The relief of entering the city lasted less than a minute.

  Then reality crushed it.

  Vale stepped through the massive gates with the tide of refugees, boots striking stone instead of dirt for the first time in days. Behind him, guards shouted commands while soldiers forced the crowd to keep moving.

  “Keep walking!”

  “Clear the entrance!”

  “No stopping inside the gate!”

  The massive doors groaned shut again, sealing the outside world away.

  For a moment, many refugees cried openly. Some knelt, thanking whatever gods they still believed in. Others hugged family members, shaking with relief.

  They had made it inside.

  They were safe.

  Then the smell hit.

  Rot.

  Smoke.

  Waste.

  Fear.

  Vale’s jaw tightened.

  The interior of the city looked nothing like the thriving trade hub he remembered from distant memories. Streets that should have bustled with merchants and travelers now overflowed with desperate humanity.

  Tents lined the roads.

  Refugees filled every open space — markets, courtyards, even temple steps. Fires burned in barrels for warmth. Wounded civilians lay on blankets while exhausted healers moved among them.

  And soldiers stood everywhere.

  Watching.

  Controlling.

  Managing.

  Lyn stopped beside him, stunned.

  “This… this is inside the city?”

  Vale nodded slowly.

  “Yes.”

  Her voice dropped.

  “It looks worse than outside.”

  In some ways, it was.

  Outside, danger was obvious.

  Inside, it suffocated slowly.

  Guards forced new arrivals into side streets, separating caravans to prevent congestion. Vale spotted fights breaking out already as groups argued over space.

  People who expected salvation instead found overcrowding.

  And overcrowding meant shortages.

  Which meant violence.

  Marrow caught up with them, breathing hard.

  “Stay together,” he warned. “We don’t want to get separated now.”

  Good advice.

  Crowds swallowed individuals quickly.

  They moved deeper into the city, following soldiers directing refugees into designated districts. Buildings loomed overhead, but many showed damage — broken windows, scorched stone, collapsed rooftops.

  Signs of recent fighting.

  Lyn noticed too.

  “What happened here?”

  Vale scanned the damage.

  “Battle.”

  “With what?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Because something worse than monsters lingered in the air.

  Tension.

  Fear.

  Distrust.

  The city itself felt on edge.

  They passed a market square turned refugee camp. Hundreds sat huddled around fires while city officials distributed food under heavy guard.

  Not enough food.

  Not nearly enough.

  Arguments erupted in lines as supplies ran out. Soldiers shoved people back with spear shafts.

  A woman screamed as her ration was taken by someone stronger.

  No one intervened.

  Vale kept walking.

  He had learned long ago:

  You could not fix everything.

  Behind them, Lyn whispered:

  “They’re going to starve.”

  “Some will,” Vale said quietly.

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  She stared at him.

  “You’re just okay with that?”

  “No.”

  He met her gaze calmly.

  “But being angry doesn’t change it.”

  Silence followed.

  Truth often felt cruel.

  They reached an intersection where soldiers blocked further passage.

  A captain stepped forward, armor scratched and stained from recent battles.

  “New arrivals stop here,” he barked. “State origin and numbers.”

  Marrow stepped forward cautiously.

  “Village south of Northbridge. Sixty survivors.”

  The captain scribbled onto a parchment before gesturing down a side street.

  “District Seven. Temporary housing.”

  He moved to wave them onward when his gaze stopped on Vale.

  Eyes narrowing.

  “You.”

  Vale paused.

  The captain studied him carefully.

  “You were outside the gate yesterday.”

  Not a question.

  A statement.

  Vale nodded.

  “Yes.”

  The captain crossed his arms.

  “You held the monsters back.”

  Murmurs spread among nearby soldiers.

  Recognition.

  Vale suppressed a sigh.

  Attention never helped.

  “Someone had to,” he said simply.

  The captain watched him another moment, then jerked his chin toward the street.

  “District Seven. But stay visible.”

  Vale frowned.

  “Why?”

  The captain answered bluntly.

  “Because powerful strangers make people nervous.”

  Fair.

  Vale moved on without argument.

  Lyn caught up quickly.

  “You’re famous now.”

  He grimaced.

  “That’s not good.”

  District Seven turned out to be an overcrowded merchant quarter repurposed for refugees. Shops stood abandoned while families crammed inside buildings meant for storage, not living.

  Space barely existed.

  Caravan members scattered quickly, claiming corners and rooms before others could.

  Marrow assigned sleeping spaces as best he could.

  Vale leaned against a wall, exhaustion finally creeping in.

  Two days without real rest.

  Too many fights.

  Too much tension.

  Lyn dropped beside him, rubbing sore arms.

  “So… now what?”

  Vale looked around.

  Children crying.

  Hunters arguing.

  Merchants shouting over supplies.

  Soldiers dragging away thieves.

  And above it all—

  Smoke rising from deeper inside the city.

  “Now,” he said quietly, “we find out why the city looks like it’s already losing.”

  Lyn frowned.

  “What do you mean?”

  Before he could answer—

  A thunderous crash echoed from somewhere across the district.

  Stone shattered.

  People screamed.

  Then came a sound Vale recognized instantly.

  Not monster.

  Not army.

  Power.

  Authority.

  Lyn’s eyes widened.

  “What was that?”

  Vale pushed off the wall.

  “Trouble.”

  Another explosion echoed, closer this time. Dust rose above rooftops as people ran into the streets in panic.

  A voice shouted:

  “Authority users are fighting again!”

  Fear surged through the refugee quarter.

  Vale exhaled slowly.

  So that was it.

  Civilization hadn’t just survived monsters.

  It was tearing itself apart from inside.

  And now…

  They were standing in the middle of it.

