"There is an art to deconstruction. A butcher's is for sustenance. A killer's is for strategy. Both must be clean, precise, and leave no room for error."

  — The Culinarian's Chronicle

  "Send it." The words were a quiet exhalation, a final, irrevocable command lost in the wind that whipped around the gargoyle. Lysetta’s own breath escaped her in a long, slow stream, her body becoming an unmoving extension of the rifle. Her finger squeezed the trigger with a deliberate pressure. There was a soft, internal click from the weapon's mechanism, a sound more felt than heard. The rifle gave a sharp, distinctive skip-thump against her shoulder, a recoil that was surprisingly gentle for a weapon of its power.

  At the tip of the long barrel, a pinprick of absolute nothingness coalesced, a sphere of anti-light that seemed to drink the ambient glow of the city. For a fraction of a second, it held, a perfect, silent orb of void. Then, it exploded forth.

  A piercing shot of pure, silent darkness tore across the chasm, leaving a momentary trail of distorted air in its wake. It struck High Inquisitor Malakor first, entering through his back with no visible impact. The shot passed through him as if he were smoke, then struck Matron Carissa lys'Mira square in the chest.

  For a heart-stopping second, the scene on the terrace was one of frozen stillness. Then, the umbral energy did its work. A network of black veins erupted across Malakor's shaved head, a spiderweb of pure corruption spreading beneath his skin. He slumped forward, his face hitting the table with a wet thud before he slid bonelessly to the floor. Matron Carissa did not fall. She was thrown back in her chair, her body rigid, her mouth open in a silent scream. Her eyes, a moment before cold and watchful, were now two pools of pitch-black energy, from which thin tendrils of black smoke streamed like tears. Then, with a shuddering sigh, she slumped to the side, her head lolling at an unnatural angle.

  The first scream from a nearby table was a high, thin thing, lost in the wind. Then came more, a chorus of panic from the other patrons. The alarms began to blare across the city, their mournful, dissonant cry rising from the streets below, a symphony of their success. A team of heavily armed soldiers flooded the terrace, their black Enforcer armour a stark contrast to the marble tiling. They moved with efficiency, their weapons raised, their helmeted heads scanning the surrounding spires. One of them, an officer with crimson markings on his helmet, raised a hand, his other pointing directly at their vantage point.

  They had been made. There was no time for confirmation or quiet satisfaction. "Move," Leo commanded. Lysetta was already a blur of motion, her hands flying as she broke down the KV-46, the components clicking apart with a speed born of endless repetition. She shoved the pieces into the canvas-wrapped case as Leo provided cover, his pulse rifle—which he’d had slung on his back—snapping up to his shoulder in a high ready position.

  They abandoned the gargoyle, melting back into the forest of vents and maintenance conduits that littered the rooftop, the screams from the terrace and the rising wail of the city-wide alarms their only company.

  Their primary exfiltration point—a service door leading back into the spire's maintenance corridors—was now a death trap. They could hear the rhythmic thud of armoured boots approaching from the other side. "Plan B," Lysetta stated. She didn't wait for a reply, already changing direction, her movements fluid and certain. She led him to the edge of the rooftop, the wind whipping at their cloaks, the dizzying drop to the city below a sea of swirling lights and dark shadows. Across a forty-foot gap, the rooftop of an adjacent spire beckoned, a flat expanse of stone and steel.

  The service door behind them exploded inwards, blasted from its hinges by a concussive charge. A squad of Krev'an Enforcers in black armor flooded the rooftop, their pulse rifles already raised. "Stand down!" their captain barked, his voice a harsh augmented command. "You are outnumbered."

  "Go!" Leo yelled, dropping to one knee beside a vent. He raised his pulse rifle and squeezed the trigger with a precise, controlled three-round burst. The crimson bolts hammered the chest of the lead Enforcer, the kinetic energy of the shots staggering the man and forcing the two behind him to break for cover.

  Lysetta didn't hesitate. Using the precious seconds Leo had bought her, she took a running start, her legs propelling her across the chasm in a frantic, graceful leap. She landed lightly on the other side, rolling to her feet and sprinting for the next piece of cover, a large ventilation unit.

  "Leo, move!" she screamed back.

  The Enforcers recovered, their captain shouting, "Target the male! Suppressing fire!" A volley of crimson energy bolts seared the air around Leo, superheating the metal vent he was hiding behind, the stone at his feet exploding in a shower of shrapnel.

  He was pinned.

  "Covering!" Lysetta called from the other rooftop. She had already braced her sidearm on the ventilation unit, creating a stable firing platform. She loosed two precise shots. The high-velocity slugs found their mark. One Enforcer, who had just cleared the doorway, crumpled to the ground, his chest a ruin. The second shot caught the captain in the shoulder pauldron, spinning him around and knocking him back into the doorway, out of the fight. The remaining soldiers scrambled for cover.

  It was all the opening Leo needed. He pushed off from the ledge, his rifle clutched tight, just as a fresh volley of energy seared the air where he had been standing. He leaped across the forty-foot gap, his greater bulk making the jump less graceful. He slammed hard onto the adjacent rooftop, the impact jarring, sending a shockwave of pain up his legs. He rolled, coming up next to Lysetta behind the large ventilation unit.

