Vey's augments whined as he braced against the recoil, his melted face twisting into a snarl.
"Kid," he growled. "Whatever history your boss has with this freak? Now'd be a great time to remember it."
The rooftop groaned under their boots, its rusted ventilation ducts trembling with each concussive blast from Vey's shotgun.
The smell of scorched metal and spent gunpowder clung to the air, thick enough to taste.
Kai's fingers tightened around his Conduit, the cracked screen flickering with unstable glyphwork.
His throat was raw from shouting and the heat clinging into their skin. "I told you already, I don't know!"
Across the rooftop, Blaze took another step forward—slow, deliberate, his boots crushing broken glass into glittering dust.
The muzzle flashes painted his sharp features in strobes of orange and shadow, but his grin never wavered.
Bullets should have torn through him.
Instead, they stopped.
An inch from his chest.
Hanging in midair like flies caught in amber.
Then—
The rounds ricocheted wildly, pinging off pipes and embedding themselves in concrete.
One grazed Cale's shoulder, drawing a hissed curse as he ducked behind an AC unit to reload. "Kid! You got a plan or what?!"
Kai didn't answer.
His mind raced, synapses firing faster than the gunshots.
Kinetic barrier? No—if it just stopped motion, the bullets would drop, not deflect.
He thumbed his Conduit, activating Rank 3—Mind Accel.
The world slowed.
Vey's shotgun blast became a creeping fireball, pellets suspended in a fragmented spray.
Cale's ejected shell tumbled through the air, spinning like a dying coin.
And the bullets—
Kai's breath caught.
They didn't just stop.
They warped.
The air around Blaze shimmered, not like a solid shield, but like water disturbed by a stone.
The bullets struck the distortion—then veered, their trajectories bending at impossible angles before flinging away.
Not a barrier.
A field.
Something that didn't just block force—it redirected it.
"I have an idea!" Kai shouted, snapping out of the glyph's haze.
His temples throbbed, a trickle of blood warm at his nose. "But you need to keep shooting!"
Vey didn't question it.
He fired again, the shotgun's roar shaking loose a rain of rust from the rooftop's edge.
Blaze laughed, the sound crackling like kindling. "Oh? Would all of you make this more stimulating?"
Kai ignored him, his fingers flying across the Conduit.
If Blaze's field manipulated kinetic energy—then the trick wasn't to hit harder.
It was to hit smarter.
But before he could voice the warning,
Blaze raised his arm.
A casual flick of his fingers, like shooing a fly.
Kai's gut twisted.
He slammed his palm against his Conduit, the glyph for Rank 2—Static Shield flaring to life just as the air in front of him rippled.
Then—
Boom.
The explosion tore through the rooftop, a concussive blast of heat and force that sent shattered concrete and twisted metal screaming past Kai's ears.
His shield held—for a heartbeat.
The translucent barrier shimmered like fractured glass under the impact, absorbing the brunt of the blast before shattering into a thousand glittering shards of dissipated energy.
The residual force punched Kai backward, his boots skidding across the broken concrete until he fall of on the floor.
Pain lanced up all over him, his vision swimming with black spots.
The acrid stench of burning insulation filled his nose, mixing with the copper tang of blood—his own, dripping from a split lip.
"Kid!"
Cale was at his side in an instant, hauling him upright with one hand while his pistol barked toward Blaze.
The shots were useless—Kai knew that now—but they bought seconds.
Precious, fleeting seconds.
Vey's shotgun roared again, the muzzle flash painting his ruined face in stark relief. "Get him moving!" he snarled, ejecting a spent shell.
It clattered to the ground, still smoking.
Blaze didn't rush.
He never rushed.
Flames licked at his boots as he stepped through the smoke, his grin widening as he watched them scramble.
"That's it?" he called, voice dripping with mock disappointment. "A shield glyph? What do I expect from some kid."
Kai's fingers tightened around his Conduit.
His hands shook—not from fear, but from the aftershock of the blast.
The Static Shield had saved his life, but the glyph was spent, its energy scattered.
And Blaze was still coming.
Kai's vision swam as he pushed himself up from the cracked concrete, his muscles screaming in protest.
The rooftop spun for a dizzying moment before Cale's gloved hand clamped around his arm like a vice, yanking him behind a crumbling ventilation shaft just as another concussive blast tore through the space where his head had been.
"Kid!" Cale barked, shoving him against cover hard enough to rattle his teeth. "Don't just stand there like some idiot waiting for a tea service! Move your ass!"
Kai's fingers fumbled across his Conduit's cracked surface, activating Rank 1—Flashburn with a swipe.
A searing burst of white light erupted between them and Blaze, hot enough to warp metal and blind any normal man.
