God Ash: Remnants of the fallen.

The corridor hummed as though the building itself were aware of their intrusion. Cain stepped lightly, blade angled downward, his eyes scanning every flicker of server light. The hum wasn't mechanical alone—it carried rhythm, like the ghost of a heartbeat. Every step forward pressed that rhythm harder into his chest, until he could no longer tell if it came from the machines or his own body.

Susan steadied herself on the wall, breath raw. "This place feels wrong."

"It is wrong," Roselle said, voice sharp as glass. Her pistol swept across the room in a predator's arc. "The Grid isn't supposed to have a pulse."

Steve crouched by one of the consoles, his tools already in motion. The glow of the screens painted his gaunt face in pale green. "It's not a pulse. It's a tether. Every node talks to the others. A loop with no silence. Break it wrong, and the whole city tears in half."

Cain frowned. "Then we break it right."

Hunter lingered by the doorway, arms folded. He looked out of place here, as though the machines recognized him as something that didn't belong. "Do you even understand what you're about to do? This isn't just tearing down the Daelmont's grip. You cut the Grid wrong, and you collapse power grids, medical centers, the food synth lines. You kill thousands."

Roselle snapped at him without looking. "You'd rather leave it intact? Let them feed the city poison one wire at a time?"

Hunter's jaw tightened. He didn't answer.

Cain moved closer to the servers, his blade grazing the steel casing. He didn't swing. He simply let the weight of the weapon rest there, listening. The hum changed slightly, responding to his nearness, almost like breath quickening. He remembered standing by a body once, hearing that same falter in rhythm before death.

"We aren't here to destroy the city," he said finally. "We're here to take away the leash."

Steve didn't look up. "Then we need to cut the central hub, floor 82, like I said. But it's not clean. The Daelmonts built redundancies. Some of these wires run deeper than the foundation. Some loop through civilian systems. If I start, I don't get to stop until the whole lattice collapses in the way I tell it to."

Susan stepped up, her voice ragged but fierce. "Then start. We'll buy you the time."

The air trembled then—vibrations running through the floor, faint at first, then sharper. Cain turned toward the vent they had crawled through. The metal rang with impacts. Pursuers. Faster than he'd hoped. They didn't have long.

"Steve," Cain said, "you've got your minute. Make it."

Steve's fingers blurred. Sparks danced, wires screamed, circuits died. The Grid's lights began to flicker, a slow stutter like a wounded animal's heartbeat. Roselle took position by the doorway, pistol raised, eyes cold. Susan leaned against the wall, rifle cradled tight, her injuries forgotten. Even Hunter's hand hovered near his sidearm, his face carved in stone.

The first soldier broke through the vent with a crash of steel. He landed crouched, armor gleaming under the Grid's glow. Roselle fired, her shot slicing through his visor before he could rise. He fell twitching, sparks bursting from his chestplate.

"More," she snapped. "Dozens."

The corridor filled with the echo of boots and shouted orders. Cain surged forward, blade flashing, cutting the narrow space into a funnel of death. The first three soldiers fell in silence, their throats and joints spilling heat into the cold room. The fourth struck back, his rifle slamming into Cain's ribs, but Cain pivoted, drove his blade upward, and pinned the man against the wall.

Behind him, Susan fired bursts into the advancing line. Her shots cut clean, but she winced with every recoil, her body screaming protest. Roselle moved like smoke, never still, her pistol whispering death. The room became a storm of gunfire and steel, and still Steve's hands moved at the console, his face pale with concentration.

"I need more time!" Steve shouted.

"You have seconds," Cain barked, cutting another soldier down.

Hunter drew at last, his pistol barking low thunder into the melee. Cain caught the flash of his eyes—not loyalty, not betrayal, something more complicated, like a man trying to balance survival with purpose. Cain didn't care. He needed every bullet aimed outward.

The Grid screamed. Lights flared, then died, then returned in a broken rhythm. Sparks cascaded like rain. Steve ripped a wire free, teeth clenched, sweat streaking down his temples. "Almost—there!"

The ground shook. The hum fractured, became a roar, then silence. For one breathless instant, the world seemed to stop.

Then the servers flared again, brighter, angrier, red light flooding every console. The hum returned, but this time it wasn't steady. It was chaotic, thrashing, like a creature enraged.

Steve staggered back. "It's fighting me. They built it to fight."

Cain slashed down another soldier, eyes narrowing. "Then finish the kill."

The red lights pulsed faster. Screens filled with code that shifted too quickly to read. Words appeared, fleeting: NAMES. LOCATIONS. FACES. Hunter froze when he saw them, his expression tightening. Cain realized what the Daelmonts had hidden inside the Grid—not just control, but records. Every deal, every betrayal, every hand they'd ever bought.

"Cain!" Roselle shouted. "They're flanking!"

He spun, dragging Susan down with him as gunfire ripped across the room. Sparks exploded from the servers. Hunter returned fire, his pistol emptying into the vent until the soldiers scattered back. Cain rose, teeth bared, and cut through the nearest rifle, steel shearing sparks into the air.

Steve screamed. The console beneath his hands burst open, fire licking across his arms. Roselle dragged him back, slamming the flames out with her jacket. "Did you finish it?"

Steve coughed, his voice ragged. "Not finished. Triggered. It'll collapse in waves. But—" He hacked blood onto the floor. "The city will see what's inside before it burns."

Hunter's face darkened. "You fool. You'll tear more than their leash. You'll tear every secret into the open."

"Good," Roselle spat. "Let them choke on truth."

The floor shuddered beneath them. The servers cracked, smoke pouring from their guts. The red light became wild, spilling into every corridor. Outside, the city groaned, a low thunder rolling through the steel veins.