Chapter 52: First Fortress 4 Part 1

An He and Lola darted swiftly between buildings, their minds cleared of distractions as adrenaline surged through their veins. The wind-inflated blankets made them look like two startled bats in panicked flight.

Around the corner of the building behind them, the officer was closing in with her Wild Dog.

An He never imagined that the first trouble they’d face after entering the First Fortress would be getting chased by a dog.

Without that dog, they would have already slipped back into the square building to retrieve Tina by now. But as it was, they had to take a detour, buying extra time to shake off their pursuers.

An He was certain their tracks weren’t fully exposed yet. The moment the bone hit the ground, she’d sensed something off and immediately warned Lola to pull back.

The officer hadn’t truly spotted them so far.

But a dog’s nose was indeed the trickiest thing. With no wind tonight, the scent she’d left lingering in the air hadn’t dissipated in time and had been caught by the Wild Dog. One person and one beast tracked their footprints with precision—no matter how An He varied their route, the pursuers never veered off course once.

An He gazed ahead as she raced forward, the whooshing wind roaring in her ears. The buildings receding in her peripheral vision blurred into a haze from their sheer speed. She led the way, weaving through narrow alleys.

Lola clutched her waist wound and followed silently, not even a gasp of breath escaping her. She always stayed half a step behind An He, positioned perfectly for support—ready to sync up at any moment.

An He swiftly drew her combat knife. “Do you know that officer?” she asked Lola in a low voice.

“No, the soldiers here turn over fast.”

The First Fortress had a high casualty rate among its troops, and the competition was fierce. Incompetent veterans were quickly replaced by rookies, so new faces popped up in the ranks all the time.

An He recalled the officer’s appearance: a very young woman with black hair, single eyelids, smooth cheek lines, and a tall, sturdy build—especially those robust shoulders. Though young, the officer’s senses were razor-sharp, as keen as her Nestsoul Wild Dog, investigating every little disturbance.

An He gripped the knife hilt tighter. If it came down to it, she’d strike from the shadows and take out the pursuers.

But that was clearly a poor option. Success might alert other soldiers or heighten the fortress’s defenses, complicating their plans ahead. Failure would be even worse—trespassing in a restricted alert zone could mean summary execution. All their careful scheming would go to waste.

She couldn’t expose herself!

An He steadied her breathing, forcing calm.

Even before arriving, she’d known the First Fortress was a den of dragons and tigers, where accidents could strike anytime—like this unforeseen mess.

But there was no helping it. The ecosystem here differed starkly from the Ninth Fortress. It embodied survival of the fittest in a raw, animalistic world—a true jungle.

She needed to adapt fast and stay alive.

An He quickly shifted her thinking. With a dog in pursuit, their scent was the deadliest giveaway. They needed a way to mask it pronto.

Her first idea was a river. Lola confirmed there was one—a man-made moat separating the Central Urban District from the outer areas, filled not with fresh water but sewage piped in from beyond the walls.

Sewage would work, but it was five kilometers away—too far.

Distance meant more variables. They couldn’t waste effort on such a long detour; getting back would become a nightmare.

Plus, An He had left a Raven at Tina’s hiding spot. Too far, and it’d exceed the connection range.

So An He scrapped the idea immediately. They needed cover instead. Two pairs of eyes weren’t enough—she summoned two new Ravens mid-stride, sending them low to scout for hiding spots.

The Wild Dog barked furiously around the corner behind them, as if catching a stronger whiff, picking up speed.

Thanks to the Ravens, An He soon spotted something odd on the adjacent street: debris piled two meters high. Occasionally, stones thudded onto something springy, bounced twice, and rolled to the ground—like people moving about.

An He veered toward it first. “Lola, three o’clock—that pile, what is it?”

Lola glanced once and judged quickly: “Scavengers. Some poor folks sneak into no-man’s-land to scavenge.”

District 21 had once been bustling, but five years ago, it was declared a high-risk alert zone by the Saint Lord—no entry allowed.

Yet for the resource-starved, even a shard of glass or a broken chair left in the city was worth risking their lives.

Even with Bone Eaters looming overhead, Lower City dwellers slipped into District 21 under cover of night to pick through trash. That junk flowed into black markets, traded for food or cloth they desperately needed.

After all, the First Fortress never lacked daredevils.

An He soon saw several windows on the building pried out entirely. She sent a Raven into the hollow frames and confirmed a cluster of furtive Scavengers inside.

Unlike the square building, this one held office cabinets, alloy shelves, and more. The group was dismantling cabinets; the stronger ones pried rebar from support columns.

