A pale moon bathed the narrow street in a serene light, casting dancing shadows across the worn, dusty pavement. Mingling scents of pungent spices and hot machine oil hung heavy in the gentle breeze, carried on the faint stink of the city permeating the air. Boots crunching against the thick layers of dust down the dimly lit thoroughfare.

Makeshift bar covered windows of amber light spilling against the mix of taller and shorter buildings lining the street, facades blend’s of weathered brick, crumbling plaster, and the occasional panel of sleek metal. Faded signs, patched awnings partially covering the street overhead. Sunbake red tiles escorted by cracked sidewalks, rusting fire escapes, and makeshift bar covering windows.

Asher’s head tilted back, taking in the tangle of power lines that stretched between the structures, a subtle black web against the inky canvas of the night sky. The skeletal frames of streetlamps standing dead in the night, leaving dark gaps in the otherwise softly illuminated landscape.

Above, a pale glow of the moon casting moonstone light, its surface etched like a circuit, networks of lights shimmering against the night. Asher’s gaze tracing the intricate patterns, the lights giving the moon an almost digital hue.

His hair ruffling against a gentle breeze, studying the celestial sight, stars stretching overhead, glittering multitude casting the ramshackle street into forgotten paths. “I wonder if it’s the same up there as it is down here?” The narrow thoroughfare giving way to a slightly wider one. Patchwork of old and new, weathered facades occupying an occasional inn or specialty shop.

A carriage glided along the road, hovering just above the pitted street. The driver’s wind-tousled hair gave them a blown-out look. Muted ambient hum of its grav-drive mingled with the chattering passersby. Alongside, a pair of grav-bikes purred past, the riders clad in dark, reinforced uniforms.

Asher watched as the small procession passed by, joined by people on the street, pausing to stare as the hovering bikes glided by.

Suddenly, an articulate voice called out, snapping Asher from his daze. “Afternoon, Asher!”

His gaze shifted to a gruff woman, an officer, stopped, straddling a bike’s back. Her dark armored uniform, reinforced with plates of exotic alloy, its color shifting slightly in the light, reacting to the ambient energy in the air. A compact pistol holstered at her hip. Accompanying the bike behind her, a younger man in a similar uniform eyed Asher blankly, hand clutching the bars.

A warm smile spreading across her weathered face. “I heard you and your folks had a hand in fixing up my gear. Saved my skin out there recently.”

Asher felt warmth swell in his chest as she spoke, his cheeks tugging at the corners of his lips. “Glad to hear it held up. Can’t have our defenders getting taken down by some overgrown beast, now can we?”

“Speaking of which, this little beauty is the one you and your folks fixed up for me.” She reached down to a compartment on the side of her grav-bike, withdrawing a compact, smooth semi-spherical device.

It had a flat bottom, with three oval-shaped points spaced horizontally across the top portion of the sphere.

“Hmm, let me think...” Asher murmured, tracing his fingers along the emitters. “Ah yes, I remember now - we used a refined alloy of Ambrium and Cerulean crystal to build the emitter on this.” His lips quirked in a wry smile. “The Ambrium enhances the shield’s field structural integrity, while the Cerulean Quartz helps modulate the energy flow. Just be careful not to use it too abruptly. There’s a chance you can overload the alloy, causing damage to the skill engineering if the shield isn’t at full strength before it takes a hit. Doesn’t take much for a gate beast to overwhelm it.”

Kira chuckled, the lines around her eyes crinkling. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m staring down one of those nasty monsters in the hollows.” Taking the device back, holstering it at her side.

Her partner let out a garbled sound, clearing his throat, casting a sidelong glance at Asher. “We’d better get back to our rounds. Beasts have been stirring up trouble on the walls recently.” Pulling away, the younger man glancing back over his shoulder with a scowl on his face.

Asher averting his gaze with a soft sigh rounding a corner.

A towering spire came into view, its sleek, modern facade illuminated by soft, ambient lighting that cast a warm glow across the surrounding structures. Embracing the spire’s gleaming silhouette, jagged, towering, crumbling outlines, empty of their fillings. A mix of weathered buildings passing by - inns, specialty shops, and other establishments catering to the neighborhood. The soft glow of the moon illuminated the patchwork of old and new.

