The wind hadn't let up. If anything, it seemed to grow stronger, as if the storm itself fed on Arthur's fear. Every gust made the metal plates of their house groan, causing the structure of patched-together scraps to shudder on its precarious foundations. Several times, Jonas had to hastily reinforce the seams, hammering down pieces of sheet metal and wedging in beams to prevent the entire place from coming apart.
But since Arthur's awakening, the storm wasn't the only thing troubling Jonas.
He hadn't said anything. Not yet. He paced around the room, opening crates, rummaging through cabinets, bins, and trunks. He only grabbed the essentials: compressed rations, filtered canteens, survival tools, and a few very specific electronic components. It all piled quickly into an old reinforced backpack he hadn't touched in over ten years.
Arthur sat on a crate, watching him, still pale, breathing unevenly.
- « Dad… what are you doing?"
Jonas didn't answer right away. He grabbed an old waterproof coat, rolled it neatly, and secured it to the side of the bag. Finally, he stopped, yanked the zipper closed with a sharp motion, set the bag against the wall… and slowly sat down with his back against a beam, elbows on his knees.
He buried his head in his hands. His fingers trembled.
Arthur cautiously approached.
- « What's going on?"
Jonas looked up, his eyes red from exhaustion and worry. He hesitated, his gaze settling on his son as though seeing him for the first time.
- « You felt something, didn't you? During… the awakening?"
Arthur nodded slowly.
- « Voices. My scream. And… the sky. The same as tonight."
Jonas averted his eyes. He seemed about to say something, but a muffled, distant noise interrupted his thoughts.
BOOOOMMMM.
The ground quaked. The walls shuddered. The hanging lamps swung with a creak.
Arthur and his father froze.
- « What was that…"
Another rumble, louder this time. The kind of sound you felt in your chest before you heard it. Like the atmosphere itself being torn open.
Jonas jumped up, grabbed the pack, and yanked the door open, letting in a rush of torrential rain and a howling wind. He stood at the threshold, staring up at the sky.
Arthur joined him, and then he saw what his father had already noticed.
An interstellar cruiser.
Massive. Intimidating. Silent, but terrifying just by its sheer presence. It floated slowly in low orbit, cutting a black silhouette through the stormy sky, illuminated by hundreds of crimson lights. Its underbelly bristled with turrets, deployment bays, and transporters. And on its hull, clearly visible despite the rain, gleamed the emblem of the Dissonant Empire.
Arthur felt his stomach churn.
Jonas turned pale. His face drained of all color. He stepped back, his expression frozen in shock.
- « No… No, not now. Not here…"
- « Dad? What's happening?" Arthur asked, his voice betraying his fear.
Jonas turned sharply, grabbed his son's arm with a strength Arthur didn't know he had, and pulled him back inside.
- « We're leaving. Now."
- « But the storm"
- « Storm or not, we have no choice!" Jonas yelled, shoving a coat at Arthur, then the pack he'd prepared. "They found us, Arthur. They're looking for you. They know."
Still dazed, Arthur let his father guide him, trying to make sense of it all.
- « Who?! Who's looking for me? Why?!"
Jonas opened a hatch in the floor, revealing a ladder that led into an evacuation tunnel carved into the ship's old structure. The wind continued to howl, the rain battered the walls, and now… new sounds began to emerge.
Sirens blared.
Horns echoed through the city.
Shouts rang out from the walkways.
Panic spread among the residents.
From the higher parts of the district, others had seen the cruiser. And everywhere, fear was gripping the populace.
Lights flickered. Entire modules of the city went dark. Some people ran through the metal streets, slipping on the wet plates; others were barricading their homes, screaming. A mother carried a child through the rain. Surveillance drones were already overhead, their spotlights cutting through the downpour.
- « Jonas!" called a distant voice. It was Varek, the merchant. He was yelling from a walkway: "They're coming in with transport ships! Troops are landing near the south docks!"
Jonas muttered a curse under his breath.
- « They're locking down the planet. Total blockade."
Arthur gripped the edge of the ladder.
- « Dad… did you know this would happen?"
Jonas gave him a look, more intense than Arthur had ever seen.
- « I hoped it wouldn't. I hoped all my life it would never happen again. But the Élan… follows its own paths."
Another rumble tore through the sky. This time, it was the sound of a ship entering the atmosphere at high speed. Then another. Pillars of fire appeared on the horizon.
Troops.
Dozens of them.
- « Quickly. Into the tunnel. We need to reach the old scrapyard zones up north. It'll be harder for them to follow us there."
