The eastern gate was quiet.
Aurelion led the group through the winding streets, his eyes scanning the shadows. The city was different here—darker, grittier. The gleaming spires of the upper levels gave way to cramped alleys and decaying buildings. The streets were narrow, the buildings leaning against each other like tired old friends. The artificial light barely reached this far down, leaving the lower levels shrouded in perpetual twilight.
The beings here were different too—harder, more guarded. They moved with purpose, their eyes darting, their hands never far from their weapons. This was a place where survival was earned, not given.
The transport was waiting at the edge of a crumbling plaza.
It was a sleek, armored vehicle, its surface covered in faintly glowing runes that pulsed in a slow, rhythmic pattern. The hull was scarred—evidence of past encounters. A driver sat in the front, its face hidden behind a featureless helmet. It didn't speak. It simply gestured for them to enter with a gloved hand.
Aurelion climbed in, followed by Nova, the reptilian creature, the jellyfish-being, and the others. The interior was cramped but functional—seats that folded down from the walls, a holographic display flickering to life in the center, a weapons rack holding an assortment of unfamiliar arms. The air was cool, recycled, carrying the faint scent of ozone.
The vehicle hummed to life and began to move.
The ride was silent.
Aurelion studied the holographic display, memorizing the warehouse's layout. The building was massive—three stories, multiple entrances, a loading bay in the back. The guards were stationed at key points, their patrol routes marked in red. Twenty-three guards in total, according to the intel. Maybe more.
The warehouse was surrounded by open ground on all sides—a killing field for anyone trying to approach. The only cover was a series of cargo containers scattered near the loading bay. The roof was flat, accessible via a maintenance ladder on the north side.
"Twenty-three guards," Aurelion said, his voice low. "Maybe more. They're expecting a shipment tonight, so they'll be alert. Nervous. That's good for us—nervous people make mistakes."
Nova leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the display. "How do we get in?"
He pointed at the holographic model. "Through the roof. There's a maintenance hatch here, on the north side. It's unguarded according to the schematics, but we'll need to be quiet. The moment we're inside, we split up. We take out the guards silently, secure the area, and wait for the shipment to arrive."
The reptilian creature hissed, its guide translating. "It says it can handle the guards on the ground floor. It wants to be the one to clear the loading bay."
Aurelion considered this. "Alright. You and the jellyfish take the ground floor. Nova, you're with me. We'll take the upper levels and find the Collector."
Nova nodded. "And the others?"
"They secure the exits. No one gets in or out."
The reptilian creature growled something. Its guide translated. "It says if the Collector tries to run, it wants to be the one to catch him."
Aurelion almost smiled. "You'll get your chance."
The vehicle slowed to a stop.
"We're here," the driver said. Its voice was flat, mechanical.
Aurelion climbed out.
The warehouse loomed before them—massive, dark, its windows blacked out. The building was old, its walls stained with years of grime. The loading bay was empty, the doors closed and sealed. A few guards patrolled the perimeter, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. Their footsteps echoed in the silence.
Aurelion studied them from the shadows, counting. Four guards visible. More inside, hidden from view. The patrol routes were predictable, their movements lazy. They weren't expecting trouble.
He smiled.
"Let's go."
They moved like shadows.
Aurelion scaled the wall, his claws finding purchase in the worn stone. The surface was rough, uneven, offering plenty of handholds. He climbed quickly, silently, his body pressed against the wall. Below him, the reptilian creature circled around to the ground floor, its movements surprisingly quiet for something so large. The jellyfish-being drifted behind it, its guide pulsing faintly.
Nova followed Aurelion up the wall, her movements precise and practiced. She was good—better than he had expected.
They reached the roof.
The maintenance hatch was exactly where the display had shown it—a small, rusted door, its hinges old but functional. The metal was pitted with age, the handle worn smooth by use. He pried it open, the rusted hinges groaning softly, and dropped inside.
The interior was dark.
He landed silently, his eyes adjusting to the gloom. The warehouse was vast, filled with crates and containers stacked high. The air smelled of dust and old metal and something else—something faintly organic, like sweat and fear.
Nova landed beside him, her blade already drawn.
"I don't see anyone," she whispered.
"Keep moving. Stay in the shadows."
They moved through the warehouse, their footsteps silent. The upper level was empty—the guards were concentrated on the ground floor, waiting for the shipment. They passed rows of containers, their surfaces covered in unfamiliar symbols. The air grew colder as they moved deeper.
They reached a door.
Voices came from beyond it—low, guttural, speaking in a language Aurelion didn't recognize. He pressed his ear against the wood, listening.
"—shipment is delayed. The Collector is not pleased."
"Then we delay the buyers. They'll wait. They always wait."
"And if the shipment doesn't come?"
There was a pause. Then the first voice spoke again, lower this time. "Then we find new merchandise. There's always new merchandise."
Aurelion glanced at Nova.
"Two guards," he whispered. "Maybe more. I'll take the left. You take the right. Quietly."
She nodded, her grip tightening on the handrails next to her.
He pushed the door open.
The room beyond was an office.
It was cluttered, messy, covered in datapads and holographic displays. The walls were lined with shelves filled with strange artifacts—objects from across the Great Structure, each one a trophy of the Collector's work. A massive desk sat at the center, its surface covered in papers and glowing screens.
The two guards were standing by the door, their backs to Aurelion. They were large, heavily armed, their armor scarred from past battles.
Aurelion moved.