But Blaze didn't even blink.
The pyromaniac stepped through the dissipating glare like a man walking through morning mist, his flame-tattooed hands flexing at his sides.
"Cute trick," he mused, the embers in his eyes pulsing in time with his words. "But light doesn't burn what's already fire."
Kai's blood ran cold.
He turned to Cale, noting the veteran's steady grip on his pistol despite the impossible odds. "Do you have a Conduit?"
Cale ejected his spent magazine with practiced ease, slamming in a fresh one without breaking eye contact with Blaze's advancing form. "Course I do. What's that got to do with—"
"Then why aren't you using it?" Kai snapped, his Spire-bred disbelief cutting through the gunfire.
The older mercenary's lips peeled back in a grin that showed too many teeth.
"Bullets don't need charging," he said, and fired three rapid shots at Blaze's center mass. "Don't glitch. Don't overheat. And they always work when you pull the—"
Click.
The slide locked back on an empty chamber.
Kai stared. "You're joking."
Cale shrugged, already moving to reload. "Told you. Reliable."
For a fleeting moment, Kai wondered if he'd hallucinated the past five minutes.
Here they were, facing down a man who walked through explosions like they were summer breezes, and this grizzled thug was waxing poetic about firearm maintenance?
"Vey!" Kai shouted across the rooftop, voice cracking with desperation. "Do you have a Conduit?"
From behind a shattered HVAC unit, the Talon demolitionist held up a battered but functional device, its surface scarred from a hundred battles.
"Better question," Vey growled, his augments hissing as he shifted position. "What hell are you planning, boy?"
The air between them crackled—not just with tension, but with the ozone-scent of Blaze's gathering power.
Before Kai could answer, the pyromaniac raised his hand and flicked his fingers three times in rapid succession.
The world erupted.
Three concussive blasts tore across the rooftop in perfect rhythm, each explosion chewing through concrete and steel like a starving beast.
The ventilation shaft they crouched behind screamed as the first detonation sheared it in half, molten metal spraying in all directions.
The second blast sent Cale sprawling, his armor smoking from the heatwave.
The third—
Kai barely activated Leap in time.
The glyph flared beneath his boots as he grabbed both Cale's and Vey's arm, their bodies hurtling through the air as the third explosion vaporized their cover in a fireball that licked at their heels.
They landed hard on a crumbling ledge, the department store's skeletal frame looming ahead through the smoke.
"There!" Vey coughed, pointing to the hollowed-out husk of what had once been Sector 23's largest retail hub. "Multiple floors. More cover. We bottleneck him there—"
A sharp crackle from Vey's comm unit cut him off.
"Boss!" Pen's voice was strained, punctuated by the unmistakable whoosh of flames in the background. "Got a situation here—another Scorcher pinned me down near the east stairwell. Can't provide backup!"
Vey's jaw tightened.
Without Pen's overwatch, their margin for error just vanished.
Blaze's laughter rolled across the rooftop like distant thunder.
"Running already?" Flames danced in his wake as he stepped through the smoldering wreckage of their former position. "And here I thought Talons stood their ground."
Cale hauled himself up beside them, his armor scorched but his pistol already reloaded.
"Fuck pride," he spat. "That department store's got old coolant lines running through the walls. One spark in the wrong place..."
A grim smile spread across Vey's scarred face.
Kai understood. Sometimes the best way to kill fire...
Was with more fire.
He would like to implement their plan but it's not foolproof.
Kai's fingers tightened around his Conduit as the realization struck him.
Bullets got deflected.
Flashburn didn't.
The difference was staggering in its implications.
When Vey's shotgun rounds had slammed toward Blaze's chest, the pyro's strange barrier had flared to life—visible only in the split-second distortion of air, like heat haze over desert sands.
The bullets twisted, their trajectories bending at impossible angles before ricocheting away.
But the Flashburn?
Blaze hadn't even flinched.
The searing burst of light had washed over him like water over stone.
No distortion.
No deflection.
Just...acceptance.
Kai's mind raced through the possibilities:
Light was too fast. The barrier required conscious activation, and photons moved quicker than human reflexes.
Light passed through. His field only interacted with kinetic energy, not electromagnetic waves.
Both possibilities had one conclusion: Blaze wasn't invincible.
But there's also another possibility, and that is—
Blaze let it happen. A terrifying thought—that he'd allowed the attack simply to mock them.
If that was the case, then Blaze was more of a threat than that Abomination who continuously adapt with whatever was thrown at her.
No.
He refused to believe that.
There had to be rules—limitations, some scientific principle even a monster like Blaze couldn't violate.
