CHAPTER FIFTY

The Invasion

The moment we crossed into District 97's ward, the sight struck me hard. Beasts roamed free, their shapes stark against a land untouched by fog. Above, the sky churned with gray, the fog still clinging there, dimming the dawn's light to a dull haze. But here, inside the ward, the air was clear, and that clarity made the chaos worse.

I couldn't shake the thought: District 98 wasn't far off. This could be us, any day, any moment. The ward hummed around us, solid again, its power already leaching the corruption from my companions.

That stability didn't ease the dread. The ward was up, sure, but it was a flimsy lie now. Protection? It hadn't stopped this. Buildings leaned broken all around us, walls cracked, roofs caved in, some still smoldering where fires had chewed through. Smoke coiled upward, thick and black, staining the fog overhead.

The streets ran red, blood pooling in cracks, streaked with scraps of flesh and bone, human remains scattered like trash. No beast turned to us as we stepped in, though. Their snarls and roars echoed from deeper in, where the real fight was—humans still alive, still prey.

Out beyond the ward's edge, I glimpsed them through the clear air: beasts tearing into each other, claws flashing, jaws snapping. No unity, no pack, just hunger and rage. Inside, it wasn't much different. Mana hung heavy, prickling my senses, this wasn't our land anymore. Too many of them, too wild. A Tier 1 skittered past a ruined shop, its spines glinting; further off, a Tier 2 lumbered, its bulk smashing rubble aside. Hundreds, maybe more, and no end in sight.

Lirien stood beside me, her eyes sweeping the scene, wide with something close to shock. I'd never seen her rattled like this. For a long heartbeat, I thought she'd call us back, order a retreat to District 98 and leave this mess behind. She didn't. Her jaw tightened, and she held her ground, but the weight of it pressed on her, clear as day.

"This is madness," a Chainrunner muttered nearby. His arm bled from cuts he'd taken in the fog, shallow but raw. His sword trembled in his grip, the shield he'd carried long gone, lost somewhere out there. His eyes were worse—wild, darting, like his mind was fraying faster than his body.

Others weren't much better. I saw it in their slumped shoulders, their shallow breaths, dozens of us, warriors trained to run and fight, but this? This was beyond them. Beasts outnumbered us ten to one, each stronger than any human here, save maybe me and Lirien.

Lirien turned, taking it in—her people, her chainrunners, crumbling under the strain. She raised her voice, steady despite the chaos. "We need to group with District 97's survivors. They'll be at the center. We strengthen their line, we hold, we live." Simple, direct, like she could will it into truth.

Gorin shifted uneasily. "If they're still alive," he said, his tone flat, reluctant. He didn't want to move forward, but who could blame him?

No fog blurred our view here, but the sounds came from everywhere—clashing steel, beastly roars, human screams. People were out there, hiding, running. I caught a glimpse: a woman darting between wreckage, a child's cry cut short a street over. Lirien saw it too, I knew she did. But she didn't flinch, didn't order us to help. No safe path, no way to reach them without breaking ourselves apart. Those stuck here, too far from the center, were on their own.

A necessary sacrifice, I told myself. The old Omen, the one who'd stumbled into District 98 years ago, wouldn't have seen it. He'd have charged in, tried to save them, damn the cost. Now, I got it. We'd lose more than we'd gain—Chainrunners dead, survivors too weak to fight beside us.

It felt wrong, cold, but it made sense. Something clicked deeper, stirring my core. The second rule. I felt it, sharp and clear: survival wasn't kindness, it was choices like this. My heart core thrummed, brimming with power, so close to spilling over. Evolution loomed, I could sense it in my bones, but it wasn't full, not yet.

Lirien's voice cut through again. "Catch your breath, everyone. We'll use the arrow formation, punch through to the center, join the defense." She pointed ahead, her tone leaving no room for doubt.

I stepped toward her, pulling Hazeveil's hood down. The rune on my face glowed blue, faint lines tracing my neck—mana flaring, alive. Gasps rippled behind me; some Chainrunners flinched, remembering the fog, me summoning ice blades, tearing beasts apart with my hands. They knew my artifacts, knew this wasn't them. The line parted as I walked, people edging back, their eyes wary.