Six filthy Scavengers worked feverishly. The job was hefty—they’d sweated through their coats, now piled nearby. An He spotted two old outfits and some insulating blankets.

An He hatched a plan: “Looks like we’ll blend in with them.”

She led the way, flipping through a broken window and up to the second floor.

They stayed hidden, observing from the shadows. During this, Lola used her Innate Talent to calmly swipe two dirty shirts, stuffing the blankets from the Ninth Fortress among the old gear to mingle the scents.

An He thought Lola was damn good at this sneaky stuff—downright professional. The women were fixated on the loot and noticed nothing.

After the dog chase, An He truly hadn’t expected they’d one day steal from Scavengers.

Sorry about that, she repented inwardly.

They quickly donned the dirty coats, wrapping their heads too, then slipped into a neighboring small office.

The office had been ransacked: desks and chairs torn apart, exposed wires stripped of copper—leaving knife-slashed or fire-charred plastic husks.

An He and Lola crammed under the cluttered desks, leaving the door ajar as is. The chaos hid their prone figures from a casual glance.

A pitch-black Raven perched on the outer office area’s vent duct, watching covertly.

An He had thought there were only six Scavengers, but a closer look revealed one more in the corner.

A malnourished teen, maybe sixteen or seventeen, not scavenging but standing by the window, peeking down now and then.

A lookout.

But the girl was sloppy—missing An He and Lola’s stealthy intrusion into their turf.

The other Scavengers bore the marks of scarcity and hardship: unkempt, like they’d spawned on a garbage heap. Their hair was neatly tied, but coarse and straw-yellow, frizzy and dull.

These women had some muscle, nimble hands and feet—healthy enough. But the First Fortress’s fresh water and food clearly hadn’t reached them.

No surprise; otherwise, they wouldn’t risk District 21, a death trap primed for Bone Eater breaches.

An He sniffed the coat’s rancid oil stench; the collar’s insulating fuzz was grimy, its original color lost.

Just what I needed.

A burst of barking followed, and the corner girl whispered: “Patrol Squad’s here.”

Rustling erupted from the debris. Hands stopped; they grabbed their prized hauls and bolted.

The lookout retreated from her spot, scooping up the group’s clothes with practiced ease, aiming to leap from the second floor—cushions scavenged below would break her light fall.

An He watched, impressed. These folks were pros: clear divisions of labor, ditching the unmovable. They’d clearly tangled with Patrol Squads plenty.

Even Lola peered curiously through a cracked desk edge, sniper-style.

As the girl mounted the sill, gunfire cracked abruptly. Bullets chipped the bare frame, shattering concrete.

The girl recoiled, tumbling back off the sill. Silent, she scrambled up and pivoted for the stairs to catch her crew. But she slammed into the woman ahead.

The group, who’d filed out the stairwell, backpedaled into the office.

The front two raised hands, staring down the dark gun barrel.

The officer had herded them back at gunpoint.

An He silently recalled her Raven, face hardening. She eyed the door crack, flipping her knife forward soundlessly. If these Scavengers got hurt from their rash entry, she’d kill.

As the thought rose, Lola gripped her hand, shaking her head—no rash moves.

Surprise flickered in An He’s eyes. As expected of Lola—even First Fortress civilians mean nothing to her.

Outside, clattering kicks on junk and the dog’s panting filled a hush, then a voice spoke.

“Seen any suspicious persons pass through?” The young officer’s voice boomed, fierce.

The Scavengers exchanged glances, shielding the young girl behind them as they huddled against the wall. A woman in her forties shoved forward: “You mean suspicious like us?”

The Scavenger jutted her chin, tone sour with brazen provocation—gun or no, no good faces given.

Bad blood ran deep between Scavengers and Patrol Squads. Seeing each other here blackened faces instantly.

The young officer saw they were hopeless for talk, gave up questioning, and tilted her head. The Wild Dog lunged at the spilled clothes by the window, sniffing roughly.

A Scavenger laughed: “What? Never smelled us poor folk before, officer? Get a whiff.”

Vicious tongue. An He glimpsed through the crack: a fiery young woman, hair dyed—black roots to purple tips, layered with other garish streaks.

The officer ignored her.

The Dyed-Hair Lady fumed as the dog’s nose rooted their clothes. She stormed over, yanking the bundled coats: “Enough sniffing, you filthy mutt—your drool’s ruining our stuff!”

The officer’s eye twitched at her Nestsoul called a filthy dog. She fired once at the Dyed-Hair Lady’s feet.