The Lower City smelled of rust and stress. A thousand voices cascading in the narrow streets, a storm of haggling, laughter, and barely concealed desperation. The air was thick with the metallic tang of old blood, the acrid sting of alchemical fumes, and the slow rot of discarded refuse.
Ashe moved like a ghost through the chaos, keeping to the edges of the crowd, his gloved hands buried deep in his pockets. The market was always at its worst this time of day—bodies pressed together, voices overlapping into an indecipherable wall of sound, emotions spilling into the air like oil on water. He grit his teeth as they pressed against his senses.
Greed. Frustration. Hunger. Hope.
It all bled together, impossible to shut out completely. Someone brushed against her shoulder, and a wave of irritation hit her like a spark off a live wire. She pulled away before it could become more, focusing instead on weaving through the throng of people crowding around the stalls.
The market had evolved.
The old world built its wealth on oil, steel, and silicon. The new world? Chitin, venom, and raw magic carved form the hearts of hulking beasts.
Everywhere, hunters bartered for gear—exchanging fangs for bullets, toxin sacs for reinforced plating, raw cores for enchanted trinkets. The economy was a living thing, its blood made of monsters and the people desperate enough to kill them.
Ashe clenched her gloved hands.
She kept her head down as she approached a shop nestled beneath the twisted wreckage of an old-world overpass. A neon sign flickered overhead, its letters half-burned out, but he didn’t need to read it to know the kind of deal he was about to get. The man behind the counter was already watching him, a toothy grin splitting his weathered face.
Ashe dumped her satchel onto the counter. Venom sacs, brittle chitin shards, a single cracked fang. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. It had to be.
The merchant picked up one of the sacs, turning it over between his thick fingers like a gambler inspecting a loaded die. He gave a low whistle, shaking his head.
“Tough haul?” The grin never faltered, but there was an edge of amusement in his tone. “Damn shame. You know how it is, kid… they don’t make these things like they used to.”
The system notification flashed in his mind.
[Transaction Complete]
- Sold: Venom Sac (Cracked) – Grade C
- Received: 120 Credits (—30% Market Penalty Applied: “Desperate Seller”)
Ashe barely kept her expression neutral.
Last week, she would’ve gotten at least 180 credits for the same haul. But the merchants could smell weakness. They could tell when you were desperate. When you were out of options.
The man leaned forward, voice lowering just enough to sound conspiratorial. “Next time, try and bring me some better stuff, alright? That batch from last week wasn’t half bad. But this?” He tossed the cracked fang back onto the pile with a mock sigh. “Looks like you put it through the grinder.”
Ashe said nothing. Just took the meager handful of credits and turned away before the man could feel her frustration, too.
She pushed back into the crowd, letting it swallow her whole. The city pressed against her—every glance, every muttered exchange, every stray emotion sinking into her skin like poison. She kept moving, forcing herself to breathe, to not drown in it.
Just had to get home.
[Location: Old Carson, Lower City – (Residential)]
The apartment complex was a mess of rusted metal and patchwork repairs, but it still stood, which was more than could be said for some places.
Ashe climbed the side ladder, skipping the broken rungs from muscle memory. As she neared the window, voices leaked through the thin walls.
Angry voices.
She froze, his breath catching as the emotions inside crashed over him. Anxiety. Fear. Frustration, hot and crackling like static.
“We’ve been very generous, Mrs. D’witt . More than generous.” A slow, deliberate sigh followed, laced with condescension. “But generosity doesn’t pay debts. Generosity is not what I’m paid for. You understand, don’t you?”
Ashe shifted to peer through the window. A man in a corporate vest stood by the table, flipping through a ledger like he was bored. The claims adjuster. Ashe had seen him before, and each time, his hairline had receded further, his eyes darker, hollower.
Saul stood beside their mother, arms tense, fists clenched. Rage twitched at his temples.
“Please,” their mother said, voice tight. “Just a little more time—”
The man clicked his tongue. “Time is a luxury very few can afford. Time doesn’t clear debts. Either you pay soon, or we’ll have to take… alternative measures.”
Ashe didn’t like the way he said that.
Their mother stiffened, fear rolling off her in waves. “You wouldn’t.”
The man smiled. “Wouldn’t I? It is my job, after all.”
