"The world runs on Arcane energy. It fuels everything—technology, industry, even life itself. Long ago, someone figured out how to convert it into other forms of energy, and from there, civilization soared. The advancements that followed were beyond imagination. Yet, for all that progress, the world didn't become a better place."
"Power is justice here. Truth? Blurred, twisted, or nonexistent. Those who hold influence decide what's right and wrong, and the rest of us either fall in line or get crushed beneath their feet."
"My name is Leiger Rosewood. Yes, that Rosewood. A name that once commanded respect—a noble family that stood at the peak of the Sentinel system, producing some of the greatest law enforcers in the empire. We were known for our integrity, our service, and our place in high society."
"But that all ended the day my father was exposed."
"Darius Rosewood—a man once admired, now nothing more than a disgrace. His secret dealings with the underworld unraveled everything. Smuggling weapons. Ties to organized crime. Whispers of assassinations. The scandal shattered the Rosewood name, leaving nothing but ruins in its wake. The nobility cast us out—we were exiled from nobility, thrown into the gutters like unwanted filth. The Sentinels turned their backs. Our wealth and influence were stripped away, leaving behind nothing but shame."
"I grew up in the shadow of that disgrace, burdened by my father's betrayal. Wherever I went, I saw the same looks—the sneers, the disgust, the pity. To them, I was the daughter of a traitor."
"But I refuse to let that define me."
"I will restore the Rosewood name."
"I will carve my own legacy, not as a criminal's daughter, but as a Sentinel worthy of respect."
"I will rise."
"It won't be easy."
"After years of training, I finally graduated from the Sentencia System—the organization that acts as both detectives and law enforcers. I started as an Initiate, given only the bare minimum to survive. But I didn't waste time. Taking down stray criminals, proving my worth, climbing the ranks—I did whatever it took."
"And now, I stand as an Operative Sentinel."
"With my newly enhanced Arcane Multi-Tool, my capabilities have expanded. More efficient. More lethal. More prepared for the path ahead."
"But I know this journey won't be smooth."
"The road to redemption never is."
—
Voldrath Dominion – Arcane Industrial Empire
Year 1314, February 5th
West Empire, Greychapel, Iron Street, 1:13 PM
—
Leiger stepped onto Iron Street, her boots pressing into the damp, uneven cobblestone. The air was thick with the stench of burning coal and oil, mingling with the acrid bite of arcane fumes leaking from unstable conduits. Smoke curled through the alleyways, casting twisted shadows against soot-covered brick buildings that loomed like prison walls. Overhead, tangled wires and rusted metal walkways formed a chaotic web, the city's arteries bleeding industrial filth into the streets below.
She exhaled sharply, her breath barely visible in the heavy, polluted air. " What a mess this place is." The filth, the crime, the desperation—it was a far cry from the polished ivory halls and pristine avenues where the nobility resided. There, the air was clean, the roads were paved with precision, and the only danger was in whispered betrayals over dinner tables. But here, in Greychapel's Iron Street, survival meant clawing through the dirt just to see the next sunrise.
And thanks to her father's public disgrace, she was no different now. The Rosewood name, once spoken with reverence, was now a stain on the empire's history. We were exiled from nobility, thrown into the gutters like unwanted filth. Now, we breathe the same air as the people who once cursed our name.
Her grip on her coat tightened as she walked. Even after passing the Sentencia system exams with near-record results, people still looked down on me.
It didn't matter that she outperformed most of her peers—to them, she was still the daughter of a traitor. She should have expected the backlash. The officials who despised her family wasted no time assigning her to the most dangerous, life-threatening cases, as if hoping she'd die before she had a chance to rise.
At first, as an Initiate, I was only allowed three tools in my Arcane Multi-Tool. They thought that limitation would be enough to break me.
But it wasn't.
Against their expectations, she forced her way up, fighting through every impossible case they threw at her. Her victories weren't handed to her—they were taken. And when she finally climbed to the rank of Operative Sentinel, she was granted an expanded Multi-Tool—ten slots now, each function meticulously chosen for efficiency.
But promotions came with a price. The moment she ranked up, the danger escalated. The same officials who once mocked her were now looking for new ways to dispose of her. More tools meant more responsibility—and more death traps disguised as missions.
Leiger let out a quiet chuckle, though there was no humor in it.
They want me dead. But if they think I'll fall that easily, they've already lost.
She kept walking, her boots crunching softly against the carbonstone street, each step echoing like a quiet defiance.
