After the last of the Achronal Crawlers collapsed, its body flickering twice before settling motionless

  among the broken floorboards. A thin layer of dust drifted down from the cracked ceiling as silence

  finally returned to the ruined house. The aftermath of the fight felt oddly still, especially after the

  chaotic bursts of elemental strikes that had filled the room moments before.

  Korvex crouched down first, sweeping the fragments into a pile. “Looks like a solid haul,” he said with

  a grin. “Rare affinity pieces at least. Better than nothing.”

  Rhoen nudged one with his boot. “We will count them later. Even after the Council and guild cut, rare

  fragments always move fast.”

  Korvex nodded enthusiastically. “We could trade these for higher-tier fragments. Or even straight

  currency. Time affinity always moves fast in the markets.”

  “Or sell them to blacksmiths or alchemists,” Rhoen added. “Or imbuers. Any craft-Spartor would

  scrape the walls to get their hands on these. Rare affinities make for rare products, and rare products

  come with premium prices.”

  Vanra lifted her hand, fingers lightly tapping her staff. “Let us not get too carried away. Focus on the

  mission. There is a chance the guild will buy our fragments immediately to keep them in-house, like

  they usually do with the rare ones.”

  A clear wave of disappointment washed over the room. It was subtle, but visible enough. Tyrish sighed.

  Kayris shifted her weight, rolling a shoulder. Orran muttered something under his breath.

  Vanra continued. “Sweep the house.”

  The team dispersed across the ruined interior. Orran checked under a collapsed support beam. Tyrish

  pushed aside broken pottery and charred cloth remnants. Korvex scanned the walls for carvings,

  residue, or anything resembling preserved artifacts. Kayris checked the corners, lifting debris with

  rapid efficiency. Bash stayed off to the side, observing but not needing to participate in the cleanup.

  Less than a minute passed before Vanra called it. “Nothing. Out we go.”

  The team filed back into the dusty street. The air outside was warm, stirred occasionally by a breeze

  carrying small drifts of grit. Weeds pushed through cracks in the stone walkway. A few hollow, windtouched window frames rattled in the distance.

  Vanra pointed across the street. “Next house.”

  She paused briefly and looked at Bash. “Stay outside again. Keep an eye on the street. Call out

  anything unusual.”

  “Yes,” Bash said.

  He stepped aside as the team approached the next building, a partially collapsed structure with most of

  its roof still intact. Orran braced his shield as he entered, Tyrish immediately behind him. Korvex and

  Rhoen followed, each ready to unleash smaller-range attacks in case of another swarm.

  Bash leaned against the exterior wall and listened.

  He heard the scuttling almost instantly.

  Then he heard the familiar crack of Korvex’s mineral blast, the short pulse of Kayris’s lightning arc,

  and the clean sweep of a wide elemental wave from Tyrish. A rapid rhythm followed, a blend of

  overlapping strikes and the sharp clicking sounds of insects blinking in and out of the timeline.

  The first essence pulse struck Bash like a pinprick to his sternum.

  Then another.

  The pulses came in irregular bursts, synchronized with the dying Crawlers across the ruined interior.

  Bash let himself flinch subtly, just enough to release the tightness in his ribs, because nobody was

  watching him now. Outside, he could ease his reactions without raising suspicion.

  The pulses rolled through him, dozens in seconds.

  He kept his breathing steady.

  SC’s voice whispered softly inside his mind when the fighting sounds died down. “Sixty one T3C

  essence absorbed.”

  He pushed himself off the wall and stepped inside. The team was already sweeping the room, the dead

  insects covering the ground like a scattered layer of brittle shells.

  “No movement outside,” Bash reported.

  “Good,” Vanra said.

  They finished clearing the house quickly, found nothing of value, and moved on.

  And so the cycle began.

  Over the next hour, the team advanced through the lower district in what became a predictable pattern.

  Enter a ruined house. Face a cluster of Achronal Crawlers. Sweep them with wide-area attacks. Bash

  stood outside, keeping watch, absorbing the waves of pulses. When the fighting stopped, the team

  searched for relics or artifacts while Bash joined them only to report on the perimeter.

  The sun shifted across the sky, moving from warm morning gold into a brighter, harsher midday glare.

  Heat caught in the dust that rose from each collapsed doorway. Bash wiped his brow occasionally, not

  from exertion but from the constant internal pressure of absorbing time pulses.

  The numbers kept stacking.

  House after house.

  Street after street.

  After completing the fifth street, over eighty houses in all, the team gathered near a roofless structure

  with only its stone frame remaining. They took a moment to drink from their canteens while dust

  settled around them.

  SC spoke quietly in Bash’s mind. “Four thousand three hundred ninety nine absorbed in this district.”

  Bash blinked slowly. “That many?”

  “Yes.”

  “It barely hurts anymore.”

  “That is because your core is adjusting,” SC said. “If your core behaves like the standard Spartor

  model, you would have evolved multiple times already. With this amount, you would be at the fifth

  level of ten.”

  Bash rested his hands on his thighs. “So if we do the same thing again, I’ll eventually hit level ten?”

  “No,” SC answered. “Each evolution requires significantly more than the last. To advance to the next

  tier from here, you would need roughly thirty thousand more pulses of a high enough rank.”

  “What counts as high enough?”

  “T2S at minimum,” she answered. “T1 or low T2 would barely register. They would contribute the way

  a raindrop contributes to an ocean. Technically measurable, practically irrelevant.”

  Bash nodded slowly. “Alright. I understand.”

  Vanra clapped her hands to gather attention. “We move to the next district. Stay sharp.”

  They crossed into a wider street that served as the natural dividing line between districts. The buildings

  here were more densely packed, with narrower windows and thicker walls. The stone construction had

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  held up surprisingly well over time.

