The mining barge groaned as it pushed through the storm.
It was a massive thing, more fortress than vehicle, built from rust-dark metal and mounted atop enormous treads and glide-plates that let it skim over the softer deserts of Valdeia. Whole towns depended on barges like this. They crossed the barren wastes for weeks at a time, carving paths through rocky valleys and cavern fields where veins of ore, fuel-crystal, and old-world scrap still hid beneath the earth.
The storm had come fast. One moment the horizon had been clear apart from the usual red haze of the desert. The next, a wall of sand had risen in the distance and swallowed the sky.
Now it surrounded them completely.
The wind screamed against the hull hard enough to make the entire barge shudder. Sand hammered the metal in relentless waves, rattling the windows and shrieking through every crack it could find.
'Storm front!' someone shouted from the upper deck.
'Get your masks on!'
The crew scrambled immediately. Miners abandoned drills and crates where they stood, fumbling at belts and hooks for their masks. Guards along the outer railings pulled cloth and reinforced filters over their faces as visibility dropped to almost nothing. Within seconds, the world beyond the floodlights became a blur of red and brown as the storm hit in full force.
WHOOOOSH
A blast of sand swept over the barge so violently that one of the miners staggered sideways into the railing.
'Shit–!'
Beside him, another miner yanked his mask over his mouth and glanced up toward the cliffs nearby. The barge was passing through a region of half-collapsed caverns and jagged rock towers, their dark shapes barely visible through the storm.
For a moment, lightning flashed somewhere overhead, and in that instant–
'There!'
The miner pointed toward the cliffs.
High above them, standing atop one of the rocky ledges, were four figures: dark silhouettes against the storm. One stood taller than the others, a long coat whipping in the wind. Another crouched low beside them, smaller, lighter. The third had something slung in their hand.
The fourth stood apart, perfectly still, simply watching.
'What the hell–?'
The lightning vanished. The storm swallowed the ridge once more.
They were gone.
The two miners stared for a second too long, then something slammed down onto the deck behind them.
CRASH
Metal buckled beneath the impact. Before either of them could turn fully, a figure burst from the sand and darkness. A fist struck the first miner across the jaw.
CRACK
He dropped instantly, and the second barely had time to shout before another figure seized him by the collar and drove his head into the railing.
THUD
He crumpled beside his friend. Around them, more shapes landed atop the barge through the storm, dropping from the cliffs like shadows.
All four figures were masked, their faces hidden behind filtered visors as they moved through the storm. Hooded cloaks hung from their shoulders, each one fastened at the chest with simple clasps to keep the wind from tearing them loose. The fabric snapped and pulled in the gale, edges whipping behind them as they advanced.
Beneath the cloaks, their movements revealed flashes of darker layers – tight-fitting shirts, strapped belts, and loose, high-waisted trousers built for travel and combat rather than comfort. Every step was grounded by heavy, lace-up boots, their weight steady even against the shifting metal of the barge.
The four moved quickly and without hesitation. They slipped across the outer deck while the storm still blinded everyone else, keeping low between cargo crates and rusted machinery as alarms began to echo somewhere toward the front of the vessel.
'Outer deck breach!'
'Get the guards moving!'
'Find them!'
The shouting had already grown distant by the time they reached one of the lower maintenance corridors. The tallest one shoved open the first unlocked door he found and ushered the others inside.
The room beyond was cramped and dim, little more than a storage compartment lined with shelves of tools, spare filters, and old mining equipment. The noise of the storm became muffled the moment the door shut behind them, leaving only the low groan of the barge around them.
The tallest one pulled off his mask first, his breathing louder outside of confinement. Ryuu looked back to the other three before moving into the room and shutting the door.
For a second, nobody moved.
Then one leaned against the wall and pulled off his mask with an annoyed groan.
'Sand,' Sho muttered, spitting to the side. 'I hate sand.'
'Very poetic,' a female voice muttered.
She tugged her own mask loose and let it hang around her neck. Yasuko's hair had been tied back high to keep it out of her face, though even now it was obvious how much shorter it had become over the last few months. The old length was gone, cut somewhere around her shoulders, rough at the ends but practical. She brushed a few loose strands from her face and looked toward the third.
He removed his mask last.
