The air cracked as Sylira's invisible fists hammered down, each blow rattling the stone beneath Anora's boots. She moved like a tempest, her real hands clenched, her spectral ones mirroring the strikes with crushing force.
Anora twisted and ducked, her knife flashing as it deflected strikes that carried the weight of a battering ram. Sparks burst when steel caught on force alone, each impact reverberating up her arms.
"Sylira!" She called out between parries, voice taut with effort. "This isn't the way. We're allies, you don't need to fight me! Let's just stop this and go find your brother!" Sylira snarled, one massive invisible hand slamming into the wall beside Anora, cracking it like dry clay.
"I don't have a choice!" she barked, her real fists trembling with both rage and desperation. "You always have a choice!" Anora pressed back, sliding along the broken stone, her knife cutting through the air to force distance. "You're just letting them use you!"
"You don't understand!" Sylira's voice shook, her invisible hands lashing out in a flurry. It went everywhere, striking the ground, walls, everything but Anora's heart. "They have him, my brother! If I stop, he dies. If I fail, he dies."
"I can't let that happen, Anora."
She gritted her teeth, pivoting away as one giant fist slammed into the cobblestones where she stood a second earlier, shards scattering. "And if you die here? What then, Sylira? What will he have left?"
For a moment, Sylira faltered. The invisible hands hesitated, trembling in the air. "Then at least… he'll know I fought for him." She was crying, yet her eyes showed determination.
Anora stepped in, her knife grazing past one of the spectral arms, pressing close. Her voice lowered, urgent but steady. "Or he'll lose you. Living the rest of his days knowing that he's the cause of his sister's death."
Sylira roared, shoving her back with a double strike of the invisible fists, fury masking the crack of sorrow in her voice. "Just lose already! It'll all be over if you just get hit once and get knocked out!"
The invisible fists came crashing down again, but Anora was already moving. Her eyes, sharpened by her gift, caught the shimmering distortion of Sylira's massive hands even before they struck.
Steel rang against force as she sidestepped and deflected, her body weaving through the barrage with practiced precision. Each motion was controlled, measured, she swung her blade in arcs in order to guide the massive fists off course rather than clash head-on.
Sylira gritted her teeth, sweat streaking down her face as she pressed harder. "Stop dodging and fight me!" she shouted, slamming both fists down in unison. The cobblestones shattered, a crater blooming where Anora had stood.
She had already slipped aside however, cutting in at Sylira's flank. "I am fighting you," Anora replied, her voice calm despite the chaos. Her blade flashed, grazing Sylira's side just enough to sting without cutting deep. "But unlike you, I don't waste my energy on meaningless swings."
The jab struck a nerve. Sylira spun, her fists lashing in wild succession, the invisible constructs swiping wide arcs that toppled broken walls and splintered wood. "Shut up! You think you're better than me? You think all that experience makes up for the difference between our gifts?"
Her fury made her faster, her swings heavier but also wider. "All those titles you've made for yourself won't protect you from my fists!" Anora kept her movements tight, slipping through the cracks in Sylira's technique.
Years of missions, of facing people who outgunned her in brute strength and outsmarted her in strategy, they had carved her into a fighter who survived not by overpowering, but by outlasting and outsmarting.
"You've got strength, Sylira. More than most could dream of out here," Anora said, ducking under a hammering strike and letting her blade kiss the invisible hand, sparks of resistance flaring as steel met unseen force.
"But strength alone doesn't win battles. It's nothing but a factor in battle."
Sylira roared, driving a fist forward with enough force to rip the air apart. Anora pivoted just enough to avoid the crushing blow, her counter coming in quick. She used the flat of her blade to smack Sylira's ribs, knocking the breath out of her.
The younger woman staggered, eyes wide with shock at the strike she hadn't anticipated. "Tch–" she coughed, clutching her side. She immediately reset her stance, fists rising again.
