The Disc Must Break

• 25 August 2025

By Walter M. Smith

The smell of sulfur, ozone, and blood fills the air the moment the bomb detonates.

Boom.

The side wall of the Debt Registry Tower splits outward like the ribs of a beast, flinging bricks and shards of iron into the street. Flames howl smoke into the stale air of the subterranean city like they've been waiting a century to scream.

Within the tower is chaos. Nakai shout, their plated boots pounding. Arcane lights grafted into the walls stutter and flicker, revealing a woman darting through the shadows like a ghost. The figure's left arm, covered in engraved stone and pulsing with runes, crackles with energy as a sword is drawn from her spinal port.

There is a flurry of steel as the arcane blade of the woman reduces a single dazed nakai guard into a mess of armour strips and bloody pulp.

Her thought-link--the runestone embedded behind her right ear--glows and chimes softly.

Nīn, Nakai are coming to respond. Ranak's coming to help you get into the vault. We’ve got Nakai coming in from the second floor catwalks. Five… maybe six. I’ll hold them while you complete the objective.

Copy that, Varj, Nīn responds, sending her thoughts to her ally. She glances to the right, and sees Ranak. A demolition specialist with a hulking Augmented form. Normally such a monster of a man would stick out like a sore thumb. But in the mining city of Nekrosaka, his massive frame didn't catch that much more attention than any other.

"Aye, Nīn. Settin' charges. Cover me," he says, eyes narrowed beneath his stone-etched browplate. With every word, his Augmented jaw clicks and grinds. He lumbers forward, dropping down onto the lower level where the objective--the vault--lies. With movement surprisingly deft for a man of his shape, he begins to place several stones onto the vault's steel door, engraving mystic symbols on each of them.

In moments, the door to the vault will be open, and Nīn would have access to the valuables inside. But until then, she would have to fend off the guards.

"You! Illegal Augmented combatant! Stand down, you are surrounded." The drawing of starsteel blades echoes down the hall from behind Nīn and Ranak. The Kenha turns to face a line of nakai, their weapons ready.

Nīn smirks from under her cloth scarf. Yes, she was surrounded. But that was hardly concerning. Like a predator ambushing its prey, she jaunts into the horde of Nakai, her blade humming with the arcane power of Niseki. Her lithonatomical systems flare as runic hydraulics pressurize in her knees and ankles, launching her forward. With expert footwork, she thrusts herself sideways onto the wall. She runs on the wall as easily as she runs on the ground. With a final push, she launches off the wall and attacks the nakai, who cannot register her movements--her speed is incredible.

Before he can even raise his blade to enter a guard position, Nīn's Augmented kizaraka has embedded itself into the collar of the nakai. His gold-plated starsteel armour stops the blade from cleaving all the way through, but the damage is done. The first nakai is dead, his helmeted head hitting the wall with a clang; his body folds like fabric.

A second nakai swings his rauwing, but Nīn is already behind him, slicing through the joints of his armour. He shrieks, arm limp and useless, falling onto the ground where Nīn's Augmented heel crushes his windpipe.

Two more warriors of the Bornu charge. Nīn doesn't retreat.

Nīn screams, not with voice, but through her runes. The engravings on her shoulder glow a searing white, flaring brightly. The nakai recoil, blinded. Nīn leaps towards one, skewering him in the neck with her sword, using perfect precision to evade the plates of the armour and penetrate the nakai's tissue. The second nakai goes down with a powerful elbow strike from her Augmented arm. The blow dents his armour and cracks the floor. Undoubtedly, his ribs are obliterated.

The death rattles of the slain nakai are punctuated by another boom.

"Vault open, Nīn!" Ranak calls out. "Ledgers're ripe."

Nīn turns and hurries back to Ranak, panting only slightly as her sword slides back into its containment along Nīn's spine. Before the two Kenha, the ledgers of Yatsu-Gai are piled high within the vault's walls.

There are thousands of of papers here, organized meticulously within cubbies and cabinets. Nīn picks up one file, flipping through it with disdain. It, like all the others, is a sheet of black vellum, bound with silk and laden with Isutan debt-stamps--anchoring a family to poverty for at least a hundred generations.

Nīn attempts to tear the file in half, but the reinforced, enchanted paper resists her Augmented strength. Leave it to the Bornu to spend so many resources immortalizing the paperwork necessary to subjugate her people.

Ranak moves past her, his massive frame toppling over a table and sending more ledgers onto the floor. From his satchel, Ranak produces another stone, carved with pyromantic runes. With little care, he tosses it like a throwing disc onto the floor of the vault.

"This'll melt every ledger into illegible slurry. Yatsu-Gai District walks free tonight," Ranak growls with glee. Nīn nods back at him, and the two walk out of the vault.

"The Ucalegon sends its regards," Ranak giggles, making Nīn only slightly uncomfortable. The big man had a borderline romantic relationship with the most destructive species of magic. She was glad he was on the Kenha's side.

The sigil on the stone glows amber. Just as it reaches a point where it seems as though it will explode, everything else around it does. Everything flammable within the vault ignites spontaneously, and a massive cloud of smoke billows outward. Nīn and Ranak cough, waving the smoke away as they stand content before the job they've completed.

Their is little to to celebrate. Nīn and Ranak's thought-links erupt with a scream.

Nīn! They've got me! Khatkir. I--gkhhh--

Ranak and Nīn freeze. They both know what this means. Khatkir were Bornu inquisitors--elite assassins who flirted with obfuscating zendamancy and commanded unparalleled stealth training.

And now they had Varj. Varj's death would be the best case scenario here, actually. But Nīn knows that if he's still alive, he would be in the middle of being hauled off to the Black Cells of labyrinthine Kala-Uk Prison, beneath Lah Ding.

Varj?! Nīn attempts to communicate back through the thought-link.

There is only silence. The murmur of static as no thoughts are actively transferred. Then, the echoing sensation of pain. Nīn winces.

"He's still alive, for now." Nīn breathes. That was potentially bad news for Varj, but it meant they could still save him.

Ranak scans the bodies of the dead nakai in the corridor, their bodies scattered and sprawled in gold-trimmed death poses. Then his voice grates through his stonemodded larynx:

"If khatkir took 'im, then they won't kill 'im. Nah, not yet." Ranak doesn't need to say anything else. Nīn knows what could be in store for Varj. Interrogation. Torture. Vivisection... disassembly.

"We ain't sportin' to intercept khatkir with the resources and timeframe available t' us right now," Ranak rumbles, thinking out loud. "We'll have to raid Kala-Uk to get 'im back."

"No other place would have the containment necessary to hold him anyways," Nīn replies.

As the vault behind the two burns, the smell of charred ink mixes with the ash and soot. The debt is destroyed, and the people of Yatsu-Gai will unknowingly wake up free tomorrow.

But the danger Varj was in increased every second.

Nīn and Ranak's trains of thought are interrupted by a sudden sound.

Gurgle.

One of the nakai isn't dead.