Saul’s knuckles turned white. “Then what do you expect us to do? Pull the credits out of our a—”
The ledger snapped shut. “That’s not my problem.” The man turned toward the door—Ashe barely moved in time to avoid being spotted as he passed. “But I hear monster hunting is quite profitable. And very popular with your… ilk.”
The footsteps faded, and Aren slipped inside.
Silence hung thick in the room.
Then Saul slammed a fist against the table. “That bastard! I can’t believe he—This isn’t working. We can’t keep doing this!”
Their mother exhaled shakily. “Don’t worry. We’ll get through this. We always do.” She tried to smile, but the tears broke through.
Saul hesitated. “Then… maybe he’s right. Maybe I should become a hunter—”
“We’ve talked about this before, Saul!”
“I know, I know! But we need the credits! At this rate, we’ll—”
“No! Never again… I won’t. I can’t.”
“But Mom—”
“NO.”
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Saul flinched at the sharpness in her voice. He saw her hands trembling. “Not after what happened to that poor boy. What almost happened to Ashe.”
Ashe tensed, pulling her gloves tighter. Then she stepped back—out of the doorway, out of the argument.
The air in the next room was thick with medicine and regret. The oil lamp on the nightstand flickered weakly, casting jagged shadows over the peeling walls.
Ashe stood by the bedside, looking down at the frail form beneath the blankets. Her breathing was shallow, her once-strong hands now brittle and fragile.
She was slipping away. He could feel it.
She pulled off one glove, her fingers hovering just inches above her wrist. If she touched her—if she reached out just a little more—she would feel everything. The exhaustion buried deep in her bones. The fever burning beneath her skin. The pain, the weariness, the quiet resignation.
At the last moment, he pulled away.
Her hand curled into a fist. She didn’t need the curse to tell him what he already knew.
Saul was wrong.
They didn’t need another hunter.
What they needed was a miracle.
And miracles always had a cost.
A board creaked behind him as the door shifted. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
“I thought I heard you skulking around.”
Elizabeth leaned against the frame, arms crossed, her expression light, teasing. But, even so, Ashe felt her sadness. Elizabeth always smiled, but lately it never reached her eyes.
“So… you get your favorite sister anything good today?”
“Nothing… Not enough. Not even close.”
“It’s fine. We’ll figure something out.” She nudged Ashe. “There’s always tomorrow, you know.”
They both knew that was a lie. But it felt good to say it all the same.
The numbers were simple.
The medicine they needed—350,000 credits per vial.
Over the past few months, they had gathered maybe 15,000 credits. After taxes… who knew?
The truth was, no amount of scavenging would fix this. Not in time. But there was another way.
“I hear your brother wants to become a monster hunter,” Ashe said. “You think it’s a good idea?”
Elizabeth shook her head emphatically, “He’s your brother too you know! I don’t wanna be the only one related to that knucklehead around here!” Taking a step closer she added, “and there's more to life than fighting monsters. I know it’s always been your dream and all— to be the biggest, baddest - - greatest — hunter of them all!. To be the greatest hero ever.”
Ashe stiffened.
“But not all heroes run around slaying dragons,” she made a wide dramatic gesture, “some just spoil their baby sisters!” Her voice became low, intimate, sincere. “I think you’re a hero just the way you are.”
Elizabeth's words cut like a dagger. Those words may have rung true once upon a time. But not now. Not after everything that happened…
“Maybe…” Ashe turned toward the small, cracked mirror in the corner, staring at the face reflected back at her.
She wasn’t sure who she was looking at when she whispered, “That’s right, You always wanted to be a hero, didn’t you?”
Maybe it was time to make your dream come true..
Just then, Grandma Ellus suddenly jerked forward, wracked by a violent fit of coughs that echoed through the cramped apartment.
The sound was wet and ragged, each wheeze scraping against her throat as if she were drowning in air. Her frail hands clutched at the threadbare blanket, fingers trembling as she convulsed. The spasms came fast, one after another, her chest rising and falling in a desperate struggle to breathe.
“Grandma—!”
Before Ashe could reach her, their mother was already there, pressing a damp cloth to the old woman’s forehead, whispering soft reassurances that neither of them believed.
“Just breathe, Mama. Slowly, slowly—”
But it wasn’t enough. Without the medicine, there was no stopping it.