I opened my mouth, but she spoke first. "What you did back there," she said, pausing. The silence stretched, heavy between us. Then she went on. "It was good. I don't know how you wield mana like that—like the beasts or where your strength comes from. You broke orders, but it saved me from using my artifact. Good job."

Her words settled on me, warm with acceptance. The Chainrunners' looks shifted—less fear, more respect. Strength ruled out there, and here too. Our world wasn't so different from the beasts'.

"I'm glad," I said, meeting her gaze. "That's why I've got a request."

"What is it?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"I want to act freely out here," I said, honest and firm. "This is my world—I get it, this place. Let me hunt my way, not tied to formations."

I needed that, freedom to move, to strike when I saw the chance, not march in step. I braced for a fight, expecting her to push back.

"You have my permission," she said, calm and clear, surprising me, Dain, everyone close enough to hear. "Act as you see fit."

I blinked. "You're okay with that?"

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Now she looked puzzled. "This is beast territory now. Until they're gone, move as you need to."

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Dain barked a short laugh, clapping my shoulder. "Take it before she rethinks it."

Chainrunners lived by tight units, formations that kept them alive in the fog. Breaking that was a risk; I could disrupt them if I wasn't careful, topple the whole deck. I felt the weight of it, the trust she was handing me. They were desperate—Lirien, all of them. Their fights were about wounding, escaping, not killing. This was new, and they were drowning in it.

Barely a minute had passed since we'd stumbled into District 97's ward, and already the beasts were closing in. Dozens of us stood there—Chainrunners, battered from the run through the fog, catching shallow breaths on a blood-soaked street. We should've been a feast for any pack, rest wasn't an option.

The air buzzed with growls and shrieks, beasts circling us from every side. They didn't move as one, not like out in the fog, no coordinated hunt, just chaos. I saw a pair of ebony beasts clash nearby, claws tearing into each other, blood splattering the rubble. Still, plenty turned our way, eyes glinting with hunger.

Amid the noise, something broke through—louder, heavier. A monstrosity barreled toward us, massive and unstoppable. It was huge, maybe 600 kilos of muscle and bone. Its body was broad, thick with matted fur, legs like pillars pounding the ground at all fours. A single horn jutted from its head, long and curved. It smashed through wreckage and smaller beasts alike, crushing them underfoot, gaining speed with every stride. The earth shook as it charged, a living battering ram aimed straight at us.

I pulled Hazeveil up, the hood settling over my face. Shadows crept around me, cool and familiar, and a sharp mist coiled from my breath, thickening the air. Behind me, the Chainrunners scrambled—spears raised, swords drawn, shields locked in a shaky line. Their voices overlapped, tense and ragged, bracing for the impact. I stepped forward out of their formation, my feet crunching on broken stone. Lirien's permission still rang in my ears, act as I see fit. This was my chance.

My hands moved, mana surging through me, cold and alive. I wove ice into a blade at first, thin and sharp, but it grew—stretching longer, wider, until it was a spear, twice a man's height. The weight of it strained me, the edges trembling as I poured more mana into it, forcing it solid. The beast thundered closer, its horn lowered, smashing ebony beasts aside like it was nothing. I gritted my teeth, hefting the spear, and let it fly.

The air cracked as it shot forward, a deep whoosh rippling out. A trail of mist streaked behind it, white and swirling, cutting through the ward's clear air. The beast didn't slow, its onyx-core strength drove it on, insane speed turning it into a blur. Then it hit. The spear slammed into its horn with a sound like splitting rock—sharp, deafening.

The horn cracked, shards flying, and the ice punched through, lodging deep where the break began. Momentum stalled, the beast's charge faltering, but it didn't fall. It roared, a guttural bellow shaking the street, and thrashed its head, ripping the spear free. Blood sprayed, dark and thick, but it wasn't dead, not yet.

I wasn't done either. Through the mist trail, I felt it—my mana, still alive inside the beast, a thread tied to my will. I focused, pushing more into it, letting it flare. Ice bloomed from the wound, rapid and ruthless, spreading through its head. Crystals crawled over its fur, into its skull, freezing the brain solid. The beast staggered, legs buckling, thrashing one last time before it crashed down, face locked in blue frost, motionless.