Pinned under the body of a comrade, the single living nakai wheezes. Ranak rolls the body off of him to look. One leg is crushed, his helm broken. But the details on his once fine armour are intact enough for Nīn to recognize this single nakai as a master--undoubtedly the leader of the nakai biyuan guarding the vault. His voice gargles up through blood.

"Y-you Kenha filth," he manages, "don't even know what you traded today?"

Nīn draws her blade once more, holding it scornfully toward the nakai master's throat.

"Speak," Nīn says coldly, "and I'll end your suffering."

The sword hums softly with power. His eyes widen behind his cracked faceplate, breath rattling in his throat. He sees his death in the clean geometry of Nīn's posture.

The tip of the sword hovers over his jugular. His lips tremble, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. But his pride--the Bornu and their servants' greatest weakness--hasn't died yet.

"Your friend wasn't carrying intel," he coughs, a rattle in his lungs. "He had a cipher disk implanted in him. Hand carved by some of the first Isutan stonemodders. Real old-world."

He twitches and gurgles, body spasming as death creeps into his core. Nīn can tell he doesn't need her mercy. He is delighting in taunting her in his final moments.

"They'll tear it out of him," he cackles. "Maybe not now. But s-soon!"

Fury overcomes Nīn. She kicks the nakai away in disgust. Her Augmented foot crashes into his ribs, flinging the armoured body against the scorched stone wall. There's a loud and violent crack as he collides before slumping to the ground. No final words. Just the sharp hiss of a dying body exhaling a final time.

Nīn sheathes her weapon. The flames of the burning vault flickering across her face, painting her in smoke-shadow as she turns to Ranak.

"You believe 'im?" Ranak spits into the dust.

"I'm not sure," Nīn replies. "He seemed eager to laud something over us in his final moments. Would he make something like that up? How would he know if it was true?"

"Nakai're proud bastards," Ranak says, sitting down on the ground. His massive frame is still eye level with me. "I don't think the bleedin' sap woulda been thinkin' 'bout tryna throw us off the scent in 'is final moments, ye?"

Ranak leans forward towards Nīn. His eyes seems to swirl with caulculation.

"Grandpa don't tell me everythin'," he continues. "But he once told me Varj was carryin' a secondary payload of some kind. Didn't tell me what. I didn't need t' ask anyways--'tis Grandpa, ya know?"

"You think this disk might be it? The 'secondary payload'?"

"Could be, Nīn. Maybe we oughta ask Grandpa."

Nīn nods. Her jaw is set. Panic attempts to grip her mind, but her Kenha training seizes her nerves and crushes the tremour. She presses it down, weaponizing it into drive. Her adrenaline becomes focus; her fear, fuel.

"We need to return to Grandpa anyways. We need a plan, and a new team. Especially if Varj is being sent to Kala-Uk. We also need intel, otherwise we risk mounting and operation against one of the most heavily guarded Bornu prisons in the city."

Ranak nods.

"Let's extract as planned. Tunnel's two blocks south. Behind th' Shrine t' Th' Creator. We'll be back in Safehouse Yentin in an hour, assuming we evade nakai patrols.

"Nīn Sawei. You return to the Yubokumin lighter than you left."

Nīn stands in the grand hall of Safehouse Yentin--or at least what was called the grand hall. It was nothing compared to opulence that the Bornu or their Songkram progenitors dwelled in. Tentin was an old Isutan shrine, turned into a rebel den. Stained murals of Niseki, Pisaka, Klo Ming, and other revered Isutan entities lined the walls. Atop this antiquated artwork was a patchwork of maps, weapons, and armour--a visible tapestry that showcased the new life that occupied this once-shrine.

Seated in the back is Grandpa Kual. Masked, ancient, and wrapped in heavy silks, Grandpa Kual is one of the Yubokumin's most venerable and respected leaders. No one knows his true age. No one asks.

Nīn bows before Grandpa Kual.

"Grandpa, our mission was successful... but Varj has been captured."

Grandpa Kual lifts his head as the silence in the room grows heavy. Nīn's words coil in the damp air like a constricting serpent.

Nīn avoids raising her gaze to meet Grandpa Kual's too quickly. But she doesn't need to look at him to remember his face. A fractured landscape of age and augmentation, a silken mask obfuscating the top of his head and his eyes. He wouldn't need a mask anyways--his authority is is identity.

For a long moment, the old man doesn't speak.

He breathes once.

Twice.

"How?" he finally says, his voice a rasp of dust and command. He does not sound accusatory, or surprised even. Just tired.

Ranak shifts in place beside Nīn, his enormous back scraping the low ceiling of the old shrine.

"Khatkir intercepted 'im. Cloaked, I'd reckon. Was alive when they took 'im."

Grandpa doesn't react. Not visibly.

"This is very unfortunate," he says, slowly--every movement of his wizened tongue measured and deliberate.

"We need a team to rescue him," Nīn says, attempting to stifle urgency with respect.

"That would be unwise," Grandpa Kual replies.

"There's still time. If we act fast--"

"The currents of the Winding Strait hurry forth not with purpose, but with passion," Grandpa Kual recites. "Acting fast will only lead to more deaths. We have lost the brave soul of Varj today--I refuse to lose another two children of the Yubokumin in their impassioned attempt against futility."

"Grandpa, please! There must be something we can do. We cannot leave Varj to this horrid fate."

"Varj took up the mantle and blade of the Kenha fully accepting the risks and potential sacrifices that awaited him. And now, his noble service has ended. Nīn, you must let it go."

"But..." Nīn raises her voice. Th dam holding back her emotions begins to crack. "You cannot abandon--"

"SILENCE!" Grandpa Kual's voice resonates through the room, the creakiness of age vacating his word for just this moment. Ranak puts a reassuring hand on Nīn's shoulder.

"I have spoken with authority and wisdom," Grandpa Kual says flatly, his own voice returning to normal. "You must heed my advice when it comes to such matters as this. I place the protection of our clan above the life of a single Kenha. I will not allow three to die where only one is necessary."

Nīn balls her fists, shaking Ranak's hand off her shoulder and taking a bold step forward.

"What about the disc he has?" She demands.

"Disc? What disc?"

"You... a nakai said..."

"Speak up, Nīn. What are you speaking of?"

"A nakai said Varj had some kind of memory disk and that it was now in the hands of the Bornu!" Nīn blurts out.

There is another pause as Grandpa Kual collects his thoughts. His veiled eyes study Nīn for what feels like a thousand years.

"And you believed the words of this enemy?"

Nīn stands dumbfounded. She glances at Ranak, but he remains silent.

"The Bornu and their mabosa will be prepared to disassemble Varj. His fate is beyond our control now. You must learn to accept that you cannot control everything, Nīn."

Nīn sighs, and takes a step back. Her breathing evens out, and she kneels on the ground.

"I... I'm sorry Grandpa."

"Your emotions are normal," Grandpa Kual says solemnly, leaning back. "They are what make you human--even under all of that lithonatomy."

He waves his hand.

"Ranak, take Nīn to a nicer part of the city and get rest. I will summon for you when the time comes."

