The terrain beneath Zaria’s boots seemed to change with a deliberate unpredictability, as though the Nexus Arena itself was testing her resolve. At first, the ground alternated between patches of cracked, dry earth and glowing metallic panels etched with pulsating blue lines. The energy within them seemed alive, thrumming faintly beneath her feet, while the brittle soil offered a jarring contrast—a barren reminder of the arena’s artificial, constructed nature. Each step alternated between the sharp crunch of loose gravel and the hollow clang of metal, the sounds echoing faintly in the heavy air.

  As time wore on, the late afternoon sky deepened, bleeding from fiery orange to bruised purple. Zaria glanced up at the horizon, the sun slipping lower with each passing moment, its waning light casting long, skeletal shadows that clawed across the ground. The once distant hum of technomantic conduits grew louder, resonating like an omnipresent heartbeat, as though the arena itself was alive and aware of her movements.

  The path ahead grew less distinct. The orderly mix of panels and soil gave way to an erratic stretch of burned-out terrain. Scorched earth cracked into jagged patterns, while remnants of twisted metal jutted out like the broken bones of some forgotten civilization. Piles of debris loomed on either side of her path, some glinting faintly in the fading sunlight, others lying in ominous stillness, as though waiting to spring to life. A few of the heaps bore a chilling resemblance to the Scrappings she had fought earlier—motionless, but unnervingly intact.

  The faint rustling of skeletal tree leaves, bare of any greenery, intermingled with the soft metallic buzz from distant conduits. Zaria’s pace quickened despite her legs burning from exertion, her breath shallow as her ears strained for any sound that didn’t belong. Xyros’s warning echoed in her mind like a relentless drumbeat:

  "When the sun sets, the Nexus Arena changes. Creatures emerge, whispers gnaw at your sanity, and the environment turns hostile. Survive the daylight—thrive in the safe havens—but the night... it is not a place to linger."

  Her eyes darted to the sky. The orange glow had all but vanished, replaced by an encroaching darkness that seemed to press in around her. The map on her TNC pulsed faintly, a reassuring beacon guiding her toward the first sphere. The marker blinked steadily, tauntingly close now, but each step felt heavier as the shadows around her deepened. The conduits lining the metallic panels glowed brighter, casting an eerie blue light on the wreckage-strewn path, but their artificial luminescence only made the growing darkness beyond their reach feel more sinister.

  A cool breeze swept past her, carrying with it the faint scent of burning metal and something faintly organic, like decay. Her skin prickled, her instincts screaming that she was running out of time. The light on the horizon dimmed further, and the pulse of her TNC quickened as though urging her to hurry.

  Zaria gritted her teeth, her thoughts racing. She couldn’t afford to stop now—not with the sun nearly gone. The first sphere was close, tantalizingly close. She pushed herself harder, the terrain growing harsher beneath her feet, the ominous atmosphere pressing down on her like an invisible weight.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Xyros’s voice lingered in her thoughts, a grim reminder: “In the Nexus Arena, the night is not your ally. If you wish to see another dawn, make it to a safe haven—or prepare to face the consequences.”

  She paused, glancing at the sky as streaks of purple overtook the orange glow. The weight of his words settled on her chest like a stone. “So, what do I do if I’m caught out there?” she’d asked earlier, her voice steady despite the apprehension she’d felt.

  “There are safe havens scattered throughout the arena,” Xyros had said, his tone calm but insistent. “Find one before nightfall. Some will offer a brief reprieve; others will allow rest. But remember, nothing here is permanent or guaranteed.”

  Back in the present, Zaria shook herself, forcing the memory aside as her TNC pulsed a warning. She focused on the blinking icons, setting her sights on the first sphere. Her breath fogged in the cooling air as she moved forward, her footsteps quickening with the deepening colors of twilight. The uneven terrain soon gave way to jagged ruins, remnants of a village left to rot in the Nexus Arena’s unforgiving grasp.

  The hollow husks of buildings loomed around her, their walls scarred and riddled with holes. Twisted scrap metal littered the ground, some pieces glinting menacingly in the dimming light. The acrid scent of charred metal and decaying technomantic energy filled the air, making her stomach churn. Her eyes darted to the piles of rusted debris, eerily similar to the Scrappings she’d faced earlier. A shiver ran through her, and her hand brushed the edge of her utility belt instinctively.

  She slowed her pace, hyperaware of every sound. The faint rustle of leaves, the metallic hum beneath her feet, even her own breathing seemed loud in the oppressive quiet. As she turned a corner, her TNC flickered, its light dimming before stabilizing. Her heart skipped a beat as she scanned her surroundings.

  And then she heard it—a sharp, metallic rustling that sent a jolt of adrenaline through her veins.

  Zaria spun on her heel, her hand hovering near her belt. From the shadows, cobbled-together creatures emerged, their glowing red eyes cutting through the gloom. Larger and more menacing than the Scrappings, they moved with unsettling fluidity, their jagged appendages glinting with predatory intent.

  Scraplings:

  Technomancy Potential (TNP): 2

  Scraplings are the older siblings of the Scrapping. If Scrappings were toddlers, than Scraplings are the Pre-Schoolers with a bad attitude as they realize that their days of playing are over and they now are required to get a formal education. They are the bad tempered kindergartens of the dimension that have just realized that they don’t get to watch cartoons or take a nap. They have the same skills and attacks as their younger siblings the Scrappings with the added bonus of Suicide Runs. If injured, they may opt for a self-destruct charge to deal as much damage as possible. They rush towards groups of players, attempting to explode in the middle to cause maximum Area of Effect damage.

  If you are really lucky, the Scraplings may try to distract you with a Junk Bomb. What is a Junk Bomb Distraction you ask? Well, let me tell you. Scraplings use junk bombs to create distractions, forcing players to dodge shrapnel while other Scraplings close in for a direct attack. This combination of ranged and melee assault makes them more effective than their size suggests.

  P.S. Your soccer skills will have no effect on Scraplings. Scraplings are immune to blood and poison effects, with resistance to blunt force attacks. They are killed most effectively by targeting their glowing technomantic core, using energy-based or technomantic attacks, or employing magnetic abilities to disassemble them.