[Chapter 255. The High City]

They followed him through the gate that had just appeared in the smooth, seamless wall. The streets inside were a dark gray, lined with buildings of an unknown architecture. Their pagoda-style tiered roofs swept gracefully toward the sky. Each structure was a harmonious blend of dark wood and polished black granite, with eaves upturned in delicate curves that seemed to defy gravity.

The group of seven flinched as the massive stone slab slid shut behind them. A deep, resonant thud vibrated through the soles of their boots. The wall now looked exactly as it had before—as if a gate had never existed—sealing them within this fortress.

Searanox led them down the wide boulevard. The unblemished road reflected the faint violet light pulsing through energy conduits along the raised sidewalk. The air carried a strange, sterile hum, a stark contrast to the scent of rain and blood still clinging to their clothes. Gron, the group's shielder, craned his neck, taking in the architecture and the unnerving cleanliness of the streets.

This was unlike anything in their Empire. Meticulous gardens of gravel and trees occasionally broke up the spaces between the buildings. Raked patterns in the white gravel formed concentric waves around moss-covered boulders, each line seeming to pulse with the same violet energy flowing through the city's conduits. These oases of tranquility featured trees with gnarled trunks and elegantly pruned branches, creating living sculptures against the dark stone facades.

Gron could not tear his gaze away from a small stone basin where water trickled down a bamboo shoot into a clear pool. The sound was unnaturally melodic in the otherwise silent city. Kandora, however, scowled at these displays of order and beauty. Her fingers twitched toward the dagger hidden in her sleeve, as if contemplating defacing the perfection around them.

The streets curved through the district, never running in harsh straight lines but instead following subtle arcs. They guided the eye toward the inner wall—a second, smaller version of the outer bulwark rising into the dark sky like a black mirror.

They were more than halfway to the inner wall when they encountered the first citizens. The locals reaction was immediate and visceral. The people of Androxis froze mid-stride. Conversations died in their throats as they stared at the newcomers with wide, fearful eyes. Some stepped aside, pressing themselves against the buildings to create a path, while others retreated down side streets, vanishing into the labyrinth of identical structures.

The newcomers noticed the stark divide between themselves and the city's inhabitants. While the intruders wore mismatched, blood-stained armor of various materials and designs, the citizens of Androxis wore simple, utilitarian clothing of uniform quality.

Anax flinched as a team of Awakened passed them. Their faces were masks of stony indifference, their stares direct. The gaze was not hostile, merely assessing—cataloging potential threats. Vindala shrank inward. The confidence that had defined her in battle eroded under the weight of countless silent, judgmental stares from the passing citizens.

They reached the inner wall, its open gate offering a glimpse into the true city of Androxis. The buildings here were grander, with sweeping pagoda roofs appearing to float above the polished dark granite structures. The air felt different, charged with a palpable sense of order and power. Searanox led them through the High City without a word. The group of seven trailed behind in stunned silence, their presence feeling less like a conquest and more like a forced humiliation.

The further they moved toward the central tower, the more citizens they encountered. The crowds swelled like a tide flowing inexorably toward the black monolith piercing the sky. Most walked with purpose, their gait steady despite the exhaustion evident in their postures.

Many wore old, ruined armor—pitted, dented, and scarred by countless battles. It was a style Kandora hadn't seen since her childhood lessons on Imperial history, a distant memory surfacing with sudden, painful clarity. It was the armor of one of their countless conquests—a smaller faction that had ruled a world in the distant past. Their distinctive pauldrons were etched with patterns that had once represented unity but now only spoke of subjugation.

She only remembered it because of the stories she had been forced to learn: tales of Imperial glory and the inevitable fall of those who dared stand against their expansion. Seeing those same patterns on commoners in this alien city twisted something inside her—a sickening realization that the Empire's history was being worn like rags by these natives.

"Why are they so tall?" The whispered question came from a citizen with a broken nose, his voice barely carrying above the mutter all around them.

The woman beside him elbowed him sharply in the ribs, her hiss cutting through the morning chill. "Shut your mouth. That's the Lord. Probably the same situation as with Lady Iris."

The man flinched, clutching his side as his face paled under the scrutiny of his comrades.

"But all six of them?" another citizen persisted, desperate to understand the impossible giants towering over them. Their red skin glistened under the pulsing violet light, and each step they took was graceful despite their massive frames.

The woman merely shrugged. "Beats me. I don't know how that changing races thing works," she whispered through clenched teeth, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade as if ready for violence despite the overwhelming display of power surrounding them.

Searanox stopped abruptly, his armored boots making no sound on the dark stone. He turned partially, his movement so fluid it seemed almost inhuman, and addressed the whispering citizens without breaking stride.

