Chapter 3: The City Bleeds

Chapter 3: The City Bleeds

The cruiser tore down the rain-slicked county road, tires spitting mud and gravel. Inside, the cabin was a bubble of tense silence punctuated by the manic symphony of a dying city on the radio. Lena drove with a white-knuckled, focused terror, her eyes flicking between the road and Kaelen’s grim profile.

Kaelen wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at his own hands, one gripping the steering column, the other resting on the cold, solid weight of the [Warden’s Law] tucked in his vest. The System interface was gone for now, but he could feel its ghost behind his eyes, a phantom layer over reality. The numbers, the class, the weapon… they weren't a hallucination. They were a tactical briefing for a new kind of war.

“—repeat, the bridge is down! Something pulled the whole damn thing into the river!” a frantic voice screamed from the radio, dissolving into a wet, choking sound and then static.

“They’re coming from the south side… swarming the hospital…”

“Where is the National Guard? Where is anybody?!”

The voices were a chorus of the damned, painting a picture of absolute collapse. Kaelen switched it off. The raw panic was a contagion, and he needed Lena focused.

“We don’t need to hear that,” he said, his voice flat. “Just drive.”

They crested the final hill on the highway overlooking Aethelburg. And they both saw it.

The city wasn’t just on fire. The very sky above it was broken.

A vast, jagged wound stretched across the storm clouds, a tear in the fabric of the night. It didn’t glow with any color Kaelen knew; it was a shimmering, nauseating un-color, a void that seemed to bleed darkness at its edges. From this celestial wound, tiny black motes were falling like malevolent snow, drifting down into the heart of the metropolis. Reality itself looked thin here, warped and distorted around the tear like heat haze on asphalt.

A blue pane materialized in Kaelen’s vision.

[Warning: Widespread Spacial Instability Detected in Your Zone.] [Lesser Anomalies Ingressing. Threat Level: Variable.]

“My God,” Lena breathed, her foot easing off the accelerator. “It’s real. All of it.”

“Keep driving,” Kaelen ordered, his voice sharper now. “Slowing down makes us a target.”

They plunged into the outskirts. The abstract horror immediately became a concrete, visceral nightmare. Cars were strewn across the highway like a child’s discarded toys, some smashed, some abandoned with doors flung open. People ran screaming in every direction, their faces masks of primal fear. The city’s familiar symphony of sirens was gone, replaced by a discordant mess of screams, shattering glass, and a high-pitched, chittering sound that scraped at the nerves.

Up ahead, a minivan had swerved and crashed into the median, its front end crumpled. A man was desperately trying to pull a screaming child from the back seat while his wife hammered on the jammed passenger door. Their escape was blocked by a skittering, twitching pack of creatures.

Kaelen’s eyes narrowed. They were the source of the chittering. The officer on the radio had called them rats, but that was an insult to rats. Each was the size of a bull terrier, their bodies appearing to be cobbled together from shards of obsidian and broken glass. They moved with a twitching, unnatural speed, their multifaceted eyes glimmering with a thousand points of malevolent light. They were Glimmerfang Rats.

One of them leaped onto the hood of the minivan, its razor-sharp forelimbs screeching as they dug into the metal. Another was methodically chewing through the rubber of a rear tire, sparks flying as its crystalline teeth scraped the rim.

Lena started to slow. “We have to help them!”

“We are,” Kaelen said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “They’re in our way. Pull up alongside. Keep the engine running.”

His words were cold, pragmatic, but his actions were decisive. This wasn't a choice driven by heroism; it was a tactical necessity. They couldn't get through until the threat was neutralized.

The cruiser slid to a halt. Kaelen was out the door before it fully stopped, the rain plastering his hair to his scalp. He drew his Glock, muscle memory taking over.

“Aethelburg PD! Get behind me!” he yelled at the terrified man.

The rats turned as one, their chittering rising in pitch. Four of them broke off from the van and charged him. Kaelen planted his feet, aimed center mass, and fired.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

The 9mm slugs hit the lead creature. Instead of penetrating, they ricocheted off its crystalline hide with sharp pings, sparking like flint on steel. The thing didn't even flinch.

Kaelen’s blood ran cold. The old rules were dead. He holstered his useless firearm in one smooth motion and his hand went to his vest. His fingers closed around the brass-knuckle grip of the [Warden’s Law].

The moment he drew the trench knife, the world seemed to snap into sharper focus. He felt the latent power within it hum, an eager vibration that traveled up his arm.

The first rat leaped, a glittering projectile of fang and claw aimed at his throat. Kaelen didn’t back away. He stepped into the attack, his body moving with the brutal efficiency of a soldier. He sidestepped the lunge and thrust the knife forward.

There was no resistance. No sound of tearing flesh or scraping bone. The blade slid into the creature’s side as if it were passing through smoke. The rat’s chittering screech cut off in a wet gurgle. Kaelen ripped the blade free and the creature convulsed, its crystalline body crumbling, not into gore, but into a fine shower of black dust and fading light.

A notification flashed in the corner of his eye.

[Glimmerfang Rat Neutralized. +10 EXP]

No time to process. The other three were on him. He parried a clawed swipe with the knife’s reinforced hilt, the impact jarring his arm, and punched forward with the brass knuckles, smashing one creature’s multifaceted eye. It shrieked and staggered back. He followed up with a vicious downward stab, driving the blade through its spine. It dissolved like the first.

[+10 EXP]

He was in the zone now, the chaos of the world fading to a simple, deadly equation. Threat. Weapon. Target. The two remaining rats attacked from opposite sides. He spun, slashing the blade across the throat of one while kicking the other away. He used its momentary stumble to close the distance, the knife plunging into its chest.

[+10 EXP] [+10 EXP]

Four down. He turned his attention back to the van. The last few rats were still trying to claw their way inside. He vaulted over the hood of a stalled car and charged. These encounters were even quicker. A thrust, a slash, a brutal punch with the hilt. Each movement was precise, economical, and utterly lethal. The knife felt like an extension of his will, a key made to unlock these impossible creatures from existence.

In less than thirty seconds, it was over. The area around the minivan was littered with piles of dissipating black dust.

[EXP: 40/100]

The father stared at him, his face a mixture of awe and terror. The child was crying in his arms.

“Get out of the city,” Kaelen said, his voice a low growl. He didn't wait for a thank you. He wiped the non-existent blood from his knife on his pants and turned back to the cruiser. “Go north. Don’t stop.”

He slid back into the passenger seat, the smell of ozone and rain clinging to him. Lena was staring at him, her mouth slightly agape. She’d seen him fight before, in training, but this was different. This was something primal.

“What was that knife?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Kaelen didn’t answer. He was looking at his internal status, at the bar that said 40/100. He had seen it, felt it. The proof. Slaying those things had a tangible result, a quantifiable gain. His actions had a direct and immediate impact that he could measure. The world might have ended, but a new one, with new, brutal rules, had taken its place.

And in this new world, he wasn’t helpless.

The visceral success, the life he had just saved, the power humming in the weapon on his hip—it all fused together in his mind, forging a cold, hard certainty that cut through the fear and confusion. The guilt over his past failures, the cynicism that had been his shield for years… they felt distant, unimportant. All that mattered was the here and now. The mission.

Adapt or die. It wasn't a choice. It was the only law left.

He looked at Lena, and for the first time since the night began, his grey eyes held no weariness, only a razor-sharp, chilling resolve.

“The precinct,” he said. “Get us to the 13th.”