Anora's gaze softened for the briefest second, even as her blade remained poised. "You're good, Sylira. You have potential. But I've seen how this ends for people like you. Don't make me prove it."
Sylira's lips trembled, her fists wavering in the air. She slammed the spectral hands down again with renewed ferocity, as if trying to drown out Anora's words with sheer force.
Looks like there's no other way.
Anora slipped inside Sylira's guard again, her knife pressing against the younger woman's throat. Sylira froze, her fists hovering uncertainly in the air. One wrong twitch, and it would be over.
Anora's voice was steady, but laced with exhaustion. "It's done, Sylira. You fought well, but this ends here." She shifted her stance, steel glinting in the moonlight, she allowed her to close her eyes in acceptance before…
"STOP!"
Kael's voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. Both women turned, startled. He was standing at the edge of the ruined street, dragging along a thin, disheveled man bound at the wrists.
The librarian.
Sylira's eyes widened, disbelief flooding her expression. She broke free from the stillness with explosive speed, sprinting past Anora before the older woman could react. In one desperate dive, she tackled the man to the ground, clinging to him as though she feared he might vanish if he let go.
The librarian wheezed, dazed from the impact, but managed a weak smile. "Sylira…" He tried patting her back as a sign that she was being too strong, but her hug only tightened more.
Anora lowered her knife, exhaling hard as she turned toward Kael. For the first time that night, her shoulders eased. "Clever boy," she said, a wry grin tugging at her lips. "You found him. Just in time, too. Another moment and she would've ended up on the ground lifeless."
Kael straightened, brushing dust from his sleeve with an almost smug precision. "Of course I did. Finding what others can't see, it's why I'm called a genius." Anora chuckled faintly, though her gaze lingered on the siblings who reunited.
The tense quiet after Sylira's desperate reunion was broken by hurried footsteps. Dust trailed in the air as Don and Wing came into view, both still carrying the weight of battle in their posture
"Have you seen him?" Wing demanded sharply, scanning the rubble-strewn street with restless eyes. "Sirius, we lost track of him earlier." Anora shook her head, "No trace of him here."
Don's gaze swept the group, seeing Kael, Anora, and Sylira too busy clutching someone to even notice them. He went to Kael, "What about you? If I recall, you're supposed to be quite sharp."
Kael crossed his arms, his tone calm but edged with certainty. "If you're looking for an enemy, he should be long gone by now." He tilted his head, gesturing faintly toward the skyline above The Free City. "The melody's stopped, a sign of their retreat."
Wing paused, realization dawning on his face as he let his gun dissipate from his hand. The oppressive hum that had haunted the night, the eerie resonance they'd all felt threading through the fight, was gone.
Kael's lips curved into a knowing smirk. "That's no coincidence. Those people you guys were fighting earlier, they probably already left the city." Don exhaled slowly, "Damn it. Another ghost."
The air was heavy when a shadow of a man fell across them. Heavy boots struck the stone, steady and unhurried. Adam then came into view, carrying Pheo slung across his shoulder like a burden he bore with little effort.
Pheo's head lolled weakly, his clothes singed from the chaos, but no burns were on his skin. "I found him," Adam said simply, his voice low but clear, "Just after Sirius had slipped away."
The group turned as one, startled. Wing narrowed his eyes at him. "Then why the hell didn't you chase him down?" Adam's expression was unreadable, though his grip on Pheo shifted with surprising care as he set him down gently against the wall.
He straightened, arms folding over his chest. "Because my reason for fighting ended the moment I found this one alive." His gaze moved across the stunned faces, his tone flat and final. "And when I found out that Elion had died."
A silence followed, heavier than the rubble around them. Wing blinked, his composure cracking for the first time tonight. "Dead?" Adam gave a single, deliberate nod. "I knew it from the ashes that lingered from where the speech was. The smell of them, there's no mistaking it."
Kael's eyes flicked toward Pheo, narrowing slightly. The boy still breathed, but his unconsciousness gnawed at Kael. "Tell me something, did you all feel it? The embers." His tone was sharper now, cutting through the heavy silence.
