The chamber shuddered as the Grid's scream died, leaving only the groan of machinery tearing itself apart. Panels sparked, lights guttered, and the hum that had once been the city's lifeline stuttered into silence. For a breath, all Cain heard was his own heartbeat.
Then the sound of collapse came—servers bursting, conduits ripping, towers of circuitry falling like trees in a storm. Cain forced himself to his feet, blade already in hand, though steel felt meaningless in a place where electricity itself had turned traitor.
Steve slumped against the breaker, chest heaving. "That's it," he rasped. "The split hub's gone. Their grid is blind."
Roselle moved past him, eyes sharp, weapon up. "Blind doesn't mean harmless. They'll move anyway. Like beasts with their eyes put out."
Hunter lingered in the shadows of the corridor. The light from the dying servers painted his face in blue flashes, alternating between resolve and despair. He looked at Cain as though searching for proof that this path led somewhere other than ruin.
Susan broke the silence. "We need to move. This place is about to come down."
They ran.
The corridor pulsed with collapsing power as they pushed toward the next shaft. Overhead, bulkheads split like old bones, dropping sheets of metal. Cain swung his blade to deflect one, sparks raining over his shoulders. Roselle cursed but kept pace, her pistol barking at drones still staggering in the ruin of command.
They burst into a maintenance stair that vibrated with the weight of the city. Below them, the sound of soldiers rose—confused, enraged, but still numerous.
Steve grabbed the railing, knuckles white. "They'll think we just crippled their god. They'll come like zealots."
Hunter's voice was low but steady. "Then we give them something else to worship. Fear."
Cain didn't answer. His blade was enough reply as he carved the way forward, hacking through walls meant to separate machine from man. The stair gave way into a half-collapsed atrium, daylight bleeding through shattered glass above. The city looked strange now: towers flickering like candles, drones plummeting from the sky, civilians frozen in streets where traffic had become chaos.
Susan's breath caught at the sight. "We've broken it. The whole city's heartbeat—we stopped it."
Roselle shoved her shoulder. "Don't stare. Move."
They crossed the atrium, boots slipping on glass and water spilling from ruptured pipes. Cain's eyes tracked the sky. He half-expected the Daelmonts to answer immediately, with new weapons, new commands. But the silence above told him what mattered most: the enemy had lost time.
That silence wouldn't last.
They reached the far stairwell, Hunter at the rear, his silence heavy. Cain felt the weight of it pressing on him, but he didn't turn. Hunter's bargains were ash now, burned with the Grid. They were past compromise.
As they climbed, Susan asked the question Cain had dreaded. "What happens when the council sees what we've done? We didn't just cut their leash—we cut their lungs."
Cain didn't slow. "Then the council chooses. Whether they stand or whether they break."
Roselle gave a short, cruel laugh. "And us?"
"We keep climbing."
The stair spat them out into a high platform overlooking the city. Smoke rose from half the skyline. The spire they'd gutted bled sparks into the morning, its steel skeleton exposed. Cain looked at the destruction and saw not victory, but fracture.
Steve leaned on the railing, sweat dripping from his face. "They'll come for us with everything left. They'll call us terrorists, heretics, traitors."
Hunter's eyes narrowed. "And will they be wrong?"
Cain turned to him, blade catching the first true light of dawn. "We didn't cut this city to kill it. We cut it so it could breathe."
The platform trembled. Explosions echoed below as soldiers forced their way into the spire. Cain lifted his blade, the reflection of fire dancing along its edge.
"Ready yourselves," he said. "This isn't the end. It's the first breath."
The others formed around him—Susan with her rifle, Roselle with her pistol, Steve with his tools still sparking, and Hunter with silence in his eyes.
And when the first of the hunters breached the platform doors, the war Cain had promised began anew.
The first wave of hunters came fast, their armor scorched by the collapsing Grid but their discipline intact. They moved in formation, rifles raised, visors black.
Cain didn't wait for them to close. He surged forward, blade arcing in a bright curve. The first soldier fell, helmet split, the scream of steel on composite echoing through the chamber. Roselle's pistol cracked in sharp rhythm beside him, each shot precise, each body collapsing into the smoke.
Susan dropped to one knee, rifle pressed against her shoulder. Controlled bursts ripped into the advancing line, scattering their cohesion. Sparks flew as rounds struck steel; screams cut through the chaos. She gritted her teeth and fired again, her body trembling with pain but unbroken.
Steve was behind them, not with weapons but with wires. He tore a panel from the wall and forced his tools into it, coaxing dead circuits to spit their last remnants of energy. "Cover me," he shouted, sweat dripping into his eyes.
Hunter stood back, pistol drawn but unused. His gaze shifted between Cain and the hunters, torn by something no bullet could resolve. Compromise had died with the Grid, but in him it still lived, a flickering shadow that made his trigger finger hesitate.
Cain drove through another soldier, rage and precision fused into motion. He didn't have words for Hunter now. The time for talk had gone. This was action, this was proof, this was the cost they had chosen when they tore the city's lungs from its chest.
A blast tore through the platform, shaking it under their feet. Reinforcements were forcing their way up from the lower stairwells, climbing the spire with relentless fury. The city itself seemed to roar with them, steel groaning, smoke rising.
Susan called out, her voice ragged. "We can't hold this long!"
Steve's console hissed, sparks flying. "Then buy me one more minute!"
Roselle shot another soldier and spat blood from a cut lip. "A minute's an eternity in this mess!"