"I miss simple trauma."
Sun said it while jogging through a servant corridor lined with portraits of men who had definitely underpaid artists to look noble.
Behind them, bells rang across the Auction House.
Guards shouted.
Somewhere far back, a clerk was probably trying to calculate damages and weeping professionally.
Brin kicked open a side door.
"Move faster!"
"I'm carrying destiny!" Sun shouted, clutching the black plate.
"You're carrying theft bait!"
"Also true!"
They spilled into a narrow alley behind the Auction House where carts, refuse bins, and startled pigeons ruled equally.
Rain had begun again.
Blackstone's rooftops glistened dark beneath a steel sky.
Samira pulled her hood up.
"My carriage is compromised."
"You say that calmly," said Sun.
"I say everything calmly. Panic is for retail."
Nyra sniffed the air and looked east.
"More men coming."
Varen nodded.
"Yes."
Sun looked offended.
"You knew already?"
"I know many things."
"Do you know why I tolerate you?"
"No."
"Good. Mystery remains alive."
They cut through back lanes fast.
Brin led like she hated geometry.
She chose routes involving fences, stacked crates, shortcuts through kitchens, and one bakery whose owner shouted because four armed strangers had interrupted bread.
Sun grabbed a roll while passing.
"Compensation!" he yelled.
Nyra stared at him while running.
"You steal food during pursuit?"
"I adapt under pressure."
She bit the roll from his hand without slowing.
Sun gasped.
"You robbed my robbery."
"Fast lesson."
He liked her immediately.
They reached Samira's warehouse by dusk.
The gates slammed shut behind them.
Guards armed themselves.
Workers whispered excitedly after hearing three different versions of what happened at the Auction House.
By the time Sun crossed the courtyard, rumors had already upgraded him twice.
One laborer bowed.
"Master Sun, is it true you killed twelve men with a spoon?"
Sun glanced at Samira.
She shrugged.
"Honestly modest for Blackstone."
Brin barked, "Back to work!"
The laborer bowed deeper.
"Forgive me, Spoon King!"
Sun decided not to correct it.
Inside the strategy room—a generous name for a table with maps and decent chairs—everyone gathered.
The black plate sat in the center.
Lantern light made its spiral carvings pulse faintly.
Nyra refused chairs and crouched on a cabinet.
Brin stood with arms crossed.
Samira poured wine.
Varen drank tea because he distrusted joy.
Sun leaned forward.
"So. Ancient evil plate. What now?"
"Blood," said Varen.
Sun recoiled.
"Needlessly dramatic."
"Your blood," Varen clarified.
"Marginally better."
He pricked Sun's finger with a needle before consent could form.
A drop landed on the plate.
The spirals ignited.
Dark crimson lines raced across the surface, forming streets, tunnels, circles, and symbols in three dimensions above the table.
A floating map.
Everyone stared.
Brin whistled.
Samira's eyes sharpened instantly.
"Underground routes."
Nyra leaned closer.
"Burrows beneath stone."
Sun blinked.
"This city has secret basements?"
"This city," said Samira, "is one large secret basement."
The glowing map showed Blackstone above as a faint outline.
Below it sprawled another city:
Smuggler tunnels Old catacombs Collapsed mines Forgotten shrines Water channels Hidden vault markers
And at the center, beneath the governor's district, pulsed a crimson sigil shaped like a lotus.
System text flashed before Sun.
[Destination Confirmed]
[Destruction Archive Fragment Chamber]
[Warning: Multiple hostile signatures active]
Sun sighed.
"There it is."
"There what is?" asked Brin.
"The part where treasure comes with murder."
Samira tapped the map.
"These tunnels bypass taxes, patrols, walls, and common sense."
"Then merchants use them?" asked Sun.
"Selective merchants."
She looked offended he had to ask.
Nyra pointed at three moving sparks on the map approaching their district underground.
"Not empty."
Varen nodded.
"Hunters."
Brin drew steel instantly.
"How many?"
The map brightened.
Seven red sparks.
Then ten.
Then twelve.
Sun frowned.
"Why does the plate keep counting upward?"
A heavy boom shook the warehouse floor.
Dust fell from beams.
Workers outside screamed.
Second boom.
Closer.
Nyra's ears twitched.
"Below us."
Brin cursed.
"They're tunneling in?"
Samira stood smoothly and finished her wine.
"Insurance rates will be monstrous."
Sun drew the runed blade.
"I just got home."
Varen smiled faintly.
"You don't have a home. You have plot momentum."
"I hate accurate people."
The floorboards in the center of the room split upward.
Timber exploded.
A clawed metal drill head burst through from beneath, spinning.
Then retracted.
Then the hole widened as armed men in dark miner masks began climbing out one by one.
The first raised a hooked blade.
The second carried nets.
The third pointed at Nyra.
"Capture the Moonfang!"
The fourth pointed at Sun.
"Kill Spoon King!"
Sun froze.
Then looked around slowly.
Brin was already laughing too hard to breathe.
Samira sat back down just to enjoy it.
Nyra actually smiled.
Sun pointed at the intruders.
"I am choosing to be offended first."
To be continued...