Arthur climbed down first, his heart racing. Jonas followed, shutting the hatch behind them. The howl of the wind cut off suddenly, replaced by an oppressive silence.
Deep in Scrapra's underground, moments later…
The tunnel where Arthur and Jonas had taken refuge was narrow, damp, and trembling. It had been carved through the remains of an overturned cruiser, its disjointed architecture forming a maze of metal corridors, twisted passageways, and maintenance shafts repurposed as makeshift escape routes. The air was thick with the smell of burnt oil and rust.
Jonas led the way, a narrow-beamed flashlight gripped in one hand, the other clutching the rungs of a vertical shaft ladder. Arthur followed close behind, his breathing heavy, the bag on his back thumping with every movement.
- « You okay?" Jonas asked, his voice muffled by the distant roar of explosions above.
- « I… I think so, yeah," Arthur gasped. "Where does this tunnel lead exactly?"
- « To the older wreckage zones in the north. The lower layers are unstable, but it's our best chance to shake them off."
A low rumble suddenly shook the structure around them. The walls of the shaft shuddered violently. Metallic dust rained down from above. Loose cables snapped free, whipping the air with sharp, echoing cracks.
Then, a mechanical howl cut through the air. A high-pitched, piercing sound, like the synthetic scream of an overcharged engine. Arthur didn't recognize it, but instinctively knew: these weren't ordinary shuttles.
Jonas froze. His flashlight beam wavered.
- « The hunters…"
At that moment, the sky over Scrapra was split with orange streaks. From the main deck of the imperial cruiser, a squadron of compact black ships burst forth at full speed, carving fiery trails through the atmosphere.
These craft, known as Chalcrocs, weren't designed just for speed—they were also bombers. But instead of conventional missiles, they dropped vibration charges: metallic spheres that burrowed into material before unleashing a variable-frequency wave, engineered to pulverize structures, destabilize supports… and disorient living beings.
The entire scrap-city shook.
A first wave detonated near the southern heights: a deep, muted explosion followed by a massive energy blast that shattered scaffolding, tore apart bridges, and sent tons of debris flying. The impact was so powerful that a secondary shockwave rippled down into the underground passages.
Jonas and Arthur were thrown against the wall, the air knocked out of them. An entire section of the ceiling collapsed behind them, sealing off their escape route. Arthur rolled onto his side, gasping, his ears ringing.
- « FATHER!" he shouted, but the sound felt distant, muffled.
Jonas staggered to his feet, blood running down his forehead.
- « I'm here!" He grabbed Arthur and hauled him upright. "We have to keep moving!"
They pushed forward, stumbling through the wreckage. The explosions continued, the Chalcrocs diving down to release their payloads before soaring back up like sated predators.
On the surface, it was hell.
The inhabitants screamed. Some ran in all directions, while others stood frozen, paralyzed by terror. Entire walkways buckled under the vibrations. Shacks were torn from their foundations. Surveillance drones swirled above the crowds, scanning, identifying, marking.
And then the black transports came.
Three massive, rectangular landing ships descended in a triangular formation, their glossy hulls etched with dissident symbols. As they touched down in the central district of the city, a strange silence fell for a moment, as if even the wind held its breath.
Then the hatches opened.
Rows of black-armored soldiers poured out, masked, helmeted, clad entirely in matte black. Their angular armor was designed for function, not flair. They carried heavy-barreled magnetic induction rifles. With every step, their presence demanded submission.
Loudspeakers mounted on the ships blared a repeating message, distorted and commanding:
- « BY ORDER OF THE EMPIRE. THIS SECTOR IS UNDER TOTAL CONTROL. ALL CITIZENS MUST REPORT TO THE CENTER FOR IDENTIFICATION. ANY REFUSAL WILL BE CONSIDERED AN ACT OF TREASON."
The soldiers began corralling the inhabitants, dragging some from their homes, shoving aside the more defiant. Armed drones hovered above, locking on to targets.
Arthur and Jonas, hidden behind a fractured partition deep within the scrap layers, watched in horror through a gap in the twisted metal.
- « They're not here to occupy," Arthur whispered, trembling. "They're looking… for someone."
Jonas nodded, his eyes fixed on the soldiers.
- « Yes. And that someone is you."
Arthur swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest.
- « What do we do?"
Jonas placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
- « We keep moving. We don't stop. We stay in the shadows. I know an old, abandoned spaceport in Layer 9. If it's still functional… we might find a way to escape."
Arthur nodded, his legs shaky but determined.