Chapter 5: Shadows in the Mist

Roen Kast slumped against the cracked dais, the taste of blood and dust thick on his tongue. His side throbbed where the soldier's blade had grazed him, a hot, sticky mess soaking through what was left of his rags. The platform was quiet now, save for the low hum of the Crack Void Hub behind him—eleven hours and counting until it turned into something worth a damn. Eight Kast family enforcers lay scattered below, broken on the rocks or swallowed by the mist, and he couldn't shake the grin tugging at his lips. He'd beaten the odds, turned this death sentence into a foothold. Not bad for a guy who'd been dead a day ago.

Liya sprawled beside him, her longsword propped against her knee, blood dripping from a gash on her arm. She was grinning too, wild and crooked, like they'd just won a bar fight instead of a slaughter. "Four for me, four for you," she said, wiping her face with a sleeve and smearing the mess worse. "Call it a tie, kid. Old lady's still got the edge, though."

"Edge?" Roen snorted, wincing as he shifted. "You tripped over your own feet twice. I'm calling it dumb luck." She laughed, a big, barking sound that echoed off the stones, and he couldn't help a smirk. Crazy as she was, she'd held her own—better than he'd expected from someone who shrieked at imaginary bugs.

The tower pulsed again, blue light seeping through the cracks, walls inching higher like some slow-motion magic trick. The system panel flickered in his vision, cold and matter-of-fact:

System Notification: Crack Void Hub Evolution Progress: 11 hours, 55 minutes, 12 seconds. Stage 1: Basic Defensive Structure in progress. Warning: Additional threats detected—500 meters, unidentified. Hostile intent confirmed.

"Five hundred meters," Roen muttered, his grin fading. He squinted into the mist, thick and gray as ever, curling around the platform like it was alive. The Detection Aura had mapped those eight soldiers—red dots in his head, snuffed out one by one. Now it was pinging again, but the dots weren't showing up yet. Too far, maybe, or something was screwing with it. Either way, "unidentified" didn't sound like a friendly visit.

Liya caught his tone, sitting up straighter. "What's that damn box saying now, kid? More wolves?" She twirled her sword, casual-like, but her eyes were sharp, scanning the fog.

"Worse," he said, pushing himself to his feet with a groan. "Something's coming—five hundred meters out, closing fast. System's not sure what, but they're not here for tea." He gripped his bent sword, the blade a warped mess after all that swinging. It'd held up—barely—but against more Kast goons, or whatever this was, it'd snap like a twig.

She whistled, low and slow, standing beside him. "Family's got a real hard-on for you, huh? What'd you do, steal their gold or sleep with the wrong cousin?" Her grin was back, but it didn't reach her eyes this time.

"Neither," Roen said, brushing dirt off his hands. "Just born wrong, I guess. Memories say they pinned some rebellion crap on me—never happened, but truth's optional with these bastards." He'd pieced it together from those flashes in his head—Roen Kast, the family's waste, a punching bag for their egos until they decided exile was cleaner than a knife in the back. Now they were sending waves to make sure he stayed gone.

The mist shifted, a faint clink of metal echoing through it—boots, maybe, or armor. Too soft to pin down, but it was there. Roen's gut tightened, that old architect instinct kicking in—the one that screamed when a beam was off by an inch, when the whole damn building could come down if you didn't fix it fast. "Five hundred meters," he said again, louder, like saying it would make it real. "That's, what, a few minutes if they're sprinting?"

Liya nodded, cracking her neck. "Sounds about right. Gives us time to—oh, hell no!" She jumped, swinting at her boot, hopping like a kid who'd stepped on a nail. "Something crawled! I felt it—kid, check it, check it!" Her sword clattered as she flailed, all that tough mercenary swagger gone in a blink.

Roen stared, then laughed—a dry, raspy sound that hurt his throat. "It's mud, you nutcase. You're bleeding all over it—look!" He pointed at her arm, where the gash was still oozing, dripping onto her boot. She froze, squinting down, then huffed, brushing her hair back like she hadn't just lost her mind.

