Chapter 2: Bugs and Blades

Roen Kast stood on the cracked stone platform atop the watchtower, sword in hand, chest heaving like he'd just run a marathon on a busted leg. The mist swirled thick around him, cold and damp, clinging to his skin like a bad memory. That glowing orb—the Gray Mist Island Core—sat there on its dais, taunting him with its faint blue pulse. Seventy-some hours left, the system said, and he wasn't about to let a pack of oversized mutts stop him from grabbing it. Problem was, the big wolf wasn't keen on sharing. It loomed a few feet away, teeth bared, growling deep enough to rattle his bones.

Then there was Liya—this loudmouth mercenary who'd crashed the party like she owned the place. She'd taken down one wolf with a laugh and a stab, all swagger and chest-thumping, only to lose her damn mind over a bug that wasn't even there. Now she was hopping around, swatting at her leg, sword flailing like she was fighting a ghost. "Get it off! Get it off!" she yelped, her voice cracking into a pitch Roen didn't think possible from someone her size.

"You serious?" he said, dodging a snap from the lead wolf's jaws. "It's imaginary, you lunatic!" He swung his rusted sword—more a glorified stick than a blade—and caught the beast's snout, buying a second to breathe. Liya glared at him, red-faced, then straightened up like nothing happened, brushing her wild hair back with a huff.

"Shut it, kid," she snapped, hefting her longsword. "I'm saving your ass, so show some gratitude!" She charged the nearest wolf, all bravado again, slamming her blade into its side with a grunt. The thing yelped and staggered, giving Roen a clear shot at the dais. He didn't waste it—bolted forward, heart pounding, the core so close he could almost feel it.

Almost wasn't good enough. Another wolf cut him off, lunging with claws out. He dove, rolling across the stone, and came up swearing. "Damn it, these things don't quit!" His architect brain kicked in—old reflexes from sketching blueprints under deadlines. The platform wasn't big, maybe twenty feet across, but it had edges, cracks, a slope on one side where the tower's roof had caved. If he could use that, maybe—

"Kid, move!" Liya shouted, barreling past him. She tackled the wolf like a linebacker, both of them tumbling toward the edge. Roen winced as they went over, a crash echoing up from below, followed by Liya's voice: "Ha! Still kicking, you mangy bastard!" She climbed back up, scratched and grinning, her sword dripping red. "Told you, old lady's got this!"

Roen shook his head, half-impressed, half-exasperated. "Yeah, sure, you're a legend—watch the bugs." She shot him a look that could've melted steel, but he was already moving. Two wolves left, including the big one, and they weren't happy. The system panel flickered in his peripheral vision: 71 hours, 53 minutes, 47 seconds. Time was bleeding away, and he needed that core now.

He scanned the tower top again, eyes catching on the stairwell he'd come up. The steps were rickety, half-collapsed—shoddy work, he'd have fired the crew that built it—but the frame was stone, solid enough. An idea clicked. Back on Earth, he'd once rigged a scaffold to drop a load of bricks on a rival's truck—petty revenge for stealing a contract. Same principle here. Trap the wolves, get to the core.

"Liya!" he yelled, dodging another lunge. "Get 'em over by the stairs!"

She didn't ask why, just grinned wider. "You got a plan, huh? Alright, kid, watch this!" She charged, roaring like a lunatic, and herded the smaller wolf toward the stairwell with wild swings. Roen circled the big one, keeping its attention, leading it step by step. Its eyes narrowed, hackles up, but it followed—too pissed to think straight. Perfect.

They hit the spot at the same time. Liya's wolf stumbled onto the stairs, and Roen ducked under the leader's swipe, rolling to the side. He grabbed a loose chunk of stone—damn thing weighed more than it should've—and hurled it at the stairwell's support beam. It wasn't elegant, wasn't precise, but it didn't have to be. The beam cracked, groaned, and then the whole mess came down with a satisfying crunch. Dust exploded upward, the wolves yelping as stone pinned them in the rubble. Not dead, but stuck—good enough.

"Holy hell," Liya said, coughing through the dust, staring at the mess. "You're crazier than me, kid. I like it!" She slapped his shoulder hard enough to make him wince, then froze, eyes darting to her boot. "Wait—something moved! Bug! Bug!" She hopped again, flailing, and Roen couldn't hold it in—he laughed, a raw, ragged sound that felt good after all this shit.

"It's gravel, you idiot," he said, shaking his head. "You're gonna get us killed over nothing." She glared, muttering something about "no respect," but he was already turning to the dais. The core glowed brighter now, cracks pulsing like it was alive. He stepped closer, hand hovering over it, half-expecting it to bite. The system chimed:

System Notification: Core absorption ready. Proceed? Warning: Hostiles detected nearby.

"Hostiles?" Roen muttered, glancing back. The rubble shifted—those wolves weren't out yet, just pissed off. And who knew what else was coming? The Kast family wouldn't let their exile die quietly; that much he'd gleaned from the memories. Seventy-two hours was a death sentence unless he got ahead of it. He clenched his jaw, architect mind spinning. A core meant power—structural power, if this system was anything like the engineering he knew. Evolve the castle, it said. Turn this pile of junk into something real.

"Yeah, proceed," he said, pressing his hand to the orb. It was cold, then hot, then buzzing like a live wire. Light flared, blinding him, and a jolt shot up his arm, sharp enough to make him swear. The tower trembled—stones grinding, dust raining down—and he stumbled back, blinking spots from his eyes. The dais cracked open, the core sinking into it, and the system panel updated:

System Notification: Core absorption complete. Crack Void Hub evolving. Stage 1: Basic Defensive Structure initiated. New function unlocked: Detection Aura. Evolution in progress—estimated completion: 12 hours.

"Twelve hours?" Roen said, voice tight. "You're telling me I've got to sit here babysitting this thing while it—what, rebuilds itself?" The ground shook again, and he grabbed the dais for balance. The wolves howled from the rubble, louder now, claws scraping. Liya spun, sword up, her grin fading.

"Uh, kid," she said, backing toward him. "Your little trap's not holding. And I think I hear more coming." She pointed into the mist, where shadows moved—too many, too fast. Roen's gut twisted. The Kast family, or their hired blades, weren't wasting time. Seventy-one hours left, and now he had a half-baked tower, a crazy mercenary, and a swarm of trouble closing in.

"Great," he muttered, picking up the rusted sword again. "Guess we're holding the fort." He glanced at Liya, who'd gone quiet, eyes darting between the shadows and her boots like she was waiting for another bug attack. "You in, bug lady?"

She snorted, hefting her blade. "Old lady doesn't run, kid. But if a centipede shows up, you're on your own." She flashed that wild grin again, and Roen couldn't help a smirk. Crazy as she was, she'd stuck around. Maybe he wasn't as alone as he'd thought.

The tower groaned behind them, stones shifting, glowing faintly as the evolution kicked in. Roen tightened his grip, staring into the mist. Whatever was coming, he'd meet it head-on. He'd built things from scratch before—high-rises, bridges, dreams. This was just another project, right? Only this time, the stakes were his life.