CHAPTER 1063: SEEKING ELYSIUM (3).

Cain didn’t sleep that night.

The city murmured beneath his feet like a wounded animal, restless and heavy with the memory of blood. He kept to the rooftops, watching the streets below while the others shifted into their own rhythms. Susan moved like smoke between alleyways, Hunter kept to vantage points with his crossbow across his knees, and Steve remained behind a curtain of static and flickering lenses, feeding their movements into his quiet machines.

None of them asked for orders. None of them needed to. They had already learned how Cain thought—what he expected, what he demanded. The city itself had become his chessboard, and they were pieces that carried his intent.

But Cain himself was unsettled. The phantom wasn’t just a stalker in the dark, wasn’t simply another shape to cut down. Its arrival had been timed. Its movements too deliberate. He had seen enemies come and go in City Z, but this one was different.

And different meant dangerous.

At the edge of the financial quarter, Cain crouched atop a half-collapsed roof and watched the sunrise bleed over the skyline. Towers of glass and steel caught the light, blinding in their brilliance, but to Cain it looked hollow. A shell of civilization stretched over rot. People were waking in their apartments below, shuffling toward routines, unaware of the stains spreading under their feet.

He exhaled once, letting the air scrape his throat. This city has always been a carcass. Now it’s starting to smell.

Hunter appeared beside him, silent as ever, his steps muffled even across fractured shingles. He didn’t speak at first, only set his gaze toward the same horizon Cain had been staring at. Then:

"They’ll move again tonight. They’ve been testing corners, testing responses. Whoever’s behind them isn’t wasting resources."

Cain didn’t look at him. "No one sends phantoms blind."

Hunter’s jaw tightened, his answer clipped. "So who’s holding the leash?"

That question had been gnawing Cain too. He didn’t believe in coincidences, and he didn’t believe in accidents. Someone wanted the city destabilized. Someone had decided City Z needed to fracture, and the phantom was just the opening blow.

"Doesn’t matter," Cain said finally. "We’ll cut the leash when it shows itself."

Below, the morning crowd thickened. Vendors opened stalls, shouting in half-hearted tones. Workers filed into factories that hadn’t stopped bleeding smoke for decades. Children laughed in alleys already slick with trash. Life in City Z continued, the same as it always had.

Susan’s voice brushed Cain’s ear through the comm bead. "South side. Two more scouts. Not hiding as well as the others."

Cain stood in one movement, balance never shifting. "Mark them. Don’t engage yet."

He vaulted down the side of the building, landing light among discarded crates. Hunter followed close, no sound to his descent. The alleys twisted like veins, carrying them toward the southern edge. By the time they arrived, Susan was already waiting, shadow wrapped around her figure, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of her blade.

She inclined her head toward a narrow passage where two figures moved awkwardly, like puppets not quite used to their strings.

Cain studied them in silence. Their steps were hesitant, their heads tilting too sharply as if straining to hear something the city wasn’t giving them. They were wrong—not human, not whole, but facsimiles trying to pass.

"Test dummies," Cain murmured. "The phantom wants to see how we react."

Susan’s lips pulled into a thin, grim smile. "So let’s give it something to study."

Hunter raised his crossbow. Steve’s voice cut in again, dry and quick. "I’ve got their pulse—if you can call it that. They’re networked. Take one, the other learns. Take both too fast, the phantom gets nothing. Might buy us time if we stagger it."

Cain’s eyes narrowed. A simple kill wouldn’t do. He needed to twist the knife back.

"Hunter," Cain said, voice even. "Wing the first. Leave it loud enough to crawl. Susan, take the second, clean and quiet. Steve, burn the signal after."

The plan moved instantly. A bolt hissed through the air, tearing into the shoulder of the first construct. It screamed, a broken sound of metal scraping flesh, collapsing onto the stones. The second spun toward it, only to have Susan’s blade slide under its chin, severing its voice before it could echo.

Cain stepped forward, crouching by the wounded one as it writhed, its arm clawing at the ground. Up close, he could see the truth: skin stretched too tightly, eyes too wide, veins pulsing with some synthetic ichor.

"Tell your master," Cain said softly, almost intimate, "we’re not prey."

Then Steve’s signal spiked, frying the thing’s nervous system in a hiss of static. The construct stiffened, then went slack.

Hunter retrieved his bolt. Susan wiped her blade. The alley went quiet again, but Cain knew silence didn’t last long in this city.

He rose, rolling his shoulders back, his tone flat as stone. "They’ll try harder next time."

No one argued.

Above them, the towers of City Z gleamed with morning light, blind to the violence unfolding below. Cain let his gaze linger only a moment before turning away.

"Regroup," he said. "This was just their knock on the door. Next, they’ll come inside."

And as they moved, shadows trailing their steps, Cain felt the city tighten around them like a snare.

Cain pushed deeper into the fractured corridor, every sound stretched taut, every motion deliberate. The walls bled heat from fractured conduits, and the air hummed with the faint residue of power that had not yet settled. He felt Susan fall into step behind him, her cloak dragging whispers from the dust. Hunter was a darker shadow further back, eyes restless but steady. Steve muttered coordinates into the receiver at his wrist, already thinking three moves ahead.

Above them, the city seemed indifferent—windows shuttered, dawn crawling lazy across the skyline—but Cain knew silence was only a mask. Somewhere in those alleys, the phantom still stalked, recovering, learning. And Cain welcomed it. The game hadn’t broken; it had only deepened.