The air in Copper Hollow was thick with soot, despair, and a kind of muted determination Zerutod hadn’t felt in a long time. The district stretched before him in uneven patches of cobblestone streets, homes made of patched wood and metal, and narrow alleys that seemed to twist endlessly. For a man who navigated the world through senses other than sight, the disorganized sprawl of the district presented no challenge. His acute electroreception painted the world clearly in his mind. It was his first time in Myras, a sprawling city known for its sharp division between the affluent Silver City and the impoverished outskirts, of which Copper Hollow was the most infamous.

Zerutod walked with his hands stuffed into the deep pockets of his black trench coat, his pace unhurried. He hadn’t come here to be a savior. A rumor of a magical artifact capable of enhancing time magic had brought him to Myras, and as always, his focus was singular. He wasn’t one to linger on distractions or the problems of others. Yet, as he passed through the streets of Copper Hollow, something gave him pause.

Ahead, a heated argument unfolded between a burly man with a rough voice and a middle-aged woman clutching a worn shawl around her shoulders. Zerutod stopped just short of the exchange, his sharp hearing picking up every word.

"Please, just one more week! I’ll have the money!" the woman pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation.

"You’ve had weeks," the man sneered. "Sell now, or we’ll make sure you regret it."

"This is my home!" the woman’s voice cracked. "I have nowhere else to go."

The man stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "Not my problem. If you’re smart, you’ll take the offer. If not..."

Zerutod’s lip curled. He had no love for humanity, but the man’s cruelty stirred something in him. His hand twitched toward the hilt of his katana before he stopped himself. This wasn’t his fight—at least, not yet.

Before he could move on, a small voice called out behind him.

"You’re new here, huh?"

Zerutod turned, his pale lavender eyes meeting the speaker’s fiery brown gaze. The boy, no older than ten, had dirt-smudged cheeks and a defiant posture. Zerutod didn’t respond immediately, his expression unreadable.

"Not interested," he said finally, turning away.

"Then why’re you in Copper Hollow?" the boy pressed, trailing him like a shadow. "It’s not exactly a tourist spot."

"I don’t owe you an explanation," Zerutod said flatly. His steps quickened, but the boy kept up, undeterred.

"Teryn!" a woman’s voice cut through the tension. An older woman, her gray-streaked hair tied back, stepped out of a nearby doorway. She grabbed the boy by the arm, pulling him back. "Leave the man alone."

The woman’s gaze shifted to Zerutod, her expression softening. "I’m sorry, stranger. My grandson’s just curious. Things have been... tense around here lately."

Zerutod tilted his head slightly. "Tense doesn’t begin to describe it," he said, gesturing toward the argument still unfolding down the street. "What’s happening here?"

Lyna hesitated, then sighed. "The rich folks from Silver City want to tear this place down. They say it’s for some grand monument, but we all know it’s just another way to show off their power. They’ve been sending their thugs to pressure us into selling our homes for scraps."

"But we’re not leaving!" Teryn declared, his small fists clenched. "We’ll fight if we have to!"

Zerutod studied the boy for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Fighting the rich is a losing battle," he said. "You don’t stand a chance."

"What do you know?" Teryn shot back. "You’re just passing through!"

"Enough, Teryn," Lyna said firmly. She turned to Zerutod. "If you’re not here to help, you should go. Things will only get worse from here."

Zerutod hesitated. He had every reason to walk away, to let the people of Copper Hollow fend for themselves. But something about the boy’s defiance, the woman’s quiet resolve, stayed with him. He nodded once, then turned and walked away, though he knew deep down he wasn’t done with this district just yet.

Zerutod moved through the labyrinthine alleys of Copper Hollow, the cries of its people still echoing in his mind. His hands rested in the deep pockets of his trench coat, but his senses were sharp, each step deliberate. He didn’t particularly care for the people or their struggles, but something about the situation had piqued his interest. The ruthlessness of the aristocrats reminded him of countless other cities, where the rich consumed the poor and left nothing behind. But here, something was different.

