DYNAMO

Chapter 29: An Unpleasant Capital

The light in the cell didn’t come from a torch or a lamp. It bled from the ceiling—a strange, orange-red crystal that deepened the shadows and radiated a heavy sense of lethargy. Faint ripples of despair pulsed from the stone.

The cold was a permanent fixture: on the skin, in the scent, in the food, in the very air. The prison, Hell Maw, was barely an improvement over the capital’s outskirts. The chill was nearly unbearable for an ordinary person. It was anything but welcoming.

“Me and my goddamned luck.”

I thought it without drama; I no longer had the energy to act surprised. What I did have left was patience—and an extremely low threshold for bullshit.

To my left, six feet away, one of my “cellmates” ceased to be a “mate.”

A scrawny man with grayish skin and one eye slightly larger than the other was silently bleeding out, clutching his throat. It wasn’t a clean wound. The blade had gone in and out several times with frantic desperation. It looked like the work of someone who didn’t know how to kill, but had spent a lifetime trying.

The aggressor—a slab of meat with blackened nails and filed teeth—ripped a cloth bag from the dying man’s chest. He tore it open, checked inside, and smiled with relief.

Food.

A brown, wet portion that smelled of iron and fermentation. A mash that looked like cooked vomit, served with the dignity of a kick to the ribs. It was a testament to the fact that those cursed fungi could always look worse. It wasn’t even worth stealing.

And yet, here we were.

The Ubermensch who claimed the loot was a “woman.” Or what was left of one. Her hair was matted into clumps, her face sunken, her nose nearly nonexistent. A birth defect had twisted her jaw to one side as if it had grown wrong from day one. Her fingers ended in soft, claw-like protrusions—not by skill, but by physical deformity. Her cumbersome rags did little to improve or hide her silhouette.

She huddled in a corner with her miserable treasure and growled at the rest of the cell. A real, animal growl. No one approached. Not out of fear, but because they knew that to move was to start a fight, and fighting for that food was pathetic even for them. That, and the hunger and cold likely had them all on the verge of becoming the next meal themselves.

I watched the scene without moving. In my arms, the baby stirred uncomfortably. The sound of piercing flesh and blood hitting the floor had reached her, even if she tried to ignore it. I tucked the blanket around her small body. I rocked her gently, as if the world weren’t a dumpster fire full of people trying to devour one another.

“Easy, it’s alright,” I whispered. “I’m right here.”

The baby let out a soft sound, almost a sigh, and went still. That annoyed me. It annoyed me that my voice worked. It annoyed me that her peace depended on me. And it annoyed me that, in the middle of this shit-hole capital, the only thing I truly cared about was that small, warm weight against my chest.

The worst part? I didn’t know why I was so annoyed.

I stared at the ceiling for a while. I wanted to clear my doubts and confusion by doing the thing I had come to hate most these past few days: thinking.

“Should I just level this prison and leave?”

Tempting. A single breath of my power and this flimsy cage—clearly not built for someone like me—would be reduced to rubble. With any luck, the capital would follow. But it wasn’t practical. If I escaped by force, I’d trip alarms across the city. The capital would become a chessboard with every piece moving toward me.

Five Rank 8s. Five of the strongest existences in this world. Another who wasn’t far behind. And who knows how many more.

I didn’t fear them. I didn’t think for a second I couldn’t win, even with a baby in tow. Perhaps if I faced them one-on-one, I’d have a chance, but I was absolutely certain that even if they all came at me—even if the whole city joined in—I could get away.

But if I fled, I couldn’t stay the two days. And if I didn’t stay the two days, my deal with Hakotane would haunt me like a phantom laugh at the back of my neck.

“Why not just leave the capital altogether?”

Because the deal said I had to visit the twelve capitals. It didn’t specify the duration. That detail was my only legal loophole. I had already been in Azup for fourteen hours. Was that enough? I didn’t know. And of course, that bastard Hakotane wouldn’t tell me. He’d make me play this stupid game until he got bored and went to pester someone else.

In the darkness, I only had two options: follow my instinct or think. I didn’t particularly like the latter. I could feel his gaze around me, as if reality itself were watching me with a smirk. Or maybe I was just going crazy. That was possible, too. You never know what goes on in that maniac’s head.

