CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The rusted iron bell atop the town hall tolled violently.
In an instant, the entire pulse of life in Geisterstadt shifted drastically.
Mothers swiftly scooped up their toddlers, running in orderly files toward the underground mine shafts that had been repurposed into emergency bunkers. The youths who, just minutes ago, had been practicing their strikes, scrambled to their respective defense posts. They snatched steel-rimmed wooden spears, chipped broadswords, and worn shields. Their faces were incredibly tense, but the fists clenching the hilts of their weapons did not tremble with a shred of doubt.
Roland stood in the town hall courtyard, watching the gears of this civilization grind. At his flanks, Dom and Naya stood on high alert. Dom's hand firmly gripped the long canvas bundle—their Gauss Rifle—which remained hidden.