Ranak bows as Nīn stands up. They exit Yentin together.

"So," Ranak says to Nīn as they step back into the humid, cavernous air of Nekrosaka. "You're going to try to rescue Varj, aren't you?"

"Yes we are," Nīn replies with a defiant grin.

The rain begins as Nīn and Ranak set foot onto the streets of Nekrosaka. Not real rain, of course--just condensation runoff from the cavern ceiling far above. The water in the distance steams as they strike the heat of the city. Nekrosaka breathes; Nīn and Ranak simply travelled its arteries.

"Mabosa will carve the disc out of Varj soon," Ranak mutters. "Well, if they haven't started."

"Thank you, Ranak," Nīn says with annoyance. "Just keep up."

The two Kenha dart through the city streets, shoving their way through the thick crowds of Nekrosaka's inhabitants. The city flickers to life around them. The industrial scent of ash, rot, and metal clogs everyone's throats. Amber gaslights glow apathetically. Runecycles growl overhead. Off-duty miners attempt to make their way into drinking holes. Farmers of grey rice attempt to sell their produce to those who can afford it. Peddlers of nisekite attempt to move their stone-laden carts through the sea of people.

Nīn and Ranak would have preferred to use the rooftops, but their destinations lie within the heart of city.

Nīn passes a passes a wall plastered with Bornu proclamations, one of them recent:

TO HARBOUR A REBEL IS TO BETRAY THE CITY. TO PROTECT THE ERASED MIND IS TO SHARE IN THEIR FORGETTING.

Nīn tears it down without slowing.

Eventually, the two Kenha reach a city square where a congested roundabout chock full of runecycles, carts, and other vehicles attempts to flow in any direction without much success. Nīn splits from Ranak--wordlessly, for they both know their assignments.

Nīn tightens the folds of her tattered cloak, heading straight for the lowest section of the neighborhood of Dailan--a slum with filth and refuse--specifically of the people kind. Nakai rarely patrolled this sector, leaving the people there responsible for defending themselves against the shigai that crawled out of the Corpse of Niseki.

Within this impoverished city sector was The Murk. A tavern carved into the husk of an enormous, long-dead shigai slug--not little more than a slumping ribcage of stone and half-living sinew.

Nīn makes her way inside. It was a revolting place to socialize, but information oozed from every wall as readily as the pus from the still-decomposing shigai. The crowd within were the usual: drifters; black market runners; clanless couriers; disgraced stonemodders; hustlers masquerading as nakai; no one asks questions here, unless there was payment involved.

At the counter, Nīn taps a trio of rusted dal coins in a specific rhythm.

The woman behind the counter glances up. She has too many scars and one milky eye. She wipes her gnarled hands on a towel stained with blood and ash, then slides a chipped bowl towards Nīn. It's filled with grey noodles and topped with a steaming pile of bone meat.

"If you eat," she creaks, "you listen. If you don't, you leave."

Nīn sits, brandishing a pair of uneven chopsticks whittled from a shard of yellowed ivory. She begins to shovel the unappetizing food into her mouth.

"A kenha was taken to Lah Ding last night. Human. Four arms; two of them Augmented, of course."

Nīn's breathe catches in her chest. The description matched Varj.

She continued to listen.

"The khatkir that caught him was Mah Lao, again. He's racking up an impressive number of kenha apprehensions."

She pauses for a moment as Nīn polishes off the remaining noodles.

"Read."

Nīn looks into the bottom of the bowl. Scratched into the bottom of the bowl are two pieces of information; a Bornu security code and a scheduling mark.

Nīn know they meant. Varj was not only still alive, but not yet in Kala-Uk. He was still being held in Lah Ding, but transport to the prison proper was mere hours away.

Nīn rises from the counter, swatting the bowl onto the floor where it shatters into pieces.

"Oops," she says.

"I'll clean that up," the old woman says grumpily--but with a knowing twinkle in her eye.

Back on Dailan's gunk-glazed streets, Nīn pushes forward towards her rendezvous point--Old Throat. A collapsed sewer in the outskirts of Lah Ding. The usual meetup point for Nīn and Ranak. And Varj.

Navigating there is easy for Nīn--the streets (and rooftops) of Nekrosaka were practically engraved into her brain.

Old Throat is a surprisingly clean place, compared to other regions of Nekrosaka. The years of unuse have caused its tunnels to dry up--along with it, all of the refuse that would have flowed through.

Nīn happens upon Ranak, accompanied by two other figures.

"Ranak! Good news--Varj is not only alive, but he's not in Kala-Uk yet." Nīn says to Ranak.

"That'll make things much better for us," Ranak nods. "Not by much, since Lah Ding's still a nakai hotzone."

"Who are your friends here?"

Ranak gestures to the first individual, an Augmented wearing a long, trailing cloak. Her nisekite fingers are elongated and pointed, ending in needle-like tips.

"This is Vurei," Ranak introduces. "Her 'n' I go back a ways. She's a Class 3 Augmented and extremely good at safecrackin'. Clanless too."

"A plezzurr to meeeet youu, Mizzz Saweei," Vurei's heavily Augmented voice purrs.

"I would've had her join our operation in Yatsu-Gai if the vault actually had somethin' pickable, ya know?"

Nīn bows.

"Good to have you on board, Vurei."

"Buuuuut of courrzzzz... we kennnha muzzzt zzzztick togetherrr againnzzt the eeeeevvil of the Bornnnu."

Ranak gestures to the other figure--a middle aged man, barely Augmented save for an implant where his right eye would be.

"This 'ere's Doctor Salo," Ranak speaks proudly. "You'll be pleased to get to know 'im, Nīn."

"Nīn, was it? How excellent to meet you, even though I would have preferred less dire circumstances." Doctor Salo bows.

"Doctor Salo's a stonemodder. Varj's stonemodder, in fact."

"Indeed! I have served the Yubokumin publicly and their Kenha secretly for a couple of decades now."

"Wait," Nīn starts, "so you must know about the disc?"

"Ah! The mnemonic cipher disk. It is an ultra-rare artifact designed by some of the first stonemodders. Impossible to replicate now thanks to the unfortunate march of time. Many records lost during Kenha activities and clan wars. A shame really. Perhaps this sort of knowledge is known about outside of Nekrosaka--maybe the Songkram know how? I've heard of a distant paradise called Destral where--"

"Focus, Doctor," Ranak chides.

"Ah, forgive me. Um, the disc is a litho-neural interface capable of constructing erased Kenha memories--particularly those suppressed through lithonatomical overwrite surgery when a Kenha is inducted into the movement. It can decode locked mnemonic fragments from the subconscious, revealing everything from true identities to wiped mission archives."

"What..." Nīn is dumbfounded. "I thought those memories were erased for good?!"

"I'm afraid not--or at least, this disc is the only way to recover them! Remarkable, really. I suspect it was originally designed as a failsafe. A tool to recover agents if the Kenha collapsed. Or perhaps to preserve truth if false histories spread."

Doctor Salo's perky demeanor quickly turns dour.

