Ticking Time Bomb

The second Nall lunged, its steam-driven gauntlet hissing as it descended toward Mirak. He raised his remaining hand, summoning a shield of Atta, and the Nall's fist collided with it. The shield held for only a moment before the mechanical mechanism whirred, releasing a hammer-like piston that slammed into a shard of purple resin embedded within. The resin shattered, releasing a surge of energy that erupted in a violent arc.

Electricity crackled and danced along the shield, shooting into Mirak's body. Heat and searing pain coursed through his good arm, his muscles spasming uncontrollably. Gritting his teeth, Mirak stumbled backward, fighting to stay upright.

Nearby, the other Nall let out a hiss of steam as it unleashed a burst of flame from its gauntlet, bathing Damion in fire. The hulking monstrosity didn't flinch. With an animalistic snarl, Damion lashed out, his massive arm crushing the Nall in a single, devastating blow. The staircase beneath them groaned and buckled under the force.

The first Nall, taking advantage of Mirak's momentary distraction, surged forward. Steam poured from its gauntlets as both fists aimed for him—one targeting his head, the other his ribs. Mirak barely had time to react. He raised his arm to shield his head, but the other fist slammed into his stomach, sending a sickening crack through his ribs. Pain flared as he staggered backward, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

Desperation clawed at him. Thin tendrils of Atta mist unfurled from his fingertips, weaving into piercing threads. The threads lashed out, striking the Nall's exposed leather armor, puncturing both hide and skin. The construct let out a mechanical groan and collapsed at his feet. But even as it fell, its joints remained intact, untouched by the Atta threads.

Mirak reached down and pried the gauntlet mechanism from the Nall's limp arm. He latched it onto his own arm with a satisfying click. It was crude but functional—and leaving it behind wasn't an option.

Behind him, the sound of heavy, uneven footsteps signaled Menis's arrival. The arachnid-like sorcerer appeared, battered and grim, with only two of his mechanical legs intact. Ice clung to one side of his body, and in his free hand, he carried one of his severed limbs like a trophy.

"I should have known," Menis said, his voice low and amused, "that they'd bring resin into play. Makes everything more lively, doesn't it?"

Mirak winced as he pressed a hand to his ribs. "Right. Lively. I felt that last one, Menis. You look about as good as I feel."

Menis let out a sharp laugh. "I may have gotten… carried away. The amethyst resin they used wasn't cheap. Surprising they'd waste it on us."

Mirak grunted, his voice laced with irritation. "We're taking every last shard of resin in their vault. Call it compensation."

Menis surveyed their surroundings, his gaze sharp. "Your mist dropped. The Saki and other guards will be swarming soon."

Mirak glanced at Damion, whose towering frame loomed nearby, his armor slightly scorched but otherwise unharmed. "Then we'd better move. Straight to the vault."

Menis nodded, his earlier battle high finally subsiding. "Agreed. Let's make this quick."

The sounds of approaching guards echoed from above. Mirak didn't bother counting—there were far too many. Menis waved a hand. "Damion will hold them off. Let's go."

A primal roar erupted from Damion, shaking the very walls as the hulking beast charged into the fray. The carnage was immediate, the sound of armor crumpling and screams filling the air as the monstrous creature tore into the ranks of guards. Mirak suppressed a wince at the brutality, his focus on the stairs leading down to the vault.

The lower depths of the bank were quieter but no less ominous. The dim lighting revealed glittering shards of resin scattered across the floor and shelves. Each crystal shimmered faintly with contained energy, casting eerie reflections on the stone walls. Mirak tread carefully, every step deliberate. The resin beneath their feet was as dangerous as it was beautiful—a single misstep could ignite an explosion.

And then, finally, they reached their prize: a pair of steel doors, thick and unyielding, adorned with the sigil of House Hesteran. These doors, locked by a seal only a Highlord could break, concealed untold amounts of resin. The Revenant had planned this heist for months, but even with all their preparations, the sight of the vault was daunting.