  Orran surveyed the houses. “We need to speed this up.”

  Tyrish agreed. “At this rate, this city is going to take months.”

  Bash stepped forward. “What if we divide the team?”

  They all looked at him.

  “Keep Vanra outside. She can monitor both sides. Three members take one house. Two take another. I

  can sweep for relics behind you. When a street is clear, you can all circle back if I am not done. Faster.

  Efficient. You can clear without me slowing you down.”

  Kayris nodded. “It makes sense.”

  Rhoen tilted his head. “Actually, yes. That is a solid plan.”

  Tyrish folded his arms. “Worth trying.”

  Vanra studied Bash for a long moment. She seemed to weigh something internally before nodding.

  “Acceptable. This is the new pattern.”

  She pointed, dividing the group.

  “Team one: Orran, Rhoen, Kayris. Team two: Tyrish and Korvex. I will remain in the middle of the

  district to heal both as needed. Do not lose communication.”

  The two teams spread out immediately.

  Orran, Rhoen, and Kayris took the left side of the street. Tyrish and Korvex moved down the right.

  Bash stayed near the center, sweeping any house the others had finished, checking for anything hidden

  in debris or storage chests.

  Inside, the fights grew predictable. Achronal Crawlers always attempted to swarm. Orran’s shield

  absorbed the initial hits. Kayris’s lightning carved through the gaps. Rhoen’s shots filled the interior

  with healing pulses. Tyrish and Korvex unleashed combined elemental attacks that filled the structures

  with sweeping blasts.

  The insects died quickly.

  The pulses hit Bash again and again, but he barely reacted anymore. The sensation had become

  familiar, almost routine. The sharpness dulled into something manageable. Like adjusting to cold water

  over time.

  Every few houses, Vanra directed Orran’s team across the street to assist Tyrish and Korvex so neither

  side fell too far behind. Then she sent them back to maintain pace.

  Then came the return sweep. Each member took a house individually to search through for relics or

  artifacts. Bash searched the last few. Nothing turned up.

  The district was cleared in less than half the time it took to clear the first.

  They repeated the process for the streets in the district. And the next. Progress became smooth.

  Predictable. Efficient.

  The sun dipped low as shadows lengthened across the crumbling stone roads.

  Vanra finally raised a hand. “That is it for today.”

  The team found a large, intact building about half a block from their finishing point. The interior had a

  mostly stable structure with enough space for all of them. They cleared out debris from the corners and

  dropped their packs into place.

  Orran sat down with a heavy exhale. “That was productive.”

  Rhoen agreed. “More than I expected.”

  Kayris leaned back against the wall. “The system works. Let’s stick to it.”

  Vanra pulled up her map again. “If we keep this pace and do not travel between sectors too much, we

  should be able to clear four or five districts a day. Seven days for the whole city.”

  Tyrish nodded. “Reasonable.”

  Korvex pulled out his ration and started eating. “The sooner the better.”

  They all settled down for dinner. The room grew quiet except for the rustle of rations and the

  occasional shift of armor.

  Vanra eventually cleared her throat. “Night shifts, one hour each.”

  Bash spoke up before anyone else could volunteer. “I will take the second half of the night. You all

  need more rest. You are doing all of the fighting.”

  The team exchanged glances. Kayris shrugged. “Fine by me.”

  Rhoen lifted his hand lazily. “Just make sure to wake us properly if something wanders in.”

  Korvex smirked. “Or if the insects start strobing around again.”

  Orran nodded once. “Good idea.”

  Vanra finished her ration, wiped her hands on her leggings, and looked around the dim room. “Twohour shifts,” she said. “I will take the first. Kayris, you take the second. Bash, you take the last four

  hours.”

  Kayris nodded. “Got it.”

  Bash lifted his head. “That works.”

  Orran had already leaned back on his pack. Rhoen stretched his legs out and closed his eyes. Tyrish

  muttered something about hoping nothing skittered across his face in the night. Korvex rolled onto his

  side with a sigh, already drifting.

  Within minutes, the room settled into the slow, steady rhythm of tired warriors falling asleep.

  Bash eased down near the doorway, letting his head rest against the cool stone wall. The exhaustion

  from the non-stop pulses finally pulled him under, and he slipped into sleep almost immediately.

  He woke to a gentle nudge on his shoulder.

  Kayris crouched next to him, her blades resting across her lap. “Your turn,” she whispered quietly so

  the others would not stir. “All clear so far.”

  Bash rubbed his eyes and sat up. “Thanks.”

  Kayris moved to her place against the wall, already settling in as Bash took position at the doorway.

  The night air carried a soft coldness from outside, brushing across his face. Dim starlight filtered

  through the broken window frames, casting long, faint shadows across the ruined floor.

  His chest felt warm but not painful, just an echo of everything he had taken in that day.

  “SC,” he murmured internally. “Total for the day?”

  Her response came instantly. “Eight thousand one hundred one T3C essence absorbed.”

  Bash exhaled slowly. “Yeah. I felt it.”

  “Pain levels not severe?” she questioned rhetorically. “You are adjusting well.”

  He rested his arms on his knees, eyes scanning the empty streets through the doorway. Every few

  minutes he checked the shadows, listened for skittering, and made small sweeps with his all his senses

  to ensure nothing approached.

  Time passed steadily.

  The silence of the abandoned district was broken only by distant wind brushing through broken

  rooftops and the occasional shifting stone settling after centuries of stillness.

  Eventually, the darkness thinned.

  A faint line of pale gold began to rise along the horizon, spilling into the crater and washing over the

  rooftops of the ruined city.

  His four-hour shift was finished.

  Bash stretched his back, rolling his shoulders quietly so he would not wake the others too early.

  Another day was beginning, and the mission continued.

  Just another night in a long and methodical mission, one street at a time.