. You could walk through it without worrying about sinking ankle-deep into the ground or slipping on slick, half-submerged concrete.
Now, every step felt uncertain.
Mud coated the streets in thick layers, clinging stubbornly to boots and soaking into the hems of torn clothing. Water pooled in low areas, reflecting broken houses and shattered windows in warped, trembling shapes. Even the air felt heavier, damp and buzzing, thick with the persistent whine of mosquitoes that refused to leave anyone alone.
Jean-Daniel hated it.
Every step pulled at his boots, the suction of mud resisting him like the ground itself didn't want to let go. His earth-aligned chest piece pulsed faintly against his ribs, responding to the saturated terrain. The blue crystal embedded at its center glimmered softly, as though the armor recognized this place as familiar territory.
Wilkens noticed it too.
"Feels like the ground's alive," he muttered, swatting at a mosquito near his ear.
Jean-Daniel grunted. "Wouldn't surprise me."
There was a reason Cité Madeline had turned into a swamp.
Earth-type demon beasts had appeared here first.
Not the kind that burrowed deep underground and stayed hidden—but the ones that loved the surface. The kind that rolled through mud and soaked themselves in it, letting layers of earth cling to their bodies like natural armor. The more mud there was, the stronger they became. Dense. Reinforced. Harder to break.
This place was perfect for them.
Ahead of the group, Tèt Pikan stopped suddenly and turned around, planting both feet firmly in the mud as if daring the ground to pull him under.
He opened his mouth wide.
"Alright, maggots!" his voice boomed across the ruined street. "Let's get to work!"
A few people flinched. Others rolled their eyes.
Tèt Pikan grinned, showing teeth stained faintly yellow from smoke and heat. Flames curled lazily around his shoulders, heat distorting the air around him. His braided hair stuck up in uneven spikes, each braid tipped with scorch marks like they'd been burned too many times to count.
"Anyone who runs into a B-Rank or A-Rank beast," he continued loudly, "you call me immediately. I want those high-tier crystals for myself."
His grin widened. "Boss rewards results. And I plan on being his favorite."
No one argued.
They couldn't.
Tèt Pikan was an A-Rank within the Pyro Kingdom. That alone placed him leagues above most of the people standing here. The majority of the gang ranged from E to D Rank—stronger than normal humans, sure, but nowhere near someone like him.
His flame power was violent and refined, heat rolling off him in steady waves. And unlike most of the others, his weapon didn't need to be carried.
At a thought, twin medium war axes shimmered into existence in his hands, forged entirely from flame and hardened metal. The blades glowed red-hot at the edges, heat rippling outward every time he moved them.
Weapons like that weren't just tools.
They were extensions of the user.
"If you see me running," Tèt added casually, "try to keep up."
A few people laughed nervously.
Jean-Daniel didn't.
Wilkens didn't either.
Tèt Pikan turned back around and began walking again, mud splashing around his boots as if it had given up resisting him.
A few seconds later, another voice cut through the tension.
"Alright," the bus driver said calmly. "Let's split up."
Heads turned.
The man who'd spoken stepped forward from the back of the group. His name was Jano—the same man who'd driven them here. Unlike Tèt Pikan, he didn't radiate arrogance. He didn't posture or brag.
But the moment he moved, people noticed.
Jano carried a long rifle slung over his shoulder. The weapon was sleek, modular, and faintly glowing along its barrel. With a twist of his hand, the rifle shifted, components sliding and locking into place until it lengthened into a full sniper configuration.
One weapon.
Two forms.
"One-shot rifle for close engagement," Jano said evenly. "Sniper mode for long range."
No one questioned him.
Jano was B-Rank, and unlike some people, he didn't feel the need to remind everyone.
"Teams of three," he continued. "Spread out. Stay within call range. If you run into something above your level, fall back and signal."
Tèt Pikan snorted. "I don't fall back."
Jano glanced at him. "Then don't miss."
Tèt laughed loudly. "Fair."
The teams split quickly.