I had promised—like an idiot—that I would stay two days per capital. I’d said it out loud, just like that. No one forced me. It just popped into my head as a random thought. Because, apparently, I love imposing rules on myself when they aren’t necessary.

“I could have walked in, stayed an hour, and left.”

Yes. And I could also ignore the promise. Play dumb. Leave now. But I knew how that ended: with Hakotane smiling that “how amusing” face and God knows what retaliation for breaking my word. Worst of all, I refused to break it, and I didn’t even know why.

“Tsk…”

What a nuisance. The crossroads was simple:

• A) Stay in this cell until the two days were up.

• B) Raze the prison and leave.

• C) Leave without a fight, trying not to trigger alarms—which was nearly impossible.

And in the middle of it all, a variable that ruined the calculus: The baby.

I didn’t care about being locked up. I cared that she was locked up with me. That she had to breathe this air. Hear the screams. Endure this putrid filth.

“Why do I even care about visiting this shit capital?”

I don’t. What I care about is that the deal is done, and I have no desire for the consequences of breaking it.

“Since when did I become such a coward?”

I was on the edge, unsure whether to explode or hold out a little longer. Did it even make sense to hesitate this much? But the sound of staggering footsteps, a foul stench, and the murky concepts of “The Bottom” and “Perversion” snapped me back to reality.

“Hey!” a thick voice slurred. “Whatcha got there?”

A drunken guard approached the bars. He smelled of vomit, cheap booze, and rancid grease. His body looked like a humanoid worm covered in hair: hunched back, long arms, oversized hands, and a face deformed by overconfidence and poor hygiene.

Rank 6. A pathetic specimen among his peers from what I could see. But he had enough authority to hurt anyone who couldn’t defend themselves. His eyes locked onto my arms.

“Is that a kid? Heh…” His smile was a mistake. “Lucky me! Hand her over. I’ll give her back when I’m done.”

The bastard said it as if he were asking to borrow a tool. As if he didn’t grasp that he was talking about a human being. My blood began to boil. I was ready to snap the bars in two, along with his miserable life. One part of me prepared to kill him without a second thought. The other part—the one always on alert—reminded me of the fallout: alarms, Rank 8s, the capital in full hunt-mode.

And yet, I couldn’t hold back. It wasn’t the first time these disgusting guards spat words like that. Not just about the baby. About me, too. About what they thought I was. All those corrupt, depraved stares were unbearable. I was done.

“Go to hell.”

Silence. The guard blinked once. Then he turned red—well, more of a sickly green.

“What did you say, you piece of shit?”

He flared his aura. It was as repulsive and useless as its owner. Miserably weak, and from what I could tell, his concept was related to something “sticky.” His aura followed suit. He raised a strange spear: the tip had claws, like a fork designed by someone with a disembowelment fetish.

I braced myself. Not that I needed to. Against scum like this, I’d be lucky if I even had to break a sweat.

“Fine. I guess I’m taking the hard way.”

I shifted slightly, adjusting my posture. I didn’t want the little one touched by any of that filth.

And then… a new aura expanded.

It didn’t come from the hallway. It came from the only cell with a single occupant. He was one of the few Rank 7s I’d sensed in the entire prison. The air changed. The bone-deep cold present in all the nearby cells vanished. A blistering heat consumed everything. Someone with an exceptionally strong connection to their concept had ordered the environment itself to burn.

The prisoners around us froze in terror. Even the violent ones. Even the crazed. The guard in front of me turned into a statue.

I looked toward the solitary cell. I couldn’t see the prisoner clearly; the light didn’t penetrate there like the others. He seemed to be using some method to remain hidden. I only saw a silhouette sitting, leaning against the wall. Calm. Traces of a familiar concept swirled around him.

“He doesn’t seem like a threat.”

I thought it, then surprised myself. Why did I think he wasn’t a threat? Could I not feel how powerful he was? He had to be significantly stronger than that centipede I’d fought. Why wasn’t I on guard?

Before the pressure became dangerous for the others, he spoke.

“Leave.”

The man only said one word, but it was enough. The guard spun around as if his soul had been ripped out. He went sprinting down the hall, tripping over his own feet, dragging his spear without a shred of dignity. The pressure vanished. The heat dissipated, having served its purpose.

