Ampelius finished lighting the final candle and scavenged whatever supplies he could find. The flickering candlelight cast long, wavering shadows across the room, adding to the sense of urgency and tension. As the flickering light cast long shadows, Ampelius' mind drifted to Mount Nerva. The mountain had once symbolized everything the city no longer was—open, unrestrained, a place where he could breathe without feeling the weight of the Empire. He missed the cool mountain air, free from the heavy scent of Vetera's fear and violence. That feeling of freedom was something the city could never offer him.

Bella paced back and forth, her movements jerky and frantic as she struggled to remain calm. Her worry for Emmett was growing by the minute; she chewed on her lip, her eyes darting to the window with every sound outside. She was clearly eager to venture out into the city to find her boyfriend, her desperation barely contained beneath the surface.

“We really need to find him! Why are we still here? What if he is hurt? What if he needs our help? I don’t...” Bella's voice rose in hysteria, her eyes wide with fear.

Ampelius stepped forward and placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Listen, you need to calm yourself down,” he said firmly, meeting her gaze. “First, we need to formulate a plan. We can’t just venture into the city without at least knowing the situation. Anything could be going on out there. We can’t help him if we need help ourselves. So, sit down, take some deep breaths, and let me think.”

Bella hesitated, her eyes searching his face for reassurance. Finally, she nodded and sank onto the couch, her hands trembling. She took several deep breaths, trying to steady her racing heart.

Ampelius moved to the window and peered out into the darkness. The oppressive city felt more foreign to him than ever, its buildings towering over him like the Empire’s ever-present watch. The silence was suffocating, a stark reminder that Vetera was nothing like the wild freedom of Mount Nerva’s open trails. Here, even the air felt thick with the Empire’s iron grip, making it hard to breathe without feeling controlled. Occasionally, the sound of distant screams pierced the stillness, sending a chill down his spine. The blue explosion had thrown everything into chaos, and he knew they needed to be prepared for anything.

“We don’t know what’s happening out there,” he said, but in truth, he felt like he’d been lost long before tonight. The memories of his youth, of the mountains, clashed with the oppressive reality he was forced to navigate now. He was a stranger in his own life, caught between the freedom he once knew and the Empire’s stranglehold over everything he cherished. “The city is in complete darkness, and I can see a few fires burning. We need to be cautious. We’ll gather supplies and make sure we’re ready for whatever we might encounter. Then we’ll head out and look for Emmett. But we have to do this smartly, or we’ll end up in trouble ourselves.”

Bella nodded again, her breathing starting to slow. “Okay,” she said quietly. “What do we need to do?”

Ampelius began to list the supplies they would need: water, food, flashlights, extra batteries, a first aid kit, and anything else useful in an emergency. As they gathered what they could find, Ampelius kept a close eye on Bella, making sure she stayed focused and calm.

They couldn’t afford to panic now; they needed to be clear-headed and prepared.

Once they had everything packed, Ampelius checked the door, pressing his ear against it and listening for any sounds from the hallway. The building was eerily silent, but he knew that could change at any moment. He turned back to Bella, who was now standing by the door, a determined look on her face.

“I want you to stay here; let me see what’s going on first,” Ampelius said firmly.

Bella nodded reluctantly, gripping the strap of her bag tightly. “Alright, but be careful.”

With a final deep breath, Ampelius opened the door and stepped out into the darkened hallway. He glanced back at Bella, giving her a reassuring nod before closing the door behind him. The silence of the building was almost oppressive, broken only by the distant sounds of sirens and the faint crackle of far-off fires.

Ampelius moved cautiously down the hallway, his senses on high alert for any signs of danger. He reached the stairwell and began his descent, the flickering candlelight from the apartment dimming behind him, swallowed by the deepening shadows as he moved further away.

Upon reaching the ground floor, he approached the front entrance and carefully peered outside.

The situation on the street was dire. Complete darkness enveloped the area; the streetlights were out, and no artificial light spilled from the buildings. The only illumination came from the occasional flicker of distant fires, their flames casting an eerie, wavering glow over the chaotic scene. Shadows danced wildly, and the smoke hung heavy in the air, giving the surroundings an unsettling, almost otherworldly feel.

Motor vehicles of all kinds were scattered haphazardly on the streets and sidewalks as if they had all simultaneously lost control. Many were piled up in collisions, their metal frames twisted and contorted from the impacts. Some still had their headlights on, dimming and flickering like dying embers in the darkness. The sight was reminiscent of a disaster movie—the once orderly traffic now a jumbled mess of abandoned cars, some doors left ajar, while others were eerily still, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of metal.

