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Chapter 9 - Chapter 10: The Unwinding

Chapter 10: The Unwinding

Time, which had compressed into a single, focused point during his sprint, now exploded outwards. Every sense screamed at once.

The four Hounds, no longer confused, erupted into a chorus of snarls and launched themselves across the plaza. Their paws scrabbled on the flagstones, a storm of claws and teeth aimed directly at him.

But they were the lesser threat.

The two Sentinels moved. Not with speed, but with an inexorable, geological certainty. The one on Fifth Avenue took a single, massive step forward, its footfall cracking the ground like thunder. The one on Grand Street didn't advance. Instead, it raised its blocky fist, and with a sound of grinding granite, launched a chunk of its own body—a projectile the size of a cinder block—arcing high into the air towards the fountain.

The calculus of survival, which had been a complex web of risk and reward, now unraveled into a single, primal command: *MOVE.*

Kael didn't think. He acted. He threw himself from the fountain's base, not away from the oncoming Hounds, but laterally, behind the bulk of the stone sculpture.

The Sentinel's projectile smashed into the spot where he had been standing. The impact wasn't an explosion of debris, but a *wave* of force. The fountain, a century-old monument, shattered. Chunks of marble and bronze flew outwards like shrapnel. The concussive blast hit Kael in the back, throwing him forward. He tucked into a roll, the world a dizzying whirl of sky and stone.

**Health: 91/110.** The splash damage from the impact alone had taken nearly twenty points.

He came up running, his mind cold and clear. The Hounds were almost on him, fanned out in a semicircle. The direct route back was cut off. The Sentinels were the walls of this arena. The Hounds were the killing floor.

His eyes darted, scanning the new landscape created by the fountain's destruction. A large, jagged piece of the bronze statue—an outstretched arm—had been flung towards the eastern edge of the plaza, creating a makeshift barricade.

It was his only chance.

He allocated his points in a single, frantic thought as he ran: **+3 Agility, +2 Endurance.** Power flooded his legs, a fresh surge of speed and stamina. The world sharpened further, the charging Hounds seeming to slow by a precious fraction.

He feinted right, towards the closest Hound. As it lunged, he planted his foot and pivoted, using his new Agility to change direction instantly. He darted left, between the two central Hounds. Their snapping jaws closed on empty air.

He was through their line. The bronze arm was thirty feet away.

A shadow fell over him.

He didn't need to look. He knew it was the second Sentinel's fist, descending from above like a meteor. He poured every ounce of his enhanced speed into a final, desperate dive.

The fist hammered into the ground behind him. The impact lifted him off his feet and sent him skidding across the rough flagstones. He lost skin, his Health dipping again, but he was alive. He scrambled behind the bronze arm just as the first Hound reached his position, its claws screeching against the metal.

He was trapped. A temporary, fragile shelter. He had maybe three seconds before the Hounds flanked him, and five before a Sentinel decided to simply smash his cover into dust.

His mind raced. *Shadow Stride* was on cooldown. He had no other skills. Just his body, his rebar, and the map now burning in his mind's eye.

He pulled up the **Regional Map**.

It unfolded in his vision, a semi-transparent overlay of the city. His location was a pulsing dot in the center of the Plaza. The streets were outlined in faint blue. And there, glowing with a soft, golden light just off the southeastern corner of the Plaza, was an icon he instinctively understood: a **Safe Zone**.

It was close. Incredibly close. A hundred yards, maybe less. An old subway entrance, tucked between two buildings.

Hope, a dangerous and unfamiliar emotion, flared.

But the path was a killing field. He looked out from behind his cover. The Hounds were spreading out, preparing to rush him from all sides. The Sentinel that had thrown the rock was now stomping towards him, its intent clear.

He had one move left. One gamble.

He waited until the last possible second, as the lead Hound tensed to leap over the barricade. Then, he didn't retreat. He charged *forward*.

He met the Hound in mid-air, his body low. He didn't try to stab it. He used its own momentum, grabbing its foreleg and using his Strength and Agility to heave it sideways, sending it crashing into the Hound coming from the other side.

It created a single, chaotic opening. A gap in the net.

He burst through it, his eyes locked on the southeastern edge of the plaza. He could see it now—the familiar, grimy archway of a subway entrance, half-hidden by a collapsed awning.

He ran. He didn't zigzag. He ran in a straight, desperate line, pouring every point of his Endurance into a final, all-or-nothing sprint.

The world narrowed to the archway. The snarling behind him faded. The ground-shaking footsteps of the Sentinel seemed distant. There was only the entrance, growing closer.

Twenty yards. Ten.

He didn't dare look back. He didn't dare slow down.

He hit the top of the subway steps and launched himself down into the darkness, tumbling down the concrete stairs in a controlled crash, landing in a heap on the dusty landing below.

He scrambled back, pressing himself against the cold tile wall, his chest heaving.

Silence.

He risked a glance up the stairs. The entrance was a rectangle of daylight. A Hound appeared at the top, snarling, but it refused to come down the steps. It paced back and forth, then was shouldered aside by the massive, rocky head of the Sentinel. The pit-like sockets stared down into the darkness, but the creature did not enter. It let out a low, grinding rumble of frustration, then withdrew.

Kael slumped against the wall, the adrenaline receding and leaving a profound, bone-deep exhaustion in its wake. He was in darkness. He was safe.

He closed his eyes, and the Regional Map glowed in his mind. He had paid for it in blood and terror. He had his map. He had his levels.

And he had a new objective: understand the rules of this Safe Zone. Because he was not alone down in the dark.

The faint, unmistakable scent of woodsmoke and cooked meat drifted up from the tunnels below.

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