CHAPTER 10 — THE BONE THAT SPEAKS

> "Men like me don't rise because of destiny. We rise because no one else came back." — Kord Rennik, transcript fragment from Sector 4 Tribunal, Year 2481

Zone 4-Down — Eleven Years Before Ashar's Resignation

Before the name Kord Rennik meant warlord, it meant something far quieter. He was just a dock hand—unlicensed, underfed, half-documented. He moved shipping crates through the north canal yards of Zone 4-Down, a district so forgotten that even the Council's sanitation drones skipped it. The only rule was the one enforced by whomever had the most fists that day.

Kord had two brothers. One older, one younger. The older died in the methane leak fires of '72. The younger vanished when the water trucks stopped coming—either conscripted or claimed by the burn pits. Kord never found out. After that, he stopped asking.

He didn't become violent overnight. It came slow, like rust eating through steel. First it was for ration tokens. Then to protect his space at the worker dorms. Then to keep a crew alive when Sector sanitation collapsed and the streets filled with blackwater.

He wasn't smart, but he was loud. And he wasn't brave, but he learned to stand when others ran. People mistook that for leadership.

So when the Council finally came, asking for a local enforcer to monitor the ration exchanges, Kord raised his hand. Not because he wanted power—but because he thought if someone like him didn't step up, someone worse would.

He was right.

Flashback — Kord's First Day as Enforcer

It was raining acid the day they handed him the badge. Not enough to melt skin, just enough to pucker it. Kord had wrapped a torn synth tarp around his shoulders and stood in line with five other men, all lean and dirt-colored from years of street oil and warehouse dust.

The Council rep was clean—too clean. Synthetic skin, filter mask, the kind of posture that said he'd never slept in a drainage pipe.

"This is temporary authority," the man said, handing out arm bands. "Compliance Monitoring only. No weapons unless issued."

Kord took his and said nothing.

Later that night, a boy tried to steal two ration slips from the depot. He couldn't have been more than ten. Kord caught him and held him against the wall while the depot manager called in the infraction.

"I didn't mean to!" the boy had cried. "I just wanted one! Just one!"

Kord didn't hit him. Didn't shout.

He looked into the boy's eyes and saw the same desperation he'd felt the day his brother didn't come home.

So he let him go.

He told the manager the boy ran. Told the other guards to say nothing.

They didn't.

That was when people started calling him Kord the Soft. Not in mockery. In relief.

That name wouldn't last long.

Capitol Black Registry — Excerpt from Clearance Report: Rennik, Kord

> Appointed: Civil Compliance Officer, Zone 4-Down

Duration: 7 years

Oversight: Minimal

Outcome: Uncontrolled regional autonomy

Council Note: Useful asset. Unstable. Observe only.

Flashback — The Tribunal Fires

Year 2478. The fires started in the old Tribunal building. An arson, they said, but no one saw who lit the match.

Three traders had been accused of diverting filtration tablets—life-saving resources. Kord knew they were innocent. The real culprit was a Council-sent liaison named Tosk who skimmed water off the top to sell to his handlers.

But if he exposed Tosk, the Council would descend. They'd remove his protection, call him a collaborator. And worse—they'd replace him with someone colder.

He watched the trial in silence.

He watched as the charges were read.

He watched as the sentence was carried out.

Three bodies. One truth buried under smoke.

Tosk left two months later.

Kord never forgave himself. But people ate that winter. They drank clean.

And they forgot the names of the dead.

Kord's Rise

Over seven years, Kord built something. Not a government, not a rebellion—just stability. He brokered food smuggling deals that worked. Kept the worst gangs at bay. Established night patrols. Built a crude power grid from leftover mag-core panels.

He did what the Council refused to do: kept people alive.

And for a while, they even respected him for it.

But power calcifies. And control grows teeth.

He began cracking down on dissent—not from greed, but from desperation. He issued curfews. Bartered medicine for loyalty. Created a neighborhood tribunal system that executed three traders on false charges just to make the fourth one talk.

He wasn't a villain. He was exhausted.

The breaking point came during the Grid Surge of '81. When Sector 4's systems collapsed from outdated firmware, the Council blamed local mismanagement. They shut down Kord's supply chain, froze his operational credits, and sent in Compliance Auditors from Sector 2.

None of them came back.

After that, Kord wasn't just a regional enforcer. He was a problem.

The Council blacklisted him. Revoked his credentials. Scrubbed his name from the Unity Charter. But they didn't eliminate him.

Because he still held the silence.

Zone 4-Down went dark. And no one—not even Selis—knew what he did in the five years that followed.

Present Day — After the Ambush

Kord awoke in a scavenged medic bunker, his side wrapped in synthskin, painkillers clogging his throat. His crew had fled. His name was stained. But he was alive.

He looked at the ceiling for a long time, remembering the look in Ashar Vale's eyes—not fury. Not judgment.

Recognition.

The kind of look only another broken man could give.

He didn't regret the ambush.

He regretted misjudging what kind of enemy Ashar truly was.

Kord had built power from ash. He had ruled a silent sector longer than any Chancellor held their seat. But he knew now:

Ashar wasn't trying to lead.

He was trying to leave.

And that, more than any blade, terrified him.