The entrance to the sewers was hidden behind a rusted pressure valve in the deepest corner of the industrial pits. As the Seeker pried it open, a gust of warm, foul-smelling air rushed out. Above them, the bells of the Great Cathedral tolled—a signal for the "Purge of the Unclean" to begin.
"Step lively," the Seeker hissed, disappearing into the dark pipe. "Once the Inquisition soldiers reach the main sluice gates, they'll flood these tunnels with Holy Water. If that touches your dragon-skin, Alaric, it'll burn like acid."
Alaric stepped into the sludge, his Star-Steel arm illuminating the tunnel with a rhythmic, ghostly blue pulse. He was carrying Evelyn on his back now. Her breathing was steady, but her skin felt cold. The strain of stabilizing his core was draining her life force.
"Alaric..." she whispered against his ear. "The metal... it's moving."
He looked down at his right arm. She was right. The liquid Star-Steel was no longer just coating the iron chain; it was weaving itself into his veins, turning the grey scales of his forearm into a shimmering, metallic silver. It was beautiful and terrifying. The dragon-core in his chest beat with a violent thud, sounding like a hammer hitting an anvil.
"I can feel the city," Alaric muttered, his golden eyes glowing brighter. "I can feel the vibrations of the knights' boots above us. I can feel the heat of the steam engines."
"That's the Star-Steel connecting you to the world's mana," the Seeker called back over his shoulder. "But don't get distracted. We're coming up on the Forbidden Sluice. It's guarded by a 'Light-Bound Sentinel'—a clockwork beast that doesn't need to see you to kill you."
As they reached a massive iron chamber, a mechanical whirring filled the air. A giant, spider-like construct made of gold and glass descended from the ceiling. Its central eye began to glow with a searing white light, scanning for the dragon-mana leaking from Alaric's body.
"Stay back," Alaric commanded, setting Evelyn down gently in a dry alcove.
He didn't draw his sword. He didn't have the strength to swing it. Instead, he raised his Star-Steel hand. The mana-pressure inside him was reaching a breaking point. He needed to vent it, or he would explode.
As the Sentinel fired a beam of concentrated light, Alaric didn't dodge. He absorbed the hit with his silver palm. The Star-Steel acted as a perfect conductor, funneling the Holy Light directly into his dragon-core. For a second, the violet and white energies clashed, threatening to tear his heart apart—then he redirected it.
A beam of combined frost and light erupted from his hand, freezing the Sentinel mid-air and then shattering it into a thousand glass shards.
"Impressive," the Seeker whispered, his eyes wide with greed and fear. "But that blast was a beacon. Gareth will be here in minutes."
"Then we stop running," Alaric said, his voice now a terrifying mix of man and beast. "We move toward the exit. I'm tired of being hunted in the dark."