  The Enforcers, enraged, opened fire, the air around them filled with the sharp, angry hiss of pulse rifle fire. Searchlights from the watchtowers began to sweep across the spires, their powerful beams cutting through the darkness, hunting for them. They're exposed, trapped on a rooftop high above the city, with an elite response team closing in. Lysetta pointed to an iron maintenance hatch set into the roof. It was their only way down, their only way out.

  "Cover me!" Lysetta yelled over the cacophony. She threw herself at the heavy iron hatch, her fingers finding the recessed locking mechanism.

  "On it!" Leo rose from behind the ventilation unit, settling his pulse rifle on the metal housing for stability. "Eat this!"

  He unleashed a torrent of fire, his finger holding down the trigger. The rifle thrummed against his shoulder, spitting a stream of crimson bolts across the chasm. His goal was pure suppression. He "walked" his fire across the Enforcers' position, forcing them to stay flat behind their cover. The stone around them chipped and exploded as he raked the ledge, the air filling with the sharp, metallic tang of spent energy and superheated rock.

  "It's rusted shut!" Lysetta shouted, her voice a mix of fury and panic. With a grunt of frustration, she drew her combat knife and began to pry at the edges, the screech of metal on metal a stark counterpoint to the hiss of Leo's covering fire.

  The Enforcers, recovering quickly, changed tactics. Two of them fired grappling lines that slammed into the rooftop near them, the cables whining as they began to retract, pulling the soldiers across the chasm.

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  "They're crossing!" Lysetta cried.

  "Time's up!" Leo roared. He swung his rifle toward the two incoming soldiers, his finger squeezing the trigger—

  Click. Click. Hiss.

  The rifle's energy cell was dry. The weapon was dead. "Jivaczor yojok! Out of ammo!" he yelled, frustration and adrenaline coursing through him. He didn't hesitate. He dropped the now-useless pulse rifle, letting the sling take it around to his back. His hands were already moving.

  "One last second!" he roared. A bow of pure, shimmering energy formed in his left hand, [Arcanum—Long Bow: Charged Shot I] and as he drew back the string of light, a glowing arrow materialised, its tip humming with contained power. He loosed the shot, a streak of white-gold energy that crossed the chasm in an instant.

  He didn't aim for the soldiers on the cables. He aimed for the group still on the far roof. The charged arrow detonated in a blinding flash of light and force. The soldiers were momentarily stunned by the flashbang effect, their covering fire ceasing.

  "Lets go!" Leo bellowed.

  With a final, powerful heave, Lysetta put her entire weight into her combat knife, and the rusted lock finally gave way with a loud crack. She threw the heavy hatch open, revealing a dark, narrow maintenance shaft descending into the spire's guts.

  The two grappling Enforcers landed on the roof, their rifles rising. Lysetta was already in the hole. Leo turned, his hand flashing out as a blade of pure light formed in his grasp. [Arcanum—Short Sword I] A crimson bolt smashed into the flat of his sword. The energy exploded, and a jolt of feedback shot up his arm, a staggering force that left it numb, but he was already using the momentum, falling backwards and diving into the darkness of the shaft without hesitation. The clang of the heavy iron hatch slamming shut above them was their only farewell.

  The shaft was a vertical maze of pipes, conduits, and support beams, descending into an inky, absolute blackness. The frantic pounding from the hatch far above them was the first sign. Then came the shouts, followed by the unmistakable, high-energy snap of pulse rifles.

  Crimson bolts lanced down into the darkness, turning their descent into a vertical, one-sided firefight. The energy shots ricocheted from the metal pipes, filling the shaft with a chaotic light show of deadly, caroming energy. "Split!" Lysetta commanded, her voice echoing in the confined space.

  She threw herself to the right, using the thick, greasy trunk of a primary conduit to shield her as a volley of shots hammered the space she'd just been. Leo went left, his descent a controlled, chaotic slide, his boots scraping sparks as he kicked off support beams, using the complex maze to break line of sight. A bolt seared past his head, the radiant heat scorching his cheek, and struck a steam pipe below him. The pipe exploded in a blinding cloud of scalding vapour, filling the shaft with a thick, white fog.

  It was the cover they needed. "Down, down!" Leo roared, using the steam as a curtain. They fell the last thirty feet blind, their only guide the sound of Lysetta's grunts and scrapes, and plunged through the steam cloud, dropping the last ten feet.

  They hit the grimy floor of a maintenance corridor, the impact rattling bones, and rolled to their feet in a practiced motion. The shaft above them was a chaos of steam and muffled-shouting. They didn't wait to see if the Enforcers would follow.

  They had dropped twenty levels before the shaft ended, spitting them out into a grimy maintenance corridor. The sensory assault was immediate. The air was thick with the smells of unwashed bodies, cheap fried flatbread heavy with garlic, and the acrid tang of industrial runoff. The city-wide alarms were a constant oppressive drone that drew the attention of the locals. They didn't stop. Lysetta took the lead, plunging them into a maze of back alleys. They moved through the city's forgotten spaces, a world away from the opulent heights they had just left. Here, the streets were narrow, slick with a perpetual dampness from leaking pipes overhead. Walls of soot-stained brick were plastered with peeling propaganda posters depicting a stern-faced Matron Carissa. They pushed through a crowd of the city's underclass—forge-workers with exhaustion carved into their faces, off-duty soldiers gambling with bone dice, and gaunt-faced vendors hawking cheap trinkets from shadowed alcoves, their eyes following them with a calculating hunger.

