Ash jolted awake to the sharp chime of the training card vibrating beside him on the nightstand. Its pale glow spilled across the dark room, flickering with urgency:
[ DEFENSE TRAINING BEGAN 30 MINUTES AGO. ]
His breath caught in his throat.
No time to think.
He scrambled upright, sweat already prickling his skin. The uniform he'd tossed onto the chair last night was wrinkled, but he'd have worse problems if he stopped to fix it. Pulling his boots on in a daze, he snatched the plate—his identity—and bolted into the pale morning mist.
The sky above Lapiz was an overcast canvas, copper-edged with early light. The arched bridges groaned beneath his footsteps as he sprinted across them, the wind clawing at his cloak like cold hands. Residents watched from balconies, stone-eyed, unmoved. Nobody stopped him. No one asked.
The training grounds came into view—an open deck paved with steel, ringed by black metal railings and stuttering tower beacons. A dozen recruits stood in formation, spears upright. Breath caught in Ash's throat as he skidded to a stop on the edge of the field.
Captain Hooward turned slowly.
He was massive—shoulders like shield walls, a close-shaved head, and eyes the color of cut obsidian. His voice cracked across the grounds like thunder.
"You're late."
Ash stood rigid, panting, embarrassment burning through him like acid. Cold sweat ran down his back.
The captain stepped forward. "This is Lapiz. You're not allowed to fall behind here. You fall behind—you fall off."
Silence gripped the field. The spear-bearers watched quietly. One raised an eyebrow. Another narrowed her eyes.
"You have two options," Hooward continued, voice even. "Run around the upper perimeter for two hours… or be thrown off this metropolis into the abyss. Your choice."
No hesitation.
Ash nodded once, throat tight. His legs moved before doubt could catch them.
He ran.
—
Steel pounded beneath his boots. Wind lashed at his skin. Every incline, ramp, and bridge around Lapiz bled into the next—stone and iron blurred as he rounded each tower's edge.
Guard posts swept past in silence. Clockwork hammers echoed beyond forge halls. From below, nothing but a sea of clouds.
Fifty minutes in, his lungs were on fire. The air tasted of smoke and iron. He nearly stumbled, but pushed forward—letting the memory of falling, the scream, the boy's face—all of it—pull him through his pain.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the question flickered again:
Why had he overslept?
Was it just fatigue—or something deeper? Something resisting this world's clock?
He didn't know.
He just ran.
By the end of the two hours, his legs were rubber. His vision spun. He collapsed at the edge of the training deck, heaving for breath.
Boots approached.
Hooward stood above him, unreadable.
"You're still here," the captain said.
Ash met his eyes. "Yes, sir."
Hooward nodded. Just barely.
"Return tomorrow. On time.
At that evening
Ash wandered the town, eyes scanning crooked alleys and stacked platforms between the cliff-bound towers. Among the clutter of stalls and sun-faded banners, a quiet storefront caught his eye — glowing stones behind fogged glass, pulsing blue and violet like underwater stars.
He stepped inside.
A dull bell rang. The air hit warm — thick with soot, herbs, and something metallic.
Shelves were crammed with jagged crystals and buzzing coils. A silver-haired woman looked up from a frayed notebook, goggles pushed onto her head.
"Glowstones?" she asked. "Not cheap, but I've got a few charged. I'm a field sorcerer — low-tier. Barely licensed."
Ash's eyes landed on a small orb humming on a bronze plate.
"Glowstones… they're used for thunder spheres, right? I saw one. Yesterday. On a blimp."
The woman tilted her head. "Thunder spheres? Military-grade? You must be from defense."
He nodded.
She reached under the counter, pulled out a flat, coin-sized crystal glowing faintly.
"Most of these are for lanterns," she said, handing it over. "No bang. Just hum."
Ash took it. The stone buzzed softly in his hand. Warm. Alive.
She turned the stone. A flicker passed through it — a swirl of smoke, then a flash of lightning trapped deep inside.
""When you walked in, the stone pulsed. That doesn't happen often."
A chill crept through him.