Asher hooked a left. Air thickening, mingling scents of sizzling meats and freshly baked goods across the square. “Fresh bread! Get your fresh bread here!” A stout woman in a flour-dusted apron waved a steaming loaf, its crust glistening. Beside her, a lanky man in a tattered vest bellowed. “Skewers! Hot off the grill! Venison, rabbit, even a few gate beasts if you’re feeling adventurous!”

Couples strolled hand-in-hand, laughter and quiet murmurs mingling through the atmosphere. Others setting at small, rickety tables, sipping from steaming ceramic mugs and chatting animatedly. Children darting between the legs of the passersby, joyful shrieks and patters of their feet bouncing off a towering figure. Yellowed lighting casting shadows across the dimly lit features.

Asher approached. His steps slowing as he studied the monument. The statue’s stern, uncompromising gaze fixed straight ahead. His leer drifting to the plaque at the statue’s base, tracing the weathered, engraved letters:

“In Remembrance of Joren Alden - Engineer, Leader, and Father of Dust Creek.”

Asher’s fingertips brushing over the engraving. “If you could see what’s become of this place,” Asher thought, his brow creasing with a hint of wistfulness. “Would you be proud, or saddened?” Tracing the weathered details of the statue with his fingertips passing by.

Leaving the square behind, Asher turned onto a broader, bustling thoroughfare. Carriages glided along the pitted pavement, their muted hums mingling with the chatter of the passing crowds. Inns and specialty shops lined the street, their ornate signs and warm lantern light beckoning to the steady flow of travelers.

Ornate wooden inns stood alongside sleek, angular buildings made of polished metal and glass, their facades adorned with intricate carvings and patterns. Officers patrolling, reinforced armor plating glinting under holographic digital blue hues. Others patrolled, hovering along the ground on grav-bikes, vigilant gazes sweeping by gliding effortlessly between the passing carriages and pedestrians.

“Did you hear about that raid they pulled off last week?” a man in a rumpled suit said to his companion. “Took out an entire caravan, they say.”

The woman shook her head, a concerned frown on her face. “Bunch of lawless scoundrels, the lot of them. They’re branching out, causing trouble all over the frontier.”

A nearby vendor, a weathered-looking fellow with a thick beard, leaned in conspiratorially. “Haven’t heard the latest about the Sinister Syndicate? Nasty bunch, they are, but compared to the raiders. At least the raiders have a code. Rumor has it they’ve been working with the people snatchers. Been raiding in the south, I hear.”

Asher’s gaze widened, a pensive knot to forming on his brow. Ominous, conspiratorial tone of the rumors leaving an uneasy twist in the pit of his stomach. “Devilish bastards.” Pressing a finger against his chin, lips pressed into a thin line. Quickening his pace, scents of exotic spices, raised voices haggling, growing stronger with each step.

Approaching the end of the bustling thoroughfare, a towering gate house nestled inside a patchwork wall crowned with a glowing orange turret at the center came into view. Hodgepodge of crumbling old building chunks, concrete blocks, old red bricks, interspersed with rusted steel beams, twisted rebar.

Stolen story; please report.

Disparate components hastily welded and fastened, creating an uneven, jagged surface all covered in haphazardly weathered, haphazardly poured, crumbling mortar gluing sheets of salvaged metal paneling fastened on top. Surfaces etched with intricate geometric patterns that pulsed with a faint, azure glow. Gaping holes where windows and doors once stood now serving as impromptu entry points to tunnels carved out of the inside, their edges rimmed with razor-sharp shards of broken glass illuminated by the market’s hue.

Holographic signs hovered above the crowded stalls, their sleek, gleaming surfaces flickering with rotating displays of prices, goods, and advertisements. “Exotic Emporium”, “Moira’s Momma’s Thread’s”, and “Jarek’s Cycled Components” were just a few of the vibrant, almost holographic images that danced across the signs. Mixed between the loud slept modest fabric banners and flags that fluttering in the wind, hand painted with bold, stylized lettering, others bearing worn, faded insignias.

People milling about clad head-to-toe in gear, their clothing and accessories shifting with the ambient energy in the air. Reinforced combat armor plating covered their torsos, its surface’s etched, flowing with an inner light. Compact, streamlined, and elegant communicators and utility tools, clipped to their waists.

