The wind howled through the ruins.Lightning forked across the bruised sky, briefly illuminating the broken bones of the city.
Shadow looked at Eve — at the worn armor, the flickering staff, the fire hidden behind that frail human shell.
He saw no lies.
Just another cursed soul, walking a dying earth.
Without a word, he mounted Ashborn and held out his hand.
Eve hesitated for a breath — then took it.
As she climbed onto the bike behind him, she whispered:
"They will hunt us now."
Shadow revved the engine, flames spewing from Ashborn's frame.
"Let them," he said.
And together, they rode into the storm.
The storm chased them across the wastelands.
Ashborn roared like a demon possessed, tearing across shattered highways and dead rivers.Behind them, the sky darkened — not from clouds, but from something worse.
Eve clung tightly to Shadow, her fingers gripping the spikes welded into his armor.She leaned close and shouted over the wind:
"They've sent the Dead Kings!"
Shadow didn't need to ask what that meant.
The air grew heavier, filled with a choking pressure like a tomb being sealed.
Ahead, across the cracked horizon, shapes emerged — massive, broken things marching in grim procession.
At first, Shadow thought they were statues.Then he saw the glint of ancient, rusted armor; the black banners hanging limp from broken spears; the hollow sockets of once-human skulls glowing faintly blue.
The Dead Kings.Warlords of the Old World — cursed by the Architects to rise whenever their creators were threatened.
Hundreds of them.An army of betrayal, fury, and rot.
And in the center of them rode something worse.
Shadow skidded Ashborn to a halt atop a ridge of broken asphalt.Eve slid down behind him, staff ready, eyes narrowed.
Down below, one of the Kings broke from the mass — a towering giant of iron and bone, riding a beast stitched from dead flesh and melted machine parts.
It raised a rusted sword the size of a tree trunk and bellowed a wordless roar that shook the earth.
Shadow cracked his neck.Ashborn growled beneath him, flames licking higher along its frame.
"How do we kill them?" he asked Eve without looking back.
Eve's voice was tight:
"They are bound by Names. You must break the chains that bind their souls — or destroy their corpses completely."
Shadow grinned beneath his helmet — a wicked, burning grin.
"Good.""I prefer simple."
He twisted the throttle.
Ashborn screamed forward, trailing fire across the blackened earth.
The first King swung its massive sword in a sweeping arc.
Shadow ducked low, Ashborn sliding sideways under the blow.The shockwave ripped the asphalt apart behind him.
With a single, fluid motion, Shadow hurled a chain from Ashborn's saddle — a chain tipped with a burning spearhead.
It wrapped around the King's arm, searing into ancient flesh and rusted metal.
Shadow yanked.
The King stumbled — and that was enough.
Ashborn surged upward over a collapsed column, launching Shadow into the air like a black bullet.
Mid-flight, Shadow drew his blade — the cursed sword flaring with hellfire — and drove it down through the King's skull, splitting it like rotten wood.
The giant convulsed — blue flames gushing from its shattered helm — and collapsed in a thunderous heap.
The other Kings howled, raising their broken weapons high.
The ground itself cracked open, and from the earth crawled more horrors:
Bonewolves stitched from fallen beasts
Rustknights half-merged with ruined tanks
Sirens with hollow faces and knives for hands
Shadow landed lightly on the corpse of the fallen King.Ashborn roared up beside him, the flames around its tires burning brighter with every kill.
Eve ran to his side, her staff blazing with ghostlight.
Her voice was grim:
"There are too many. We must reach the Heart Shrine — it's the only place they can be unbound."
Shadow nodded once.
"Then we ride."
Shadow and Eve are now trapped between an unstoppable army and a race to a hidden ancient shrine deep beneath the Dead Cities.