Anora's brow furrowed. Don shifted uneasily as though Kael had just about said aloud what he'd been trying not to dwell on. Wing clicked his tongue but gave a curt nod. Even Sylira, still clutching her brother, hesitated before answering with a quiet, "Yes."
Kael exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing. "Then it wasn't just me. That golden fire, whatever it is, it chose us. And the only reason we're all still on our feet after all that chaos is because of it. Don't fool yourselves otherwise. If we don't figure out what it's doing to us, it might not stop at giving us strength."
His words seemed to stir something in Anora. She crossed her arms, her voice steady but lower than usual. "This wasn't the first time this fire appeared in the Badlands. Wing, Don, and I… We've seen the golden fire before."
Kael turned to her, surprise flickering in his eyes. "Before? Where?"
But before Anora could continue, Wing stepped forward. "Doesn't matter where. What matters is what it's doing now. Inside us." He jabbed a finger toward Don. "And we already know it's changing us. Him especially."
He held Kael's stare, "Don's gift used to only make them feel pain, a unique one which no one could prepare for as it's a pain that could only be experienced by being attacked by his gift."
"But back there with The Assassin? He didn't just make him buckle, he siphoned something out of him. After looking into his eyes, stripping him of his strength after. His fire is also different now, his purple flame now being mixed in with gold."
Kael's expression darkened, his gaze sweeping over the group. "Then the embers aren't just amplifying us. They're reshaping us as well." A silence followed, heavy with the weight of what that meant.
The echo of boots on stone and the clatter of weapons then broke the silence. Reinforcements surged into the ruined plaza, marked with the insignia of the Director's camp.
They moved quickly, dispersing in practiced groups to assess the wreckage of The Free City. Pulling unconscious civilians from rubble, sealing off the collapsed roads, and pushing back the uncontrolled fires that still smoldered faintly with heat.
Anora, Wing, Don, and Sylira straightened at once, instinctively slipping back into their roles as part of The Director's forces. The weight of command shifted over them, their personal argument buried beneath duty.
Through the chaos, a single figure advanced with deliberate steps. The Director. His presence cut sharper than the reinforcements flooding behind him, his sharp black suit made him stand out amid the soot and ruin.
His gaze swept across the group, lingering on the strange assembly. He had expected to see the four operatives he had sent, but the others made him blink. Adam, the wildest Black Ace, Kael, the young genius from The Capital, and a librarian he could barely recognize from the plethora of documents on people he had.
"Looks like you all had a wild night," he folded his hands. "We arrived here because of the golden light. It spanned all across The Badlands you know, yet we haven't found any of the flames that seemed to fall down."
"Maybe you have an idea about it?" He looked at Kael, eagerly waiting for a response. Kael shook his head, "Even with how much of a genius detective I am, I would need more than just some lights flying across the sky to find out more."
The Director laughed, "Certainly, it is quite an anomaly after all." He went to the four operatives, making them stiffen their composure. "Do any of you have a clear sighting of the origin?"
Silence stretched. None of them answered immediately. The golden fire had simply been there, blazing down upon the city like judgment. Wing broke the silence. "No origin, sir. But we may have witnessed phenomena related to it."
The Director's eyes flicked toward him, unreadable, then drifted back to take them all in at once. "Then I'll expect all four of you to compile a report of all your findings on this mission. Each of you, every detail you recall, no matter how inconsequential it may appear."
"Yes, Director," they answered in unison. He gave a small nod, the faintest trace of approval passing like a shadow across his face. "Good. You are dismissed. And… you have my thanks for your service."
The Director's eyes lingered a moment longer on his operatives before shifting. Instead of turning back toward his escort, he walked towards the person he hadn't expected to see there.
"Adam," he said with a faint smile, the tone warmer, almost familiar. "It's been some time." Adam adjusted Pheo on his shoulder, expression flat. "Director." The single word was measured, polite enough to acknowledge him, but carrying nothing more than the weight of camaraderie.
