The vault was burning.
Not just burning, collapsing. Imploding. Unraveling in real-time as if the universe itself had decided this place was done existing.
Flames licked at the steel walls, turning golden filigree to molten rivers, burning through what should have been fireproof enchantments. The vault had been cut deep into the ruins of the old world, hidden within layered defenses, forgotten tunnels, and magic-laced security protocols.
All of which were now crumbling.
Ciel ducked as a beam fell, the metal so overheated it glowed white-hot, slicing through the air where she’d been standing just moments before. She rolled, pivoted, and came up fast, revolvers already drawn, golden-violet eyes wild and searching through the smoke.
Somewhere behind her, alarms were still screaming, their shrill, archaic wails mixing with the deep groan of metal giving way. The whole place smelled like scorched earth and burning magic, the very air warped from the heat.
And at the center of it all—
The artifact.
Or what was left of it.
It had been called The Crown of Vathis, an ancient relic from before the Fall, older than most recorded history. People whispered that it could rewrite fate, that it had been forged in the first age of magic, worn by kings and gods alike.
And now…
Ciel could only stare at the pile of glowing ash where it used to be.
“Shit,” she breathed, blinking against the heat. Her heartbeat was a hammer against her ribs.
She had seen plenty of missions go sideways before. Had been in more bad situations than she could count. But this? This was fucking catastrophic.
They hadn’t even been stealing the artifact for themselves, this was for Grimm. This was supposed to be their big payday, the moment their crew proved they belonged at the highest level of the underworld.
And now there was nothing left to steal.
Ciel’s mind raced, scanning for a solution, any solution. They could salvage something, maybe fake a recovery, find something else of value—
“Ciel!”
Raze’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp, commanding, filled with something rare… fear.
Ciel spun toward him, her boots skidding against the tilting metal floor.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Raze stood near the vault entrance, his greatsword drawn, his storm-gray eyes locked on her with an expression that told her everything she needed to know.
This wasn’t recoverable.
This wasn’t fixable.
This was get the fuck out or die.
“We have to go!” Raze shouted, barely dodging a shower of collapsing steel.
“I can still—” Ciel started.
“No, you can’t!” Raze’s voice was sharp as a blade, cutting through her desperation like a cold, hard edge. “We’re leaving. Now.”
Ciel clenched her teeth, but she knew, fuck, she knew.
They had already lost.
Across the vault, the rest of the crew was scrambling.
Sylva was moving fast, her silver hair whipping around her, but somehow untouched by the flames, her crimson eyes flashing as she muttered arcane commands, keeping the collapsing ceiling from crushing them outright.
Gorrug stood like an unmovable wall, his massive warhammer cracking into falling debris, knocking aside flaming wreckage like it was nothing. His golden eyes gleamed with battle hunger, but even he knew, this wasn’t a fight they could win.
Veyra was already at the exit, rifle slung over one shoulder, her expression tense, her usual cocky smirk long gone.
Miri?
Miri laughed, bright and unbothered, her black-and-silver eyes gleaming as she gestured toward the collapsing ruin.
“Well,” she mused, “this is a hell of a way to go.”
Ciel growled under her breath, holstered her guns, and ran.
The heat pressed against her skin, her jacket singed at the edges as she sprinted across the vault, dodging debris, sliding beneath a half-collapsed archway, her boots barely finding traction against the tilting metal.
She lunged forward, catching Sylva’s outstretched hand, their fingers locking just long enough for Sylva to yank her up the last few feet toward the vault exit.
Ciel barely had time to breathe before she felt the floor beneath them buckle.
Fuck.
“Go, go, go!” Raze barked, and then they were running, really running, sprinting up the tunnel as the entire vault caved in behind them.
The heat chased them, a hungry inferno swallowing everything, the explosion roaring like an enraged beast.
Ciel pushed forward, heart in her throat, lungs burning, legs screaming, Sylva just ahead of her, Raze at her back, Gorrug barreling through the smoke, Veyra already at the end of the tunnel, shouting for them to move faster.
Then—
The final detonation.
The shockwave slammed into them, hurling them forward, sending Ciel sprawling across the metal floor, her head snapping back as the world flipped sideways.
For a second, she couldn’t hear anything but the ringing in her ears.
Just heat. Smoke. The taste of metal and blood on her tongue.
Then, Raze’s hands were on her, dragging her up, forcing her forward.
And somehow… somehow, they made it.
They stumbled out of the ruins, into the dead night air, smoke billowing behind them, the last remnants of the vault’s destruction glowing like embers.
Ciel staggered to a stop, bending over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.
No one spoke.
They just stood there, the reality of what had just happened sinking in.
The artifact was gone.
The job was ruined.
Grimm was going to kill them.
Ciel felt the weight of it settle like a stone in her chest.
She had fucked up.
She had gotten them caught. Had tripped the security measures, had made the wrong call.
And now?
Now they had nothing.
Nothing but a smoking ruin behind them, and a death sentence waiting ahead.
Raze ran a shaking hand through his hair, his voice rough as gravel.
“We’re dead.”
No one disagreed.
Ciel exhaled, slow, measured.
Then, she forced herself to grin, turning to face them all with a cocked hip and a lazy shrug.
“Well,” she said, voice rasping from the smoke, “at least we’re alive... uh, not sure for how long after all this though.”
Sylva’s crimson eyes burned into her.
“You are insufferable.”
Ciel winked.
And behind them, the vault burned.
