The air outside the bunker was thick with the stench of burnt metal and rotting waste.
The world they stumbled into was a graveyard of broken things — rusted hulks of machinery, shredded plastics flapping like tattered flags.
The trio barely made it twenty feet before the first howl shattered the night.
From the shadows, hooligans emerged — filthy, bloodthirsty, and wild-eyed. They wielded pipes, chains, and knives that glinted under the grim moonlight.
"Move!" Foden barked, but it was too late.
They swarmed.
Ivy screamed, her hands wrapped tightly around the infant Galvano.
Three of the savages grabbed her, dragging her to the ground, tearing at her limbs like feral dogs.
"IVY!" Kale shrieked — her voice piercing the chaos, raw with terror.
Kale — young, fierce, barely more than a girl — threw herself toward Ivy without a second thought.
But a blow from behind sent her sprawling into the dirt, her head ringing.
The baby slipped from Ivy's arms.
Galvano hit the ground, wailing in confusion.
One of the attackers snatched him up with a hoot, turning to flee into the maze of garbage.
"NO!" Kale screamed, scrambling after him.
Somehow — adrenaline, desperation, pure rage — Kale caught up, lunging onto the man's back. She clawed at his face, bit his shoulder, did anything to get the baby free.
With a grunt, he shoved her off — but not before she ripped Galvano back into her arms, shielding him with her body.
Meanwhile, Foden was a living weapon.
He fought with no thought to technique — only survival.
Every punch shattered bone. Every movement was fueled by raw, blistering rage.
But for every one he felled, two more took their place.
Blood poured from a gash above Foden's eye. His knuckles split open. His breath came in ragged gasps.
"FODEN!" Kale's desperate cry tore through the chaos.
He turned — saw two of them descending on her, one with a blade raised high.
Without hesitation, Foden barreled through the mob, slamming bodies aside.
He reached Kale just in time, wrenching her free — but another figure hurled itself onto Foden, sinking yellowed teeth deep into his left arm.
Foden roared — a sound of agony and fury — smashing the biter against the ground until bones crunched and the attacker lay still.
"We have to move!" Kale gasped, clutching Galvano to her chest, tears blurring her vision.
Foden nodded, grimacing through the pain.
Together, they ran — through the dump yard, through a forgotten graveyard, tombstones jutting out like broken teeth.
Their legs burned. Their hearts thundered.
Behind them, the mob howled, tireless, ravenous.
Ahead — a tall, rusted fence.
Foden didn't slow.
He stumbled to a halt in front of it and screamed at the top of his lungs, voice shredding itself into the night:
"Aventus!"
Nothing.
For a heartbeat, despair gripped them.
Then — a heavy rumble.
Beside the fence, an old sewer grate shifted, grinding open to reveal a dark, yawning tunnel.
A man stood inside, face shadowed, one hand holding the gate wide.
"Get in!" he rasped.
Foden shoved Kale forward, shielding her with his body, his blood leaving a crimson trail behind them.
They dove into the darkness.
The gate slammed shut.
Silence — except for their panting breaths, the infant's soft, bewildered whimper.
The man lowered his hood, revealing a face lined with scars and sorrow.
His gaze sharpened as he counted heads — and realized someone was missing.
"Where's Ivy?" he demanded.
Kale crumbled.
She clutched Galvano tighter, her body shaking uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her dirt-streaked cheeks as she collapsed against the cold sewer wall, sobbing into the tiny, fragile bundle she carried.
Foden stood over them both — bleeding, broken — his expression carved from stone.
No words were needed.
Grief hung heavier than the darkness itself.
Chapter End.