"But in the wrong hands? The Bornu could use the disc to gain access to every Kenha secret from captured operatives. This would mean leverage over families, access to Kenha command nodes... a full look at the Kenha network. Disasterous!"

Nīn pales. Varj was no longer the only one in danger. Now the entirety of the Kenha was at risk.

"I think we can convince Grandpa t' lend us more--" Ranak begins.

"No," Nīn interrupts. "There's no time. We won't get another opportunity to save Varj before he's cast into Kala-Uk. We have to move now. While the odds are in our favour."

"I'm no combatant," Doctor Salo adds, "but I have a vested interest in the safe recover of the disk. I do not want anything out there that will lead the Bornu back to me, and by looking at memories, they would easily be able to find out about the role I have played in creating Kenha!"

"We'll need 'is help anyways," says Ranak. "Worse case scenario, we have Doctor Salo remove th' disc from Varj... if we, uh, can't extract him successfully.

"Once extracted, we can destroy the disc!" Doctor Salo adds with triumphant finality.

"Where'd you find this guy, Ranak?" Nīn asks.

"Called in a couple favours," Ranak says slyly. "Well. A lot of favours."

Ranak hefts a large piece of nisekite hardware off the ground.

"Well, we'd best get movin'. I've already formulated a bit of a plan 'ere with Vurei. This 'ere's a nuivan glaive. Big arse piece of ol' mining equipment from The Gutter, modified 'n enhanced with some extra magic that'll let it blow a hole through a part of the sewer system into th' top of Kala-Uk. But if Varj ain't in th' prison yet, then we just hafta reposition a bit 'n we'll be good t' go--we can blow a hole into th' tunnel that leads t' th' transport lift into the prison. This bad boy's got enough power to tear right through the reinforced layers of fire iron lining the bottom of the sewer."

Nīn smiles. Classic Ranak--opting for the most dramatic, explosive entrance possible. While in many scenarios, Nīn would've clashed heads with Ranak. In this case, the big man's inelegant approach may be the most efficient one.

"What about extraction?"

"Not sure. That part's up in th' air, but th' important thing's gettin' Varj outta th' clutches of the Bornu, ah ye?"

"Can't say I like that part... but nice work Ranak."

"Happy t' help, Nīn. Now then, everyone. Let's sync our thought-links. Time to save Varj from these gaakin' Bornu bastards."

The nuivan glaive works as expected. When Ranak arms it, the arcane symbols etched across its surface begin to glow and sputter violently. It unleashes a violent shockwave of multicoloured flames, which pour out onto the brickwork floor, melting it away like snow in water.

As the ground destabilizes, the glaive falls in, still spewing its arcane plasma all over the place.

"Trust th' process, Ranak reassures the others.

A moment passes. Then--

FOOM.

The glaive detonates somewhere far below. Shimmering heatwaves tinged with rainbow colours hurtle upwards through the glaive's hole.

"That's it!" Ranak cries out. "Go time, people!"

Vurei drops down the hole, her needlessly long cloak billowing behind her. Nīn goes next.

"Don't worry Salo, I'll babysit ya," Ranak jests, picking up the stonemodder like a baby. He jumps down after Nīn.

Nīn and Vurei land precisely where they want to be--atop the lift leading down into Kala-Uk. But there's nothing to be seen on the platform.

The explosion has announced their arrival. The blaring of trumpets and horns permeate the lift's shaft as nakai warn each other of inevitable attack.

"Where are we, Ranak?!" Nīn demands as Ranak lands with Doctor Salo. "Where are the guards and Varj?!"

"Theee pazzzzenggerrrs ovv the liftt arrre unnderneath uzz," Vurei says, knowingly. "Theee lift izz a heavvily arrmourred prrizzon trranzzporrt. We will need to tearr a hole through the elevvatorr..."

"Say no more," Ranak says with a grin. He pulls out yet another explosive from his trusty satchel. "This'll give us access to one room. Maybe a hallway. Dunno the layout of this thing."

Nīn's mind races. She tries to fight back against the creeping feeling that they were in over their heads.

"Just use it," Nīn calls out hurridly. "We're fighting against the clock here."

"Indeed!" Doctor Salo adds. "It looks like they have not stopped the elevator's descent still! At this rate the elevator will get to Kala-Uk soon."

"Explosive's placed," Ranak says.

"Affirmative," Nīn confirms. "Everyone take a step back and be prepared for combat after we breach. Mah Lao will be somewhere on this lift."

"WHAT?"* Ranak snaps. His disbelief is punctuated by the explosion of the detonating magic bomb.

"JUST GO!" Nīn yells at her comrades, leaping into the hole.

Her lithonatomical joints whirr as she lands inside the elevator. The elevator's halls are ornate, but not excessively so. The floors are polished granite and the walls are lined with elegant but minimalist wooden pillars.

With a swift motion, Nīn draws her weapon from her spinal port, reassured by its familiar weight in her hand.

Ranak lands with a thud.

"Did y' gaakin' say Mah Lao?!" Ranak demands, yelling over the echoing warning horns. "Nīn?!"

"Yes!" Nīn replies urgently. "Mah Lao is involved in this. But it doesn't matter, we have to go."

"Gaak you, Nīn! Why didn't y' mention that earlier?!"

"Let's just find Varj and get out of here!"

Ranak growls and pushes forward, drawing a massive cleaver from within the segments of his oversized Augmented back.

"How forrtuitouzz," Vurei comments as she drops into the hallway, shedding her long cloak onto the marble floor. "We arre innn a hallway."

Nīn watches in amazement for just a second as she regards Vurei's naked form; she could see how why Vurei was a Class 3. The entire lower half of her body had been replaced by spider-like appendages that allowed her to move quickly through the hall.

The trio of Kenha push forward through the halls, Doctor Salo bringing up the rear at a safe distance. One by one, nakai guards barge into the hall ahead of them--which the kenha continually cut down. Eventually, the team reaches a set of corridors connected to a central room--a block of tiny, cramped prison cells, each one blocked off by a heavy door, each made of some sort of metal covered with crimson rust. Exactly where Varj would be.

"Let's sweep quickly. Doctor Salo, you're with me. Ranak, go with Vurei." Nīn barks her commands decisively, knowing every passing second meant Kala-Uk and Mah-Lao approached, and their climb out of the shaft would be longer.

"Where'd you find the disc?" Nīn asks Doctor Salo as they begin combing through the empty cells. "Did Grandpa supply it to you? Or did you have it in your possession?"

"Hmmm.," Doctor Salo ruminates. "I recall it being delivered to me by a Kenha operative the day before Mister Kual tasked me with installing it in your friend."

"Why?"

"Erm, I don't ask questions, Miss Sawei. It is not my place... I simply do what I am paid for! I've had colleagues 'bumped off' for questioning their contracts before."

"I understand. Shal vast. This is weird."

"Wait! Miss Sawei! This cell here." Doctor Salo stops by a cell and peers inside its tiny observation hole.