"If you want to know how a Progenitor changes their race, it's very simple. The System tore my soul out and created a new body for it. It was very similar to character creation in an MMORPG. Just a bit more fucked up."

His voice carried no emotion, as if he were describing the weather rather than a cosmic violation. The casual horror of his words made the listening citizens flinch, their faces reflecting dread and disbelief.

He gestured toward the six captive purebloods, whose deep red skin made them appear forged from cooling magma. "These are no Progenitors, though. I found them struggling outside and lent them a hand."

He spoke as if he hadn't just murdered nine of their comrades in cold blood and tortured the survivors for hours. The juxtaposition of his calm demeanor against their blood-soaked memories created a cognitive dissonance that made the captives stomachs churn. The six giants nodded in unison, compelled to play along.

Behind him, he heard the sound of grinding teeth from Kandora. Her knuckles were white where she gripped her own arms, her eyes burning with a hatred so intense it seemed to warp the air around her. Searanox pretended not to notice, his attention shifting to the silver emblems gleaming on the chest of the five citizens that drew his attention with their questions.

"I just noticed your silver ranks," he said. "If you are planning to enter the Labyrinth, you can gain experience and silver coins from the beasts inside." His tone was matter-of-fact, as if discussing tax collection rather than a dangerous expedition into an unknown realm.

The five warriors froze, their bodies tensing like cornered animals at being addressed by the City Lord.

"A-ahh, no sir. We are not strong enough for it," one of them stuttered, pushed forward by two others. His voice cracked under the weight of Searanox's gaze. The silver emblem on his breast seemed to burn with sudden intensity—a mark of status that now felt like a target.

"I see. Well, I won't force you to enter. But consider it. Join a larger team and explore your options," Searanox said. He turned away, continuing his path toward the innermost wall without another glance. The dismissal was absolute, their presence seemingly forgotten as his mind moved on to other matters.

Kylith slid up beside him, her smaller frame fitting perfectly against his armored side. Her movements were as natural as if they had done this a thousand times before. She leaned her head against his shoulder, the curve of her horns brushing his neck in a gesture that was both intimate and possessive.

"So, your city has a Labyrinth?" she asked. Her voice was a soft whisper only he could hear, her amber eyes gleaming with an interest that went far beyond simple curiosity.

"Sure, would you like to enter it after you settled down?" Searanox asked without slowing his pace, his voice a low, flat baritone that carried none of the warmth she sought, the words barely disturbing the sterile hum of the city's artificial veins.

She looked up at him, her amber eyes catching the violet glow of the energy conduits, turning them into pools of liquid fire. She pressed herself closer, the soft, yielding curves of her body a contrast to the unyielding hardness of his armor.

"Settled down, like in living here?" Her lips brushed against his earlobe, a warm, deliberate caress that sent a jolt through his system, a purely physical response he immediately suppressed.

Her fingers traced idle circles on the cold, unresponsive metal of his shoulder, her touch insistent and filled with expectation, a practiced manipulation that felt both intimate and hollow. "I thought I would settle down with you." The last words were a whispered plea, a hook baited with the promise of carnal comfort, of a predator submitting to a stronger one in the most primal of ways.

He stopped walking, his armored boots making no sound on the pristine black granite but his sudden stillness bringing the entire procession to a shuddering halt behind them. The seven captives froze, their breathing suddenly loud in the unnerving silence. He turned toward her, closing the remaining distance until his proximity alone became an undeniable threat.. He was centimeters away from the hot, scented skin of her cheek, so close he could see the fine, downy hairs on her temple and the faint, almost invisible lines around her eyes.

"You may be bound to me by the contract, but don't get any ideas." His voice was colder than the polished stone beneath their feet, each word a carefully placed shard of ice. "Right now, your purpose here is to provide information."

A flicker of hurt, raw and genuine, flashed through her amber depths before being suppressed under a practiced veneer of seductive charm. It was a fleeting glimpse of the vulnerable creature beneath the facade, quickly hidden away. She pulled back slightly, creating a sliver of space between their bodies, a small, wounded smile playing on her full lips, the mask settling back into place with unsettling speed. The smile did not reach her eyes, which still held the echo of that brief, unguarded pain.

"I understand," she breathed, the sound a soft puff of air against the cool metal of his armor. Her hands dropped from his arm, leaving the cold magitech steel exposed to the morning, but the lingering heat of her touch remained, a phantom brand. She gave a slight, theatrical bow, her movements fluid and graceful, a performance of submission for their unseen audience of terrified captives. "I will answer all your questions, my lord." The title was spoken with a subtle, almost imperceptible irony, a thread of defiance woven into the fabric of her apparent surrender.