The rooftop trembled as Blaze landed with explosions in tow. "Pathetic" he taunted, flexing his fingers. "Is all you're going to do is runaway?"
Kai didn't let him finish.
"Vey! Flash rounds, now!" he shouted, swiping his Conduit to life.
The Talon demolitionist didn't hesitate.
His shotgun roared, but this time the muzzle flash wasn't orange—it was white, a specialized round designed to blind and disorient.
At the same instant, Kai activated Flashburn again.
The world erupted in searing light.
For a heartbeat, Blaze vanished in the glare—
—then stepped through unscathed, his grin widening. "Really? The same trick twi—"
Crack.
Cale's pistol barked—a perfect headshot that should have punched through Blaze's skull.
The bullet stopped.
Hovered.
Then twisted in midair like a dying insect before clattering to the ground.
Blaze didn't even blink.
Then—
He stopped.
The flames around him froze in place, the roaring inferno becoming a silent, flickering sculpture.
His eyes—those ember-pit eyes—gleamed with something darkly amused before his grin split wide enough to show teeth.
The trio tensed.
That smile wasn't victory.
It was promise.
"If we can't see this Lucent..." Blaze murmured, more to himself than to them, his fingers already moving through complex patterns in the air.
The tattoos along his arms pulsed like live wires as raw energy coalesced between his palms. "...then we'll make him come to us instead."
Kai's blood turned to ice. "What do you mean?!"
Blaze's hands snapped forward—
"Rank 4—Skybreaker."
The world screamed.
A column of pure concussive force erupted upward, shredding the smog-choked sky in a spiral of violet flame.
The shockwave hit like a god's hammer—windows shattered for blocks in every direction, entire buildings groaned as their structural supports buckled.
The department store's remaining glass front exploded inward in a glittering hailstorm.
Kai barely had time to deploy four overlapping Static Shields—the barriers shattered one after another like rotten ice, but they absorbed enough force to keep the trio from being liquefied.
Through the ringing in his ears, Blaze's voice cut like a scalpel:
"Tell Lucent he has until midnight tomorrow." Flames danced in his teeth as he stepped backward into the flames. "Sector 20. Red Dogs' base." A pause. "If he wants to see the kids alive."
Then—
He vanished in a whirlwind of fire, leaving only the echo of his threat and the distant sound of collapsing buildings.
***
Pen crouched low on the skeletal remains of Sector 23's old broadcasting building, her monofilament wires stretched taut across the rooftop like a spider's web.
The steel threads glinted faintly in the firelight, nearly invisible against the smoke-choked sky.
From this vantage, she had a clear view of the battle below—Vey, Cale, and that Spire kid dancing around Blaze's relentless advance.
Even through her scope, the pyromaniac's unnatural movements sent a chill down her spine.
No human should be able to move like that.
Her fingers twitched, adjusting the tension on her primary wire—a reinforced strand capable of slicing through reinforced concrete.
She'd positioned it along Blaze's most likely escape route, ready to—
One of her perimeter wires vibrated.
Pen threw herself sideways just as the air where her head had been ripped apart.
A hypersonic crack echoed across the rooftop as something impossibly bright seared past her cheek—close enough to blister skin.
She hit the ground rolling, glass shards biting into her palms as three more projectiles slammed into the metal where she'd been standing.
The impacts glowed white-hot, melting straight through the steel like plasma torches.
"Tsk. Almost had you."
The voice came from the adjacent building—a woman perched on the edge, her rifle barrel still smoking.
Ember-orange tattoos coiled up her arms, the same as Blaze's.
Scorcher.
Pen didn't know her name.
Didn't care.
But that rifle wasn't standard issue—not with rounds that burned that hot.
Some new corp tech, maybe.
Or worse: rawcasting.
The woman's rifle snapped up again.
"Blaze wants you to be neutralized," she called. "But I think I'll take my time."
Pen didn't waste breath replying.
Her fingers danced along the wires at her belt, repositioning her web.
Let her talk.
Let her think she's winning.
Pen's muscles coiled like springs as she felt the next shot coming.
The air itself seemed to vibrate with the building heat.
In one fluid motion, she yanked hard on the monofilament wire anchored to the adjacent building's fire escape.
The world blurred as the wire snapped taut, yanking her through the air just as three consecutive Flare Flechettes punched through the space she'd occupied.
The superheated rounds turned the rooftop ventilation unit behind her into a bubbling pool of molten metal.
Mid-swing, Pen caught a glimpse of Cinder's position—the sniper braced against a water tower, her rifle barrel glowing cherry-red.
But what made Pen's blood run cold was the pulsating glyph hovering just beyond the muzzle.
A muzzle glyph.
As Cinder fired again, the bullet passed through the intricate runic circle.
