Tycho Vant swore, a harsh sound ripped from his throat. His rigid composure cracked, revealing a raw edge of disbelief and fury. “Mykelok,” he snarled, the name a venomous hiss. “He’s tracking this sector.” Tycho swung his barrel down toward Rheno, metal shaking against his glove. “This is your doing, courier. Your… methods. You’ve drawn his eye.”
Vysa Renn lowered her pistol, eyeing the three smoldering shades trailing Rheno’s boots. Soot lined the corners of her mouth. “His methods got us out of that pit,” she countered, her voice low, strained. “And if Mykelok is tracking this sector, then we’re all in the same cage, Vant.” She looked at Rheno, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. “What’s the plan, Rheno?” She tilted her chin toward the lingering red runes. “How do we reach the Rivet Gate?”
Rheno offered nothing, his focus anchored to the red script hanging before his retinas. [GATE DUNGEON DETECTED: FISSURE OF THE CHITINOUS. CLEARANCE REQUIRED TO UNLOCK SECTOR: RIVET GATE.] Fifty paces ahead, an immense emerald runner, thick as an elevated train trestle, corkscrewed skyward through ruptured asphalt. A gateway, or a prison wall, depending on perspective.
“The Monolith is the way,” Rheno stated, his voice devoid of inflection. “Clear the dungeon. Breach the Rivet Gate.” He stepped toward the massive creeper, his three tethered shades sliding silent along the curb behind him. Korin Daxx, broader and denser than the hound forms, swallowed the ambient street glow into his silhouette.
Tycho hesitated, his weapon still partially raised. He shifted his sight from Rheno’s shoulders to Vysa. He spat on the ground. “Fine. But if you try anything… *unconventional* again, Galt, I’ll put you down myself.” He holstered his sidearm, pulling a heavy-duty plasma rifle from his back, its barrel scarred from prior battles. “You. Renn. Cover my flank. We move as a unit.”
Vysa nodded, tucking her pistol into her belt and retrieving a well-maintained combat knife. She fell into step beside Tycho, the two of them maintaining a wary distance from Rheno and his silent, dark retinue. The root mass bored straight through the shattered facade of the Oshur Grand Galleria, opening into an alien canopy. Fluorescent lights lay shattered on the moss-choked floor, replaced by bioluminescent fungi that pulsed with an ethereal, sickly green. Water cascaded from gaping holes in the roof, creating miniature waterfalls that fed pools choked with iridescent, alien flora.
Strange, multi-limbed creatures with segmented bodies scuttled across crumbling kiosks, their chitinous shells reflecting the faint light. The air grew thick, humid, carrying the scent of damp earth and something acrid, like burnt metal and rotting flowers. Rheno advanced through the tangled corridors without pausing, Korin and the twin hound-shades darting forward to sever mandibles before the scavengers could drop. No wasted movements. No hesitation.
[ENEMY ELIMINATED: RIVEN SKITTERER]
[ENEMY ELIMINATED: BARK-SPIDER]
The red text flashed solely for Rheno, a silent confirmation of his relentless progress. Tycho kept his sights fixed where the shadows struck, adjusting his stride to match. Rheno seemed to anticipate every ambush, his head turning fractionally before a creature burst from the foliage, only for a dark claw to meet it first. Vysa watched him check each blind turn, noting how little of the courier remained in his step.
They pushed deeper, past a wrecked food court where tables were now overgrown with monstrous, carnivorous pitcher plants. Thick foliage choked out the skylights, tinting the damp air deep violet and mold-green. As they approached what looked like the central atrium, a vast, circular space now choked with a towering, crystalline tree, the air itself seemed to crackle. The interface flares shifted from peripheral text to a centralized pulse.
The red text didn’t just appear. It *formed*. Above the quartz trunk, a towering holographic projection coalesced. It was a man, impossibly tall, rendered in stark, cold light. His features were sharp, refined, and utterly devoid of warmth. His gaze, even as a construct of light, felt like it pierced through the very fabric of reality, fixing on Rheno with an unnerving intensity.
“Rheno Galt,” the towering hologram resonated, his voice deep and smooth, echoing through the overgrown atrium. It was Warden Mykelok. “Your progress is… notable. The speed with which you adapt, the efficiency of your methods. Truly, an impressive test for my blade.” A faint, mirthless smile touched his lips. “I confess, I underestimated the potential of the Void-Shard. Consider yourself an early-stage data point. A curiosity, perhaps. Nothing more.”
Tycho took a staggered pace back, weapon leveled uselessly at the pillar of light. Vysa drew her knife, knuckles blanching around the grip.
Rheno stared up, unmoving, his pulse steady in his throat. He did not speak. He did not flinch. He simply watched the colossal construct of light.
Mykelok’s smile widened. “It is time to elevate the difficulty, Galt. Consider this your introduction to the true nature of the Rivet Gate containment.”
The projection collapsed inward, igniting into a blinding flare of tainted white glare. The crystalline tree at the center of the atrium exploded outwards, not with force, but with a silent, devastating burst of white-hot energy. From the heart of the light, a figure descended. She was ethereal, clad in armor that seemed woven from pure radiance, her form impossibly graceful. A spear of condensed radiance thrummed in her gauntlet.
Her feet touched the ground, and a shockwave of light rippled out, shattering the ancient, overgrown barricades Tycho had instinctively erected around them using fallen mall debris. The plasma rifle flew from Tycho’s grip as he was thrown backward, landing hard against a moss-covered pillar. Vysa, reacting with desperate speed, lunged for her dropped pistol, but Anarys Faen was faster. She closed the gap in a single stride, her spear a streak of blinding white. The thrust took Vysa beneath the ribs, skewering her through to the damp tile. Vysa choked on a short, wet cough and dropped, fabric smoking where the dark radiance bit into marrow.
Anarys Faen pulled the lance free, her expression serene, untouched by the brutality of her strike. She withdrew the tip, leaving smoldering flesh, and shifted her silver eyes to Rheno. “Your resistance is… inefficient,” she stated, her voice like chimes of ice. “Surrender, or be cleansed.” She kicked off a ruined balustrade, clearing the perimeter wall in a blur of tainted brilliance. The Monolith, as if responding to her exit, flashed a new directive, urgent and demanding. [BOSS LOCATED: ANARYS FAEN (GATE SAINTESS). STATUS: FLEEING.]
Rheno stopped. Blood bubbled between Vysa's fingers as she pressed against the cauterized, blackened fissure in her abdomen. The shades prowled the perimeter, edges flaring with residual heat, waiting on his command. Korin leaned forward, his smoky form pulling toward the breach where the boss had vanished. The system pinged pursuit coordinates against Rheno's vision, red and incessant, while Vysa’s breath rattled against the stone below him.