God Ash: Remnants of the fallen.

Cain had grown used to the sound of pursuit. It wasn't the footsteps that mattered—those were predictable, human. It was the silences in between. That breathless space where men thought they were hunting but had already become prey. The city amplified those silences, pressing them against his ears until they were louder than gunfire.

Susan leaned heavier against the wall now, her injury worsening with every step. Her stubbornness had kept her upright, but Cain knew her body was beginning to betray her. Hunter walked point again, posture sharp, a shadow moving just ahead of them.

"Steve," Cain said, low.

The comm spat static before a strained reply. "They're rerouting more than squads. This isn't a sweep anymore—it's a cordon. They're shutting down everything east of the river. Transit, power, feeds. You've got a window, but it's closing."

Cain's jaw clenched. The grid never worked with such precision unless someone higher up was pushing buttons. This wasn't just containment. It was isolation. Someone wanted Cain cut out like a tumor.

They slipped deeper into the service passages, following the pipes that coiled like arteries beneath the district. The air grew hotter, thicker with the stink of oil. Cain dragged his fingertips along the walls, listening through the vibration. The city trembled differently here—faster, harsher. Pressure points waiting to split open.

"Where are we going?" Susan asked, her voice thin.

"Somewhere they won't follow."

Her bitter laugh rasped through the dark. "And where's that? The grave?"

Hunter shot her a glance, unreadable. Cain ignored them both.

They reached a chamber where the tunnels opened wide into an underground junction. Dozens of pipes crossed overhead, dripping condensation that fell like a steady rain. A rusted maintenance platform clung to the far wall, barely held together by bolts eaten through with corrosion. The hum here was almost deafening.

Cain stopped, scanning. His hand rested on his blade, but he didn't draw it. Not yet.

Susan slumped against the wall, sliding down until she was sitting on the damp concrete. "I can't keep pace, Cain. Not like this."

He looked at her, expression unreadable. She met his gaze with the stubborn glare of someone who had survived too many fights already.

"Leave me if you have to," she said.

Cain said nothing. The silence stretched until Hunter broke it. "We're not leaving anyone."

Susan huffed, half in pain, half in humorless amusement. "Easy to say when you're not the one dragging dead weight."

Hunter's face didn't move. His voice was flat. "You're not dead yet."

The chamber groaned suddenly, the pipes above rattling. Cain felt it first—the shift in pressure. His hand lifted, palm pressed flat against one of the vibrating conduits. The rhythm was wrong. Offbeat. A surge climbing from the depths of the city.

"They're flushing us out," Cain muttered.

"Meaning?" Susan asked.

"Meaning they've rerouted flow. Gas. Heat. Whatever they can push. They'll drown this section before they risk losing another squad."

Hunter tensed. "Options?"

Cain studied the pipes, eyes narrowing. "One. And it isn't clean."

Above, the junction wailed. Metal expanding under strain. Steam hissed faintly from the seams. Cain stepped back, calculating.

"Hunter. With me."

Hunter moved without hesitation. Together they climbed the maintenance platform, boots ringing against rusted steel. Cain scanned the maze of pipes overhead. He found the thickest—paint flaking, but still alive with pressure. He raised his sword.

Susan's voice echoed weakly from below. "You're insane."

Cain swung once. The blade bit deep, sparks spitting as steel struck steel. The pipe screamed, then split open with a roar. Scalding steam burst outward, filling the chamber in a choking wave.

Susan cursed, dragging her coat over her face. Hunter ducked, but Cain didn't flinch. He stepped into the cloud, blade flashing again. The ruptured vein howled louder, pressure blasting free like a wounded beast.

The first squad arrived seconds later, flashlights cutting through the mist. Their beams fractured, scattering in the steam. Visibility dropped to nothing.

Cain moved.

He was smoke inside smoke, steel whispering through flesh before the soldiers even registered his reflection faint in the dusty glass, eyes scanning the horizon as though searching for an answer the city refused to give. The silence weighed heavier than steel, pressing in from every wall. Susan coughed softly, smoke trailing from the cigarette, her ribs hitching with each breath.

Steve's voice cut across the tension, sharper now. "Cain, we've got movement. Not the grid, not suits. Something else. Two blocks west, closing fast."

Cain straightened, pulling the blade to his side without a word. Susan dragged herself upright with a wince. "We barely crawled out of the last fight. You sure you want another one now?"

Cain's eyes narrowed. "Want's got nothing to do with it. If they're coming, they're coming."

He pushed the door open, the safehouse groaning in protest as dawn's chill slipped inside. The streets beyond were gray, littered with bottles, papers, and the smell of oil. But beneath that ordinary decay, Cain felt it—the shift in rhythm, the city's pulse quickening. Predators closing in.

Hunter appeared at the far end of the alley, bow in hand, silent as ever. He gave Cain a single nod. No words. He didn't need them.

Susan pulled her coat tighter, forcing her body to obey her will. "What's the plan?"

Cain's blade gleamed faintly in the light, a shard of inevitability. "Same as always. We hold the line. Let the city show us who's hunting who."

The sound came then—boots on pavement, steady, organized. Not one set. Many.

Steve's voice thinned into static. "I can't cover you if this turns into a full breach. You're walking into it blind."

Cain exhaled once, steady, and stepped into the street. His shoulders carried the weight of inevitability, but his stride was calm, deliberate.

"Blind?" he murmured. "I've lived in the dark my whole life."

The city answered back with silence, waiting for the clash.

Cain's grip tightened on the hilt, muscles coiled but not rushed. Hunter shifted into the shadows, Susan steadying herself with a grimace. The air grew colder, the city's breath caught between heartbeats. Cain lowered his voice, almost a whisper meant only for them:

"Whatever comes, we end it here."