Her body shook harder, her gasps turning into choked wheezes. The veins in her frail neck stood out like worn cables, her lips tinged with a sickly shade of blue.
She was suffocating.
“Take Elizabeth out of here!” their mother snapped, her voice thick with fear.
Ashe hesitated for only a second before grabbing Elizabeth's hand and pulling her toward the door. The last thing she saw before it slammed shut was they mother, her hands trembling as she held their grandmother close, whispering prayers that had long lost their power.
The moment they were outside, the only sound was the muffled coughing from behind the door—wet, horrible, unrelenting.
Elizabeth's grip on her arm tightened. She was shaking.
“Ash… do you think Grandma Ellus will be okay?” Her voice was small, fragile in a way that made his chest ache.
Ashe swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing down the answer she wanted to give and replacing it with the only one she could.
“She’ll be alright,” she said. And then, softer, almost to himself, “I’ll make sure of it.”
She knew what had to be done. But the question was was she up to the task?
Ashe waited until the house was silent.
She laid still, listening to the shallow rhythm of Grandma Ellus’ breath. The old woman muttered something in her sleep, shifting beneath the patchwork blankets, and Ash froze. The dim glow of a dying lantern cast long shadows across the tiny room, stretching over the sleeping forms of the only people in the world who still cared about them.
Ashe’s throat tightened.
Too late for second thoughts.
Careful not to let the floorboards creak, she moved. Step. Shift weight. Pause. A practiced rhythm, one that had taken years to master. The window was just ahead—its frame warped, the lock worn from years of use. Ashe pressed their thumb against the edge, applying just enough pressure.
Click.
A soft breath of night air slipped through the crack. She cast one last glance over her shoulder—still asleep. Still safe.
Then she was gone.
By day, Los Argos was suffocating—too loud, too crowded, too much. The press of bodies, the storm of emotions clinging to every surface, the endless tide of voices crashing against their mind like waves on jagged rock.
But at night?
At night the streets were different—Tolerable even.
Ashe pulled her hood lower, shoulders easing as the cool air bit at her skin. No jostling crowds. No eyes lingering too long. No uninvited emotions bleeding into her own. For once, her thoughts were just that—her own.
Yet her mind refused to settle.
Could she really do this?
Maybe it was too soon. Maybe Kathleen had been right.
Her fingers twitched against the worn leather of her gloves, a phantom sensation crawling beneath her skin.
No.
She was here now. Too late to turn back.
A dull glow flickered across her vision.
[System Notification: Entering Unregulated Zone]
[Warning: This area is not maintained by the Guild or City Authorities].
Threat Level: Unknown. Proceed with caution.
The message was impersonal, routine—but it made her stomach twist all the same.
The city lights faded behind her as she passed the crumbling edge of the exclusion zone. Here, the ruins swallowed the last glow of civilization.
The streets, once paved and orderly, had long since been overtaken by creeping vines and shattered stone.
A place abandoned when the first waves of monsters came, left to rot when the guilds had drawn their borders and claimed the safer dungeons for themselves.
This was not one of them.
This was where the world frayed at the edges. Where things crawled out of the dark and never went back.
Ashe adjusted her gloves, but the gesture did little to steady the trembles of her hands. Even now, the whispers clung to them—faint traces soaked into the stone, the echoes of lives lost long before they were born.
She swallowed hard and kept walking.
It lay beneath the ruins of a collapsed building—a jagged wound in reality, thrumming with sickly light.
Ashe stopped at the threshold. Cold air seeped from the rift, carrying a scent she couldn’t quite name. Not rot. Not metal. Something between. The very air seemed wrong here, pressing against their skin like an unseen weight.
Her breath came unsteady. The memories flooding back. She had sworn never to return to a place like this.
Not after last time.
Her fingers curled around the worn hilt of the dagger, its grip familiar, grounding. A weapon wouldn’t help. Deep down she knew that.
It wasn’t the monsters she feared.
It was the whispers.
Always there. Always waiting. But much stronger in the dungeons…
The moment she stepped inside, they would come flooding back—the weight of countless minds, the press of thoughts that weren’t their own, the echoes of people who had long since vanished.
They always did.
Ashe exhaled slowly.
Then, before doubt could take hold, she stepped into the brink. The portal’s light collapsed around her, swallowing her whole.