It wasn’t long before he reached the border of Silver City. The stark contrast was jarring. Where Copper Hollow was a patchwork of crumbling homes and cobbled streets, Silver City gleamed with polished marble and pristine roads. Here, the air smelled of flowers instead of smoke, and laughter replaced the cries of the desperate. The disparity sickened Zerutod.

He didn’t linger. His time magic shrouded him, slowing the perception of those around him as he moved through the city like a shadow. He navigated by sound and the faint electrical pulses of the people and their surroundings. It was in the center of the city that he found his target: the grand estate of Lord Haelvin.

Lord Haelvin was the man responsible for the plight of Copper Hollow. Zerutod had gleaned his name from overheard conversations and the angry whispers of the residents. The man was a fixture in Myras, a symbol of wealth and power who had no qualms about using both to crush those beneath him.

Zerutod positioned himself on a nearby rooftop, crouching low as he listened to the voices inside the estate.

"The people of Copper Hollow are more stubborn than I anticipated," Lord Haelvin’s voice drifted through the open window, smooth and condescending. "But that will change. Double the pressure. I want every home sold by the end of the week."

"And if they don’t cooperate?" another voice asked, hesitant.

"Then we make them," Haelvin replied coldly. "Fear is an excellent motivator. Remind them what happens to those who defy Silver City."

Zerutod’s grip on his katana tightened. His instincts told him to strike now, to cut the problem at its root. But he knew better. This wasn’t the time for violence. Information was the key.

He slipped away as silently as he had come, his mind working quickly. The situation was worse than he’d thought. Lord Haelvin wasn’t just pressuring the residents—he was orchestrating a campaign of terror. And the city officials? They were complicit, bought and paid for with Silver City’s wealth.

Back in Copper Hollow, Zerutod sought out Lyna and Teryn. He found them outside their modest home, Teryn helping his grandmother patch a hole in the roof.

"You were right," Zerutod said, his voice low but firm. "Haelvin isn’t going to stop until he has this district under his thumb."

Lyna’s expression hardened. "We’ve lived through hardships before, but this... this feels different."

Teryn straightened, his small fists clenched. "So what do we do? We can’t just let them win!"

Zerutod’s pale lavender eyes turned toward the boy, though they couldn’t see. "Winning isn’t the goal," he said. "Surviving is. And for that, you’ll need more than resolve. You’ll need strategy."

Lyna tilted her head, studying him. "Why are you helping us?"

Zerutod’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Let’s just say I don’t like bullies."

Zerutod spent the next few hours walking through the district, observing the layout and speaking with residents. He noted the natural defenses of the narrow alleys and the makeshift weapons some of the braver denizens carried. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Back at Lyna’s home, he laid out his plan. "We’ll need traps. Simple ones, but effective. I can help with that. The rest of you need to prepare for a siege. It’s coming sooner than you think."

Lyna nodded grimly. "And if they send their mercenaries?"

"Then I’ll deal with them," Zerutod said, his voice steady. "But only if you’re willing to fight for your home."

Teryn’s eyes blazed with determination. "We’re ready."

Zerutod doubted that, but he said nothing. He had a feeling they’d need every ounce of courage they could muster for what was coming.

The people of Copper Hollow were used to hardship. Poverty, illness, and the daily grind of survival had forged them into a resilient community. But as Zerutod stood before the gathered residents in the central square, he could see that resilience stretched thin. Families clung to one another, their faces marked with fear and exhaustion. Yet there was a glimmer of something else—a spark of hope, faint but alive.

Zerutod, his arms crossed, addressed the crowd in his calm, measured tone. "Your homes are at risk. Lord Haelvin won’t stop until this district is nothing but rubble beneath his monument. If you want to protect what’s yours, you’ll need to fight smart, not just hard."

The crowd murmured uneasily. A man near the front, his face weathered by years of labor, raised his hand. "We’re not warriors," he said. "How can we fight against their soldiers and magic?"

"By using what you have," Zerutod replied, his tone matter-of-fact. "This district is a maze. Its narrow alleys and rooftops are perfect for defense. You don’t need brute strength. You need to think like survivors."

Teryn, standing beside his grandmother, clenched his fists. "We’ll do whatever it takes!" he declared, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "Copper Hollow isn’t going down without a fight!"

