Kael lifted his head slowly, the metallic scent of rain and rust filling his senses.
The giant filled the alley like a living wall. Two meters tall. Broad shoulders. Thick arms corded with muscle that looked less built and more carved from the industrial landscape itself. For a split second, Kael swore he saw muscles he hadn't even known the human body possessed—knotted and dense, built for the brutal physics of the sectors.
A ridiculous thought flickered through his mind.
'If I look any lower, will I discover new anatomy?'
'Now is not the time.'
The man's skin was sun-darkened and weathered, his black hair streaked with premature white and tied back with a strip of frayed, oily cloth. Mid-forties, maybe. Not old. Not soft. Time had hardened him into a blunt instrument of the streets rather than wearing him down.
But what caught Kael's eye weren't the muscles.
It was the teeth.
Jagged iron caps glinted between the giant's lips as he smiled—a flash of cold, industrial hardware.
Iron Teeth.
Kael forced a shallow, ragged breath into his lungs.
"Wow… your teeth really are iron—"
The punch came before he could finish.
A massive fist slammed into Kael's ribs with terrifying speed. It felt like being struck by one of the armored military trucks he'd seen rolling toward the Inner Circle. The world snapped sideways in a blur of gray and shadow.
Kael flew several meters, his body skipping across the grime before he crashed against the alley floor. Something cracked deep inside—one rib, maybe two. A searing heat spread through his chest, making every breath a struggle. The metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth.
Shadows closed in.
The giant blocked the exit, his silhouette blotting out the dim smog-light from the street beyond. The others sealed the rear.
This wasn't a trap anymore. It was an execution.
Kael forced himself up, legs shaking like a newborn's, his vision swimming in oily circles.
'Think.'
The giant's voice rolled through the alley like distant thunder.
"That all it took to drop you? We're not finished. You still owe me, rat."
Kael didn't respond. He moved.
Gathering every ounce of desperation left in his legs, he lunged forward. He threw his full weight into a punch aimed at the man's chest. He aimed high, but the sheer height difference stole his angle. His fist slammed into the giant's abdomen instead.
It felt like punching reinforced stone.
The giant laughed, the sound vibrating in the narrow space. Then he stopped. His body jerked.
Kael always carried a knife. Old. Worn. Ugly.
The blade was already buried deep in the giant's side, hidden by the momentum of the strike. Kael hated using it—not out of mercy, but because murder drew eyes. Investigation. Maybe even the Awakened. You could hide from street thugs, but you couldn't hide from them.
But this was already certain death.
Warm blood spilled over Kael's fingers. The giant roared, a sound of pure, unadulterated shock.
"You little rat—!"
One massive hand clamped around Kael's wrist like a vice, stopping the blade. Kael's other arm was trapped, pinned by the giant's overwhelming bulk.
Then, the giant lunged forward.
Iron teeth clamped down on Kael's forearm. The cold metal tore through his sleeve and into the flesh beneath. Kael screamed, a raw, ragged sound that echoed off the damp brick walls.
Pain detonated in white flashes across his vision. His fingers spasmed open, the knife slipping from his grasp and clattering onto the stones.
The giant hurled him aside like a piece of scrap metal. Kael hit the ground and rolled, his ribs shrieking in protest. His arm hung at a sickening angle, blood staining his sleeve as he struggled to find his footing.
The giant dropped to one knee, clutching his side. He was breathing hard, his face contorted in a mask of fury. It wasn't a killing blow, but it was enough to buy a moment.
Kael staggered upright and ran.
Behind him, the giant's roar followed, thick with pain.
"What are you idiots doing?! After him! Kill him!"
Kael ran blindly through the labyrinth of the sector. He vaulted over rusted crates and slipped through narrow gaps only someone raised in this filth would recognize. He knew this place—every crack in the pavement and every blind corner was etched into his survival instincts.
But they knew it too.
The footsteps thundered behind him. Not the quick slap-slap of his own boots, but heavy, fast, and closing the distance.
Minutes stretched like hours. His breathing shredded his lungs, coming in agonizing wheezes. His vision darkened at the edges, the world turning into a tunnel of gray smog. Each heartbeat felt slower, heavier than the last.
Too much blood.
He turned one final corner—and his legs gave out.
Kael collapsed into the mouth of a narrow alley, his cheek hitting the cold, wet stone. The footsteps didn't slow. They were close. Very close. Bootsteps echoed against the walls, steady and approaching with the weight of a final sentence.
'This is it.'
'I lived like a rat.'
'I'll die like one.'
A shadow fell over him, blocking the flickering neon of a distant sign.
Someone stepped into his fading vision. Not a thug. Not a giant.
A voice he didn't recognize—light, melodic, and terrifyingly calm—spoke into the silence.
"Oh… well now. What do we have here?"