  The second explosion shook the street hard enough to crack stone beneath their feet.

  Dust fell from nearby rooftops as people screamed and scrambled for cover. Merchants slammed shutters closed while refugees dove into alleys, instinctively fleeing danger they didn’t understand.

  Vale didn’t move.

  He watched the smoke plume rising several districts away.

  Authority clash.

  No doubt about it.

  The energy in the air felt wrong — like reality itself recoiling. He remembered that sensation from long ago, when gods fought openly and the world bent under their power.

  Lyn grabbed his arm.

  “Tell me we’re not going toward that.”

  Vale glanced at her.

  “We’re not.”

  Relief flashed across her face.

  “Good.”

  He continued:

  “We’re going around it.”

  Her relief vanished instantly.

  “That’s not better!”

  But Vale was already moving.

  Because chaos spread faster than danger, and he needed to understand what kind of city they had entered.

  Marrow shouted after them.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To look,” Vale called back.

  “Looking gets people killed!”

  Vale raised a hand without turning.

  “Then stay here.”

  Lyn hurried after him anyway.

  “Why do I keep following you?” she muttered.

  “Bad instincts.”

  They moved cautiously through side streets, staying clear of the main road where panic grew. Soldiers rushed past toward the disturbance, shields raised, trying to contain whatever conflict erupted.

  Another shockwave rolled through the city.

  Windows shattered.

  People screamed again.

  Lyn flinched.

  “That doesn’t sound like normal fighting.”

  “It isn’t.”

  They turned a corner and reached a rooftop overlook where the district opened toward a large plaza below.

  Vale stopped.

  Lyn nearly walked into him.

  “What—”

  Then she saw it.

  And fell silent.

  Two figures fought in the center of the plaza.

  But fight wasn’t the right word.

  Reality twisted around them.

  One combatant — a tall man clad in cracked bronze armor — swung a massive hammer glowing with golden light. Each strike shattered stone, leaving craters where the plaza floor had been moments earlier.

  Opposite him, a thin woman floated slightly above ground, wind spiraling violently around her body. With every motion of her hands, air compressed into slicing blasts that tore through buildings.

  The plaza lay in ruins.

  Market stalls obliterated.

  Nearby houses collapsed.

  And civilians ran screaming in all directions.

  Vale’s expression hardened.

  Authority users.

  Fighting in the middle of a populated city.

  Lyn whispered:

  “They’re going to kill everyone.”

  “They don’t care.”

  He studied the battlefield carefully.

  The armored man shouted something Vale couldn’t hear, then charged. The wind-user hurled him backward, smashing him through a stone wall.

  Dust exploded.

  But seconds later he burst out again, armor glowing brighter.

  The crowd panicked.

  Soldiers surrounded the plaza but kept their distance, unable to intervene.

  Because what stopped monsters didn’t stop Authority.

  A soldier near Vale shouted orders desperately:

  “Evacuate civilians!”

  But civilians were already trapped.

  Debris blocked exits.

  Panic created bottlenecks.

  And the Authority clash only intensified.

  Lyn grabbed Vale’s sleeve.

  “You’re not thinking about getting involved, right?”

  He hesitated.

  And that hesitation answered enough.

  Her eyes widened.

  “No.”

  Vale frowned slightly.

  “People are trapped.”

  “People are always trapped!”

  Her voice shook.

  “You can’t fix everything!”

  True.

  But this?

  He watched a building collapse, burying fleeing civilians under stone.

  His jaw tightened.

  Protector Authority stirred instinctively.

  Choice again.

  Walk away.

  Or act.

  Vale exhaled slowly.

  “Stay here.”

  Lyn cursed.

  “You always say that!”

  He was already moving.

  The closer he moved toward the plaza, the clearer the devastation became.

  Bodies lay beneath rubble.

  Soldiers tried desperately to drag wounded civilians away while avoiding stray attacks.

  Vale grabbed a fallen beam and lifted it aside, freeing two trapped civilians. They stared at him in shock before fleeing.

  Another explosion rocked the plaza.

  The wind-user screamed:

  “THIS CITY BELONGS TO NO TYRANT!”

  The armored man roared back:

  “WITHOUT ORDER, EVERYTHING FALLS!”

  Vale recognized the argument immediately.

  Freedom versus control.

  Chaos versus authority.

  A debate older than kingdoms.

  And civilians paid the price.

  He moved quickly, pulling people from danger zones, guiding them away from collapsing buildings.

  He didn’t attack either Authority user.

  He didn’t need to.

  He only needed people to live.

  A young soldier stumbled near him, blood running down his temple.

  “You—help them!” the soldier gasped, pointing toward trapped civilians.

  Vale nodded and moved again.

  Then—

  A blast struck nearby.

  Wind pressure hurled Vale across the street.

  He crashed into a wall, pain exploding through bruised ribs.

  The wind-user hadn’t even seen him.

  Collateral damage.

  Vale pushed himself up, coughing.

  Authority flared instinctively, shielding him from further debris.

  The armored man noticed him now.

  And paused.

  Recognition flickered.

  Another Authority user?

  The wind-user turned too.

  For a moment—

  The battlefield froze.

  Vale stood between them.

  And suddenly realized—

  Everyone was looking at him.

  Soldiers.

  Civilians.

  Authority users.

  Power recognized power.

  Lyn’s distant voice echoed from somewhere behind:

  “Vale, move!”

  Too late.

  The wind-user’s eyes narrowed.

  “Another one?”

  The armored man lifted his hammer.

  “Choose a side.”

  Vale sighed quietly.

  Because this city…

  Was even worse than he thought.

  And now he was part of the problem.

  Whether he wanted to be or not.