No one spoke. No one moved. I stared at the solitary cell for a second longer.

“Strong.”

Probably Rank 8 level. Or close. Though not at the level of the other Rank 8s in the city or the Bishop. And that triggered the obvious question:

“What is a guy like that doing here?”

Why would someone so powerful allow themselves to be locked up? I sat with the thought, and it hit me back like a slap in the face.

“Then again, I’m one to talk.”

I was locked up too. By choice, of course. But locked up nonetheless. I settled the baby better in my arms and leaned against the wall. If I was going to be here for another thirty hours, I might as well be “comfortable.”

I fixed my gaze on the ceiling again, listening to the constant dripping while the baby breathed peacefully. In the silence of the cell, without screams nearby for the first time in hours, I couldn’t help but reminisce about what led me to this situation. My arrival at this unpleasant capital.

It wasn’t a journey. It was a long walk through a white void that wears you down even when you’re strong. An unbearably frozen tundra. And while for most it was a godforsaken wasteland, to me, it was beautiful. A white moor with none of those damn fungi in sight. Could there be a better place?

The capital stood out like a fire in the middle of an ice desert. Not because of flames, but because of the contrast: a dome of heat hammered into the nothingness, an artificial bubble defending itself from the outside. The barrier was visible, even if you couldn’t see it. You felt it on your skin like an invisible line. A border. A limit where the world ceased to be natural and became administered.

I stopped at a prudent distance, the baby tucked against my chest inside my coat, wrapped so the cold wouldn’t bite her face. She breathed calmly, oblivious to it all. I didn’t.

“Should I sneak in?”

I didn’t know exactly what counted as “visiting.” The deal with Hakotane was one of those things that seemed simple… until you realized nothing was written down. A blank page. I could enter undetected, stay two days, and bolt. Or maybe I had to walk through the front door like a tourist. Just thinking about the mockery that bastard would throw my way for the decision I was about to make made me want to reconsider.

After a moment of weighing my paranoia against the spectacle I’d be providing that bastard, I opted for the simplest route. I headed for the gate.

Strange as it was, there were more people than one would expect in a tundra. They weren’t desperate civilians—that would have been more believable. They were ten Ubermensch, all Ranks 3 and 4. That, in itself, made no sense. To survive out there in that cold, you needed to be at least a competent Rank 5. A 4 would die slowly; a 3 would die fast.

But they were there, still and orderly. As if the unbearable frost didn’t touch them.

“Followers of Dynamo?”

I guessed it from the clothes: white robes with gold embroidery, far too clean for a place like this. But when I saw the back, the math clicked. A ‘D’. And in the center, a closed eye. A symbol of devotion and servitude. “Servants” would be the polite term. “Slaves” was the correct one.

“But if there are servants… it means…”

It hit me like a premonition. If there were servants, a high-ranking member of the Church was inside.

“Tsk…”

Just what I needed. A high command showing up in this realm forgotten by Dynamo was never a good sign. A place like this doesn’t attract important guests by accident.

“Should I leave and come back later?”

The thought was dry, emotionless. I answered myself: it was already too late for that. If I backed away now, I’d be obeying a fear I didn’t care to justify.

“I just hope it’s a Bishop and not a Cardinal.”

A Rank 8 of the Church in Azup would be a massive headache. Too much for my taste. Worse yet: because of the barrier, I couldn’t sense how many Rank 8s awaited me on the other side. The dome didn’t just block the cold; it blocked every concept within. That irritated me.

I reached the entrance. There was a makeshift counter, a metal structure worn by use, and a couple of warm lamps that looked like a joke in the middle of the tundra. In front of me, the servants waited patiently—too patiently, as if they’d forgotten what it felt like to be in a hurry. A guard didn’t want to let them pass so easily, stalling them for God knows why.

I skipped the line. Why should I wait my turn? I went straight to the guard at the counter. He scrutinized me. He was a man-beast, a Warg. Short snout, visible fangs, toughened skin, and eyes that didn’t blink when you stared.

Rank 7. Very imposing for a gate guard. And he wasn’t alone: the other two at his sides were also Rank 7.

“I guess it’s a show for the guests.” A way of saying: “Don’t come in here with funny ideas.”

Perfect.

“Got ID?” he grunted, devoid of courtesy.

