Gunshots thundered through the undercity’s alleys—not one or two, but a cacophony of overlapping blasts, a clumsy rondo carving into concrete walls as they closed in on the woman.

  The hunter cornered the prey. Reloading her pistol’s magazine, the woman leaned against a wall, wiping blood from her cheek with the back of her hand, gritting her teeth. Outnumbered, she faced twenty-nine men firing wildly, their killing intent surging like a muddy torrent, undeterred even after she shot one down.

  Where had she gone wrong? Protecting her swollen belly, she fired her gun, spent casings scattering into the air.

  No, she’d always been wrong. Every critical choice led to mistakes, each one costing her something—her parents, her freedom, her purity. This time, too, she should’ve accepted her fate, let the situation carry her. Then she wouldn’t be facing death now.

  Click—a bullet jammed in the chamber. No matter how she pulled the lightened trigger, the hammer spun uselessly, failing to strike the primer. Frantically sliding the barrel to clear the jam, her inexperienced hands fumbled, and as her focus wavered, a mechanical arm swung down on her head.

  Unbearable pain and a flashing vision—black and white flickering, stars dancing. Blood gushed, staining her beautiful blonde hair crimson. The man, his body entirely mechanical—a member of the Crucible of Carnal Desire—grabbed her neck, slamming her against the concrete wall. His mechanical eye, a red dot crawling within, glared at her.

  “Choose,” he growled.

  “—!” she gasped.

  “Go back or not. Die here with your belly sliced open, or return and birth that child. One or the other. That’s your choice, you filthy speck. Don’t dare dream of freedom, fool.”

  She struck his mechanical arm, glaring at the full-cyborg man. Aiming her pistol at his brow, she pulled the trigger, but only a pathetic metallic clank echoed. Kicking his stomach, scratching until her nails tore, her blood-soaked hands weakened as his grip on her throat loosened. Coughing, she collapsed onto the asphalt.

  “Birth it, and we’ll give you your next job. Spread your legs for clients as usual, earn money. Pay off your debt, and we’ll set you free. Simple enough, right, Aeshma?”

  “Shut up…! This child, I—we’re not here for you! I won’t let the Crucible take my baby! Don’t mess with me!” Tenebrae shouted.

  A steel leg kicked Tenebrae’s cheek, grabbing her golden hair like a vice.

  “Don’t get it wrong, whore. This is mercy. We want that brat in your belly. You’re just like the other brothel sluts—worthless meat. No… a meat sack, existing only to sate desire. That’s what you are, Tenebrae.”

  The crawling red dot of his mechanical eye fixed on her, his breath, reeking of machine fuel, assaulting her nostrils. A flesh-and-blood human, unenhanced by cybernetic limbs, stood no chance against a full-cyborg. Countless prostitutes had fled the pleasure district’s brothels, only to be caught, beaten, and—those who resisted—turned into limbless dolls, their tongues and eyes gouged out, reduced to tools for lust. Tenebrae knew this all too well.

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  Yet she spat in his face, glaring. Better to be a limbless doll, stripped of everything, than to let her unborn child suffer. If caught, her baby would become another tool for the pleasure district’s desires, used until death, discarded with pig feed. That… she had to prevent, even at the cost of her life.

  “…” The mechanical arm whirred, a dull, blood-stained, rust-red blade unfolding. “Die, whore.” The blade was thrust toward Aeshma’s belly.

  A slight movement would slice her open, the fetus torn out in a brutal cesarean by death’s emperor. Whether to take or kill the child was up to the man. Yet the blade didn’t budge an inch, frozen in place.

  “Not bad, Tenebrae,” he sneered.

  “…”

  Tenebrae’s back teeth clamped onto a pill—a disguised detonator for the small bomb hidden in her body, taken when she fled.

  Crushing the pill would activate the explosive, powerful enough to blow her and her fetus to bits.

  “What’s that? Think it’ll make us let you go? Stop dreaming, Tenebrae. Die with your kid—satisfied with that?”

  “…If you’d take my child, if you’d show them this shitty world, I’d rather kill them before they know the undercity! With me!”

  She wanted to protect her child but knew she lacked the strength. A weakling in the undercity, always making wrong choices, swept along by fate. Even if she escaped now, she and her child would eventually be prey for the strong. Yet, as a human… as a mother, she wanted to protect her child’s freedom.

  A deep sigh, and a gun barrel pressed against her forehead. The mechanical arm’s muzzle aimed precisely at her brow, ready to fire scattershot.

  “—!”

  Instinctively twisting away, a single pellet pierced Tenebrae’s right eye, crushing it. Blood poured, staining her with red, her anguished scream echoing through the alley.

  “You made the wrong choice, Tenebrae,” the man said.

  Lifting her by the neck, he threw her, steel creaking as he approached.

  “Die. Don’t worry… I’ll carve that brat out of your corpse.”

  He grinned grotesquely.

  Spitting out a broken tooth, crawling across the ground, Tenebrae looked like a caterpillar to him. Her swollen, once-beautiful face stoked his sadistic urge. Step by step, he closed in, eager to break her spirit. Firing as he advanced, chasing the crawling Tenebrae, a laser pointer fixed on his brow.

  “Men… shouldn’t they protect women and kids? That’s what I think, full-cyborg,” a voice called.

  A shot from a man leaning out a building window blew the cyborg’s head to pieces.

  “Hey, miss, you okay? Hang on, I’ll deal with these guys,” the man said.

  Pushing up his hat’s brim with steel fingers, sporting a stubbled grin, he draped his coat over Tenebrae. “Chikuan! Take care of this lady!” he shouted, shoving her into the building before charging to face the pursuers.

  “…”

  “You,” a voice said.

  “—!” Tenebrae flinched.

  “Whoa, don’t tense up like that. Relax, that guy’s not an enemy. Me… well, who knows?”

  “That man—”

  “An outdated cowboy, he calls himself.”

  “Cowboy…? What’s that?”

  “No surprise you don’t know. I don’t know much either. But whenever someone asks, that’s how he answers, friend or foe.”

  The man called Chikuan, red lines flashing across his dual mechanical eyes, placed a mechanical arm on Tenebrae’s wounds.

  “What’s your name, miss?”

  “…”

  “Not that I care to know, but he’ll nag me if I don’t ask.”

  “First—”

  “Huh?”

  “Shouldn’t you introduce yourselves first? Hah… what, planning to betray me later?”

  “Name’s Chikuan. Usually a doctor in the mid-level city, but sometimes I help that guy. Reward? Can’t say more, sorry, miss.”

  “…”

  Precision prosthetics unfolded from his mechanical arm, sealing and treating Tenebrae’s wounds.

  “Ask the outdated cowboy his name yourself. He’ll like that better,” Chikuan said, chuckling in exasperation.