Chapter 120: Targets
The air changed. The dry, ancient stone smell of the castle vanished, replaced by the damp, metallic tang of Arclight. Raindrops, fine and cold, immediately misted Fin’s face. He stood on a flat, tarred rooftop, the city sprawling around them, a mess of dark buildings and flickering neon signs under a sky Scarlet appeared a second later, a grin already splitting her face as she breathed in the city air. "Ah, home sweet hell," she muttered, stretching her arms. "Smells like desperation and bad noodles. I missed it."
Fin ignored her. He walked to the edge of the rooftop, crouching low. The Hunter Guild liaison office was across the narrow street, three floors up in a grey, utilitarian building. Lights burned in a few windows, muted behind rain-streaked glass. Mara’s schematics indicated the trackers’ main workspace was on the second floor, rear-facing offices.
"Target acquired," Fin said, his voice flat. He pointed. "Second floor. Two primary targets there, according to the chip. Another one roams, probably security."
Arachne knelt beside him, her eyes scanning the target building. "Defenses?"
"Standard Guild wards on the lower levels. Window sensors. Nothing magical on the upper floors beyond basic office security. The trackers themselves might have personal wards." He tapped his temple. "The chip had their schedules. They should faint in the dim light, flickered around his knuckles. "Not for long."
They waited. The rain fell softly. Minutes passed. Then, a faint flicker of movement from the alley across the street. Arachne reappeared at the edge of their rooftop, as silently as she left.
"Clear," she stated.
"Let’s move," Fin said.
He leaped across the narrow gap between the buildings. His boots hit the wet surface of the liaison office rooftop with a soft thud. Scarlet followed, landing lightly beside him. Arachne was already there, a ghost who had crossed without a sound.
The service hatch was heavy steel, bolted from the inside. Fin placed his hand on it. The green energy around his fingers intensified, not with destructive force, but with a focused, prying pressure. Metal groaned. Bolts screeched, then snapped. He lifted the hatch easily.
Darkness lay below. The smell of dust and old wiring wafted up.