—
Currently, my mission is to retrieve the Arcane Multi-Tool of former Commander Sentinel Bardock.
Word had spread about the infamous incident—the night Madame Marionette struck.
If she remembered correctly, the reports described a night of horror at the Noble Theater. Poisoned drinks, razor-thin invisible wires that turned deception into slaughter, and those dreadful puppets, their movements eerily human as they carried out their master's gruesome will.
Sir Bardock hadn't been there when it began. He arrived after the massacre was already over—but that was when it truly hit him.
The stage was bathed in crimson, the air thick with the stench of blood and perfume. And at the center of it all…
Madame Marionette.
She danced, her movements graceful and twisted, stepping over the corpse of a male performer as if it were just another prop in her show.
Sir Bardock, ever the seasoned Sentinel, tried to engage—but he was merely a moth to a flame.
She toyed with him, turning his survival into a pitiful spectacle. A man once feared and respected, reduced to nothing more than her entertainment.
Leiger let out a sigh. They say the entire theater collapsed after that, toxic gas seeping from the ruins. To me, it all sounds too absurd—too orchestrated. Madame Marionette may be a genius killer, but something like this? She must have had an insider to help her pull it off.
And as that thought settled, another suspicion crept in.
My father… could have been that insider.
She shook the thought away. It didn't matter now.
After a few more steps, she stopped in front of house number 79 on Iron Street—Sir Bardock's residence.
The building still stood, relatively intact compared to the rest of the area. It hadn't crumbled into ruin, nor had it been swallowed by filth like the surrounding structures.
Leiger glanced at the letterbox, then at the door.
They say Sir Bardock lost his sanity after the encounter. He was once the kind of man this township feared and respected… to be broken so easily—it's absurd. Or maybe… Madame Marionette simply knew exactly where to strike.
—
Before she could step onto the front lawn, a voice cut through the air.
"Oi."
She turned her head slightly.
Two figures stood at the end of
the street—thugs, by the look of them.
The first was a bald, stubby man, his face twisted into a leering grin that revealed yellowed teeth. His companion was taller, his right arm entirely replaced by a crude, metallic augmentation that gleamed dully in the faint light. Their voices dripped with mockery as they sauntered toward her, their cocky tones echoing off the grimy walls.
"Well, well," the tall one sneered, his voice a low, menacing drawl. "What's a pretty face like yours doing in a filthy, dangerous place like this? You lost, sweetheart?"
The stubby one chuckled, a harsh, grating sound. "Yeah, cute girly like you oughta know better. There's bad people out here—real bad. Might ruin more than just your day, if you catch my drift."
Leiger stood silent, her expression unreadable, her body still as a statue. She didn't flinch as they closed the distance, their boots scraping against the carbon stones. When they were mere feet away, the tall one leaned in, his smirk widening into something grotesque.
"Listen here," he said, his voice dripping with false generosity. "You make this easy on yourself, start stripping off your belongings—clothes included—and maybe, just maybe, we'll let you walk out of here alive. No need for things to get… messy."
The stubby one barked out a laugh, adding his own crude remarks. "Yeah, don't keep us waiting, doll. We ain't got all day."
Their words hung in the air, heavy with threat and malice. But Leiger remained unmoved, her silence a stark contrast to their jeers. The tension on the street thickened, the thugs' bravado masking the faintest flicker of unease as they waited for her response.
—
The tall thug sneered as he revealed his augmented right hand. The metal gleamed dully under the dim light, its surface riddled with engraved runes and embedded circuits, pulsing faintly with a crimson glow. The fingers, jointed with reinforced plating, ended in sharp, claw-like tips—a grotesque fusion of craftsmanship and brutality.
"This here," he boasted, flexing the augmented fingers, "is made with the highest quality Bloodiron. Moves just like my real hand, but now? I can tear through brick walls like they're paper." His smirk widened. "Wouldn't want to use it on your pretty little face, now, would I?"
The stubby thug chuckled. "Didn't ya say ya got that thing from some shady back-alley seller?"
The tall one scowled. "Shut up. You bastard."
Leiger had heard enough.
—
With a sigh, she reached beneath her coat.
"Oi," the tall thug barked, his grin twisting.
"I see you're choosin' the hard way."
He lunged—his augmented hand swung straight for her head.
But to him, she might as well have been smoke.
With trained precision, Leiger sidestepped effortlessly, her movements honed by years of discipline and combat training.
From beneath her coat, she pulled out her Arcane Multi-Tool.
