I woke to the crackling of fire and the dull, rhythmic pounding of pain in my skull. The room swam in and out of focus as if my mind were submerged underwater. My vision cleared enough to take in my surroundings—a rundown cabin, wooden walls warped by humidity, and a makeshift fireplace casting jagged shadows across the floor.
The rain still tapped against the windows, slightly muffled now but relentless. My body ached, and when I tried to shift, the rough fibers of rope dug into my wrists and torso. I was restrained to a chair, the bonds tight and unforgiving. My coat was gone. My holster empty. Yet, when I glanced downward, I caught the faint reflection of my mask in the puddle of water beneath me. My Dust Mask, secure and intact.
It wasn't a simple mask. It adhered through more than straps—reinforced by Camille's skills to withstand high temperatures, collapses, and yes, even attempts to remove it. Logan hadn't known that. He probably thought removing it wasn't worth the effort.
Soon after, a pair of footsteps creaked across the wooden floorboards. My gaze followed the sound.
Logan stood before me, arms crossed. His firefighter's jacket was gone, replaced by a plain, dark hoodie. His hair, usually neat, hung in damp strands across his forehead. His eyes were sharp and bright in the firelight, but his smile… that smile was off. Tight and unhinged.
"Evening, Mr. Dust," he said softly. "Took you long enough to find me."
I flexed my fingers, testing the ropes. Thick, knotted with precision. Someone who worked around rescue equipment would know how to tie secure restraints. Logan did. He'd been one of the station's best when it came to technical rescues.
I inhaled through the pain. "Where's Officer Grant?"
Logan's smile twitched wider. "Oh. The guy with the shotgun?" He gave a dismissive wave with a gun in his hand. "Shot him when you went down. Might still be alive if someone found him. Didn't care. He wasn't who I needed."
The statement settled like a stone in my chest. "You needed me?"
"Of course." Logan's eyes gleamed with something close to satisfaction. "You're connected to Mr. Fox. He's the key to all of this. His jump from C-Rank to A-Rank—that wasn't normal."
He tilted his head, waiting for a response. I remained silent. My heartbeat thudded in my ears.
Logan chuckled and began to pace. The wooden floor groaned beneath his steps. "See, that's the thing about this world. Ranks. They decide everything. People pretend to care about hard work, about sacrifice." He stopped, turning toward the fire. "But what do they really care about? Who got promoted. Who climbed the ladder."
He ran a hand through his wet hair, his voice tightening. "When Chief Ryan was alive, people praised him. Mr. Fox? Shot to A-Rank overnight. And the rest of us? The firefighters who grind through every shift, who put in the hours, who—who bleed to keep the city safe? Nothing. We were invisible."
The pieces clicked in my mind.
"You set those fires… for a rank increase," I said. My voice was low, but the words carried an edge of disbelief.
His laugh was soft and sharp. "Yeah. And it worked. When there were more fires, people started taking notice of us. We all had more opportunities to level up. I would've been next." His smile dropped. "Until Mr. Fox got it instead."
"Now don't get me wrong, I am happy for him. After all, I did this for the possibility of ranks increasing and Mr. Fox proved it to be possible. However, I truly wish it had been me and not him." He said while clenching his teeth.
The storm roared outside. The fire crackled beside us. My wrists shifted in the ropes again. No give. I needed time.
I opened my system interface in the corner of my vision. The timer for the event quest glared like a blade to the throat.
[Time Remaining: 37:12]
I'd been unconscious for more than five hours.
Logan resumed pacing, hands gesturing as he spoke. "When I realized Mr. Fox had jumped two whole tiers—from C-Rank straight to A-Rank—I knew something was off. It shouldn't be possible. Not with how the system promotes linear progression." His voice sharpened. "But it happened. And you're connected to him. So... how'd he do it?"
I said nothing. My muscles tensed. My pulse quickened.
After a while, I asked a question. "How did Sasha get involved?"
Logan didn't mind the silence nor did he mind answering. He took a breath, exhaling through his nose. "Sasha saw me. That night, when I set the first fire." He smiled faintly. "She tried to report it. So, I did what I had to."
My fists clenched beneath the ropes. "You terrorized her."
"Don't act righteous." He shook his head. "It wasn't personal. Just logical. I planted fuses around her place, her car, her family's old business. Told her one wrong move, one failed report, and—boom." He mimicked an explosion with his hands. "She was a C-Rank. No support. No emergency loans. She would've drowned in debt trying to repair the damage."
"And Chief Ryan? You don't regret anything?" I demanded. My voice cracked despite myself.
Logan's jaw tightened, but he gave a dismissive shrug. "Listen, it was a simple case of wrong place, wrong time. I wasn't expecting for him to die during the District Inferno event, nor did I actually want him to. He was a good man, but one thing I can say for sure is that Mr. Fox must truly be enjoying the fame now that he's the only A-Rank of our district." He said while letting out a slight psychotic chuckle.
My control snapped. "Shut up."
Logan's eyebrows shot up. The name, the mask, the demeanor—I had kept my composure for so long. Mr. Dust was always calm. Analytical. Unbreakable. But Logan had crossed a line.
"Shut your mouth," I repeated, voice trembling with rage. "You don't get to talk about him like that. He was more of a firefighter than you could ever be."
Logan's eyes narrowed as the realization settled in. "Hit a nerve, did I?" He stalked toward me and drove a fist into my stomach. Pain exploded through my core. My body lurched forward, but the ropes held. I gasped for air as he stepped back, shaking out his hand.
"You're going to tell me how Mr. Fox climbed the ranks," Logan said, breath steady again. "In thirty minutes, I'll hop a train and be gone. You can come along for the ride. We'll have plenty of time to talk."
Thirty minutes.
That was all I had.
For a good 5 minutes, I was lost. I didn't know what to do, until my Strategist skill urged me to use my Construction WorkerKeys. It was wild to assume it had a skill that could help me, but it was worth a shot and so I opened the system interface again, flipping to the available Construction Worker skills.
Scaffolding Agility (Lv. 1) – Useless.
Foundation Stability (Lv. 1) – No.
Concrete Handling (Lv. 1) – Irrelevant.
I scrolled faster. My pulse raced. Come on… come on…
There.
[Rope Handling Mastery (Lv. 1) – Enhances proficiency in tying, securing, and undoing various knots and rope systems. Increases speed and safety during material transport and scaffolding setup.]
The system prompted me.
How many Construction Worker Keys would you like to use?
I had three keys.
1 key: Unlock skill at Lv. 1
2 keys: Unlock skill at Lv. 3
3 keys: Unlock skill at Lv. 5
I didn't hesitate.
"Three keys," I thought to myself.
The system accepted my choice.
[Skill Unlocked: Rope Handling Mastery (Lv. 5)]
My wrists tingled as if a jolt of electricity passed through them. The ropes no longer felt unyielding—they were now a puzzle I could solve. My fingers shifted, tracing the knot's patterns with a newfound instinct. I felt each strand's tension, each twist's purpose.
Logan leaned closer, his face inches from mine. "One more time," he said softly. "How did Mr. Fox jump from C-Rank to A-Rank? Don't make me waste a bullet to make you talk."
I met his eyes and forced a shaky breath. My fingers worked beneath the ropes with careful precision.
"You're not going to like the answer," I said.
"Try me."
The last knot loosened. The tension vanished. My pulse surged.
I shifted my weight, braced myself—
And lunged.