Ampelius couldn't help but notice the distinctive look of the modern cars. Their sleek designs were a curious blend of futuristic and retro aesthetics. Many vehicles sported tailfins and an abundance of chrome, echoing the look of mid-20th century rockets. The influence of the Roman Empire's cultural tastes was evident in these stylistic choices—an odd blend of ancient grandeur and modern innovation, as if the past and future collided on every street corner.

As he scanned the scene, Ampelius noticed a few people moving cautiously among the wreckage, their figures barely visible in the dim, flickering light of nearby fires. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and fuel, stinging his nostrils and throat. The distant sounds of screams and glass shattering punctuated the silence, each noise a stark reminder of the danger lurking in the shadows, adding to the sense of impending doom.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. The streets of Vetera had become a perilous landscape, and he knew they would need to navigate carefully to find Emmett and stay safe.

Hundreds of people were beginning to scatter across the streets and sidewalks. Some clustered around the injured near the vehicle pileups, attempting to provide aid. Others futilely tried to start their disabled cars, while some stood frozen in confusion, their eyes fixed on the night sky, searching for answers.

Ampelius slowly opened the main doors of the apartment building and stepped outside into the chaos. As he ventured further, the loud crash of breaking glass across the street startled him. With telephone communications down and no light beyond the moon, people seized the opportunity to loot. Windows shattered as they broke into stores and businesses, fueling the growing sense of desperation that was rapidly taking hold of the city.

Ampelius flinched as another window shattered nearby, the high-pitched sound piercing the night air. A group of looters rushed past him, their heavy boots thudding against the pavement, the smell of sweat and fear lingering in their wake. He could hear labored breathing and the desperate gasps of people driven by both hunger and greed. His instincts screamed at him to move, to get away from the danger, but his feet felt rooted to the ground, his mind overwhelmed by the sheer force of the anarchy unfolding around him.

Ampelius noticed several people looking up at the night sky, so in his own curiosity, he looked up to see what people were staring at. The blue explosion that had loomed over the city was now barely visible, fading away. What kind of weapon can cause this kind of mayhem? He wondered. Another window shattered across the street, jolting him back to the chaos below. The crash of glass breaking echoed down the streets, sharp and relentless as if the city itself were shattering. People darted in every direction, their footsteps a frantic, uneven rhythm on the pavement. Ampelius’ heartbeat quickened, matching the frenzied pulse of the crowd. Panicked shouts filled the air, overlapping in a discordant chorus that made it impossible to distinguish words, only raw fear and desperation. Somewhere nearby, metal clanged as if a store gate had been ripped open, followed by the scraping sound of goods being dragged across concrete. He felt a cold sweat prickling his skin, each sound a reminder of the precariousness of his situation, the thin line between safety and chaos.

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Ampelius noticed that people around him were getting creative with their light sources. Some had crafted torches from whatever they could find, while others fashioned makeshift lanterns. The glow from these improvised lights cast eerie, shifting shadows that twisted along the walls, turning the street into a distorted landscape of flickering light and darkness.

Ampelius felt a chill as he watched the flames dance erratically, casting jagged shadows along the crumbling buildings. There was something deeply unsettling about these makeshift torches, a reminder of how far the city had fallen. He couldn’t decide if the flickering lights were symbols of resilience or signs of desperation. In another time, these streets would have been well-lit, orderly—but now, each torch was a small act of defiance against the darkness that had claimed their lives.

With each flicker of torchlight, Ampelius was reminded of just how fragile order had become. These improvised lights felt like the last stand against a city teetering on the edge. In the past, he had never questioned the stability of Vetera; now, he was watching it unravel with every shadow cast against the walls. This wasn’t just about survival—it was about holding onto the scraps of a life he wasn’t sure could ever return.

The occasional gunshot echoed through the night, sending a chill down his spine. Despite the fear gnawing at him, he pushed forward, determined to find Emmett and make sense of the chaos.

Two shirtless men across the street suddenly broke into a shouting match that escalated into a brutal fistfight. Ampelius watched as they collided with raw, desperate energy, fists flying. The brawl didn’t last long; one man went limp after a hard punch to the head. The victor quickly knelt, grabbed something dark from the fallen opponent's body, and disappeared into the shadows.

Ampelius’ gaze lingered on the limp figure left behind, a bitter sense of familiarity twisting within him. It was almost routine now, seeing people resort to fists, teeth, and raw survival instincts. This city had transformed into a place where violence wasn’t just an act—it was the only means of asserting control. Part of him wanted to turn away, but something deeper held him there, confronting the reality. He knew that in times like these, desperation unraveled people, exposing what lay beneath their forced civility. But as much as he despised it, he couldn’t deny the dark understanding he felt—a grim respect for the lengths to which people would go when there was nothing left to lose. He only hoped he wouldn’t be forced to that edge himself.