Silence fell, heavy and stunned. I turned my head slightly, catching the Chainrunners' stares—wide eyes, slack jaws, weapons still raised but forgotten. Lirien stood rigid, her hand half-lifted as if she'd meant to call an order and stopped. Dain's mouth hung open. Even the smaller beasts nearby froze, then scattered, weaklings bolting for easier prey, their yips fading into the wreckage. The crew had been ready to die against that thing, and I'd dropped it alone.

I walked forward, steps slow, deliberate. The beast bulk loomed ahead, steam rising from its frozen head. I reached out, mana humming through me, probing its depths. There—the core, buried in its chest.

My fist punched through its hide, cracking ribs, sinking into warm flesh. Blood coated my arm, dripping as I pulled the core free, an onyx orb brimming with power. Peak onyx, just like I'd thought. I didn't hesitate. Right there, with them watching, I brought it to me and consumed it. Mana flooded me, sharp and bitter, pushing my core closer to its limit. Gore smeared my hands, but I didn't care.

I raised my hand, the ring glinting faintly on my finger. With a steady motion, I traced the storage runes in the air, my fingertip cutting sharp lines through the stillness. The shapes glowed briefly as I finished, and a flare of light burst from the ring, bright, sudden, swallowing the beast whole.

It vanished, tucked into the ring's space, leaving nothing behind but a dark slick of blood pooling on the cracked ground. I straightened, feeling their eyes—fear, respect, maybe both. My heart core thrummed, power coiling tight. I was close, so close of reaching the peak of my heart core.

The silence broke sharp and sudden. "He's a monster," a Chainrunner said, his voice cutting through the stunned air, loud enough that it couldn't be missed. He stood a few paces back, gripping his spear like it'd shield him from what he'd just seen.

Heads turned, murmurs rippling out. Nods followed, slow at first, then more, agreement spreading like a ripple through still water. "A magician," someone whispered, low and shaky. "A beast born from the fog," another muttered, louder, fear threading the words.

The whispers grew, bouncing between them, all forgetting for a moment that we stood in a ward overrun by beasts. I heard every one, my sharpened senses catching the hiss of their breaths, the tremor in their voices. They stared at me, blood still dripping from my hands.

The Omen, the one who'd walked District 98's streets, human and unsure, might've flinched at that. He'd have cared, wondered what they thought, tried to prove he wasn't what they feared. But that part wasn't here now. The beast in me ruled, cold and focused, eyes already scanning the next threat.

Did I need these people? The thought flickered—dark, practical. They could be meat shields, distractions to draw the weaker beasts off. I let it sit there, weighing it, before shoving it down. The human Omen wouldn't have stood for that, and somewhere deep, I knew he was still me—fractured, maybe, but not gone. Right and wrong tangled in my head, a mess I didn't have time to sort.

A voice sliced through the chatter, rough and steady—Wulric, stepping forward. "He might be a monster," he said, loud enough to quiet the rest, "but he's on our side." His gaze flicked to me, then back to the group, daring them to argue.

Gorin joined him, his reluctance from earlier gone. "He's right," he said, wiping blood from his sword onto his sleeve. "With Omen and Lirien, we might actually pull this off." His voice carried a spark, something solid to grab onto.

Nods spread again, slower this time, thoughtful. A few muttered agreements, "Yeah," "He's with us", and I saw it shift in their faces: fear giving way to something else. Hope, Lirien would've called it. They still watched me warily, hands tight on weapons, but now it was different.

Lirien didn't let the moment slip. She straightened, her eyes already past the beast corpse, past us, to the streets ahead. "Form up," she barked, voice crisp, cutting off the whispers. "Arrow formation, we push to the center, now." No hesitation, no pause to bask in the breathing room I'd carved out. She saw the chance and took it, every second counting in this beast-choked wreck of a district.

I pulled Hazeveil tighter, shadows settling around me as the Chainrunners moved, weapons up, shields locked, steps syncing into a tight wedge. Wulric gave me a quick nod, Gorin a glance that lingered a beat too long. They fell in line, and I stayed at the edge, ready to break off when needed. The murmurs faded as we started forward, boots crunching over blood and stone, the invaded district stretching out ahead—broken, burning, but ours to reclaim.

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