Nīn hurridly pushes Doctor Salo to the side to look within the cell. Sure enough, it was Varj. His organic parts are battered, bloodied, bruised. His visible lithonatomical components were cracked, the runes upon their faces chipped away to rob the kenha of his power. But he was alive.

"Varj!" Nīn calls inside.

Varj looks up weakly towards Nīn.

"Nīn...?"

Nīn wastes no time, drawing her sword from her spinal port, and swinging upon the door with a swift blow. A light scratch is all that appears after the shower of sparks. Doctor Salo stumbles backwards in surprise, landing on the ground.

"Ouch, my posterior!"

After seeing her ineffective attempt to cut through the door, Nīn lowers her blade and turns to Doctor Salo, offering him a hand.

"Sorry, Salo. This metal is tougher that it looks."

"Aiya, Nīn," Doctor Salo says as he stands up, rubbing his rear. "That metal there is fire iron! And judging by the observation hole, the door is nearly 5 centimeters thick!"

"Let's find Ranak. He'll probably have something to melt through this."

"Unlikely! Fire iron is extremely resistant to melting, and Ranak already used that nuivan device to get us into the shaft... but Vurei may be able to pick this lock. Hopefully she is familiar with the abjurmantic spells undoubtedly cast upon this door's locking mechanism!"

"What an excellent idea, good doctor," a voice calls out from the corridor's end. Nīn whirls about at the unfamiliar speaker, holding up her blade defensively.

Before them is a man clad in silk robes, his long, dark hair tied back in a flowing ponytail that reached to his waist. The pale skin of his face only highlighted the cruel, knowing smirk on his lips. Nīn could tell from the excessive jewelry that adorned his wrists and neck that this man was in the employ of the avaricious Bornu.

Mah Lao.

As a khatkir dealing with kenha as dangerous as herself, Nīn knew that beneath the fanciful dressing of the man before her was undoubtedly a layer of starsteel, likely enchanted to withstand her weapon. She would have to aim for his head.

"Mah Lao," Nīn says scornfully.

"I'm not familiar with you, my dear," Mah Lao sneers, "but I'll discover your name soon enough when I pry it out of your skull."

Nīn spots movement behind the khatkir. Beyond them in the hall were Vurei and Ranak, dazed and restrained, being escorted by nakai into another set of cells. Mah Lao had just acquired two additional prisoners, which he would deliver directly to Kala-Uk.

"It'll be hard to do that while yours is separated from your body!" Nīn unleashes a cry as her lithonatomical legs pulse with power.

Doctor Salo falls backwards again onto his rump as the shockwave propelling Nīn down the corrider explodes outward from where she once stood. With reflexes to rival an Augmented, Mah Lao draws a double-edged, straight blade from within the folds of his clothing, parrying Nīn's initial blow.

Nīn pushes herself, calling on all the eldritch power within her lithonatomical implants to defeat her foe. But with every blocked strike, she could feel her energy failing. Mah Lao didn't seem to tire.

How is he moving so fast? Nīn thinks. How can he keep up and for this long?!

Finally, an opening. Mah Lao seems to overswing while deflecting one of Nīn's slashes. She draws her blade back and goes for a thrust--straight into Mah Lao's skull, through his left eye.

But Mah Lao hadn't made a mistake. He laid a trap. And Nīn fell for it.

As she thrusts forward, Nīn's sword passes harmlessly through an illusory copy of his head. His true face manifests to the side, grinning at the kenha in his trap. Before she can retract her weapon, Mah Lao swiftly presses a golden nail into the joints of her lithonatomical arm. An inscription on the head of the nail glows orange. The amber light spreads throughout the runes on her arm, causing it to seize up. It releases the blade in its grip and falls uselessly to Nīn's side.

With a deft set of motions, Mah Lao twirls his sword, slicing off Nīn's ear, kneeing her in the stomach to wind her, and then kicking her to the floor.

The kenha lies on the floor, gasping for air while blood pools out from the side of her head.

Doctor Salo has already been apprehended by nakai. He gives up without resisting. Nīn finds herself surrounded by spear-wielding nakai--their gold-masked faces seeming to scowl at her as she lies on the ground.

"Just as easy as the rest of them," Mah Lao sighs, readjusting his hair. "Put this one away with her friends. She can join them during their indefinite stay in the prison."

The first thing Nīn feels is the burning cold. But not from the air--Kala-Uk is too deep for that. The geothermal activity at this depth was why naga always liked to build their cities here. But the stone slab beneath Nīn was freezing cold. It was etched with cryomantic sigils, constantly drawing heat from whatever touched it. It sapped more than the warmth from Nīn. It drained her strength, her focus.

Her eyes flutter open as she hurriedly gets off of the uncomfortable excuse for a bed.

The falls are a black stone, reinforced with bands of fire iron. The Bornu must have spent a fortune to build Kala-Uk with this incredible amount of fire iron. One side of the room is without a wall, though. It seems to open to nothingness. Just an empty void, a grey field of nothingness. Faint shapes shimmer on the nonexistent horizon.

Nīn looks at her implants. Her sword is gone, of course, but the rest of her body... They are all inactive. Not damaged, but suppressed. More of those golden nails have been driven into her implants, each one glowing with a foul magic.

Nīn had never seen these in person before, but she'd heard of them from other kenha. Bornu-made nisekite bane nails. Specially created by the Bornu's mabosas to restrain Augmented. Without the mabosa's key stamp, they couldn't be deactivated. Or removed... without great pain.

The kenha leans against the wall of the prison, gritting her teeth and balling her natural fist. Ranak. Vurei. Doctor Salo. Varj. All taken--all hidden away within the spiraling depths of this accursed Bornu prison.

A familiar, menacing voice echoes through Nīn's cell as an arcane crystal acting as a speaker vibrates in the corner.

"You're awake," the unmistakable, leering voice of Mah Lao speaks. "Fantastic. Tell me... how well do you remember the day your masters took your name? The day you discarded your humanity to become this sword-ghost."

Mah Lao probably knows about the disc, Nīn thinks to herself. If a nakai lackey guarding the Debt Registry Tower knew about it, then surely someone with the resources of Mah Lao would know. But I'm not sure. Maybe I can throw him off the scent if I play his game.

"What do you mean, you bastard?" Nīn replies, cold and flat.

There is silence for a moment. Then, Mah Lao's voice returns, low and composed. Nīn couldn't see his face, but his voice sounded like someone speaking amicably in a tea parlour.

"Your tone suggests outrage. And yet, I sense curiosity. That pleases me."

Nīn can almost visualize Mah Lao beyond the grey void before her, pacing with his robes trailing behind him, perhaps even doing something infuriatingly mundane like combing his hair.

"Would you like to remember? See, I find Kenha fascinating. You erase yourselves. You give up names, family, the joy and pain that makes you definitively mortal. All to become shades carrying knives through the darkness."

Another pause.

"Well, here we are, with your friend Varj having delivered to me a wonderful gift. How thoughtful it was to include 3 other Kenha alongside his own package. I wonder, was that Kual's plan? Or did you blunder into my hands all on your own?"