A glowing yellow and orange alleyway to his left caught Ampelius's attention. Almost on cue, a ball of flames and smoke erupted above the building next to the alley, casting an ominous glow over the scene. Unable to resist his curiosity, he took a daring step toward the rising smoke, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination.

Something about the sight compelled him to step closer. Part of him was driven by a strange sense of duty—to understand what was happening in his city, as if making sense of the chaos might restore some sense of order within himself. The flames flickered like a taunt, and he felt a rising need to confront the reality that Vetera had become. He didn’t want to be a passive witness to his city’s downfall. Or maybe, he thought, he was simply curious—drawn to the fire like a moth despite the danger it spelled.

When he reached the alley's entrance, Ampelius carefully leaned around the edge of the building and took a cautious peek. A group of masked thugs had gathered around a roaring fire in the center of the alley. Two of them were tossing wooden chairs and crates into the flames, making it surge even higher. Ampelius spotted the charred remains of what looked like a desk and a mattress among the burning debris. What are you guys doing? he thought, bewildered.

He studied each individual, noting they all wore black hoodies, beanies, and bandannas covering their faces. Unsure who they were or what they were capable of, he didn’t want to risk a direct confrontation. Instead, he spotted a large dumpster nearby that could provide adequate cover while he observed.

Ampelius darted over to the dumpster, adrenaline coursing through him as he ducked behind it. Feeling safely concealed, he cautiously peeked over the edge. Another thug approached the fire, tossing in a draped chair. The chair must have been soaked in something flammable because it triggered an explosion of flames that shot high into the air, flooding the alleyway with an intense glow.

The sharp smell of burnt fabric filled the air, stinging Ampelius’ nostrils and making his eyes water. He could hear the low murmur of the thugs’ voices, punctuated by the occasional snicker, each sound laced with a threat just out of reach. Every muscle in his body was tense, his senses heightened, scanning for any sign that they might spot him. The crackling of the fire seemed almost deafening in the confined alley, and he found himself holding his breath, afraid even a quiet exhale might betray his position. In the flickering glow, he could make out their features—a scuffed boot here, the glint of a knife tucked into a waistband there. Every detail hammered home the danger lurking in every corner of this city, pushing him further into the shadows.

The thugs cheered as the flames roared higher, their faces lit by the flickering light. Ampelius could feel the heat from the fire, even from his hidden spot. He watched their movements closely, trying to discern their intentions and figure out how best to avoid any potential danger.

Who are these people, and what are they trying to accomplish? he wondered. The scene was chaotic, the air thick with the acrid smell of burning wood and fabric. As he watched, he mentally noted their behavior and any distinguishing features despite their efforts to remain anonymous.

Ampelius knew he had to stay hidden and quiet, but he also needed to gather more information without getting caught. The alley was dangerous, but it might hold the clues he needed to make sense of the chaos gripping the city.

He strained to hear their conversation over the crackling fire, and snippets of dialogue began to reach his ears.

"Have you heard about the Empire's latest tech?" one thug asked, his voice muffled by his bandanna. "It's wild how much they've advanced since the old days."

"Yeah," another thug replied. "There was a time they were almost wiped out. Now, they’re ruling half the world with that new energy tech and their military might."

A third thug chuckled darkly. "Makes you wonder if they can really hold onto all that territory, though."

Ampelius took note of their words, realizing even the thugs were skeptical about the Empire's ability to maintain its grip on such a vast domain. This was crucial information; he needed to stay alert and gather as much as he could.

Five minutes later, two more thugs emerged from the shadows into the firelight. Ampelius's heart raced as he saw them dragging a body. His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, forcing down his nervousness. They pulled the body past the fire and set it down beside a utility pole—alarmingly close to his hiding spot.

His anxiety spiked, and a wave of dread washed over him. The fear of being spotted and suffering the same fate paralyzed him momentarily. The flickering firelight cast eerie shadows on the thugs' faces, amplifying their sinister intentions. His pulse pounded in his ears, but whether it was curiosity or madness, his need to understand what was happening outweighed the urge to flee.

The constant popping and crackling of the large fire muffled the voices. Still, Ampelius distinctly heard one of them say, "Iron Vandal." The name struck a chord in his memory, but its significance eluded him—until it all came rushing back.

To the Roman Empire, the Iron Vandals were a notorious and ruthless organization operating within the land of Constantina, where the city of Vetera was located. Classified as terrorists, they were blamed for countless acts of violence and disruption. Yet, the Iron Vandals saw themselves differently: a partisan movement fiercely dedicated to resisting what they viewed as an oppressive Roman occupation.

