The city didn't react to horror all at once. It absorbed it slowly, the way Novara Prime absorbed everything that threatened to disrupt its routines.
By morning the alley where they had fought the scavenger looked almost ordinary again. Rain had washed most of the blood into the gutter, and a passing cart had broken the remaining stains into shapeless dark smears that no longer carried meaning for anyone who hadn't stood there the night before. People stepped around the marks automatically, not asking questions because questions required responsibility.
Frankie stood at the window and watched the street wake up as if nothing had happened.
Behind her, Luca was already awake. He wasn't restless or anxious, but focused in a quiet, deliberate way. The spear lay across his lap while he sat on the floor running a whetstone along a blade that didn't actually dull. The sound barely existed, yet he repeated the motion anyway, maintaining a rhythm that had more to do with control than maintenance.
Tomas rolled onto his back with a groan. "At this rate you're going to polish it into religion."
Without looking up, Luca replied, "Weapons deserve maintenance."
"It's a god weapon," Tomas muttered. "I'm fairly sure it maintains itself."
Sofia hugged her knees beside him and studied the spear with open concentration. "You still haven't named it."
Luca paused, and Frankie glanced over her shoulder. Naming mattered more than people liked admitting. A weapon without a name was a tool. A weapon with one became a choice.
"Ares' spear works," Tomas offered lazily.
Luca shook his head and rested the shaft across both palms, watching the faint red veins inside the metal shift in the morning light.
"He didn't give it to me as his," Luca said quietly. "He gave it to me to use."
Sofia leaned forward. "Then what is it?"
Luca considered longer than before, as though the answer needed to settle rather than be invented.
"Red Oath."
The room didn't change physically, yet something in the atmosphere settled into place. Even Marco looked up from the wall. The name fit too cleanly to question.
Tomas frowned. "That's dramatic."
"It's accurate," Luca answered, standing and rotating the spear in a smooth motion that was already more natural than yesterday.
Frankie noticed the improvement, but what held her attention wasn't Luca.
It was Marco.
Her awareness shifted inward along the bond she alone could perceive. The change wasn't visible and didn't arrive with symbols or numbers, only certainty. Something in him had crossed a threshold during the fight the night before, leaving an empty space where growth would now collect.
Marco flexed his fingers with a faint frown. "I feel… different."
"How?" Frankie asked, careful to sound casual.
"Like I don't need to brace anymore," he said slowly, studying his palm. "Impact doesn't travel the same way."
Luca glanced over. "You barely got hit."
"It isn't endurance," Marco replied. "It's structure."
Frankie turned back to the window before anyone noticed she already understood. The armour had begun forming, still hidden beneath skin where no one could see it.
For the first time since the angels had appeared above the arena, none of them rushed to leave the apartment.
Rafe ended that stillness by walking in without knocking.
"You heard?" he asked.
Frankie didn't turn. "Yes."
"They found another one this morning," he said, unusually serious. "Near the tannery. Priests already there."
Tomas sat up immediately. "Dead?"
Rafe shook his head. "Changed."
Sofia stopped eating. Luca stood. Marco was already reaching for his coat before Frankie spoke.
"We're going."
The tannery district smelled worse than usual. Rot and chemicals failed to hide the sharper scent underneath, something metallic and clean that didn't belong among hides and dye pits.
A loose ring of people had formed at a distance. Not a crowd, but a perimeter. Curiosity held them near while instinct kept them back.
Frankie pushed through first.
The figure lay chained upright to a post while priests argued over it. It wasn't dead, and it wasn't human anymore either. Blessed rope smoked faintly against its skin while the creature twitched in uneven spasms.
Sofia moved behind Marco instantly.
Its face still carried human structure, but only barely. Enough to disturb, not enough to comfort.
Frankie stepped closer and the mark beneath her ribs reacted immediately, heat spreading in recognition rather than warning.
This wasn't Death Zone corruption.
This had been done deliberately.
The creature's head snapped toward her and focused with impossible clarity before it screamed. The sound didn't target the crowd, only her, and the priests recoiled in confusion.
"What did you do?" one demanded.
Frankie stepped back calmly. "Nothing."
But she understood the reaction all the same.
Whatever angels changed, it recognized her in return.
They left before more attention gathered.
In the alley behind the tannery, silence followed them until Sofia finally whispered, "They make them."
No one corrected her.
Luca exhaled slowly. "That explains the numbers."
Tomas rubbed his eyes. "Which means they're already inside the city."
Marco looked at Frankie. "Hunting."
Frankie nodded once and turned deeper into the district streets.
"We find the next one before the priests do."
Rafe stared. "That sounds like a terrible idea."
"It's the only one," she replied.
Luca rested Red Oath across his shoulder. "If they're multiplying, stopping it early matters."
Frankie didn't say the second truth aloud.
And we grow stronger doing it.
Her awareness brushed the bond again. Marco had advanced, though he didn't yet understand what that meant.
She met his eyes briefly. "Next one, you finish it."
He accepted the statement without asking how she knew.
For the first time since the angels appeared, they weren't reacting to the situation anymore. They were shaping it.
And somewhere within Novara Prime, something had begun to notice.
They slowed near the intersection where the district split toward the river quarter. Evening crowds were beginning to form, workers returning, doors opening, the ordinary rhythm of life rebuilding itself over a foundation none of them trusted anymore.
Frankie paused without meaning to.
The warmth beneath her ribs flickered once more — faint, distant, but undeniably present.
Not behind them.
Ahead.
Marco noticed her stillness first. "Another?"
Frankie didn't answer immediately. She watched a group of strangers pass across the street, laughing too loudly, carrying baskets and pretending the world made sense.
Then she spoke quietly.
"Yes."
Luca shifted Red Oath into his hand, not raising it, just holding it ready as naturally as breathing. Tomas exhaled through his nose while Rafe muttered something about terrible decisions he was absolutely going to participate in anyway.
Frankie stepped forward.
This time they weren't following rumors.
They were following a trail.
And somewhere deeper in the city, whatever was making the scavengers had just made its next mistake.