"Shut it," she grumbled, picking up her sword. "Mud's sneaky, alright? Could've been a bug." She glared at him, daring him to push it, and he just shook his head, smirking. Bug lady was a liability half the time, but she'd cut down four soldiers like it was nothing. He'd take the crazy over being alone.

The tower jolted, a sharp quake that nearly knocked them both off their feet. Roen grabbed the dais, Liya cursing as she steadied herself. The blue glow flared, walls creaking louder, and a chunk of stone near the edge snapped off, tumbling into the void below. The system chimed:

System Notification: Evolution anomaly detected. Energy surge accelerating Stage 1 completion. Revised estimate: 11 hours, 42 minutes, 09 seconds. Warning: Structural instability increased—recommend host secure perimeter.

"Anomaly?" Roen said, voice tight. "What the hell's that mean?" He stared at the tower—walls were taller, sure, maybe fifteen feet now, but cracks were widening too, spitting dust like the thing was about to blow. Accelerating was good—less waiting—but instability? That sounded like a scaffold buckling under too much weight, and he'd seen what happened when those went down. His chest tightened, memories of that last night on Earth flashing—screaming metal, his own blood pooling on concrete.

"Kid, you alright?" Liya said, eyeing him. "You went quiet—don't tell me you're scared of a little shake." She thumped her chest, grinning again, but it was forced, her gaze flicking to the mist.

"Not the shake," he said, shaking it off. "Just don't like surprises. System says it's speeding up—eleven hours, forty-two minutes—but it's shaky as hell. We've got to hold this spot 'til it's done." He pointed at the slope, the only way up now that the stairwell was toast. "They climb, we push 'em off. Simple."

"Simple's my style," she said, twirling her blade. "But eight was a stretch—how many's this batch?" The clinking was louder now, shadows sharper—human shapes, more than before, moving with purpose. Roen squinted, wishing that Detection Aura would give him a damn number, but it stayed vague—unidentified, like it was mocking him.

"Too many," he muttered, running a hand through his matted hair. His architect brain churned—high ground was still his edge, but the platform was small, maybe twenty feet wide, and the tower's shakes could drop them all if it got worse. He needed a plan, something better than chucking rocks and hoping. The system had said "secure perimeter"—maybe that aura could do more than ping dots. "System," he said, half-expecting it to ignore him, "what's the Detection Aura range?"

No voice, just the panel updating: Detection Aura: Current range—50 meters. Enhancement available upon Stage 1 completion. Fifty meters was nothing—half a football field, barely enough to see these bastards coming. He cursed under his breath, then froze as a new sound cut through—boots, yes, but something heavier, a rhythmic thud like a machine.

"What the hell's that?" Liya said, gripping her sword tighter. The mist parted, just enough to show silhouettes—soldiers, at least a dozen, and something hulking behind them, lumbering slow. Armor glinted, but the big one wasn't human—too tall, too broad, metal gleaming where flesh should've been.

"Shit," Roen breathed, stepping back. "That's no soldier." His mind raced—Kast family had resources, sure, but this? Looked like a damn golem, or whatever passed for one here. The system pinged again:

System Notification: Hostile profile updated—12 Kast Enforcers, 1 unidentified mech-unit. Distance: 450 meters. Hostile intent confirmed.

"Mech-unit?" Liya said, peering over his shoulder at the panel. "What's that, some fancy toy?" She sounded impressed, which was the last thing Roen needed.

"Trouble," he said, voice hard. "Twelve guys and a walking tank. We're screwed if they hit us now." He glanced at the tower—eleven hours, forty-two minutes. Too long. The platform was his only card, and it was shaking like a drunk on a tightrope. He'd built things under pressure before—rushed a bridge design in a week once—but this was life or death, no second drafts.

"Kid," Liya said, nudging him. "You're the brain here. What's the move?" Her grin was gone, replaced by a grim set to her jaw, but her eyes still had that wild spark. Roen met her gaze, then looked back at the mist, the thudding closer now—400 meters, maybe less.

"Hold the line," he said, hefting his busted sword. "And pray this tower doesn't bury us first."