In Nocturne City, faith isn't about salvation — it's about who you're willing to burn to stay afloat.
The path beneath Ironshade reeked of mold, soot, and stale offerings. Every step echoed through catacombs older than even the first syndicates. It was not a place of the living, though the air still pulsed — as if the bones themselves remembered what had been buried.
Asher Blackwood adjusted the length of cloth around his arm, concealing the latest sigils that had surfaced from his recent Pact evolution. His veins were still burning — not just from power, but from clarity. Something was coming into focus, and it terrified him more than he'd admit.
Rosa checked the chamber of her Pact revolver, its rotating runes clicking softly. "This is the last sealed gate," she said, tracing a finger over the jagged glyphs carved in bone. "The Church of Burning Eyes. This is where the rot began."
Lucien was quiet, for once. He leaned on his cane, cigarette trailing smoke that didn't dare rise too high. "You sure this is smart? Walking straight into a graveyard cult without backup?"
Rosa glanced at him. "This is the backup."
Asher didn't speak. He was staring at the glyphs — not with his eyes, but with something deeper. His blood prickled with recognition.
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The City's Origin Cult
The gates groaned as they swung open, revealing a wide hall carved in spirals. Fire gutters lit by unseen hands, throwing twisted shadows across the walls. Statues lined both sides — grotesque, humanoid figures with bleeding halos and melted candle-wax skin. Their eyes, once precious stones, had been gouged out.
"The Church believed that vision was the tether," Rosa whispered. "That by offering their eyes to the gods beneath, they could survive the city's curse. Velvora's curse."
Lucien grimaced as they passed a wall mural — humans kneeling, eyes clutched in outstretched hands. "So they blinded themselves to get closer to truth? Sounds about right for Nocturne."
Rosa touched one statue lightly. "It's not just religion. This was systemic. The Church ran Velvora before it became Nocturne. Politics, business, infrastructure. And when they fell… someone picked up the pieces."
Asher finally spoke, voice low, almost distant. "They didn't fall. They changed uniforms. That cult never ended."
They reached an altar where symbols pulsed faintly with power — old power. Forgotten. Remembered now.
"Someone's trying to bring them back," Rosa said. "All those missing people. The Eye Reaping Murders. This is it."
A low chant began — a slurred, multi-toned drone that vibrated through the marrow. From the back of the chamber, a dozen figures emerged. Robed in crimson, faces hidden behind rusted iron masks shaped like screaming, weeping visages.
One stepped forward, voice like oil sliding over glass.
"You tread where the Blind walk. You are seen. And now, you must be given."
Lucien scoffed. "The last time someone 'saw' me, I ended up robbing their safe house."
Rosa didn't wait. She fired first, her revolver unleashing a burst of sigil-marked bullets that seared through cloth and bone. The fight ignited like wildfire.
Lucien vanished mid-step, reappearing behind a Deacon and cracking his neck cleanly before using the body to block a thrown dagger. His blade danced — fast, efficient, brutal.
Asher moved differently. He didn't rush. He stood still, watching the others as if trying to gauge something deeper — as if listening for something.
But the Deacons kept coming, undeterred by wounds or loss. And slowly, the statues' gouged sockets began to glow.
A dagger grazed Lucien's cheek — just enough to jolt him mid-smoke. The cigarette flew from his mouth, landing with a sizzle on the stone floor.
Lucien froze.
"You have got to be kidding. That was my last Crescent Black."
Rosa, breathless and reloading, rolled her eyes. "We are literally fighting death-cultists and you're mourning your smokes?"
Asher, hurling a Deacon into a pillar, cracked a rare grin. "He's more attached to his cigarettes than his dignity."
Lucien caught a punch with his forearm and countered. "Hey! Those smokes were vintage. You try getting anything imported through Vanta Gate these days!"
"Focus!" Rosa shouted, ducking under a blade swipe.
Lucien muttered, "Monsters with no taste..."
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Asher's New Pact Awakens
They were cornered.
Backed into the altar, Rosa bleeding from a shoulder gash, Lucien dragging his foot, Asher trembling — not from fear, but pressure. The power in him surged, disobedient. Then, clarity.
Asher's chest burned. His Pact marks bled light — not golden, not crimson, but a shade that had no name. Glyphs spun in the air, self-forming.
He saw it — not with eyes, but with memory. A vision of Velvora buried beneath Nocturne. Towers inverted underground. Eyes in the walls. And a heart… pulsing beneath it all.
His voice changed. Deeper. Echoed.
"I see you now."
His fists ignited. He struck the ground — a shockwave burst outward, pure force laced with raw pact energy. Statues shattered. Deacons screamed as the energy stripped them of form.
Silence fell like ash.
Only the crackle of burning glyphs remained.
Among the wreckage, Rosa picked up a fragment of parchment — miraculously preserved. It was a prayer scroll, burned at the edges. She read it aloud:
"The curse is bound by sight, but the roots reach deeper — to the sleeping heart of Velvora. The Eye was only the beginning."
Lucien frowned, cleaning his blade. "Sleeping heart. Sounds like we're gonna need more than bullets for that."
Asher's glow faded. He looked older — worn thin. But his eyes still glowed faintly, unnervingly calm.
"Nocturne isn't built on ruins. It is the ruin. And it's still dreaming."
Outside, the city pulsed. Neon shimmered like veins through steel. And far, far above, the towers blinked — windows lit like eyes, unblinking.
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Unseen by the trio, in the high rafters of the shattered church, a figure watched.
A tall, cloaked being — its silhouette barely human. No face. Just a cascade of blinking, wet, luminous eyes arranged in rows along its cowl.
It did not speak.But its presence whispered.
They've awakened the heart... now the City will bleed.
[End of Chapter 88]
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Preview of Next Chapter
Chapter 89 – "Eyes in the Concrete Veins"Asher, Rosa, and Lucien descend into Nocturne's infrastructure, following a trail of ritualized circuitry and haunted machinery. But as the streets come alive with eyes, the city's very foundations start to fight back…