Others in well-worn attire - faded, patched overalls, heavy work boots caked in dust, and tattered cloaks. Each incorporating small touches of personality, whether it was a hand-tooled leather belt, a vibrant yellow scarf, or a battered cap bearing a distinct hand-stitched insignia.

Stalls, faded table tapestries, threads fraying in intricate patterns. Atop them, gleaming chrome weapons with hand-woven baskets overflowing with exotic fruits. Tattered canvas awnings flapped overhead, faded patterns beneath old trinkets to aged components.

The chaotic sights and sounds of the bustling market assaulted Asher’s senses - rhythmic calls of vendors hawking their wares, the mingling aromas of sizzling meats and freshly baked breads, the rumble of grav-vehicles gliding along the packed street.

Navigating the bustling crowds, Asher’s eyes zipped to a vibrant stall, its shelves overflowing with an array of exotic plants and herbs, their leaves glistening with moisture and their stems twisting in an unseen breeze. Spotting the familiar face, stepping out of a small tent behind his stall. “Leerin!” he called out, weaving between the people milling about the market stalls. “Thank the system you’re still here.”

Leerin’s face broke into a warm smile as he recognized Asher. “Yes. I am.” Leerin’s eyes glancing at a glowing band on his arm. “I’ve got ten minutes before they kick us out, my young friend!” Beckoning Asher closer. “What can I get you, hm?”

Asher pulled a paper from the inner side of his sleeve. “This is the list they gave me.” Handing over the list, watching as Leerin’s harden fingers traced the items. “Hmm, let’s see here. I’ve got most of what you need, but a few of these exotics have been in short supply lately.”

Leerin paused, knitting his nose. “In fact, just the other day, there were rumors spreading among the merchants of some nasty creatures lurking about the roads. Probably scaring off anyone with some sense. Dangerous business, being a caravan merchant.”

Asher’s gaze flickered towards the gates. “I see. Well, whatever you can spare would be greatly appreciated, Leerin.”

Leerin nodded, already gathering the requested items. “Of course, plus I am sure your parents can with the substitutes I have on hand. And I’ll throw in a little discount, for old time’s sake.” He winked, handing Asher a holo-pad with the updated pricing.

Asher quickly reviewed the details, nodding in approval. “Sounds good. I’ll let my parents know the situation.” He paused, a thought occurring to him. “Say, Leerin, what’s been going on out there?” Tilting his head toward the gate.

Leerin’s expression turned grave. “Nothing good, I have, lad. Whispers of the Crimson Raiders causing trouble, and even talk of that Sinister Syndicate lot, making a play on the frontier.” He shook his head, his weathered features etched with concern. “Dangerous times, these.”

A chilling tingle ran down his spine. “I see. Well, I appreciate you keeping me informed, Leerin.” Reaching into an inner pocket and withdrawing a small pouch. He carefully counted out the required number of glimmering blue crystals, passing the payment to Leerin.

“Much obliged, young Asher.” Leerin tucking them securely into his belt pouch. “You and your family have always been good customers. I’m happy to help however I can, especially in these... uncertain times.” His features darkened with a frown.

Asher offered Leerin a reassuring smile. “I appreciate it, Leerin. We’ll make sure these materials go to good use.” With a final nod, continuing his survey of the bustling market. Scanning the eclectic array of stalls, cataloging the diverse wares on display - from salvaged tech components to rare, glimmering exotic materials.

A blood-curdling scream ripped through the air. “Ahhhhh!”

Shrilling notes sliced through the air like a laser through metal, a high-pitched wail cutting through the bustling chatter of the market. Cry shattering the calm, causing tiny bumps to spring forth from his once smooth, pristine skin. Asher’s head snapped towards the source, his heart pounding in his chest.

The world around him seemed to slow, deafening silence. Faces draining, colorless gazes frozen as if time and space had come to a close. Eyes went wide, like life draining from the world, frenzied panic. The crowd split, abandoning grocery and goods, scattering. Desperate cries drowned by thundering sounds growing louder moment by moment.

Desperate hands clawed and jostled, pushing and shoving, heedless of their path. Chaotic thuds of feet slamming, packing earth, mingling anguished shrieks. Songs wailing cries against the rumble of the crowd. Elderly and infirm swallowed underfoot by a surging mass.