Their origins were steeped in the ashes of earlier resistance movements that had fought against Roman expansion. Rooted in a deep resentment toward the Empire's encroachment on their homeland—territory they believed was sovereign and free—the Iron Vandals' defiance only intensified under Roman rule. Over time, their methods grew more extreme, driven by the desire to reclaim their lost autonomy.

The organization operated in the shadows, using guerrilla tactics that made them a formidable foe. They were known for strategic strikes against Roman infrastructure, sabotage operations, and hit-and-run attacks on military convoys. Their intimate knowledge of the local terrain gave them a significant advantage, allowing them to evade capture and strike with precision.

Ampelius had heard stories of the Iron Vandals' exploits—tales of daring raids and explosive ambushes that had become legends among those who opposed Roman rule. Despite the Empire's efforts to crush them, the Iron Vandals remained a persistent thorn in their side, their resolve unbroken by years of brutal crackdowns.

The Empire's portrayal of the Iron Vandals as ruthless terrorists was not without merit. Their attacks often resulted in collateral damage, with innocent lives caught in the crossfire. Yet, to the Iron Vandals and their supporters, these actions were the price of liberation. They saw themselves as freedom fighters, willing to make any sacrifice to reclaim their homeland.

As Ampelius crouched behind the dumpster, the realization that these thugs were affiliated with the Iron Vandals sent a shiver down his spine. Their presence in the city hinted at larger unrest and a potential escalation of violence. The looting, the body they had dragged into the alley—it was all likely part of a broader strategy to destabilize Roman control and incite chaos.

Knowing who he was dealing with added a new layer of danger. Ampelius understood that any encounter with the Iron Vandals could be deadly. Their unwavering commitment to their cause made them unpredictable and ruthless.

When Ampelius glanced back at the body on the ground, noting the flex cuffs binding the person’s hands and the potato sack over their head. Initially, he assumed they were dead. This might be a good time to get lost, he thought, feeling a familiar surge of survival instinct. But as the body twitched, revealing faint signs of life, Ampelius was taken aback, a part of him stirring with an instinct to intervene. This might be a good time to get lost, he thought. Suddenly, the body twitched and began to move slightly. To his shock, the person was still alive!

One of the thugs noticed the movement and walked over. Bending down on one knee, they pulled off the potato sack, revealing the face of a bald, middle-aged Black man. Ampelius’ fists clenched involuntarily as he watched the captive’s pain-filled eyes meet his captors. He knew the risk of staying—of being seen—but a flicker of outrage ignited within him, challenging his instinct to stay hidden. Pragmatism prevailed as he weighed his options, but the quiet conflict lingered, adding a subtle edge of turmoil as he crouched in the shadows.

The thug began to speak, their voices rising in anger, but the roaring fire drowned out their words. Their expression grew more intense, and they started pacing back and forth, movements sharp and aggressive. The captive tried to respond; his voice strained and desperate, but the crackling fire and surrounding chaos made it impossible for Ampelius to hear.

Another thug approached, their face partially hidden by a bandanna. They pointed a finger at the captive and joined in the yelling, their voices harsh and accusatory. The two thugs now circled him, their gestures becoming more animated and hostile with each passing moment. Ampelius strained to catch any part of the conversation that might reveal what was happening, but the noise was overwhelming.

After a tense moment, the yelling ceased. One of the thugs reached behind their back and pulled out a concealed revolver, the metal gleaming ominously in the firelight. They aimed the weapon at the man, the barrel steady and menacing. With a sharp gesture, the thug ordered him to stand. Ampelius felt a visceral wave of nausea as he watched, his heart racing as he struggled to look away to avoid becoming a silent witness to what he instinctively knew would happen next.

The thug's frustration was evident. They flailed their arms, faces twisted with rage, shouting words lost in the crackle of the fire and the distant chaos. The captive's eyes darted around, desperate and fearful, but he stood firm, unable to do anything but comply.

Suddenly, there was a chilling pause in the thug's tirade. The alley fell into a tense silence, broken only by the distant sounds of the city in turmoil. The thug pressed the cold barrel of the revolver against the man's forehead, their finger hovering near the trigger. Ampelius held his breath, the gravity of the situation sinking in as he watched the terrifying scene unfold.

A gunshot rang out, and a bullet struck the man between the eyes. Blood and brain matter splattered against the wall, painting it dark red as he collapsed to the floor. The shot's echo cut through the alley, starkly contrasting the earlier chaos. The killer laughed—a chilling, hollow sound that filled the air—as the lifeless body slumped against the wall and then crumpled to the ground.

Ampelius felt frozen, watching the lifeless body slump to the ground, horrified by the callous laughter that followed. He knew he needed to move, but the scene clung to him as he backed away, each step tinged with the lingering conflict between self-preservation and the faint impulse to help.