Kanesaki ruffled some of his hair to get the sand out, glancing quietly around the room. The others had grown used to the change by now, but in the dim light it still stood out. A few dark red streaks ran through his hair near the front and along one side, thin at first glance but unmistakable. They looked almost like the markings Ryuu carried naturally – something sharp and wrong woven into otherwise black hair.
Kanesaki caught Yasuko looking and frowned faintly.
'What?'
'Nothing,' she said quickly, looking away.
Now that they stood still, the wear in their gear became more obvious.
Ryuu's cloak was torn along the edges, the fabric frayed and split from repeated use, while Sho's looked even worse – ragged in places, as though it had caught on one too many sharp edges and never been repaired. In contrast, Kanesaki and Yasuko's cloaks were only lightly worn, marked by smaller tears and scuffs rather than full damage.
They all wore fingerless gloves, the material worn soft at the palms from constant use. Beneath them, Ryuu and Kanesaki were dressed in fitted black shirts that clung close enough to stay out of the way in a fight, while Sho's was the same cut in a dull brown, slightly looser at the sleeves. Yasuko's stood apart – her dark brown top cut shorter, fitted close and leaving her midriff exposed, clearly.a preference of hers.
Their trousers sat high at the waist, loose enough for movement but cinched tight with heavy belts. Straps and small attachments hung from them – clips, loops, and fastenings for tools or weapons, each piece placed with purpose rather than symmetry.
Sho's forearms were wrapped in old bandages beneath his sleeves, the fabric layered and worn but tight enough to offer support. All four wore the same kind of boots: heavy, reinforced, and tightly laced, built to handle long treks across unstable ground.
Ryuu was already moving. He checked the small window in the door first, making sure the corridor outside remained empty, then crossed to the opposite wall and listened for a few seconds.
Satisfied, he finally turned back toward them.
'We're clear.'
Sho straightened slightly. 'Then go over it again.'
Ryuu folded his arms.
'The bastard who owns this barge commissioned the run himself. Local crime lord. Works the eastern caverns, uses mining contracts as cover to move whatever he wants.'
'Weapons,' Yasuko said.
'Drugs,' Sho added.
Ryuu nodded once. 'And people.'
The room fell quieter at that.
'He's supposed to be on board tonight,' Ryuu continued. 'The storm hit earlier than expected, so they're holding position near the cavern field until it passes. Gave us the chance to get in before the transfer.'
'And the job?' Kanesaki asked.
Ryuu looked at him. 'We confirm what he's moving. If there are prisoners, we get them out.'
"And if there aren't?"
Ryuu's expression did not change.
'Then we kill him and sink the barge.'
No one argued, silence settling over the room again, broken only by the distant howl of the storm outside and the groaning metal beneath their feet.
Ryuu reached down first, his mask rested atop a crate beside him: pale and expressionless, smooth white with only narrow dark slits for the eyes. It had no decoration, no personality. Cold. Empty. More like the face of a corpse than something human. Without a word, he pulled it back over his face.
Sho snorted and grabbed his own.
'Still think mine's better.'
His mask had once been an old gas mask, but over the months he had added enough metal plating and scrap to make it look almost ridiculous. Jagged teeth had been painted across the filter. The lenses had been darkened pitch black, with bolts and bits of rusted metal fixed along the sides.
'It makes me look cooler,' he had claimed more than once.
Ryuu still looked unconvinced.
Yasuko rolled her eyes as she tied her hair back properly again. Her mask was much lighter than the others, slimmer and easier to move in. She had painted it herself over the months, covering the pale surface with bright streaks and markings that looked almost like graffiti art – reds, blues, rough lines, and little symbols only she understood. It was chaotic, colourful, and completely unlike the rest of them.
'Mine's still the best,' she muttered, pulling it into place.
Finally, Kanesaki picked up his own.
It was newer than the others. Red, deep and dark like dried blood, with black lines running across it in sharp, jagged shapes. The faceplate had been carved to resemble something almost skull-like, the mouth thin and grim, while short broken horns curved slightly back from the forehead. Not large enough to be dramatic, just enough to make him look less human. He stared at it for a second before sliding it over his face. The straps clicked into place.
For a moment, the four simply stood there in silence, then Ryuu reached for the door. Outside, the storm still raged, and somewhere deeper within the mining barge, their target waited.
Chapter 69 - end