For a split second, the projectile seemed to hang in the air, wreathed in blue-white energy—
—then it accelerated, transforming into a streak of incandescent death that vaporized the railing Pen had been aiming for.
Shit.
Pen altered her trajectory mid-air, kicking off a crumbling brick wall to redirect her swing.
The maneuver saved her life as another enhanced round sliced through where her torso would have been, shearing through steel I-beams like they were paper.
She landed hard on a lower rooftop, rolling behind cover as the smell of scorched leather from her gloves filled her nose.
Her fingers flew to her remaining wires.
Cinder's voice carried across the night, amused: "Running just makes the hunt more fun."
Pen's jaw tightened.
She'd fought snipers before, but none who could make bullets move like that.
The rules had changed.
Pen's boots pounded across the rooftop as another searing round screamed past her shoulder, close enough to singe her jacket.
The smell of burning fabric mixed with the ever-present stench of Sector 23's smog.
"Boss!" she barked into her comm unit, ducking behind a crumbling chimney.
The ancient brickwork exploded into molten fragments as a Flare Flechette punched through it. "Got a situation here—another Scorcher pinned me down near the east stairwell. Can't provide backup!"
No time to wait for a response.
Pen's fingers flew to her wire.
With a practiced flick of her wrist, she sent the monofilament strand whipping toward Cinder's position.
The Razor glyph etched into her gloves flared to life, its crimson runes casting jagged shadows across her knuckles as she activated Rank 1—Razor.
The wire came alive.
What had been a simple cable became a humming blade sharper than any sword, slicing through steel support beams like they were wet paper.
The entire northern edge of Cinder's rooftop groaned as its structural integrity failed—
—then began to slide away in a screech of tearing metal.
Pen didn't wait to admire her handiwork.
She was already moving, using the distraction to close the distance.
But Cinder wasn't some green recruit.
The Scorcher sprinted along the collapsing ledge with unnatural grace, her boots finding purchase on the buckling steel.
At the last second, she leaped to stable ground, rolling to her feet with her rifle already coming up—
—only to find Pen's wire slicing through the weapon's barrel like butter.
The severed rifle sparked as its superheated ammunition cooked off harmlessly inside the ruined chamber.
Cinder's eyes narrowed. "Clever girl."
Pen didn't smile.
She just adjusted her grip on the vibrating wire.
Cinder's rifle clattered to the rooftop, its severed barrel still smoking.
She didn't even glance at it.
Instead, her left hand dipped into a pouch at her belt, emerging with a fistful of old-world coins—tarnished copper discs that hadn't been currency in decades.
Her right thumb danced across her Conduit's surface, the Rank 3—Flare Flechettes glyph springing to life in a corona of blue-white fire.
Pen's wire hummed between her fingers.
She'd seen this trick before—but not like this.
Cinder's grin was all teeth as she flicked a coin on her left thumb.
The moment it passed through the hovering glyph:
The copper transformed, glowing molten orange
Runes flared across its surface like burning brands
It accelerated with a sound like tearing fabric
Flick.
The first coin became a streak of liquid fire.
Pen barely twisted aside as it vaporized a chunk of the rooftop behind her, leaving a smoldering crater.
Flick. Flick. Flick.
Three more coins became supersonic death.
One grazed Pen's thigh, searing through armorweave to brand the flesh beneath.
The stench of burning meat filled her nose.
Cinder advanced, rolling another coin across her knuckles. "What's wrong, Talon? Run out of wires?"
Pen's fingers found the last inch of monofilament still anchored to her glove.
Not enough to swing.
Just enough to—
Flick.
The coin came.
Pen's muscles tensed for the killing strike—then the world exploded.
A shockwave ripped through Sector 23, powerful enough to make the rooftop beneath them shudder.
Pen's boots skidded across broken concrete as the blast's thunderclap hit her like a physical blow.
She didn't need to look to know its origin—that distinctive violet fireball could only mean one thing.
Blaze.
Cinder's head snapped toward the explosion, her coin-flipping hand freezing mid-motion.
A smirk twisted across her face as she pocketed the remaining coins with a metallic jingle.
"Guess that's my cue," she said, backing toward the building's edge. "Boss doesn't like to be kept waiting."
Pen's wire lashed out—too late.
Cinder stepped backward into empty air, falling with the casual grace of someone who'd done this a hundred times before.
As she dropped, she offered Pen a mocking two-fingered salute.
The last thing Pen saw was the Scorcher's coat flaring like wings as she activated some hidden glyph, her descent slowing unnaturally before she disappeared into the smoke-choked streets below.
Pen's fingers clenched around her remaining wire.
The fight wasn't over.
It had just moved locations.