Arthur did not sleep.
He rested in fragments, eyes closed but awareness unbroken. Every sound in the stone structure registered. The slow scrape of wind across cracked walls. The faint hum that Skylandia never fully lost, as if the world itself breathed.
He adjusted his position slightly, keeping his injured leg elevated. Pain throbbed steadily. It reminded him of time passing.
Outside, movement returned.
Not the same group. Lighter steps. Less discipline.
Arthur shifted closer to the wall slit, careful not to silhouette himself. He angled his head just enough to see without being seen.
Four people moved through the broken street below. Two men, one woman, one boy barely old enough to hide his fear. They carried bags stuffed too full, their straps digging into their shoulders. No armor. No formation.
Scavengers.
They stopped near the collapsed archway opposite Arthur's shelter. The woman spoke first, voice low but sharp.
"We should not stay here."
"We need water," one of the men replied. "And this area was cleared."
Arthur noted the word again. Cleared. Not safe. Never safe.
The boy crouched, fingers digging into the stone. His eyes darted constantly, never settling. He reminded Arthur of people who had not yet learned what fear was for.
A shadow passed overhead.
Arthur's attention snapped upward.
One of the floating platforms above the street shifted slightly. Not drifting. Adjusting.
Someone was up there.
The scavengers did not notice.
Arthur inhaled slowly.
The ambush came fast.
A figure dropped from above, landing behind the group with practiced ease. A blade flashed. One of the men collapsed without a sound. The boy screamed, the sound breaking into the open like a signal flare.
Two more figures emerged from behind the ruins. Armed. Armored. Efficient.
Arthur watched without expression.
The scavengers scattered. Poorly.
The woman made it three steps before a thrown spike caught her in the back. She fell hard, breath knocked from her lungs. The remaining man raised his hands, babbling words Arthur could not hear.
The attackers did not slow.
The boy ran.
Arthur tracked his path instantly. Straight line. No cover. Panic overrode sense.
The boy would die.
Arthur exhaled through his nose.
He did nothing.
The chase ended quickly. A short arc of metal. A small body collapsing against stone. Silence followed.
The attackers regrouped with casual ease, already sorting through the scavengers' belongings. No urgency. No fear of reprisal.
This was not chaos.
This was order.
Arthur leaned back against the wall, letting the scene imprint itself. Groups controlled territory. They watched from above. They culled the unaligned. Information flowed downward, not outward.
Skylandia rewarded structure.
His shelter was not neutral ground. It was a temporary oversight.
A mistake that would be corrected.
He rose slowly, testing his weight. The leg held. Barely.
Remaining here until dusk would paint him as prey or problem. Neither appealed to him.
Arthur gathered what little he had. Torn fabric. A dull blade scavenged earlier. Nothing else mattered.
He stepped outside.
The street had changed.
The bodies were already being dragged away. Blood smeared the stone, dark and fresh. The armored group noticed Arthur immediately.
Hands moved to weapons.
Arthur stopped where he was, posture relaxed, gaze level.
One of them stepped forward. Taller than the others. Scar along his jaw. Eyes sharp with practiced dominance.
"You were inside," the man said.
"Yes," Arthur replied.
"You saw."
Arthur did not deny it.
The man studied him. "You did not interfere."
"No."
Another nod. "Good."
Arthur waited.
"You know who controls this sector?" the man asked.
Arthur shook his head. "I know who enforces it."
That earned him a thin smile.
"Names matter," the man said. "Power matters more."
Arthur tilted his head slightly. "Then you have power."
"For now," the man agreed.
Silence stretched. The others shifted behind him, watching Arthur with interest rather than hostility.
"You're hurt," the man said. Noticing everything.
"Yes."
"You killed something earlier."
"Yes."
The man considered. "You are not aligned."
"No."
Another pause.
"You will be," the man said. "Everyone is."
Arthur's gaze did not waver. "I am leaving this sector."
The man laughed quietly. "You think leaving makes you free."
Arthur stepped past him.
No one stopped him.
He walked until the structures thinned, until the ground sloped downward toward a fractured plaza where broken statues lay half buried. He slowed only when the pressure in the air changed again.
Something was here.
Not human.
Arthur crouched behind a fallen pillar, breathing shallow, eyes scanning. The plaza was wide, open, dangerous. Movement flickered at the edges of his vision, not quite solid.
He felt it then. Not fear. Anticipation.
Whatever prowled this place did not belong to any faction.
It belonged to Skylandia itself.
Arthur adjusted his grip on the blade.
He stepped forward.