Bolton tightened the straps of his air contraption, his pulse quickening as the humanoid figure advanced. The festive hum of Akiyoma Square turned sinister, replaced by the metallic cacophony of Clinkers flooding the area. Their angular forms emerged from the shadows, blocking every exit with a synchronized clatter of grinding gears and glowing yellow eyes. The vibrant glow of festival lanterns gave way to the cold, eerie sheen of machinery.
A hiss of colorful gas erupted from one of the Clinkers’ gaping mouths, accompanied by a bone-chilling sound like a rusted metal door grating open. The noise scraped through the air, sending shivers down Bolton’s spine as the gas spilled into the crowd like a creeping fog. A couple of bystanders froze mid-step, their outlines quickly engulfed in the swirling cloud. Before Bolton could react, their silhouetted forms were yanked backward into the chaos, vanishing into the dense haze as muffled cries faded into the festival’s dying hum. The crowd churned uneasily, murmurs of fear spreading like wildfire.
Near the edge of the square, a group of drunken revelers staggered toward him, sloshing cider from their mugs. “Oy, lad!” one of them shouted, his voice slurred but tinged with urgency. “Primarian party crashers, mate! They’ll gut ya faster than a pig on market day!” Another swayed dangerously close, pointing a trembling finger at the advancing Clinkers. “You’d better run, boy, or they’ll have ya shining their gears!”
Bolton’s chest tightened as he scanned the square for an escape route. Among the horde, one Clinker stood out: its confetti-streaked exterior unmistakable. His stomach dropped as realization struck—this was the same Clinker that had been trailing him all night, its presence always lingering at the edge of the festivities. It tilted its head unnervingly, its glowing eyes locking onto him with predatory focus before turning deliberately toward the towering figure behind it. The painted Clinker lingered for a moment, as if savoring Bolton’s unease, its mechanical joints hissing in time with the crowd’s growing panic.
“Bolton, move!” Vermolly’s frantic croak jolted him back to reality. From beneath his hat, a burst of greenish gas hissed into the air, the result of Vermolly’s quick-thinking and expert Alchemian chemistry. Her makeshift emergency concoction spread rapidly, filling the square with a thick, acrid haze designed to confuse and obscure. The green fog clung to the air, causing the Clinkers to falter momentarily, their glowing eyes flickering as their sensors struggled to penetrate the cloud.
Without thinking, Bolton twisted a valve on his Vaporjet Harness, releasing a pressurized burst of air that whipped the gas into a circular plume around him. The motion shaped Vermolly’s green haze into a swirling smoke ring, further obscuring the enemies’ vision. The Clinkers faltered within the distorted cloud, their grinding gears clashing as they collided in confusion. Their glowing eyes flickered erratically, struggling to recalibrate. But the hulking humanoid remained eerily unaffected, stepping through the mist with deliberate precision, its glowing red eyes cutting through the swirling smog like embers in the dark.
Bolton’s gaze darted through the chaos, landing on two sewer grates in the cobblestone square. One bore the industrial emblem of a roaring bear—the unmistakable mark of Quadrant Leader Two. The other, gleaming faintly under the moonlight, matched the description from the letter. With the Clinkers’ cacophony closing in, Bolton twisted another valve on his harness. The contraption sputtered to life, hissing and groaning as it kicked into gear. With a sharp exhale, he launched himself toward the second grate, his heart pounding as he tore through the lingering smoke.
The air cracked with the sound of mechanical limbs slicing through the haze. Bolton barely had time to process the shadow hurtling toward him before a crushing grip clamped around his ankle. He hit the ground hard, the force rattling his teeth and sending his hat flying. Pain flared through his side as he looked up to meet the source of the grip.
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Two massive, glowing red eyes bore down on him like smoldering embers, their intensity piercing through the thick haze. The humanoid figure, its metallic skin slick with oil that gleamed under the dim light, leaned closer with an unsettling precision. Its voice rumbled, low and deliberate, like grinding steel: “I am Quadrant Leader Two, Enton, The Boar. You will leave New Dwarden. This is your only warning.”
Bolton’s breath hitched as the weight of the words sank in. “Enton…?” he stammered, his voice laced with disbelief and mounting fear. His fists clenched instinctively. “Why me? Why waste your time on someone like me? Are there no Giants, no monsters, no real threats left in the world?” The tremor in his voice betrayed his bravado, but his defiance flared briefly, a flicker against the overwhelming presence before him.
Enton’s gaze didn’t waver. “A heart will not be taken. Mine will not. Nor will my brethren’s. You, Amelia, and your King must understand this. I do not warn twice.”
Bolton’s mind spun. Yerro’s will? The Greisha Ceremony? His brother’s ominous message? None of it made sense, and yet the truth stood before him, metallic and monstrous. “I can’t leave,” Bolton rasped, his fury bubbling beneath the surface. “I won’t.”
Enton’s response was a cold, emotionless void. “Understood.”
The sound of a whirring mechanism exploded from Enton’s arm. Bolton flinched, his instincts screaming to protect Vermolly. But the movement came too fast. A powerful metal hand slammed into his chest, sending him sprawling across the square. His air contraption groaned under the force, a few valves snapping loose as he struggled to breathe.
The Clinkers surrounded him now, their glowing eyes fixed and unyielding. Bolton’s gaze snapped to his hat, crumpled under Enton’s massive foot. His breath caught in his throat. “No—no!” he choked out, scrambling forward with desperate hands. Vermolly’s small, limp body protruded from the wreckage, her once vibrant yellow eyes now dim and lifeless.
Time seemed to grind to a halt. Vermolly, his constant companion and anchor in the chaos, was gone. A wave of rage surged through Bolton, obliterating his pain and fear. His fists clenched, his body trembling with raw emotion. “You traitorous bastard!” he bellowed, his voice breaking as he pointed at Enton. “What did she ever do to deserve this?! Huh?! She was innocent! You think this is justice?!” Tears blurred his vision as his voice cracked into a roar. “You want to kill me?! Do it! You’re nothing but a coward! My brother would never do this! In front of everyone!”
Enton’s expression remained eerily unchanged, cold, and detached. “This is justice,” he intoned, his voice devoid of any emotion. “An Alchemian aligned with pirates—her fate was inevitable.” He bent down, gripping Bolton by the collar as if he weighed nothing, and lifted him effortlessly into the air. “Do not forget this lesson. It is the only mercy you will receive.”
Before Bolton could respond, a thunderous crack split the air, reverberating through the square. Enton staggered, a fresh burn mark seared across his gleaming metallic cheek. Bolton blinked, disoriented, as his gaze darted toward the source of the attack. A shadowy figure leaped from the Akiyoma’s anchor, their silhouette cutting through the moonlight with practiced ease. Clad in a flowing cloak trimmed with fur, the newcomer brandished a hand cannon that still smoked from the shot. Their wide grin shone beneath reflective orange goggles, which caught the glow of the lanterns like fire. With a dramatic flourish, they landed atop the sewer grate with such force it spun wildly, wobbling like a tossed coin.
“Who’s your favorite cousin?!” the figure bellowed, their voice brimming with playful bravado as they struck a triumphant pose.
Before Bolton could fully process the surreal turn of events, the sewer grate beneath him exploded open with a metallic clang. A monstrous tongue lashed out from the shadows, slick and muscular, coiling around his waist with alarming speed. Bolton barely had time to cry out as he was yanked into the dark abyss below.
The last thing he saw before the darkness swallowed him was the figure’s daring leap into the open sewer after him. Their laughter, tinged with mischief, echoed behind them as Enton’s enraged roar shattered the uneasy silence of Akiyoma Square.