The descent into the Sector 7 tunnels felt like a march into the mouth of a dying star. Behind Astra and Dante, the Grey Zone had answered the call. Thousands of "nothings", scavengers in gas masks, industrial laborers with rusted rebar, and omegas who had spent their lives bowing to High-Rise Alphas, surged through the drainage pipes. They didn't have Sterling diamonds or silver-plated pistols, but they had the scent of the First Rain clinging to their clothes.
Astra led the charge, her black tactical suit blending into the soot. She didn't need a flashlight. Every time her boots hit the basalt floor, a ripple of white lunar energy pulsed from her heels, illuminating the jagged volcanic glass of the Old City.
"The lead lining is getting thicker," Dante growled at her shoulder. He had sh
