"Move faster, Ted," Mac hissed at his partner.
"Shut it. You know we're supposed to look like normal patrol guards, right? That's the whole point, dumbass."
"Well, walk faster. The container follows me—it's strapped by the tether, mechanically."
The tether device latched to the container, dragging it behind like a beast on a chain. Invisible chain.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't think too much about it. We've done this ten times."
"And you've failed once," Mac snapped. "Remember what happened last time? Those little rats nearly got everything—"
"Shut up, Mac! That was a small mistake. We should've scouted where those fuckers lived. If only I'd gotten a good look—"
"It's always someone else's fault. Shut your mouth and follow me."
"What the hell is wrong with you? We're brothers. If only father—"
"Stop talking and move it, Ted. Every mistake you make ruins my rep. I should be a Knight by now, a fucking Knight. My strength, my will—I'm a legend of High—AAAAA!"
Bang.
Mac dropped.
"The fuck—?" Ted turned, and another bang cracked through the night. A rock the size of a fist slammed into his head. He slumped to the dirt like a dead bird.
"Nice shot, bro," Nile said.
"Yeah, let's cripple these fuckers and take there shit. Now, what'd Elliot say?" Charly grinned, nervous and loud.
"Okay," Nile muttered, finishing with a savage swing of his hammer, cracking the back of Mac's skull. The ambush was quick, precise—Scar and Charly's aim, Nile's brutality, Elliot's guidance.
"Thank God Scar made that shot," Elliot whispered from the shadows. "If not, we'd be knee-deep in a fight. Move fast. Next phase."
Scar and Charly hauled on the tether, dragging the container into the street's dark corners. The silver moonlight caught the crystals inside, glowing dim, blood-red. Each shard was cut like a crooked pyramid, gleaming like cursed jewels.
"Should we really split from them?" Nile asked, unease in his voice. They had broken off from Scar and Charly, moving now toward the final target.
"This is the only way," Elliot said, voice low and certain. "If we stick together, it takes too long. The soldiers are spread thin now—perfect. But the longer we wait, the faster they regroup. My guess? Over two hundred crystals in this container. Plus whatever we steal next… that's well over four hundred."
"Think Bald Guy'll give us more than three gold for it?" Nile grinned like a wolf.
"Maybe. Or maybe we'll have to force him," Elliot answered.
"Alright then…" Nile's grin widened.
They all knew the truth. They could stop now—cut their losses, vanish into the night. But none of them wanted to. Not when the crystals shone like blood beneath the moon. Not when their hatred for the Alden soldiers burned hotter than reason.
...
"Okay, this is it—ready, set, go!"
Boom. Elliot dropped behind the soldier, dagger flashing. Steel cut deep into the man's leg, blood spraying as he toppled. Elliot was already moving, already slashing at the next.
Each breath came ragged, the same for Nile as he swung his hammer. Small, but heavy enough to crush bone, it smashed against a soldier's skull. Blood streamed down the man's face as he staggered, knees buckling—yet before Nile could strike again, the hammer was caught.
Bang.
A fist twice the size of Nile's smashed into his mask, blood spraying inside the cloth.
Fuck, fuck! Elliot's thoughts churned. His blade dug deep, his enemy still clinging to life, still clawing at the ground. Too strong. Too much. They were too weak, too young.
Not enough. Not enough, fuck!
Swish.
The dagger spun through the air, stabbing into the soldier's neck. Clean, fast, like a bullet. Blood poured as the man collapsed—yet his body still fought to rise, eyes fixed on Elliot.
A dull, hollow look of doubt. He saw the truth. This wasn't a warrior, this wasn't a monster. It was just a kid. His son's age. A war-child clawing for survival.
The soldier's eyes filled with pity, even as he fell.
"NOO—Ath!" the other soldier screamed. "HELP! SOMEONE!" His voice broke, blood choking it, before Nile's hammer fell again, silencing him.
The two stood there, chests heaving, blood on their masks.
"Fuck… Nile, what the hell have I done?" Elliot collapsed, despair hollowing his voice. He had always struck to wound, never to kill. To survive without damning himself. But now… his blade had ended a life.
"You wanted to live," Nile said, breath sharp behind the mask. "So you did what you had to. Now listen—are we clear, or are we fucked?"
Elliot's body shook. He turned on his Resonant Sight, forcing his senses wide—too wide. His skull felt like it was splitting, a mountain pressing down. Each sound, each breath, each heartbeat in range poured into his mind like molten lead.
"Aaa—!" Elliot ripped half his mask off, choking. Even the bread he'd eaten earlier spilled out as he vomited. His body couldn't bear the weight of the ability. But he saw. He saw enough.
"Run," he gasped. "Run! Forget the container—we have enough. RUN! They're all coming. Hundreds. Less than two minutes."
"Follow me, Elliot!" Nile hauled him up, voice steady in the chaos.
"Let's go!" Nile roared, charging ahead as the first shouts rose in the distance.
And then came the thunder of boots—soldiers swarming from every side, a hundred strong, hunting them through the night.
Author's Note:
Teather: A magnetic device that projects an unseen force, pulling objects as though bound by invisible strings. Commonly employed for maneuvering and securing drive containers, it allows precise control over heavy or drifting cargo. In Ender, Teathers are essential for transport and storage, binding matter with unseen tension.