Well, that was definitive. Nīn knew now that Mah Lao knew about the disc... but his other words strangled her heart.

Why is he talking about Grandpa? Nīn wonders.

"'Why is he talking about "Grandpa" Kual,' she wonders," Mah Lao's voice mocks. "I'll answer your question with another question. How does it feel to be betrayed by someone who you thought was on your side?"

Nīn is in shock. She sinks to the floor. Her lips tremble and tears well in her eyes. The despair of the treachery Mah Lao was implying here tore apart any semblance of emotion regulation training she had received. Was he tormenting her with lies, or the truth?

"Anyways. Our time is short. I wanted to get to know you a little before I tore you apart for your memories using the new toy I have. My masters will be quite pleased if it works out as I expect it to. Sad to see that you are a woman of few words. Enjoy your stay, while you can."

The crystal halts vibration--Mah Lao has passed by her. Nīn would need to move swiftly now. There was no way of knowing if Varj was still alive, but there was still time for her to get to and destroy the disc before it was used to uncover a collective hundred years of Kenha secrets.

But what could she do? She was trapped in an impregnable prison cell, isolated from the rest of the world by this bizarre grey emptiness.

The answer crackled to her in her mind. A voice, distant but real.

...Nīn...?

The hair on the back of Nīn's neck stands up. Impossible. Mah Lao had missed one of her implants. And evidently, Ranak's too. Their thought-links.

Ranak? Nīn thinks back.

Don't bother askin' how I am. I'm fine. I saw th' others briefly while they were movin' me through th' prison. They gutted Vurei's arms. Salo's still breathing. I think they're preppin' Varj for extractin' that disc. You have a few minutes while they prepare... they can't just tear it out without damagin' th' arcane programming in th' implant.

There is a burst of static. It seems as though while the thought-links are intact, they're damaged.

Nīn, listen! If ya find that disc, or even Varj--destroy it. Even if it's still in him. Things're bigger than just us now!

I understand.

Varj'll too.

Ranak... Grandpa set us up.

What?!

Doctor Salo told me Grandpa told him to put the disc in Varj.

The gaak? Why?!

I don't know... but Mah Lao says that it was a gift from Grandpa. Ranak... I think Grandpa has betrayed the Kenha. I think he struck a deal with Mah Lao... or the Bornu...

That explains why th' ol' man told us to not try and rescue Varj! That traitorous bastard! If we get outta here I'll strangle 'im... or maybe shove another nuivan glaive down 'is throat...

What's with these cells? What is this grey void?

...I dunno. Something magical for sure. This loose-lipped nüghis Mah Lao blabbered on 'bout this being some sorta demiplane that can be made to collapse any moment. Bastard said if we wander outside th' cell it won't lead to an escape--'n they can just flip a switch 'n make th' entire demiplane smush y' int' noodle paste.

Creative.

A damn waste is what 'tis! Imagine if th' Bornu invested this magic into makin' Nekrosaka less of a sh--

The thought-link cuts out. Looks like it had finally given out.

Nīn walks around her cell, dragging her palm across the smooth stone walls. She doesn't look for a seam--since a flaw wouldn't be designed. It would have to manifest as a mistake. There would have to be something here related to the incredible amount of magic used to hold this prison cell together.

She looks around the cell a second time, this time looking for some sort of observation method. Surely there was a way Mah Lao or other guards could monitor her while she was in here? That's when she spots a small, tiny hole in the rear corner of the cell. A drainage conduit. It's no exit, but it might connect to something.

Nīn moves quickly. Crouching next to the conduit, she slips her non-Augmented hand into the channel. It's tiny, and her hand threatens to get stuck with every movement. She feels blindly, praying to whatever primordial Legerian deity would hear her. Then, something. A loose plate, deep in the tube, along the side. Her fingers strain to move the plate, and she feels something beneath the plate. A stone surface, with some sort of carving in its face.

An arcane sigil? She theorizes, optimistically. There was no way of telling if this was even tied to the demiplane trapping her. And what would happen if she pulled this thing free or destroyed it? Would she be compressed into a microscopic sphere? Pulled apart into mist? Magic was dangerous when tampered with blindly.

With little options, Nīn opts to pull the runic installment free. It's hard with the limited finger space, but she's successful. She pulls the tiny sigil-marked stone out of the drain and observes it. She's no mabosa, but she notices that the stone has two parts: the stone segments can twist. Without hesitation, she twists the stone.

There is a flicker--suddenly, the grey void before her is replaced with reality--the winding prison of Kala-Uk, with its suspended platforms and bridges connecting to empty rooms connected to chains. Undoubtedly each empty room housed a prison cell like hers, just currently whisked away into their own demiplane.

"Hey! Prisoner!" A trio of nakai stand cautiously at the edge of the cell, their menacing weapons bristling.

Stepping cautiously into the cell are three nakai. Even here, in the depths of Nekrosaka, they bore armour gilded with grotesque ornamentation: jewel-threaded filigree, etched with patterns of conquest and characters emphasizing luck, strength, and fortune. Who were they trying to impress here? Even the Bornu themselves would never come to a place like this.

"Xin lohs alvaareen naal tashtaf, the gaakin' abjurmantic stabilizer. The mabosa will be pissed."

It's impossible to tell which of them is talking thanks to their face masks.

"We'll have to move her to another cell. Let's go, Kenha scum! On your feet! And no funny business, without your implants working we'll be able to kill you before you can try to do anything flashy."

Thinking quickly, Nīn slumps down onto the floor and lets her head lull loosely to one side. She lets her breath sputter in shallow rhythm. She gives a subtle twitch while her eye locks onto the corner of the cell with the drain.

"Spasm response," one of the nakai mutters. "Residual nerve impulse."

"She faking?"

"Possible, but... Gaak, she could've had some kind of implant in her internal organs. Probably undergoing shock after having it suppressed for this long."

"Hold position then. Wait 'til she's fully out of it."

But one of the nakai keeps moving forward.

"I think she is out of it. If she dies before Mah Lao can get to her, we'll be flayed alive. Let me check..."

He leans in, gripping the edge of the stone "bed" as he inspects Nīn closely. Her fingers twitch as they curl into a fist.

"Wait," one of the nakai calls, lifting up his spear. "She's moving too much--"

Nīn strikes. It's not elegant, nor is it powered by the lithonatomical power she usually commands, but it's enough. She twists her entire body in a rapid motion, clocking the nakai in the side of the head and sending his helmet into the edge of the bed.

Crunch.

He might not have been killed by the blow, but he was down for the count. And that meant his weapon was free to take. Clutching the fallen nakai's kizaraka sword in her responsive hand, she stands up and sizes up the remaining two nakai.

"You petulant harlot," one of the nakai curses. "Drop the sword or we'll make you regret it."

"Forget it, kenha! It's two versus one and you're weighed down by dead nisekite. You may have caught Jiang Nou off guard, but you'd never win a fight with us."