Zerutod turned his blind gaze toward the boy. "Good. Then listen carefully."

The days that followed were a blur of activity. Zerutod worked tirelessly with the residents, organizing them into small teams. He taught them how to construct simple but effective traps using the materials they had—scrap metal, broken wood, and discarded ropes. Narrow alleys were lined with tripwires, rooftops were equipped with makeshift slingshots, and key entry points were barricaded with piles of debris.

Teryn quickly became Zerutod’s most dedicated helper. The boy followed him everywhere, absorbing every piece of advice like a sponge. Zerutod, though often curt, found himself oddly patient with the child.

"How’d you learn to fight like this?" Teryn asked one afternoon as they reinforced a barricade.

"Experience," Zerutod replied without looking up. "And making plenty of mistakes."

"What kind of mistakes?" the boy pressed.

Zerutod paused, his hands stilling. Memories flashed through his mind—moments of failure, of choices that had led to loss and regret. He shook his head. "Ones I won’t let happen again."

Teryn tilted his head, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he picked up a hammer and got back to work.

Lyna proved invaluable in rallying the older residents. Though her body was frail, her voice carried authority. She ensured that food was distributed fairly and that those too old or sick to fight had places to hide when the time came. One evening, as Zerutod reviewed a map of the district, she approached him with a steaming mug of tea.

"You’ve done more for us in a few days than anyone else has in years," she said, her tone warm but tinged with sadness. "But why? You don’t seem like the type to care about people like us."

Zerutod didn’t look up. "I don’t," he admitted bluntly. "But I don’t like bullies, either. And Haelvin... he’s the worst kind."

Lyna studied him for a long moment. "You say that, but I think you care more than you let on."

Zerutod’s lips twitched into something that might have been a smirk. "Believe what you want."

As the defenses took shape, so did the residents’ resolve. Where there had been fear, there was now determination. They practiced ambush tactics, honed their slingshot skills, and learned to navigate the district’s twisting alleys like seasoned scouts. Zerutod oversaw it all, his sharp mind analyzing every weakness and finding ways to turn it into a strength.

But even as the preparations progressed, Zerutod knew it wouldn’t be enough. The mercenaries Haelvin had hired weren’t ordinary thugs. They were trained fighters, and some of them wielded magic. The people of Copper Hollow were resourceful, but they were no match for professionals.

On the third night, Zerutod left the district under the cover of darkness. He moved through Silver City like a ghost, his time magic distorting the perception of those around him. By the time he returned, he carried with him crucial information: the mercenaries’ numbers, their plans, and the name of their leader—a brutal man named Garron.

Gathering the residents once more, Zerutod shared what he’d learned. "They’ll attack at dawn," he said. "And they’ll come in force. Your traps will slow them down, but they won’t stop them."

"Then what do we do?" one of the women asked, fear creeping into her voice.

"We make them regret coming here," Zerutod replied, his tone like steel. "And I’ll be at the front to make sure of it."

Teryn grinned, his youthful enthusiasm undimmed. "They don’t stand a chance against us!"

Zerutod didn’t share the boy’s optimism, but he didn’t argue. The people needed hope, even if it was misplaced. As dawn approached, he stood atop a rooftop overlooking the district, his katana gleaming in the moonlight. The calm before the storm settled over Copper Hollow, but Zerutod’s mind was already racing, preparing for the battle to come.

The sun rose slowly over Copper Hollow, its first rays cutting through the smoky haze that clung to the district. For a brief moment, it seemed as though the world was still, as though the city had forgotten the struggle brewing in its poorest quarter. But the silence was deceiving. In the distance, the rhythmic clatter of boots and the sharp bark of commands broke the dawn’s fragile peace.

The mercenaries had arrived.

Zerutod stood on a rooftop near the edge of the district, his trench coat fluttering slightly in the cool morning breeze. His katana rested at his side, its polished blade catching the sunlight. From his vantage point, he could sense the mercenaries moving into position—a wave of bodies armed with swords, crossbows, and magic, ready to dismantle the defenses he had helped the residents build. He exhaled slowly, his mind calculating every possible scenario.