I wore a porcelain mask—simple, smooth, featureless. Not my gas mask. A thick, padded coat, a sort of reinforced trench coat for the cold. I didn’t need it, but I needed to blend in. I needed to look like just another traveler, not the “Boy of Doom.” Even so, my presence didn’t quite fit.

“I don’t have one,” I said.

He wasn’t surprised. He just continued the process with the efficiency of someone who doesn’t need to respect you to handle you.

“Name?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Weapons?”

“Don’t have any.”

“Anyone else with you?”

I hesitated for an instant. Not out of fear of him, but because of what it implied to say it.

“A baby.”

I didn’t show her. I kept her shielded from the cold, pressed to my chest. The guard nodded, uninterested. As if seeing a baby in the arms of a stranger in this world was just another data point, not an alarm bell. Then came the real part.

“It’ll be a hundred blue fungi for entry, or something of equal value. ‘From this side,’ of course.”

Ah. A bribe.

That’s how it worked. And “from this side” meant the worst: the price had to be according to local value. In an isolated capital in the middle of a tundra, those damned blue fungi weren’t common. They couldn’t grow at all. They couldn’t be transported easily. They were expensive.

Obviously, I didn’t have blue fungi. Why would I carry something that could kill me with a touch? But I did have an equivalent. I pulled out a coin. A gold coin from the Church. Its value had to be at least double what he was asking.

I saw the surprise on his face the moment he saw it. Greed flashed in his eyes for a second—an involuntary reflex. Then he hid it. He snatched it quickly, obscuring it from his companions with a short, professional movement. As if he were used to stealing without being seen.

“Here’s your pass,” he said, handing me a visitor’s plaque. “Make sure you don’t cause trouble.”

The plaque was “clean.” Too clean. I could see the traces of a concept I was familiar with. A basic tracking formation, well-hidden. Nothing brilliant. Nothing sophisticated. But enough to mark you, follow you, and alert them if you stepped where you shouldn’t.

I ignored it. If they wanted trouble, I’d kill them later.

I crossed the threshold. The cold cut off instantly. Not gradually—all at once. As if the outside world ceased to exist.

And inside… I felt them. The barrier no longer hid them.

“Five Rank 8s… and a Bishop.”

It wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. But it wasn’t comforting either. Five Rank 8s were still five Rank 8s. Enough to turn any mistake into a problem that lasted for days.

Something else hit me, harder than I expected: How… clean it was. Not just “orderly.” Clean.

The capital of Azup was extremely symmetrical. Warm streetlights, perfectly aligned, no flickering. Neat houses, well-maintained, no smoke stains, no cracks. Streets without mud, without puddles, without trash. A delight for the eyes.

And what made me most uncomfortable: the Ubermensch were… happy? Not acting. Actually happy. They walked without tension. They spoke to each other without looking over their shoulders. There were real laughs—short, honest ones. The artificial environment was picturesque, almost pleasant.

And to my surprise… that disgusting blue mist—the byproduct of using fungi—was nowhere to be found. There was no dirty veil floating in the air. No bitter taste in the throat. No sensation that everyone was slowly poisoning themselves. The concepts around were mostly positive.

Order. Security. Routine. Even pride.

It all felt so strange it repulsed me. I felt as uneasy as when you enter a house that is too perfect and you know something is hidden. Because a place like this doesn’t exist without a price. And I knew firsthand that nothing was free in this shit world.

With those feelings, I ventured deeper into the capital. A place where I would spend two days.

“What surprises will this place bring?”

I didn’t think it with excitement. I lost the capacity to feel that a long time ago. I stopped for a moment, far from the gate where the heat was stable and the baby was safe. I opened my coat. I took her out carefully, wrapped up, and adjusted her so she could see.

Her eyes opened a bit wider. She looked at the lights. She looked at the colors. She looked at a world that, for the first time since I met her, wasn’t a storm, mud, blood, or ruins. And for an instant, her face held that stupid calm babies have when they don’t understand anything.

That squeezed my chest. Not out of tenderness. Out of responsibility.

“Look,” I whispered. “This is Azup.”

I had no idea what I wanted to convey with that information. The baby looked at me for a moment, confused, and then smiled as she touched my face.

And for some strange reason, I felt at peace…

…"

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