Nīn doesn't stick around to banter or have an exchange of wits. She rushes forward, into the spears of the enemies. But even without it functioning as intended, her lithonatomical arm proves useful. With her nisekite deflecting the thrust of one spear and the kizaraka deflecting the other, Nīn pushes past the two nakai and onto the suspended bridge leading to her cell.

She turns and faces the nakai, shooting them a grin before saying: "I don't need to win a fight with you boys."

With a twist of the abjurmantic stone, the prison cell is once again whisked into its demiplane. The screams of the nakai, which arise as they realize the trick, are cut off abruptly, echoing into the massive, suspended prison block.

Free from the cell, Nīn takes a moment to analyze the area. Kala-Uk itself. The prison block she was in was a massive chamber, with suspended cells hanging from chains over a bottomless pit below. Who knew where it ended?

Even the access paths to the cells were suspended. A precarious setup unmissably designed to be dropped into the darkness in the face of a mass prison break.

Around her, and above and below, the cries of nakai guards spotting her cry out. They were moving quickly to her. Without her lithonatomical enhancements, she wouldn't be able to take even one in a straight fight.

Running was the best option. Dragging the weight of the lifeless stone grafted to her body, Nīn pushes as hard as she can to make it to the entrance to the prison block, where a gate was being rapidly lowered. From this distance, she couldn't make out if it was made of fire iron or not, but it didn't matter--without her lithonatomical strength, she wouldn't be able to slash through even mundane steel bars.

By the gate were two prison personnel, frantically attempting to lower the gate, sweat dripping from their brows as Nīn approached. Next to them was a single nakai, a powerful ju pe longbow in their hand. With expertise, the nakai draws the weapon back and looses an arrow. His accuracy and Nīn's sluggishness is a death sentence--or it would be if Nīn didn't trip try to dodge the arrow. The arrow whistles overhead as she falls to the floor of the bridge. But she hurries back onto her feet as the nakai prepares another arrow.

Zip!

It embeds itself in her shoulder. Nīn screams, but there's no time to process the pain. She has to get to the gate.

She limps forward, howling and growling like a savage animal. As adrenaline courses through the organic parts of her body, she throws the nakai kizaraka in her hands towards the bowman. It's inelegant and lacks killing power, but the improvised projectile is enough to delay the next arrow shot.

With a final cry, Nīn throws herself forward, rolling underneath the closing gate and leaving the pursuing nakai behind her locked out. The gate attendants yell and flee as the bow-wielding nakai drops his bow and draws a club from his belt.

"Stonebodded sluhz," he curses, stepping forward to batter her on the floor.

But Nīn is ready. She twists around and kicks as hard as she can. Her lithonatomical legs have no additional power, but they are still made of cold, hard nisekite stone. The nakai lets out a yelp as he staggers backwards, his breastplate visibly dented.

Nīn struggles back to her feet. No time to make sure the nakai was dead. She needed to get these nails out of her. Rescuing Varj--or rather, ensuring the destruction of the disc--was unlikely to succeed without her Augmented abilities.

The prison was not engulfed in alarms yet. But that was sure to change soon--after all, an entire platoon of nakai guards were trapped inside a prison block. Nīn only had minutes before the guards across Kala-Uk were roused and given kill orders.

Where would I find the mabosa? Nīn wondered. They weren't nakai--they wouldn't patrol the prison like a common guard. They would observe. Command. Pull levers from above.

Even with the dead nisekite hanging off of her, Nīn is a force to be reckoned with--or a tough shadow to spot. She knows she is in no state to fight the guards effectively, so she remains within shadows. Darting behind pillars and maneuvering through corridors silently, Nīn finds relief when she finds herself looking at a sign:

ARCANUM ADMINISTRATION

Nīn was no bureaucrat, but if there was ever a place to find a mage, it would be in a place like this.

She slows her pace and peers around the edge of the nearest corner. Down the narrow hall was a dim room, flickering with candlelight. At the center of chamber was an arcane smithing altar. Nīn recognized the amber sigils carved into its face; they matched the symbols upon her bane nails.

This place was where the bane nails were forged. And right next to the altar was the craftsman. Hunched over and cloaked in gold-embroidered but tattered robes was undoubtedly a mabosa. His gnarled fingers, covered in carved bone rings brimming with arcane symbols, trace images through the air as he lays down a set of golden nails onto the altar's top.

His work is interrupted as a magical crystal on one of the shelves behind him vibrates.

"Mabosa Izika," the voice says with an edge of panic. "There's been a breach in your cell block. There's a Kenha on the loose."

"Oh?" the mabosa responds, slowly and creakily, like a withered old tree. "How many dead?"

"Not many. Or we're not sure. We have three nakai trapped inside one of the cells."

"Dropped into The Grey Plane?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hmmm... unprofessional. I am on my way."

The old wizard shakes his robes and begins down the hall towards Nīn. The sound of the many charms both under and over his robes clatter as he steps away from his work. She sees his mask--a jubilant monkey with elongated teeth--for just a moment before she pulls back, pressing herself against the wall as he passes by. She waits for the mabosa to disappear around another corner, waits a moment more, and then hurries into the now empty room.

Nīn doesn't know what she's looking for. She simply hopes she will recognize it when she sees it. She sorts through the displays of various esoteric materials upon the mabosa's walls, attempting to find anything that looked like it would disable the bane nails.

Finally, luck. A stamp case. The key locking the bane nails in place resembled a stamp, according to older Kenha who had dealt with these things...

But no. Nothing. The stamp case was empty. The mabosa must've carried the key with him.

Nīn cursed her bad luck. Not only did she waste her time on a fruitless venture, but she would have to complete the mission without her implants assisting her.

But perhaps the venture wasn't completely fruitless. No, there was one useful item here among the random herbs, incense, and arcane paraphernalia. A map of Kala-Uk. Or at least, a layout of the section of Kala-Uk this mabosa was assigned to. And it showed exactly where the Disassembly Chamber was--the place where khatkir and other accursed servants of the Bornu tortured Kenha and extracted information from them.

The mabosa wouldn't return for at least another 10 minutes--probably longer, depending on how much trouble the prison cell gives him.

Nīn gets back into the main network of hallways of Kala-Uk. She is once again in her element, slipping past guards effortlessly.

She knows she's close to the Disassembly Chamber when she hears a bone-chilling scream. Varj's voice, yelling in pain and protest. With every cry, Nīn struggles to maintain her composure, to keep her breathing steady.

The hall ahead would lead straight into the chamber. A simple sliding door is all that separates the chamber from the hall. But three nakai stand guard at the front of the door, their helms all shaped in the grotesque, overly-polished and bedazzled style so loved by the Bornu. They were distracted though--the light of whatever twisted process Varj was being subjected to within had them peering over their shoulders, even though the door's paper coating obfuscated the sight of anything meaningful.

Varj unleashes another bloodcurdling scream, followed by sobbing.

Something within Nīn snaps. An image flashes across her mind. A memory... or one she doesn't recognize.

Bodies strapped to poles.

A nakai wielding an executioner's blade, dripping with blood.

