The wind whipped against the settlement’s steel walls, driving sand into the reinforced barriers with a relentless force, like waves crashing against jagged rocks.
At the entrance, a group of guards stood in silhouette, their outlines sharp against the flickering glow of the floodlights.
The man at the front was tall, draped in a heavy sand-colored coat, metal plates glinting at his shoulders. His helmet, a dull gray with a retractable visor, concealed most of his face, but his posture was rigid, commanding. He gripped a long, steel pole—its jagged tip humming faintly, ripples of energy dancing around it.
His boots sank slightly into the sand as he shifted his weight, his gaze scanning the approaching figures.
"Guz, what are you doing here? It’s not time for your shift yet."
The words cut through the air, sharp as a blade.
The other guards flanked the entrance, their hands twitching near their weapons—rifles strapped tightly to their backs, energy blades magnetized to their belts. Every movement seemed calculated.
Beside Ash, Guz let out a slow breath, his fingers tightening around the sack.
The guard didn’t wait for him to finish.
"You know how important your job is. And who’s the kid?"
His visor angled toward Ash, studying him like a potential threat.
Ash stepped forward, his cloak stirring with the wind, the edges snapping against the sand. His voice cut through the tension, low and steady.
"I’m Ash. I don’t have time for this. Let me inside—I need to speak with your leader."
Guz exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. The weight of the situation hung over him, like the sky before a storm.
The guard’s eyes narrowed, his stance unmoving.
"And who are you to demand a meeting with the leader of Ironhold?"
Guz hesitated, his mouth opening, then closing. He knew better than to speak now.
Ash’s eyes darkened, his presence suddenly more intense.
"I am Ash Burns. Right now, my brothers and a lot of people are still in the middle of Sandworm Valley."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, the guard laughed. A harsh, dry sound that scraped the air.
"Is that what you’re selling?"
"Even the Sons of Flame wouldn’t last a night in that graveyard. And now you’re saying them and an entire group is stuck there?"
Ash’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms.
’This idiot... Every second is another step closer to death for them.’
The guard’s laughter died as quickly as it came, replaced by a cold seriousness.
"So, you expect me to believe that you walked out of Sandworm Valley? That you’re some kind of high veinflow user now? And isn’t ash burns supposed to be the weakest of the brothers."
His gaze flicked to Guz, measuring.
"Are you really risking your new job for this kid?"
The guard’s hand rose, the pole crackling with energy, the faint hum reverberating through the air. It pointed directly at Ash, the tip flashing with a surge of power.
"Who knows what he really is. A creature in disguise."
Guz stepped forward, cutting through the tension.
"He already proved it to me."
The guards stiffened, their eyes shifting between each other, uncertainty creeping into their postures.
Guz glanced at Ash, the unspoken question hanging in the air.
Ash nodded, his gaze unwavering.
Without a word, Ash raised his arm.
"[Activating Skill: Scorch Palm]"
Flames surged from his hand, a violent eruption of heat.
The fire didn’t spread—it surged, alive. It twisted around his fingers, coiling like a sentient thing, its edges flickering with an unnatural rhythm. The heat that emanated from it wasn’t just unbearable—it was oppressive, like the very air was being drained of life.
The lead guard stumbled back, his hands tightening around the pole as if to steady himself. The other guards froze, eyes wide, their breath catching in their throats.
The lead guard’s voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible over the crackling of the flames.
"Ash Burns... son of Flame?"
Ash snuffed out the fire with a subtle motion, the flames dissipating into the air as if they’d never been. He let his arm fall to his side, the weight of his actions settling in the silence.
The guard swallowed hard, his throat working as he turned sharply toward one of the others.
"Go. Inform the leader. Ash Burns is here."
The second guard hesitated for a fraction of a second, then sprinted toward the gates without another word.
The lead guard stood still, watching Ash, his posture slowly changing. No longer defensive, now... respectful. His shoulders dropped, his head dipping slightly in a silent acknowledgment.
"I’m... sorry. Please, follow me inside."
He stretched out a hand, the gesture steady as the heavy gates of Ironhold groaned to life. The iron behemoths began to part, the metal grinding against stone with a sound like distant thunder.
The gate groaned as it shifted, revealing a thin crack of the world beyond. The air inside carried the weight of metal and smoke, laced with the acrid bite of burning fuel. The guard led the way, his shoulders tense, his voice subdued.
He muttered again, his earlier authority reduced to something quieter.
"Things have been... off. The creatures are changing. They’re coming out when they shouldn’t, hitting places that should be safe. That’s why I reacted the way I did."
Ash walked in silence, his pace unbroken. He wasn’t here to unravel the city’s problems. His own took priority.
Still, his gaze flicked toward Guz. The older man listened intently, his face unreadable.
Then, as they stepped past the final threshold, Ironhold came into view.
The sight struck like a contrast against the memory of Dunehaven.
Where Dunehaven had been a whisper buried in the sand, Ironhold pulsed with restless energy. Overhead lamps cast cold, artificial light onto the streets, illuminating the movement below. Even at this hour, people flooded the pathways—too many for it to be normal.
Neon signs flickered against rusted metal structures, their glow reflecting off reinforced shop windows.
Merchants stood behind counters lined with steel, voices sharp as they bartered over supplies. Weapons, salvaged tech, and strange, glowing crystals passed between hands in tense negotiations.
A group of children darted past, their footsteps light, their laughter brief—swallowed by the low hum of generators and the distant grind of machinery against steel.
Yet, beneath the noise, something else lingered.
People moved quickly, their eyes flicking toward the alleyways, shoulders tight, steps precise—measured, as if each moment was borrowed from something lurking just beyond the glow of the lamps.
This city wasn’t just alive. It was on edge.
Ash’s mind raced, his thoughts tangled in the swirl of questions.
’Did all of this—this tension, the creatures weird behavior—tie back to the asteroid?’
He clenched his jaw, pushing the thought aside. Now wasn’t the time for distractions.