Kael was surprised by his indifference, but it didn't seem to faze the Director in the slightest. If anything, his smile deepened, as if he expected nothing less. "If you ever find yourself in need of anything," he said smoothly, "Remember you could always come to me."
Adam paused, gaze shifting briefly to the boy slumped unconscious in his arms. He tightened his hold before speaking. "Then there is something. The kid… I need him looked after until he grows into his Awakening. Can you see to that?"
The Director studied the boy in silence for a heartbeat, his expression unreadable. Then he gave a small, deliberate nod. "I'll make the arrangements. He'll be taken care of." Adam inclined his head in acknowledgement before he headed off.
The Director didn't press further. With that, he pivoted, his suit shifting lightly as he turned back toward his waiting escort. His final words to the group had already been spoken, and his departure carries the same steady authority as his arrival.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The three regrouped far beyond The Free City, where the night swallowed the ruin and smoke. Sirius dropped the Assassin against the roots of a gnarled tree, the man hissing through clenched teeth as he steadied himself.
Sirius stood in silence for a while, chest rising and falling with measured breaths, before finally muttering. "The plan failed." From the shadows, the Pianist appeared, her steps quiet and deliberate.
She carried her instrument case across her back, her hands folded neatly before her. Her voice was low, but it cut sharp into the air. "Sirius speaks the obvious." She glanced between the two men, her expression calm and calculating.
"We underestimated them. The appearance of the golden flame ruined the plan we've been working on for years." The Assassin spat on the ground. His fists were trembling though his body still ached from the beating.
"That cursed fire turned their powers better, more powerful. Don's power was nothing like it is now. With that damned flame, it drained me. Siphoned out all of the energy like I was a battery for him."
"I should've torn him apart when I had the chance." The Assassin regretted his actions, yet he still smiled thinking back on their pain. Sirius folded his arms and leaned against the tree. "We need to find out more about what exactly it does, before it ruins us further."
"Just as it did us before," The Pianist said, letting out a faint hum in a familiar tune nobody knows. "First it was present when Parquatz had perished. And now, it hasn't just outshone, but also devoured Elion."
Sirius nodded slowly, "The same colored flame, the same brilliance in the sky. Something is changing this desert, and it seems that it'll only make things harder for us if it succeeds."
The Assassin slammed his fist weakly on a nearby wall, "What the hell is this thing anyway? We don't know what it is or what it can do. We need to fill in our lack of information before it becomes the reason for our demise."
"Perhaps we need to consult someone," The Pianist suggested, "A person who would know about these types of things. Someone whose expertise lies not on what's earthly, but on what's divine."
"The Bishop," Sirius finished for her, his voice steady. His eyes were lingering on the horizon where the Free City was, the small figures of vehicles could be made out if he looked closely enough.
The Pianist's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "Yes. He's the only one who has studied the ancient scriptures in full. He is also the vessel which our God can contact his believers through. If this flame is of divine origin, he will know its purpose."
The Assassin gritted his teeth, his body trembling with the effort of keeping upright. "He'd better have answers. Now that those two have that thing squirming inside their body, I can't guarantee myself winning."
Sirius pushed off from the tree, "Then we retreat. Regroup our strength and fill in the slots that went missing. Too many of our numbers have been lost. First Parquatz, and now Elion."
At the mention of the two fallen comrades, the silence grew heavy. Even The Assassin lowered his gaze at the mention of the two. The Pianist broke it after a while, "It's been so long since we lost an apostle, how did we lose two of them in such a short span?"
Sirius gave a slow nod, "We'll take these next few years returning to the church. We heal our wounds, hone our skills, and when the time comes… We strike again, this time the Golden Flame being nothing but trivial for us."
The three shared no further words, only the silence of unspoken vows. Then, one by one, melted into the desert night. With the retreat carrying the weight of both failure and grim anticipation for the future.