Torches.

A boy holding her hand, tears streaming down his face.

No more stealth. No more waiting. Just motion... fury. Nīn explodes out from her hiding place, ignoring the pain of the arrow in her shoulder and the exhaustion of the nisekite body parts that refuse to respond in a timely manner.

The three nakai snap to alert, hands gripping and drawing their swords in expert, well-rehearsed motion. There is a flurry of slashes as their blades cut through Nīn. But her momentum is enough. She slams into the first nakai, and he crumples backwards, breaking the door into pieces. As he falls, Nīn twists, catching his sword mid drop and swinging it at the second guard. The blade drags across his throat, right in the gaps of his armour. His blood arcs like a painter's stroke across the wall. The final nakai raises his sword to deliver a killing blow, but Nīn strives the sword into his chest with all her might. It deflects off the starsteel, sending pieces of precious stones embedded in the armour onto the floor. His sword swings down, cleaving her arm--the only natural one she has left--from her body. Her life sprays from the wound, but not her spirit. With a cry, she swings her nisekite arm like a club, colliding with the nakai's helmet and sending him sprawling onto the floor.

Nīn shakily remains on her feet, bleeding from her myraid of cuts. Her vision fades in and out of blurriness. The sounds of the Disassembly Chamber are warped, as if she was underwater. She turns to look at the rest of the room.

Varj.

He is strapped to a stone slab at the center of the room. His body is... no more. Spread across the slab are his entrails, intermixed with the various nisekite pieces that had replaced various organs when he first became an Augmented. His six limbs--4 arms and 2 legs--are splayed outward, picked apart in a manner that could be described by the name of the room: disassembled. The top of his scalp is peeled back, the back of his skull removed--the mnemonic disc hangs from a chain above, still partially attached to Varj's exposed brain matter. A pool of blood and nisekite fluid covers the floor around the slab, reflecting the orange light of the braziers and torches around the edge of the room.

Around Varj are several men and women in white robes. Stonemodders loyal to the Bornu, no doubt. At his head, a mabosa in an ivory mask reminiscent of the six-eyed klo ming monstrosities of Isutan legend. And behind the group... Mah Lao. He looks surprised for a moment at Nīn's presence, but his shock quickly subsides as he sees the kenha's bloodied state.

"You made it," Mah Lao's smooth voice slithers from his lips. "I must say, I'm very impressed. Your accomplishments to get to where you are now are impressive, even if you're doing nothing but bleeding onto my floor."

Seemingly from nowhere, he draws his straight sword once more.

"You don't seem to have a very good sense of timing though, Nīn."

Varj's eyes flicker towards Nīn. Even in this nightmarish state, he was still alive.

"Nīn, I usually don't get tourists on the job. So let me introduce you to Mabosa Hyo, our resident biomancer. He's responsible for keeping your brother alive while we... work."

Brother? Nīn thinks.

"Silence, khatkir!" the mabosa's voice hisses from underneath the draconic mask. "You musn't disturb me while I keep your patient breathing."

"Nīn... they're seeing it..." Varj gasps, his exposed lungs quivering with every word. "They'll see all of it..."

Nīn doesn't move. Her legs quake beneath her. Blood continues to drip from the stump of her severed arm, intermingling with the slashes covering her body to spatter in rhythm on the floor. The pain from her missing ear and the arrow in her shoulder echo through her body.

Consciousness fails her for a second, but she catches herself as she falls.

"Will you die bleeding out? Or will you live long enough to let me kill you myself?" Mah Lao taunts.

"You think you're so strong, Mah Lao," Nīn rasps, her voice like smoke in a burned-out tunnel. "You couldn't do any of this yourself. You needed magic, mabosa, cages, and restraints. Probably an army of nakai to follow your every order, too."

Nīn takes a step forward.

"But I didn't even need my augments to walk through the halls of your precious fortress," she continues. "Doesn't that scare you?"

Mah Lao chuckles, amused. His blade still hands from his hand, calmly. "The dying snake attempts to intimidate me with its final hiss! Ha! You came here on instinct, Nīn Sawei. Animal impulse. Not strategy. I've hunted enough kenha in my day to recognize a sound plan when I push against it. You snapped your fangs off trying to rescue something already ours. All you've proven is how little you understand the might of the Bornu."

Nīn smirks, despite the agony. "That's funny, coming from a man who could just kill me instead of talk at me. You are scared. You saw what I did to your nakai, completely unarmed and powerless."

That gets his attention. His grip on his blade tightens. He is about to speak, but Nīn doesn't give him the chance.

"You're terrified. You're in the place that should be the safest place on Legere for your kind. And yet I'm here--unrestrained, still talking, still breathing."

"Enough!" Mah Lao roars, stomping his foot. The mabosa jolts, and the stonemodders around the table take a step backwards as Varj's body gasps and groans.

Nīn takes another step forward, now within arm's reach of the stone slab. Blood trails behind her in a crooked line. Mah Lao's blade raises, slowly.

"You think you'll win this war against the Kenha with secrets," Nīn continues. "You think you'll finally take control over the heart of Nekrosaka if you're able to use this dusty old nisekite artifact. But let me tell you something, Mah Lao. Secrets will never win this war. Likewise, Augments won't either. No. People will. People like Varj. Like Ranak. Like the ones you have locked up. See Mah Lao... we don't need Augments to crush the Bornu."

Nīn's eyes flick towards Mah Lao's blade, glimmering with pride and uncertainty. He expects another clever line from the kenha. Perhaps the defiance was as entertaining as it was infuriating.

But he doesn't expect what she does next. With a final lurch, Nīn collapses onto the edge of the stone slap and hurls herself across Varj's body.

Mah Lao doesn't even have time to scream her name.

With a mighty heave, Nīn throws her nisekite arm in a wide arc towards the disc. It's no glancing blow. It's a full, bone-shattering strike straight through its eldritch core. The stone seems to scream as magical cracks splinter across its surface. Varj screams as well, the energy from the stone disc making its way through the veins of his brain just before it's torn free.

The disc falls to pieces as it strikes the floor. A burst of energy--the arcane power within the nisekite--radiates outwards in a final, roiling shockwave, knocking Mah Lao, the biomancer mabosa, and the stonemodders into the Disassembly Chamber's walls. Nīn can feel it--waves of emotion, pain, history, names--all unraveling and burning away like the debt-ledgers Ranak had scorched just a day ago.

"Nin..." Varj whispers from underneath Nīn's body. His body no longer supported by the mabosa's magic, his blood flows freely and mixes with Nīn's as she bleeds out.

"Varj?"

"Sis... ter..." he continues, nothing but his lips moving. "I'm... I'm sorry I forgot."

Nīn turns to face Varj's face, the colour draining from it quickly as the last of the blood in his skull flow from it.

"Don't be sorry, Varj," Nīn whispers back. "I never remembered."

There is no final exhale from Varj. He just stops moving.

Nīn joins him shortly after. She smiles as life leaves her, for she dies as the kenha intend--free from the chains of the Bornu.