"There were more guards than expected," Menis muttered, his gaze sweeping the darkened hallway. "Even Nalls. Something feels… off."

Mirak's hand twitched toward his blade as he scanned the shadows. Movement flickered at the edge of his vision. "Did you see that?" he asked, his voice low and tense.

Menis shook his head. "Probably just the darkness playing tricks on you. Focus, Mirak. We're wasting time."

Mirak gestured toward the steel door. "How do we get in?"

Menis pulled a set of lockpicks from his pouch and approached the door with a smirk. "Looks like we're doing this the old-fashioned way. Let's see if I still have it."

He crouched before the door, his fingers deftly working the mechanism. The faint clicking of tumblers echoed in the silence. "Damn thing," Menis hissed. "This is one of the more advanced models. Always gave me trouble."

"Just get it done," Mirak said, his eyes fixed on the corridor behind them. His ribs throbbed painfully, but he ignored it. The feeling of unease from earlier hadn't left him.

As the minutes stretched on, Mirak leaned against the wall. "Menis, do you ever feel like we're in over our heads?"

Menis paused mid-click, glancing up. "Not since Damion and I joined the Revenant. We accepted the invitation just like you."

Mirak raised an eyebrow. "And yet, here we are—breaking into a vault guarded by half an army and playing with enough resin to blow the entire district sky-high."

Menis grinned faintly. "What's life without a little risk? You're young, Mirak. You'll learn to thrive on it. Damion and I did."

Mirak's curiosity got the better of him. "How did Damion end up like that?"

Menis's grin faded, his expression darkening. "Now's not the time for stories."

Mirak gestured to the door. "We're standing here doing nothing but waiting on your lockpicks. Humor me."

Menis clicked his tongue but didn't argue. "We were boys, growing up on the outskirts of Saguntum. A small village with no importance to anyone. Like your hometown, probably—tight-knit, simple, full of dreamers."

"Damion was one of those dreamers," Menis continued. "He wanted to be a knight of Spata, swooping in to rescue princesses. There was a girl—Arrani. Golden-haired, kind. Damion was smitten, and she loved him just as much. They were perfect together."

Mirak nodded. "Sounds idyllic. What happened?"

Menis's expression hardened. "A man came into town—a snake with a silver tongue. He promised riches and power, and the mayor—Arrani's father—fell for it. Damion, ever the romantic fool, thought he could impress the mayor by using Anntom."

"Anntom?" Mirak asked, his stomach sinking.

Menis nodded grimly. "The Essence of Change, taught by the Church of the Lady of Flesh. Damion didn't understand the danger. He used it to reshape himself—become more beautiful, more noble. It worked. For a time, he had everything he wanted."

"And then?"

Menis's hands stilled on the lock. "Anntom taints the soul. The more you use it, the more it takes from you. Damion lost control. He became… what you see now."

Mirak stared at him. "And yet, you stayed with him."

Menis resumed his work, his voice quieter. "He's still there, beneath it all. I'll find a way to free him. No matter the cost."

A final click echoed as the lock disengaged. Menis pushed the steel doors open, revealing a breathtaking sight. Resin of every color imaginable filled the vault, stacked in massive piles that stretched to the ceiling. The energy in the air was almost suffocating.

Menis tossed a bag to Mirak. "No time to gawk. Let's grab what we can and blow the rest."

The two worked quickly, stuffing resin into their bags. It barely made a dent in the vault's contents, but it was enough for their needs. The rest was piled together in the center of the room, ready to be destroyed.

Menis laughed, his voice tinged with exhilaration. "This will be a sight to remember."

Mirak adjusted the strap of his bag. "Let's hope Damion's still standing."

A sharp whistle from Menis summoned the beast, whose thundering steps echoed down the corridor. Mirak glanced back at the volatile pile of resin. "I'll detonate it once we're clear."

Menis nodded. "Let's just hope the explosion doesn't take us with it."

But as they turned to leave, the floor beneath them began to shift. Dark, inky blotches spread across the walls and floor like creeping shadows.

Mirak hissed under his breath, his body tensing. "Menis…"