Rooted, Asher tensing as the tide of panicked people crashed against him, yet eerily calm. Mayhem unfolding around him, still taking in every detail. Bits and bites, like quantized photonic digitized streams embracing a home they never had, streaming through Asher’s mind.

New Skill - Earned

A flash of movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention to the towering gate. Figures emerged, their forms shrouded in the gloom, silhouetted against the flickering light of the turret above. Asher’s muscles coiled, senses expanding, straining to discern.

“Oh gods, no, no, no!” Frantic thoughts pierced Asher’s mind. “The children.”

The crowd convulsed, people shoving, trampling, panicked. Shadows - clawed hands reaching, snatching.

Thunderous. The earth trembled, shifting, massive silhouettes emerging.

“No, unhand me, monsters...demo.”

Between abandoned stalls she darted, frantic steps, dust clouds rising. Towering forms blotting the stars, descending - gaping, tooth-filled maws.

Agonized cries, merging the rumbling din. Terror pulsing through the crowd, swallowed by chaos.

“Someone, please...help.”

A small form, limbs flailing, fading. Above, a claw sweeping, blood spraying.

“We’re all going to die.”

Thunderous crash. The gates shattered, rubble flying, heralding monstrosities. Helpless, snatched up - final screams cut short, twisting flesh torn apart.

Plasma blazing, pinky, lancing blazing trails, striking, towering flank. Beast recoiling, a guttural roar, rumbling pain through the air. Lumbering form, a dance, weaving runes, streaking. Armors etching rippling.

A familiar uniform, lunging a lard, breath, fire, hot air rippling, expanding, consuming.

Tattered robes swept forward, their hands weaving intricate patterns. The air shimmered, and a volley of razor-sharp shards erupted, piercing the creature’s hide.

Officers moved with grace, weaving between lumbering forms. Runes etched into her armor glowed, energy rippling across the surface, channeling, surging. Precise bursts of plasma energy lancing out, burning mark on their targets.

A younger man in a similar uniform hefted a compact grenade launcher. With a seasoned motion, firing detonations rocking the ground and staggering the wave monstrosities.

A blur of motion caught Asher’s peripheral vision. A tattered cloak dart between the toppled stalls, a long blade flashing in their hands. With a series of swift, fluid strikes, they carved a path through the creatures, a haze of steel and shadow.

Ornate, glowing armor strode forward, hands outstretched. Shimmering energy coalesced, forming a massive barrier that shielding the fleeing.

A lithe, agile figure zipping through the chaos, trailing afterimages, weaved between monsters. With a flick of their wrist, launching a barrage of glowing projectiles, tearing through flesh and bone.

A massive, hulking silhouette charged into the fray, a heavy maul crashing against the creatures’ flanks. The impact of each blow sending tremors through the ground.

A ragtag group firing plasma and explosive ordnance hammered against the rushing tide, driving them back inch by hard-won inch. Straining expressions etched on bruised and battered faces. The earth trembled beneath their feet with a thunderous rumbling.

Gaping maws lined with jagged rows of fangs snapped hungrily, fly-like eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger. Mandibles flapping-clicking segmented, bulbous torsos of the insectoid monstrosities surged forward, their glistening carapaces protecting swarming, spindly legs of chitin and fury.

Asher gasped, his vision swimming. The rapid banter of legs thundered in his ears, wobbling, forcing himself to his feet. Blood seeping from the jagged cut in his flesh, leaving itching, burning wounds slowly knitting themselves back together.

A bone-jarring crack split the air, jaws screaming forward, Asher lunging, blurring into a roll across the ground, watching stars pass by. Asher’s fingers twitching, his nails elongating into razor-sharp claws, leaping to his feet, slashing the bulbous torsos.

Howling, thrashing wildly—almost a glint in its eyes. Weak... flesh... prey! Thoughts, primal and raw, charged forward again.

A gleaming haze flickered under the moonlight, shadows clinging to the blade carving through the beast’s thick hide. Shrieking, the creature shrank away as a tattered, billowing cloak against broad shoulders landed gracefully, toes touching against the earth, blocking Asher’s view.

“Stay close,” the man murmured, his voice low and smooth. Without waiting for a reply, his etched blade weaved with a shadowy haze.

Zheg. Thump.