Wilkens and Jean-Daniel stayed together, joined by another Pyro Kingdom member named Rolo—a wiry man with small flickers of flame dancing along his forearms. He looked nervous, eyes darting around constantly.
"Guess we're together," Rolo said, trying to sound casual.
Jean-Daniel nodded. "Stick close."
Wilkens adjusted his helmet as they moved away from the main group. The green crystal embedded at its front warmed against his forehead, senses expanding outward.
The city shifted.
Colors bled into his vision again—faint glows hidden behind broken walls, beneath half-submerged rubble, clinging to shadows between trees.
White.
Green.
Blue.
Clusters.
Movement.
Wilkens raised a hand. "Hold up."
Jean-Daniel stopped instantly, warhammer lowering slightly.
"What is it?" Rolo whispered.
Wilkens squinted. "Multiple signatures. Small ones. Seven… maybe ten."
Jean-Daniel tightened his grip on the hammer. "Rank?"
"Mostly no horn," Wilkens said. "A couple one-horns mixed in."
Rolo swallowed. "That's… manageable, right?"
Jean-Daniel rolled his shoulders. "Only if we don't let them surround us."
They advanced slowly.
The swampy terrain made movement tricky. Small trees rose from the mud at odd angles, their roots exposed and twisted. Waterlogged bushes shook faintly as something moved through them.
Then the beasts emerged.
They were low to the ground, bodies coated in thick layers of mud that had hardened into crude armor. Their eyes glowed dull yellow as they snarled, teeth bared.
Jean-Daniel stepped forward.
The first beast lunged.
He met it head-on.
The warhammer swung in a wide arc, the blunt head slamming into the creature's skull with a sickening crunch. Mud and bone sprayed outward as the beast collapsed instantly, its body folding in on itself unnaturally.
Rolo shouted and unleashed a burst of flame at another beast, fire licking across its mud-coated hide. The creature shrieked as the heat baked the moisture away, cracking its armor before it fell.
Wilkens moved fast.
The lightning-imbued boots flashed as he repositioned, vanishing in a blur and reappearing behind a charging one-horn. His daggers flashed, fire flaring along their edges as he drove them into exposed joints.
The beast dropped.
More came.
Jean-Daniel braced himself as two lunged at once.
The chest piece pulsed.
Earth energy surged outward, coating his body in a dense layer of hardened stone.
The mud-slick claws scraped uselessly against the earth mantle as Jean-Daniel drove his shoulder forward, slamming one beast into a tree hard enough to split bark. He followed with a downward swing of his hammer.
The impact sent a shock through the ground.
The beast crumpled.
Rolo stared. "Damn."
Jean-Daniel didn't answer. He was already moving.
The fight lasted longer than he liked.
Mud slowed them. Mosquitoes buzzed constantly, biting exposed skin. Every swing felt heavier in the humid air.
But one by one, the beasts fell.
Wilkens moved through the aftermath, helmet glowing softly as he scanned the area.
"Clear," he said. Then paused.
Jean-Daniel looked at him. "What?"
Wilkens frowned. "I thought I saw something."
Rolo wiped sweat from his brow. "Another beast?"
"No," Wilkens said slowly. "A flash."
Jean-Daniel straightened. "What kind of flash?"
"Purple," Wilkens said. "Just for a second. It was fast. Almost like… a blur."
Rolo's eyes widened. "Purple? That's—"
"I don't know," Wilkens cut in. "It was too quick. Could've been reflection. Could've been nothing."
Jean-Daniel glanced around, muscles tense. "Or something bigger moving."
They exchanged a look.
"Eyes open," Jean-Daniel said.
They collected the crystals quickly.
White shards came first. Then green. A single blue from one of the one-horns.
Wilkens slipped the crystals into a pouch, hands steady despite the tension building in his chest.
Somewhere deeper in the city, fire roared.
Tèt Pikan.
Jean-Daniel could already imagine the grin on his face.
They moved on.
Their objective was clear.
Bega's mission.
And whatever that purple blur had been… it wasn't going to be the last thing waiting for them in Cité Madeline.
End of Chapter 68