The streets of Lost Angeles were still alive with their usual chaos, but to the crew, it felt like the world had gone strangely quiet.

  They stood just outside Grimm’s domain, beneath the flickering glow of arcane street lamps, the buzz of neon signs barely audible under the weight of what had just happened. The city stretched around them like a living corpse, its twisting alleyways and patchwork buildings a maze of forgotten eras smashed together, layered and rebuilt a hundred times over.

  Even at this late hour, the streets were filled with movement. Merchants still peddled worn-out relics of the old world, hawking fragments of long-dead technology as holy artifacts. Thieves slipped through crowds, disappearing into shadowy archways. And in the distance, from atop a makeshift pedestal of stacked hollowed-out engine blocks, a street preacher howled his gospel to whoever would listen.

  "And lo! The Great One ascended to the heavens, leaving behind his fleet of chariots!" The man’s robes were stitched together from scavenged sports jerseys and torn military fatigues, his face smeared with rust-colored paint. "He promised deliverance! He swore we would one day follow, but our ancestors failed the launch! Their sins weighed them down, and so the rockets never took flight!"

  Ciel sighed, rubbing at her temple. “Oh great, it’s another Elonian Cultist.”

  Veyra snorted. “This one’s a bit creative. Last time, they were preaching about the sacred charge ports.”

  Raze wasn’t listening. He was standing stiff, his jaw set so tight it looked like it might snap.

  "We are so fucked."

  Ciel finally let out a slow breath, leaning against the wall of a crumbling brick storefront, her usual smirk nowhere to be seen. “Hey, look at it this way.” She spread her arms. “We’re not dead.”

  Raze turned, his gray eyes hard. “Not yet.”

  Ciel frowned slightly, a rare moment where the mask slipped, if only for a second. “Come on, Raze. We were standing in that room waiting to die. And then we walked out. We’re breathing.” She tapped her chest lightly. “That counts for something.”

  Raze ran a hand down his face, shaking his head. "Does it? Because I don’t see the difference. Grimm sent us on a job that’s never been done. We’re walking into a place that swallows people whole, chasing a legend no one even talks about. We might as well have taken the bullet right then and there.”

  Miri, who had been watching the exchange with wide, delighted eyes, giggled. “Ooooh. Dead men walking. I like it.”

  Ciel shot her a look. “Not helping.”

  Gorrug crossed his arms, his massive frame blocking most of the streetlight. “If we are to die, it shall be in glorious battle!”

  Veyra groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Not this again.”

  But Sylva, who had been silent the entire walk, suddenly spoke.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said simply.

  The group turned toward her.

  She stood near the edge of the cracked pavement, her silver hair falling loosely around her bare shoulders, her crimson eyes narrowed in thought. The usual sharp bite to her tone wasn’t there. Instead, there was something colder. Calculating.

  “We don’t have a choice,” she continued, voice quiet but cutting through the night like a knife. “Grimm knows it. We know it.” She finally looked at Ciel, the glow of the neon signs casting soft shadows over her dark blue skin. “This isn’t a job we can half-ass. We either find this thing… or we don’t come back.”

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  Silence.

  Ciel let the weight of those words sink in.

  She knew Sylva was right. They all did.

  It wasn’t like their usual jobs, the ones where they could cut and run if things got too hairy. This was different.

  For once, Ciel had nothing clever to say.

  She pushed off the wall, rolling her shoulders, and let out a slow breath. “Well,” she finally muttered. “If we’re doing this, I’m getting a drink first.”

  Veyra held up her empty flask and shook it mournfully. “Now that’s the first smart thing you’ve said all night.”

  Raze still looked like he wanted to punch a wall, but he didn’t argue.

  They started walking, the sound of the preacher’s wild ramblings fading into the night behind them.

  "The Great One waits among the stars! His return will burn the sky! The launch will come again, and we must be ready! Cast aside your sins! Cast aside your weight! For only the worthy shall rise!"

  Ciel glanced back once, shaking her head.

  “People are weird.”

  Ciel shook her head as they walked away, the cultist’s voice still echoing behind them, his rambling sermon climbing toward some unseen climax.

  "The launch will come again! The worthy shall rise! The skies will burn with the light of ascension! Cast off your weight, or be left behind in the filth of the old world!"

  The words faded into the hum of the city as they walked, slipping back into the veins of Lost Angeles like ghosts vanishing into the alleys.

  For the first time that night, they moved in silence.

  Not just quiet—true silence. No witty remarks. No teasing banter. Just the heavy weight of reality pressing in on them, each of them processing the mission ahead in their own way.

  The streets of Lost Angeles blurred past, the sputtering neon glow casting strange, elongated shadows on the cracked pavement. The sky overhead was a patchwork of artificial light and perpetual smog, the stars long since drowned out by the mess of salvaged technology and barely-functioning enchantments that held the city together.

  When they finally reached The Rusted Halo, the bar was quieter than usual. Late enough for the crowd to have thinned, early enough for the real drunks to still be conscious.

  They slipped into their usual corner, a battered wooden table near the back, surrounded by scarred walls lined with old-world posters and weapon racks. The bartender, recognizing them, wordlessly slid a bottle of something strong onto the table before walking away.

  Ciel exhaled, rolling her shoulders before grinning and grabbing the bottle.

  “Well,” she said, pouring herself a glass, her usual bravado creeping back in, “we’re not dead. Let’s drink to that.”

  Veyra grabbed the bottle next, filling her own cup to the brim. “I’ll drink to anything at this point.”

  Gorrug, who had been sitting unnervingly still since they entered, finally spoke. “This Sunken Quarter. It is a realm?”

  The table turned to Miri, who had been idly tracing sigils in the condensation on her glass, her black-silver eyes swirling with eerie amusement.

  She smiled. “Oh, now you’re interested?”

  Sylva leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table, her crimson gaze sharp. “What do you know?”

  Miri tilted her head, her dark violet hair slipping over one shoulder, before exhaling dramatically. “The Sunken Quarter is more than just some old ruin. Some people say it’s not even part of this world anymore.”

  Raze frowned, crossing his arms. “Meaning?”

  Miri tapped a slender black-painted nail against her glass. “Meaning,” she said slowly, “there are rumors—old ones. Whispers that the Quarter isn’t just buried under the city, it’s... detached. Like a piece of reality that got cut loose and left to rot.”

  Ciel raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “Okay, that’s fun and all, but you’re talking about it like it’s some pocket dimension shit.”

  Miri’s smile widened. “Exactly.”

  That got their attention.

  Raze’s expression darkened, his mind already racing through implications. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Oh, I know,” Miri said brightly. “But neither does the fact that it supposedly has its own sky.”

  Silence.

  Ciel blinked, her grin faltering. “Excuse me?”

  Miri swirled her drink lazily. “That’s what the stories say. A city lost beneath a city, where the sky still exists. No one knows why. No one knows how. And everyone who tries to find out? Never comes back.”

  Veyra let out a slow breath, staring at her drink. “Okay, that’s fucked.”

  Sylva had gone rigid, her brows furrowing. “So if that’s even remotely true... why the hell is Grimm sending us down there?”

  They all looked at each other, the weight of the question settling like a lead weight in the air. To die.

  And then Ciel, sitting back in her chair, exhaled and muttered the one thought they all had but didn’t want to say aloud.

  “What the fuck is down there?”