Below him, Teryn and a group of young residents crouched behind a barricade made of scrap wood and metal. The boy’s fiery determination hadn’t dimmed, but Zerutod could feel the nervous energy radiating from him. He called out, his voice low but steady.

"Stay low, Teryn. Wait for my signal before you act."

Teryn looked up, nodding quickly. "Got it. We’re ready."

The first wave of mercenaries entered Copper Hollow cautiously, their movements deliberate. They didn’t know what to expect, but their confidence was clear. After all, they were trained fighters, and their opponents were impoverished civilians. What could possibly go wrong?

The answer came swiftly. A group of mercenaries tripped over concealed wires stretched across the alleys, their shouts of surprise drowned out by the sound of rubble falling from the rooftops above. Zerutod smirked. The traps were working exactly as intended.

From his perch, Zerutod made his move. He dropped down into the fray, his katana flashing as he incapacitated two mercenaries before they could react. Time seemed to distort around him as he moved, his magic allowing him to weave through the chaos with surgical precision. The mercenaries’ movements slowed, their attacks easily dodged as Zerutod cut through their ranks.

One of the mercenaries shouted an order. "Push forward! Don’t let them regroup!"

But the residents of Copper Hollow were ready. As the mercenaries advanced, they were met with a hail of projectiles launched from makeshift slingshots. Stones and scrap metal rained down, forcing the attackers to take cover. Teryn and his group emerged from behind their barricade, striking at the disoriented mercenaries with sharpened sticks and other improvised weapons.

Zerutod watched the boy fight, his small frame moving with surprising agility. A mercenary lunged at Teryn, but Zerutod was there in an instant, his katana slicing through the attacker’s weapon and sending him sprawling.

"Focus, Teryn," Zerutod said, his voice sharp. "This isn’t a game."

Teryn nodded, his expression serious. "I won’t let you down."

The battle raged on, the narrow alleys of Copper Hollow becoming a deadly maze for the invaders. But as the hours passed, the mercenaries began to regroup, their training and discipline allowing them to adapt to the residents’ tactics. It was clear they weren’t going to retreat without a fight.

Then, Lord Haelvin arrived.

He entered the district with an air of arrogance, his ornate staff glowing with magical energy. The sight of him sent a ripple of fear through the residents. Haelvin raised his staff, and a wave of magical energy swept through the district, sapping the courage of those it touched. Several residents dropped their weapons, their resolve crumbling under the spell’s influence.

"Fools," Haelvin sneered. "Did you really think you could stand against the might of Silver City?"

Zerutod stepped forward, his katana gleaming in the dim light. "Your arrogance blinds you, Haelvin," he said, his voice calm but cold. "You’ve underestimated these people—and me."

Haelvin’s eyes narrowed. "And who are you to challenge me?"

"A ghost," Zerutod replied. "And your reckoning."

The two clashed, their magic colliding in a dazzling display of power. Haelvin’s spells were potent, but Zerutod’s mastery of time magic gave him the upper hand. He slowed Haelvin’s movements, dodging his attacks with ease and landing precise strikes that chipped away at the aristocrat’s defenses.

The turning point came when Zerutod shattered Haelvin’s staff with a single, well-timed strike. The magical energy within the staff erupted, sending Haelvin sprawling to the ground. He scrambled backward, his arrogance replaced by fear.

"This isn’t over!" Haelvin snarled, but his bravado rang hollow.

"It is for you," Zerutod said, his katana leveled at Haelvin’s throat. "Leave now, and never return."

Haelvin fled, his mercenaries retreating in disarray. The residents of Copper Hollow watched in stunned silence as the invaders disappeared into the distance.

As the dust settled, the residents began to cheer, their voices rising in a chorus of relief and triumph. Teryn ran up to Zerutod, his face alight with gratitude.

"We did it!" he exclaimed. "They’re gone!"

Zerutod sheathed his katana, his expression unreadable. "For now," he said. "But don’t let your guard down. Haelvin isn’t the type to accept defeat quietly."

Lyna approached, her eyes glistening with tears. "You saved us," she said softly. "Thank you."