The humanoid creature advanced, and a swarm of Clinkers flooded the square, their cold, metallic bodies blocking every exit. The once-quiet space erupted into a cacophony of grinding gears and clanking metal, drowning out the distant fireworks. Bolton’s heart raced as he realized there were too many to count—an overwhelming wall of machinery closing in on him.
Before Bolton could react, the Clinkers screeched in unison, moving as one towards him. They halted abruptly, their eyes—glowing with an unnatural light—shifting from Bolton to the humanoid figure looming just behind him.
Of all the Clinker’s, one Clinker caught Bolton's eye. It stood at the forefront, eerily adorned with confetti and paint, much like the one he had encountered before. Upon seeing it, instinct took over, and Bolton began frantically searching the ground for the sewer mentioned in the letter, nearly forcing himself to forget the presence of the terrifying creature behind him.
"Bolton! Escape!" Vermolly's frantic voice yelped from within his cap, snapping his attention to the sewer hole a short distance to his right.
Vermolly released two spurts of gas, carefully concealing the area around Bolton but making sure he wasn’t caught within it—one grayish cloud meant for concealment, the other green, designed to confuse and disorient anyone unlucky enough to breathe it in. However, this also meant that the humanoid figure behind him remained unaffected by the gas, as it was too far away to be impacted.
Two sewer holes were visible around Akiyoma Square. One bore an industrial stamp, a carving of a bear roaring into an anvil, symbolizing Quadrant Two’s leader. The other sewer hole, just within reach, glistened under the moonlight—its metallic design matching the description in the letter.
Escape was all Bolton could think about. He twisted a couple of levers on his belt, clicked a button on his shoes, and launched himself toward the glistening sewer hole using his Vapor Jet Harness, clenching his teeth at the thought of the ‘thing’ just behind him.
But before he could gain any ground, Bolton was yanked out of his dash by an iron grip around his ankle, slamming him to the ground and jarring his jaw painfully. A sharp pain shot through his legs as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened.
"This…is wrong…something’s wrong—" Bolton’s heart pounded as he turned his gaze upwards, meeting the deafening sounds of the Clinkers and then the ominous sight of two large, glowing red eyes like smoldering brimstone looking down at him.
"I am Quadrant Leader Two, Enton, The Bear," the figure declared, stepping closer, his voice cold and dripping with malice. "You will know my name. You will remember it, and you will leave New Dwarden. This is your only warning."
“I remember you... what you were! What happened to you? I... I can’t just leave—I won’t!” Bolton stammered, his voice wavering under the crushing weight of fear that radiated from the shadowy figure.
“Understood.” Enton’s voice rumbled, a chilling void of emotion.
Without warning, a loud whirring sound erupted from Enton’s right side, sending a jolt of terror through Bolton. Instinctively, he scurried away the sound, his mind racing. Desperately, Bolton tried to shield Vermolly and escape with a burst from his Vapor Jet Harness, but it was too late. The whirring abruptly ceased, and Bolton felt a cold, metallic grip latch onto his back, crushing the air from his lungs and yanking him with terrifying force. The impact sent him crashing to the ground once more, his cap flying off in the process.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Bolton’s mind spun from the blow, his thoughts a jumbled mess of pain and confusion. Despite the chaos, his eyes fixated on the sewer hole, gleaming faintly just a few feet away—a distant beacon of escape. But before he could move, a sickening crunch reverberated through the air. Time seemed to slow as Bolton turned his head, dread pooling in his stomach. There, he saw it: Enton’s massive foot retracting from the flattened remains of his cap—of Vermolly.
“No…” Bolton’s voice was drowned out by the fireworks exploding overhead.
He reached for the crushed cap, but it was too late. Vermolly lay motionless, her tiny form mangled and lifeless, the vibrant spirit that had guided him through countless storms snuffed out in an instant. Pain radiated through Bolton as he lay on the cold ground, his gaze fixed on her broken body. A wave of despair crashed over him, quickly overtaken by a surge of viciously raw fury. Vermolly wasn’t just a companion—she was his anchor in this chaotic world, a voice of guidance and reason. And now she was gone, leaving him adrift in a sea of guilt and rage. The tears that threatened to fall simply didn’t, giving birth to seething vengeance.
“This... this is enough! What happened to you!?” Bolton’s voice cracked with anguish, his breath ragged, his fury shaking the platform beneath him. Rage and sorrow surged through him as he faced the Enton, whose gaze remained cold and unfeeling.
“An alchemian aligned herself with a pirate. That is her fate. There are no more warnings,” Enton said, his tone as icy as ever.
With almost no effort, Enton flipped Bolton over with his large arms, and hoisted him up, bringing their faces inches apart.
Before Bolton stood Enton, his large, imposing form illuminated by the sporadic bursts of fireworks in the sky. His oily, metallic skin gleamed under the faint light, accentuating his sharp jawline and chiseled features. He wore a long, dark jacket that hung loosely over his broad shoulders, the absence of a shirt beneath revealing glimpses of his muscular torso. His mechanical components were subtly integrated into his frame, and the pistons at his back shifted silently as he moved, a menacing contrast to the night’s stillness.
Bolton’s mind raced, his thoughts spiraling as he tried to grasp the horror before him. “Why!? You’re supposed to protect us! That’s what Quadrant Leaders do!” he shouted, his voice breaking with desperation. “You’re Yerro’s will—my brother’s will! How could you—?”
Enton’s expression hardened. “A heart. None will be taken. Look at what I’ve done and understand: mine will not be taken—nor my brethren’s. This is a threat, and I will deliver. To you. To Amelia. To the King.”
Bolton’s world splintered, his heart torn between viscous rage and a call for vengeance. The truth cut deeper than he could have imagined. Anguish burned in his eyes as he glared at the figure before him, his teeth grinding until the taste of blood filled his mouth.
“I will ki—” Bolton’s words were cut short by a swift, metallic palm striking his face, knocking him out cold.
“You will do nothing,” Enton replied, his voice chillingly calm, before the sound of Bolton’s vapor jet harness being crushed echoed through the square.
Bolton’s body went limp, his consciousness fading as tears welled in his eyes. He stared at Vermolly’s remains, his vision blurring as darkness consumed him.
Suddenly, another shadow emerged from the nearby sewer hole. It was a creature cloaked in the darkness of the night, its eyes boiling with a fiery orange glow and its mouth filled with pulsating, swollen red tissue, saliva dripping from its gaping jaws. In an instant, the creature’s tongue shot out like a striking serpent, wrapping around Bolton’s waist and yanking him out of Enton’s grasp, dragging him swiftly toward the sewer.
Bolton watched in stunned disbelief as the creature’s tongue pulled him in. He was too weak to resist, too terrified to move. Enton reeled from a sudden, unknown blow that struck the side of his cheek. As Bolton was dragged away, he caught sight of a figure crouched on the Akiyoma anchor, holding a smoking weapon and wearing a sinister, playful smile. Smoke curled from Enton’s face where the blow had landed.
Like the creature lurking in the sewer, the figure was obscured by the night. They appeared to be dressed in a long, flowing robe, possibly trimmed with fur and wore goggles that reflected the moonlight with an orange tinge. Their grin was unnaturally wide. After firing what seemed to be a hand cannon-like weapon at Enton, the figure leaped over Enton’s head, diving headfirst into the sewer and landing gracefully above the creature. As darkness closed in and the creature’s mouth enveloped him, Bolton heard a voice in the distance: “Who’s your favorite cousin!?”