  They rounded a corner and almost collided with a three-man Enforcer patrol, their black armour a menacing presence in the grimy street. Lysetta reacted instantly, pulling Leo down behind the cramped interior of a stall selling lángos, the air thick with the smell of frying dough and garlic. They pressed themselves against the wall behind a stack of flour sacks, holding their breath as the armored boots marched past, their rhythmic tread a hammer against their ribs. The patrol passed without a second glance, their attention focused on the larger avenues. Every corner was a potential ambush, every shadow a potential threat. They were a world away from their exfiltration point, and the entire city was now their hunting ground.

  The moment the patrol was gone, they were moving again. Lysetta made an abrupt, unexpected turn down an unmarked alley, a narrow gap between two crumbling tenements that Leo would have missed entirely. The alley was a vertical world of its own, crisscrossed with sagging clotheslines and rickety wooden balconies. They didn't stay on the ground. Lysetta leaped, grabbing the edge of a low-hanging balcony and pulling herself up with a fluid, athletic grace. Leo followed, his greater bulk making the climb more of a struggle, but his raw strength getting him up and over the railing.

  They were off the streets now, moving across the rooftops of the mid-levels, a desperate, high-stakes race against the tightening net of the Dominion's security forces. This was Lysetta's territory. She led a breakneck parkour-chase, a silent, fluid blur against the soot-stained skyline. They vaulted over rusted ventilation shafts, slid down pitched, copper roofs, and leaped across dizzying gaps between buildings. The city here was a maze of corrugated tin and makeshift bridges.

  It was this frantic movement that betrayed them.

  A shout from below. The patrol they had dodged, or another just like it, had spotted them from the street. "Up there! Non-standard uniforms! Don't let them escape!"

  A half-dozen pulse rifle shots erupted from the street, chewing up the brickwork at their heels. They were being herded, driven from the relative cover of the rooftops toward the more open, exposed sky-bridges that connected the mid-level spires.

  As they sprinted across a rusted metal rooftop, a new squad of Enforcers appeared on a connecting sky-bridge fifty yards away, cutting off their path. A shouted command was lost in the wind, but the crimson flash of their pulse rifles was unmistakable. They were caught in a pincer.

  Leo reacted on pure instinct. "Down!" he yelled, shoving Lysetta toward a low-set chimney stack. He twisted in mid-air, his hand flashing out as a blade formed to create a defensive wall. [Arcanum—Short Sword I] He was too slow.

  A searing bolt of energy slammed into his back, throwing him forward. The pulse shot burned a fist-sized, cauterised hole clean through his armored cloak, a starburst of agony stealing his breath and sending a shockwave of pain through his torso. He stumbled, catching himself before he fell, a grunt of pain escaping his lips. Lysetta was on him in an instant, dragging him the last few feet behind the cover of the large, industrial chimney stack.

  "How bad?" she demanded, her voice keen with urgency as crimson bolts from the sky-bridge began to chip away at their cover.

  "Armour's breached," he gasped, "mana burn."

  She didn't waste time. She produced a pressurised canister from her belt pouch and sprayed a fine, shimmering mist onto the wound. The mist hissed on contact, neutralising the lingering arcane energy of the pulse shot. With the immediate threat of the mana burn dealt with, she produced a small, corked vial of shimmering, red liquid. She uncorked it and pressed it into his hand. "Drink," she commanded.

  He downed the viscous liquid in a single swallow, a wave of intense magical cold spreading through him as the potion began its work. "That's the only one I have," she said, her voice a low, urgent command. "Don't get hit again."

  He pushed through the pain, the potion's cold fire knitting his flesh back together with an agonising speed. Just as he found his feet, a deafening, structural scream ripped through the city, a violation of the natural order that drowned out the wail of the alarms. It came from everywhere at once.

  They stopped, their frantic flight forgotten, and looked back towards the city's central spires. The massive, obsidian tower that housed the archives was coming apart. Great chunks of stone and iron peeled away from its upper levels in a slow, silent cascade of debris, as if a piece of the building had simply ceased to exist. For a moment, they could only stare, their minds struggling to comprehend the sheer, impossible scale of the event.

  The city was in chaos. Below them, the streets were a sea of panicked citizens and confused Enforcer patrols, their attention now divided between the initial assassination alarm and the impossible sight of a collapsing spire. Then Leo's instincts kicked in. He grabbed Lysetta's arm and pulled her onward. "We can't stop," he said, his voice an urgent command. "Move!"

  Using the confusion to their advantage, a pair of ghosts moving through a city that had suddenly gone blind. They leaped from rooftop to rooftop, their movements a high-stakes race against the tightening net of the Dominion's security forces and the ticking clock of Réwenver's scheduled portal.