His hand closed around the first guard's throat before it could react. His other hand found its plasma blade, twisting it away, and threw it towards Nova. The guard's eyes went wide—then wide with shock as Aurelion's claws drove into its neck. It collapsed without a sound.
Nova was already behind the second guard, catching the plasma blade, and proceeding to drive it into the guards back. It's body went limp immediately.
They lowered the bodies to the ground.
Aurelion stepped into the room beyond.
A figure sat behind the desk, its back to them, its face hidden in shadow. It was tall, thin, dressed in fine clothes. Its hands were clasped on the desk, rings glittering on its fingers.
"The shipment is late," the figure said. "I told you—"
It turned.
It was the Collector.
Its face was gaunt, its skin pale and stretched tight over sharp bones. Its eyes were cold and calculating—the eyes of someone who had been caught many times before and had always found a way to escape. Its clothes were expensive, its posture relaxed.
It looked at Aurelion and Nova with the calm of someone who had already planned his next move.
"You're not my guards," it said.
"No," Aurelion agreed. "We're not."
The Collector's lips curved into a thin, predatory smile.
"Then you're here to kill me."
"Maybe." Aurelion stepped forward, his blade still drawn. "Or maybe you're going to tell us who you work for."
The Collector's smile widened.
"You think I work for someone?"
"I know you do. You're too organized, too careful. Someone's been pulling your strings."
The Collector was silent for a moment. Its eyes flickered to the door, to the windows, to the weapons hidden in its desk. It was calculating, weighing its options.
Then it laughed.
It was a cold, dry sound, like wind over dead leaves.
"You're smart," it said. "But you're not smart enough."
It pressed a button on its desk.
Alarms blared.
The sound was deafening—a piercing wail that echoed through the warehouse. Red lights flashed, casting the room in an eerie glow.
Guards poured into the room—dozens of them, their weapons raised, their eyes fixed on Aurelion and Nova. They formed a wall of armor and steel, blocking the exits.
The Collector stood, smoothing down its robes.
"You should have killed me when you had the chance," it said.
Aurelion raised his claws.
"Maybe," he said. "But I'm not done with you yet."
The guards charged.
Aurelion moved to meet them, his claws extended, the obsidian glinting in the dim light. The first guard fell before it could raise its weapon—his claws driving through its throat in a single, fluid motion. The second guard swung a club—Aurelion ducked, his claws finding its chest, tearing through armor and flesh. It crumpled.
Why are these guys using clubs? even the loan sharks lackeys were earlier. So much for a really advanced civilisation i suppose
Nova fought beside him, her plasma sword humming with contained energy. The blade left trails of light in the air, each stroke precise and deadly. She was fast, efficient, finding gaps in their armor with surgical precision. The guards were relentless, but she was faster.
Aurelion observed her and pondered,
She's quite good with the blade, although not as good as Ami. I suppose it makes sense, she was in that cell with me for a reason
"This is going to take a while," she said, her voice strained.
"Then we take a while."
Aurelion's claws carved through another guard. Then another. Then another.
The bodies piled up around them. The guards kept coming.
He was forced back, step by step, his claws deflecting shots, parrying strikes. The guards were relentless, their numbers endless.
He glanced at the Collector. It was standing behind the wall of guards, watching with cold amusement.
"You're going to die here," the Collector said. "You and your little friend. And no one will remember your names."
Aurelion smiled—a cold, predatory smile.
"Maybe," he said. "But I'm taking you with me."
He attacked.
The battle was brutal.
Aurelion carved a path through the guards, his claws a blur of motion. He didn't need a blade—his hands were weapons enough. The obsidian tore through armor like paper, through flesh like butter. Nova covered his flank, her plasma sword leaving scorched trails across the guards' armor. Together, they pushed through the wall of guards, step by step.
The Collector's smile faltered.
"Kill them!" it shouted. "Kill them now!"
The guards surged forward.
Aurelion cut through them. His claws found throats, hearts, eyes. He moved with the precision of someone who had been fighting for centuries, his body responding to threats before his mind could process them.
Nova's plasma sword carved through a guard's weapon, then through the guard itself. She was a whirlwind of light and death, her blade singing through the air.
He reached the Collector.
Its eyes widened. It stumbled back, its hand reaching for something in its desk.
Aurelion grabbed it by the collar, lifting it off its feet. His claws dug into the fabric, inches from its throat.
"Where's the shipment?" he demanded. "Who are you working for?"
The Collector's eyes darted wildly. "I don't know. I just—I just take orders. From a voice. I don't know who it is."
"Where is the shipment?"
"Three hours. They're arriving in three hours." Its voice was desperate. "Please—please don't kill me."
Aurelion studied the Collector. It was pathetic. Desperate. Terrified.
It was telling the truth.
He released it.
The Collector collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.
Aurelion turned to the remaining guards. They had stopped, their weapons lowered, their eyes fixed on their fallen leader.
"Your boss is done," Aurelion said. "Drop your weapons. Walk away. No one else has to die."
The guards exchanged glances.
Then one by one, they dropped their weapons.
Aurelion stood in the center of the room, his chest heaving, his claws dripping with ichor. The obsidian retracted slowly, his hands returning to their human form. The Collector was on the ground, whimpering. Nova was beside him, her plasma sword still humming, its blade casting pale blue light across the room.
The shipment was coming.
They had time.
He looked at the Collector.
"You're going to tell me everything you know about your boss," he said. "And then you're going to come with us."
The Collector nodded frantically.
"Yes. Yes, of course. Anything."
Aurelion smiled.
"Good." He turned to Nova. "Tie them up. We've got work to do."