At first, it appeared unassuming—a thick, baton-like gadget of obsidian metal, etched with glowing blue glyphs along its length.
Then—
"Three."
At her command, the device shifted.
The obsidian casing split like a mechanical flower, revealing a humming core of blue energy. Gears twisted, plates unfolded, and a surge of arcane energy pulsed through its frame.
In seconds, it had transformed into the Arcane Disruptor.
The Disruptor's tip extended into a tapered rod, lined with flickering interference runes that crackled with blue energy—a tool designed specifically to neutralize arcane mechanisms and augmentations.
Leiger caught the thug's lunging arm mid-air, her grip firm.
Before he could react, she drove the Disruptor's tip directly into the joint of his augmentation.
A violent spark erupted as his Bloodiron hand jerked uncontrollably—then went limp.
His eyes widened in shock.
His arm—his prized augmentation—was now useless.
The stubby thug took a step back, eyes darting between Leiger and his fallen partner. Then his gaze fell upon the device in her hand.
His face went pale.
"She's got a Sentinel gadget—we picked the wrong target!"
Leiger ignored his panic.
"Six."
Again, the Arcane Multi-Tool shifted, its plates snapping into a new configuration.
What was once the Disruptor had now become a Stun Gun.
Its barrel extended, and at the front, two serrated metal prongs slid into place—like the teeth of a predatory beast.
Before the tall thug could process what was happening, Leiger fired.
The thug's smirk lasted until the Stun Gun's prongs buried themselves in his chest. His augments sparked—useless—as 50,000 volts seared through muscle memory. He collapsed mid-swing, his fist still clenched for a punch he'd never throw
His body seized violently, his mouth opening in a silent scream before he collapsed, unconscious.
The prongs retracted back into the Stun Gun, resetting for another shot.
The stubby thug backpedaled, eyes darting between Leiger and his twitching partner.
"S-shit! Y-you—"
The stubby thug—fully aware of how screwed he was now—turned on his heels and tried to flee.
Leiger barely even looked.
Another shot—another discharge.
He dropped.
—
Leiger rolled her eyes, exhaling through her nose in irritation.
She stepped toward the two fallen thugs, pulling a set of arcane cuffs from her belt.
As she cuffed the tall thug, a whimper came from the ground. The stubby one was curled fetal, piss darkening his pants. Leiger didn't even look at him. "Try robbing a Sentinel again when you grow a spine."
A few minutes later, both men were secured to the iron fence, still unconscious.
She looked down at them, her expression one of pure disgust.
She wrenched the tall thug's head back by his hair, forcing him to stare at his dead augments. "Tell your dealer the Sentinels are auditing Bloodiron." A pause. "Then pray we don't audit you next"
"Now let me counts, Robbery. Pre-meditated sexual assault. Threatening an Imperial Officer. Illegal augmentation possession. Smuggling of restricted materials. Fraud—"
" Ten. "
She spritzed hand sanitizer from her Arcane Multi-Tool onto her palms, rubbing it in with a scoff.
"And being absolute imbeciles. You both will be eating some slop for a few years."
With that, she turned on her heels and stepped onto the front lawn of Sir Bardock's house.
—
She stopped at the front door.
Beyond this point, the real mission began.
Leiger reached for the door handle—locked. She scoffed. Sir Bardock has gone completely mad… but still remembers to lock his front door. What a man.
She glanced around, crouching briefly to check beneath the doormat. Nothing. " Hmm Too obvious, " she said.
With a flick of her wrist, she retrieved her Arcane Multi-Tool from beneath her coat. "One," she muttered. The device shifted, morphing into a master lockpick. A few practiced movements later, the lock clicked open.
Just before stepping inside, a thought struck her. Sir Bardock's obsession with escape routes… He'd never settle for just one way out.
As the door creaked open, her suspicions were confirmed—hidden passages, escape holes, and half-finished tunnels littered the house. The walls were scrawled with cryptic phrases, spiraling nonsense and paranoid warnings.
Leiger exhaled sharply. " He really has lost it. "
Carefully, she made her way to the nearest light switch, flipping it on. Dim, flickering bulbs illuminated the chaos—overturned furniture, stacks of Arcane schematics, and unfinished projects. Stepping cautiously over scattered blueprints, she navigated through the wreckage, heading upstairs to the study room.
—
She pushed the door open.
Silence.
Unlike the rest of the house, the study was immaculate—books neatly lined the shelves, papers stacked with precision. A stark contrast to the paranoia outside.
