When the sun becomes an enemy and shadows go hunting, Nocturne's only chance lies with the detective too tired to care and too stubborn to die.
The streets of Midtown boiled.
Not from heat — but from something worse.Cracks appeared in the very fabric of light itself.Shadows stretched at wrong angles, peeling off surfaces like wet paint.Neon signs — meant to glow brightest at night — flickered strangely, even in full daylight.And above it all, the sun pulsed — not a distant ball of fire, but a sick, glaring eye, beating like a heart gone rotten.
Asher's boots hammered against cracked pavement, each step heavy, measured. His revolver hung low at his side, fingers brushing the worn grip, eyes sweeping every fractured shadow that danced across their path.
Behind him, Rosa sprinted, breath ragged, one hand clutched around a charm that whispered curses in a tongue older than Nocturne itself.
"Boss—!" Rosa gasped, jerking her hand toward the street corner where, moments ago, a city bus had idled.
Now?Gone.In its place: a folded patch of ground, like reality had crumpled inward, oozing faint light like blood from a wound.
"That thing just ate a bus stop."
Asher didn't even glance. "Focus. We find the nexus. We seal it. We go home. And we pretend this city's not falling apart—again."
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Relic Smuggling in Broad Daylight
Cutting through an alley to save precious seconds, they stumbled into chaos of a different flavor.
A street market.
Hastily thrown together, tarps flapped against rickety stalls where relic smugglers hawked every manner of "protection" against the daylight's curse.
One merchant, draped in a trench coat too large for his wiry frame, leaned in conspiratorially, flashing a grin as he held up a battered aerosol can:"Limited Edition Demon Repellent Spray! Now with Extra Holy Water! Limited stock!"
Nearby, kids bartered glowing marbles—probably cursed eyeballs—for greasy snacks.
A neon-painted sign read:'Blessed Sunglasses - $19.99'beneath which a man shrieked, "Two-for-one deal! Survive the apocalypse in style!"
Rosa slowed, eyes wide. "This city's economy adapts way too fast."
Asher deadpanned, not missing a step: "Nothing stops capitalism. Not even cosmic horror."
Rosa snorted, shaking her head but jogging to keep pace.
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Tracking the Nexus
They regrouped beneath the skeletal remains of an overpass. Rosa unfurled a battered map of old Nocturne, tracing lines with a shaking finger. Her cursed charm trembled, whispering louder now, as if sensing the breach.
"Leylines," Asher muttered, squinting. "All the abduction zones form a spiral... and here—"
He jabbed at a point circled in red ink.
"The old Midtown subway hub," Rosa whispered. "That's where the founders performed the original binding rites... the ones meant to keep the Serpent caged."
"And now?" Asher's voice was like sandpaper. "The cage is cracked. The snake's waking up."
They exchanged a look.
A grim one.
--------------------------------
The moment they neared the subway's crumbling entrance, they knew.
A shift in the air. A silence that wasn't silence, but waiting.
Figures stepped from the shimmer of broken daylight—wrapped in ragged robes, faces hidden behind cracked porcelain masks that gleamed pale gold.
The Sun's Maw Cult.
Their leader stepped forward, mask carved into a permanent grin, voice hoarse with devotion:"Nocturne will be the cradle of the New Noon! The Serpent rises, and the false night dies!"
Asher didn't blink. His revolver rose, firing point-blank."Yeah? Well, I skipped breakfast. Not in the mood."
Gunfire ripped the air.Shadows lunged, twisting into spears of blinding light.Rosa hurled her charm with a snarl. It exploded on impact — a burst of black flame that consumed three cultists in one vicious roar.
"Cover!" Asher barked, ducking low as light itself bent, cutting through a lamppost like butter.
In the chaos, Asher caught something.A glimpse.
The sun.
It blinked.
Not a trick of the eye. Not exhaustion.It blinked — like an enormous eye, watching him.
And then came the whisper, right inside his skull:"Your flame… will feed the day…"
His breath hitched. Pain lanced through his head.Visions tore across his mind's eye:
The city — burning.Rosa — screaming, tears streaking her face.His own reflection — smiling, twisted into the Serpent's grin.
He staggered, teeth gritted, shoving it down.Not today. Not yet.
They broke through the cult's ragged lines, the last of the porcelain-masked zealots crumpling as Rosa landed a kick to the jaw.
Panting, bruised, and singed, they finally stood before the subway entrance.
A yawn of darkness.
A place that should have been cool and musty... but from the depths, a hot breeze wafted up, thick with the scent of ash and something worse.
It whispered in dozens of voices, all at once.
Rosa swallowed hard, voice shaking."Boss... it's noon down there."
Asher thumbed a fresh bullet into his revolver, eyes like stone."Then let's go ruin their lunchtime."
Together, they stepped into the dark.
Behind them, the broken sunlight flickered one last time—as if laughing.
[End of Chapter 60]
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Preview of Next Chapter (61) — "Beneath the Bleeding Sun"
Asher and Rosa plunge into the forgotten subway depths, where ancient murals whisper the city's oldest sins and cursed locomotives rattle to life. The serpent's cultists have prepared the final ritual to merge daylight with nightmare, and the last train is leaving the station. Expect underground brawls, relic-smuggling cartels desperate to escape, and a ticking clock as Nocturne's fragile reality teeters on the edge of collapse.