Chapter 4: Edge of Survival

Roen Kast stood at the edge of the cracked platform, the rusted sword trembling in his grip as the mist parted like a curtain on a bad play. Eight soldiers marched out of the fog, their dark armor clanking, swords gleaming with a menace that said they weren't here to chat. The Kast family crest—a snarling hawk—flashed on their chestplates, a reminder of the folks who'd dumped him on this rock to die. Behind him, the Crack Void Hub groaned and glowed, its evolution chugging along like some half-baked construction project. Eleven hours and change left, the system said, and Roen figured he'd be lucky to survive the next eleven minutes.

"Kid, these ain't wolves," Liya said, her voice low, all traces of her bug-flailing nonsense gone. She gripped her longsword two-handed, boots planted wide, her scarred face set hard. "Family reunion?"

"Yeah, the kind where they bring steel instead of cake," Roen muttered, eyeing the slope where he'd sent the wolves tumbling. The soldiers were already fanning out, two heading for the crumbled stairwell, the rest circling toward the platform's edge. No words, no threats—just cold efficiency. He'd seen that look on site foremen right before they fired somebody. These guys weren't here to take chances.

The tower shook under his feet, stones shifting as the blue glow spread up the walls. The system panel flickered: 11 hours, 57 minutes, 48 seconds. Detection Aura active—hostiles: 8 combatants, 50 meters and closing. Roen's stomach knotted, but that last wolf fight had lit something in him—a spark of control he hadn't felt since waking up in this mess. He'd trapped those mutts, grabbed the core, started this evolution. He wasn't just a waste lord anymore—he was a guy with a shot, and he'd be damned if he let these bastards take it away.

"Liya, edge!" he barked, nodding at the slope. "Push 'em off like the wolves—high ground's ours." His architect brain was spinning—platforms like this were all about leverage. Narrow access, steep drop, a bottleneck if they played it right. He'd once sketched a rooftop deck with a railing that doubled as a barricade; same idea here, just uglier.

She grinned, wild and sharp. "You're a crazy little shit, kid. I love it!" She lunged toward the slope, blade swinging like she was chopping firewood, aiming for the first soldier climbing up. Roen darted to the other side, where two more were scrambling over the rubble of the stairwell. His sword was a joke—dull, bent, barely holding together—but he swung it anyway, aiming for a helmet. It clanged off with a pathetic scrape, and the soldier barely flinched, thrusting a blade at Roen's gut.

"Shit!" Roen twisted, the tip grazing his ribs, slicing through his rags. Pain flared, hot and sharp, but he didn't have time to care. He kicked out, catching the guy's knee, and shoved with everything he had. The soldier stumbled, arms windmilling, and went over the edge with a yell that cut off fast. One down. Roen panted, blood trickling down his side, and turned to the second soldier already on him.

Liya's side wasn't quiet either. She roared, clashing steel with the climber, her blade sparking off his armor. "Come on, you tin-can bastard!" she shouted, driving her shoulder into him. He staggered, boots slipping on the slope, and she kicked him hard in the chest. He tumbled, crashing into the rocks below with a crunch. "That's two for old lady!" she crowed, spinning to face the next one scaling up.

Roen's second guy was smarter—blocked his swing, grabbed his arm, and yanked him forward. Roen's feet slid, the edge looming close, and for a second he saw it: falling, breaking on the rocks like a dropped blueprint. "Not today," he growled, slamming his forehead into the soldier's nose. Cartilage crunched, blood sprayed, and the guy reeled back, clutching his face. Roen shoved him off, watching him roll down the rubble with a thud.

"Headbutts, kid?" Liya called, laughing as she parried another soldier's thrust. "You're a damn animal!" She was holding her own, but three more were climbing now, and the last two were circling the platform's rim, looking for an angle. Eight was too many—they'd get swarmed if this kept up.

The tower jolted, a pulse of blue light rippling out from the dais. Roen stumbled, catching himself on the stone, and the system chimed: Detection Aura enhanced—hostiles mapped. A faint outline flickered in his vision—red dots marking the soldiers, their positions glowing through the mist. Five left: three on Liya's slope, two creeping up his side. His architect mind latched onto it—layout maps, site plans, knowing where the beams hit the ground. "Liya, three on you—left's weakest!" he yelled.

"Got it!" she hollered, pivoting to the leftmost soldier. Her blade crashed down, splitting his guard, and a quick shove sent him sliding off. "Three for me, kid—keep up!" The other two pressed her hard, swords flashing, pushing her back toward the dais.

Roen's pair lunged together, coordinated like they'd done this before. He ducked one blade, parried the other with a clang that nearly snapped his sword, and scrambled back. The platform's edge was his friend—had to be. He feinted right, then dove left, rolling toward a pile of loose stones. Grabbing one, he chucked it at the closer soldier's helmet—crack, right in the visor. The guy flinched, and Roen tackled him, both of them slamming into the second soldier. They teetered, a tangle of limbs and steel, and Roen kicked out, sending them both over with a yell that echoed into the mist.

He hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of him, staring at the sky as dust settled. Five down. His side burned, blood soaking his rags, but he was alive. Alive and winning. A grin split his face, ragged and real. "Take that, you Kast pricks," he rasped, pushing himself up. He'd built this win—rigged it like a scaffold under pressure, and it held.

Liya's yell snapped him back. She was pinned near the dais, two soldiers hammering her guard. One blade grazed her arm, blood dripping, but she laughed through it, shoving back. "Come on, you assholes, that all you got?" Roen grabbed his sword—bent to hell now—and ran, adrenaline drowning the pain. He swung at the rear soldier's legs, a sloppy hit, but it tripped him up. Liya seized the chance, driving her blade through the guy's chest, then spun and kicked the last one off the slope.

Silence hit, heavy and sudden, broken only by their gasps and the tower's hum. The mist swallowed the bodies below, leaving nothing but bloodstains and Roen's pounding heart. Liya leaned on her sword, grinning like a madwoman, blood trickling down her arm. "Four for me, kid. You're at—what, three?"

"Four," he corrected, wincing as he pressed his side. "Double-teamed the last two. Math's not your thing, huh?" She laughed, loud and rough, and he couldn't help smirking back. The system chimed, a cold voice cutting through:

System Notification: Hostiles neutralized: 8 Kast Family Enforcers. Crack Void Hub Evolution Progress: 11 hours, 56 minutes, 33 seconds. Stage 1 completion will enhance defensive capabilities. Warning: Additional threats detected—500 meters, unidentified.

"Unidentified," Roen muttered, wiping sweat and blood off his face. "That's just great." The red dots were gone from his vision, but the new warning sat like a rock in his gut. More coming—maybe worse. He glanced at the tower—walls were taller now, cracks sealing, the glow brighter. It was growing, slow but sure, and that Detection Aura had just saved their asses.

Liya slumped against the dais, catching her breath. "You're a damn menace, kid. Dropping rocks, headbutting—where'd a waste lord learn that?"

"Built stuff," Roen said, easing down beside her. "Towers, bridges—rigged a scaffold to drop bricks on a guy once. Same deal." He smirked, the memory sharp—some jerk who'd poached a contract, eating dust under a pile of clay. This was bigger, bloodier, but the thrill was the same. He'd held the line, turned this death trap into something his.

She raised an eyebrow, then winced, swatting her boot. "Thought I felt—nah, just blood. No bugs." She sighed, relieved, and Roen chuckled, a dry, tired sound. "You're a mess," he said.

"Takes one to know one," she shot back, grinning. The tower pulsed again, blue light washing over them, and Roen felt it—value, hard-won. This was his now, not the Kast family's. Whatever came next, he'd fight for it.