Her eyes landed on the cane resting on the armrest of Bardock's chair. Sleek, black, and slightly larger than a normal cane. But its smooth frame and subtle engravings gave it away.
His Arcane Multi-Tool.
Leiger allowed herself a small smirk. "Easier than expected."
She stepped forward, reaching for the cane—
The moment her fingers brushed it, the device came to life.
A mechanical hum resonated through the air as the cane's core activated.
"Hm," she mused. "Bigger than usual… What kind of functions did you hide in here, Sir Bardock?"
But she wasn't here to admire it. She pressed a sequence of inputs on the cane's handle and spoke firmly:
"Sentinel Multi-Tool, respond."
A smooth, automated voice sang in response:
"Online. Awaiting command. Sentinel Bardock."
She wasted no time.
"Cease function. Authorization code:
V-Bardock-01-Delta."
The system rejected her request immediately.
"Access denied. Voice recognition mismatch. Further tampering will activate self-defense mode."
Leiger clicked her tongue. Of course it wouldn't be that easy.
She pulled out a handwritten note from her coat—the shutdown manual given to her for this mission. A series of numbers, Bardock's personal override code.
Her eyes narrowed.
The final digit… is it 1 or 7?
The handwriting was deliberately messy, almost as if someone wanted her to fail.
" You bastards. "
She exhaled, then punched in 1.
The cane reacted instantly.
Its handle shifted, unfolding into a strange cylindrical shape, and the system spoke again—this time with a warning tone.
"Self-defense mode: Gravitational Radius Blast—charging."
Her pulse spiked.
" Shit. "
Without hesitation, she reset the input and changed the last digit to 7.
The moment she confirmed it, the device stopped charging. A tense silence followed, then…
"Override accepted."
The cane shifted, folding in on itself, compressing down into a small, compact cube for easier transport.
Leiger let out a long breath, her heart still hammering.
They had set her up.
Whoever provided that faulty code either didn't care if she survived—or wanted her gone.
She clenched her jaw.
" This mission just got personal. "
—
Leiger adjusted her coat, her mind still lingering on the Deployment Clerk.
Did they do that on purpose?
She considered reporting the incident to the Mission Coordinator and requesting a new clerk—one who wouldn't try to sabotage her. But that could wait. Right now, she needed to get out of here.
As she turned to leave, something caught her eye—a paperweight on the study desk. It was shaped like a small animal but was oddly misaligned.
With a sigh, she reached out and adjusted it.
Click.
A faint, mechanical whir sounded beneath her feet.
A second later, the floor collapsed.
Leiger barely had time to curse before she was falling—sliding down a narrow, twisting escape tunnel.
She hit the ground with a rough landing, sliding into the shadows of a dark alleyway beside Bardock's house.
Groaning, she pushed herself up and dusted off her coat. " Tsk... Son of a gun... "
"Ten."
At her command, her Arcane Multi-Tool shifted, forming a sanitizer nozzle. She cleaned her hands, muttering,
"Of course. Not surprising that Sir Bardock actually completed one of his escape routes. And of course, I had to be the one to test it."
—
She was about to leave when—
A low, painful groan echoed from deeper in the alley.
Leiger froze.
Her fingers instinctively moved to her Multi-Tool. "Six."
The device shifted, morphing into a Stun Gun.
Holding it firmly, she cautiously advanced toward the source of the sound.
The alley was narrow and dimly lit, the stench of damp metal and old filth filling the air. Step by step, she approached the corner.
Her heartbeat steady. Focused.
She turned, Stun Gun aimed—
A man was slumped against the wall.
His limbs were barely visible in the shadows, but she could see the faint engravings of Augmentations. His chest was heavily plated with Bloodiron and other metals.
But what caught her attention was the dark, purple-tinged corruption spreading through his veins.
And it was crawling toward his heart.
Leiger's grip tightened around the stun gun as low groans echoed through the alley—a sound too human to ignore, and too late for regrets. Rounding the corner, she raised the weapon—only to find a man slumped against the alley wall. His breathing was ragged, his body barely holding itself together.
Even in the dim light, the markings of augmentation were unmistakable—etched lines running along his exposed limbs, barely visible under torn fabric. His chest, however, was the most striking. Heavily plated with bloodiron and reinforced metals, it was clear he wasn't just another stray criminal. But what truly unsettled her was the dark, pulsing corruption spreading through his veins—black and tinged with an eerie purple hue, inching toward his heart like a creeping infection.
Leiger stepped closer, her voice sharp. "Who are you? What happened?"
The man remained silent, barely clinging to consciousness.
She adjusted her stance, aiming the stun gun directly at his head. "I don't have time for this. Answer me."
Weakly, the man raised his hand. In an instant, the stun gun was wrenched from her grip by an unseen force and slammed into the wall behind her, embedding itself deep into the stone.
Leiger's breath caught. Her body tensed as her mind scrambled to process what she had just witnessed. And then, realization dawned.
The augments. The kinetic force. The sheer unnatural power.
Her eyes narrowed as she took in his battered form once more. It couldn't be.
But there was no doubt about it.
The air crackled where her weapon had once been. Only one kind of Augment could do that with such precision.
Not a stray. Not even a Pioneer.
Her stomach turned to ice.
Folgren.
The Kinetic Sovereign. The apex of everything Sentinels feared.
And yet, here he was. Broken. Dying.
—
Folgren's body sagged further, his head tilting back as he coughed, blood dribbling down his chin. With whatever strength he had left, he forced out a hoarse plea.
"Help me."
Leiger scoffed, arms crossing as she regarded him with cold calculation. "Help you? You're an Apex Augury. A crime lord. You belong behind bars or even death. "
Folgren ground his jaw, glaring up at her despite the pain contorting his face.
Another violent cough wracked his body, and the dark corruption crawled even closer to his heart. Yet, through gritted teeth, he forced out his response.
"If I die, the balance dies with me. You have no idea what would rise in my absence."
Leiger tilted her head, unimpressed. "Even if that's true, it's the Sentinels' job to handle whatever comes next. Not yours."
He let out a weak, bitter chuckle. " Sentinels... Always arrogant and pathetic."
She watched him struggle, the infection spreading further. A part of her wanted to walk away—to let nature take its course. But another part of her, the part that wanted power, the part that refused to be just another cog in the machine, hesitated.
"…What do you need?"
Folgren's breath shuddered as he forced himself to meet her gaze. "A soul link. It's the only way."
Her expression darkened. "A soul link?"
He nodded weakly."A process only an Apex Augury can initiate. If you accept, my life will be tied to yours. I will be bound to you—metaphorically and literally." He exhaled sharply, barely managing to keep his focus.
"I will share my knowledge… my power. But you will also hold my life in your hands."
Leiger stared at him.
An Apex Augury. Bound to her.
It sounded like a trap. A trick. An offer no sane Sentinel should accept.
But if it was real… if she truly had control over someone like him…
It would be a cheat code to power. To influence. To restoring the Rosewood name.
Binding myself to a wanted Augury could end my career… but if I control his power, no one could ignore me again
Folgren groaned, his body convulsing as more blood spilled from his mouth. His head tilted back against the wall, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Decide. Now."
Leiger's fists clenched. She was walking into the abyss. She knew it.
But this was for her family—thought she was doing for.
"…Fine. I accept."
Folgren, barely conscious, struggled to sit upright. The corruption had nearly reached his heart.
"Then… let me make contact."
She raised an eyebrow. "Make contact where?"
He swallowed hard, his voice rasping.
"Your chest."
Leiger's eyes flickered with wariness, but she quickly understood—he needed access to where the link could form. With a sigh, she shrugged off her coat, unbuttoned the top of her shirt just enough, and leaned forward.
Folgren wasted no time. With trembling fingers, he pressed his palm against her skin.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—heat. A strange, burning warmth that wasn't entirely unpleasant, yet felt like an intrusion. It wasn't just warmth—it was a tether anchoring her to something ancient, dangerous, and impossibly alive.
A force unlike anything she had ever known coiled around her very being, weaving into her existence like a violent thread sewing her to something unknown.
Her breath hitched as her vision blurred, her consciousness slipping away.
And then—Darkness.
When she finally came to, her head was spinning. Her chest ached. The warmth had faded, but something remained—a faint engraving on her skin, marking the spot where Folgren had made contact.
She quickly buttoned up her shirt and reached for her stun gun, pulling it from the wall and shifting it back to its normal form.
Then, it hit her.
Folgren was gone.
Her eyes darted around the alley, but he had vanished without a trace.
Leiger exhaled sharply, adjusting her coat. Whether this was the biggest mistake of her life or the greatest opportunity, she wouldn't know just yet.
But one thing was certain.
She had just made a deal with Woe himself—and the ink was still drying on her soul.