Chapter 231
Fight
Thinking about it now, IAM realized just how absurdly fast everything had escalated.
Less than an hour ago, he had simply been expecting to return to the Academy with Thor—just a quiet, uneventful ride back after his business with Thor had finished. That was all.
But somehow, without warning, Thor had jumped onto a moving car in broad daylight like it was the most normal thing in the world. And now here IAM was—chasing down a suspicious vehicle through the streets of the Higher Sector, alone and trying not to crash a truck.
He didn't even know who these people were.
All he knew was what he'd seen: whitep cars being chased by green cars, and then both being chased by the police. That alone was strange. But it got stranger the more he thought about it.
His first instinct had been that this might be some kind of turf war. A gang conflict, maybe. But that didn't quite add up.This was the Higher Sector—where smaller gangs didn't even have breathing room, let alone the audacity to engage in open pursuit. The real ones, the big organizations that did exist here, were more subtle and strategic.
This was chaos. It was messy, loud, public chaos. And it felt wrong.
Meanwhile, the occupants of the white car had reached their destination.
...
The vehicle rolled to a stop outside the rust-stained warehouse, its engine still warm. The doors opened in sequence, and five figures stepped out quickly but without panic. They spread out without speaking, slipping into cover behind debris, into corners, and against the walls of the surrounding structures.
They had the same idea IAM had.
Wait and prepare.
Whoever had followed them—Ascender or not—would be walking into a carefully rigged area.
They had traps set across the outer zone of the warehouse complex. They didn't expect the traps to stop the ascender—but anything that could buy them time was worth using.
And from their angle back in the car, none of them had actually seen Thor leap onto the vehicle.
As far as they knew, he had dropped out of the sky.
That alone was disturbing.
The group was still trying to piece it together. The truck behind them had kept pace for too long, and though they hadn't seen its driver clearly, they were reasonably certain another Ascender was involved. They couldn't afford to make assumptions. Their chances weren't good—but they had to try.
Among them, only one was an Ascender herself—and just barely.
A young woman, probably just a bit older than IAM, who had only just reached the novice level. She wasn't ready for a fight like this, but she stood silently all the same, her teeth gritted, waiting with the rest.
...
They waited.
For nearly four minutes, nothing happened.
The warehouse lot remained silent. The wind stirred the loose gravel. A gull cried faintly over the nearby water. But the truck that had followed them—the one parked just down the road—didn't move.
Not an inch.
One of the men finally broke the silence, his voice was hushed but impatient. "Are they not coming?"
Another glanced around the edge of the warehouses. Still nothing. "We've been waiting, and they haven't made a move at all… Should we bring it to them?"
There was a sharp exhale. "Are you crazy? What if the other Ascender is just like the one that jumped on the car? We're dead."
"But look," the first speaker said. "They're not moving. That only leaves two options. Either they're too scared to come after us after seeing the numbers—" he gestured to their group, "—or they know this is a trap. Maybe they're trying to bait us into panicking and abandoning our advantage. Standing around isn't helping. We need to decide, or are we just going to waste time just standing around?"
No one responded right away.
The words hung in the air with uncertainty.
"Yeah, but come on," another voice said, this one quieter. "They're probably an Ascender. We still don't know how many they have. What if we step out and there's three of them waiting behind the truck?"
There was a murmur of agreement.
The speaker continued, voice lowering. "We only have Masie. She's barely a novice. Let's be honest—she's basically no different from a normal person right now."
Masie didn't respond. She stood, staring at the truck in the distance. But she didn't argue with them. Because they weren't wrong.
Another minute passed. Then another.
The tension stretched thin between them like wire—ready to snap.
Eventually, the first speaker muttered, "Screw it. We can't just stand here. We all go. All five of us. We approach fast, tight formation, close the distance and overwhelm whoever's there before they can do anything. Get your guns out and don't hesitate."
No one was enthusiastic. But no one argued, either.
With a few exchanged glances and the quiet clicks of safeties being released, they pulled out their weapons—every one of them armed—and began to move. Low and fast, sticking to the walls, their boots crunched gravel and debris as they started closing the gap toward the truck.
...
They reached the truck in under thirty seconds—one man breaking off to swing around the passenger side while the others kept their weapons trained on the driver's door. The vehicle loomed silent in front of them, but there was no movement inside.
The leader moved up to the driver's side, glanced around once, then reached for the handle and pulled.
Nothing happened.
He frowned and tried again, this time tugging harder.
Still nothing.
"What's wrong?" one of the others whispered.
"It's locked," he muttered, leaning in closer. He gave the handle a small twist and noticed something under his thumb—a smooth circular patch embedded into the grip. A faint red light blinked once beneath his hand.
"Shit… fingerprint scanner," he said quietly. "It's locked to the owner."
They paused, exchanging quick looks.
"We're not getting in."
"But from what I can see," the leader muttered, scanning the empty interior through the tinted window, "the truck's been completely abandoned."
"Shit…" someone muttered. "Where the hell did they go?"
"They must've ditched the vehicle before we stopped," another said. "Maybe they realised this was a trap and didn't want to risk walking in."
The man who had first suggested approaching narrowed his eyes. "No. Look at how it's parked. It stopped after we got here. They followed us all the way to this spot. If they were going to run off, why not earlier?"
There was a moment of silence.
"…So you think they're still around?" one of them asked, glancing uneasily at the shadowed edges of the buildings.
"They have to be. Watching us right now, probably."
"Maybe it's the guy who jumped on the roof," someone whispered. "He somehow got here first. Maybe the truck was a distraction."
The woman—Masie—spoke for the first time. Her eyes stayed locked on the dark gaps between the warehouses.
"No," she said. "That guy didn't come in the truck. The one who did… is someone else. And if they're not here now, it's because they're waiting for something. Or someone."
That made everyone pause.
They looked around, weapons raised, scanning rooftops and corners—anywhere a figure could be hiding, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike...
After nothing happened for the time being they gathered near the front of the truck, lowering their weapons slightly now that it was clear no one was inside. But the tension hadn't gone away—it had only shifted. Something about the situation didn't sit right, and they all felt it.
After a few quiet seconds, one of them spoke.
"We can't just leave this thing here."
"What do you mean? It's just a truck."
"No, it's not just a truck. It followed us. That means it's either important—or it's a beacon. If there's a tracker in there, and someone's coming, then the longer we wait, the worse it gets."
The others exchanged glances. No one argued.
"So what? We blow it up?" another asked.
"Not blow," the first one replied. "Burn it. We just need oil and fire. It's simple. We're far enough from the main roads, and the wind's in our favor. No one's gonna notice a bit of smoke out here."
"But what if someone does come while we're doing it?" Masie asked. "If it's a trap, and they're watching… fire could expose us."
The leader rubbed his jaw, then nodded once. "Then we do it fast. Two of us go in and get what we need—oil, matches, anything flammable. One of us keeps watch on the truck, and the rest stay near the perimeter. If someone makes a move, we regroup and handle it."
There was a pause. Then he added, "Masie, you go. Take Derren with you. We'll keep an eye out."
Masie didn't object. She gave a quick nod and disappeared with the chosen man toward one of the nearby warehouses, moving fast but quiet, hugging the walls and slipping into the dark building through a rusted side door.
Unbeknownst to them, IAM had heard everything.
He had moved from his original hiding spot the moment they got close to the truck, keeping low and out of view. Now, tucked deep in the shadows between the warehouses, he crouched behind a crumbling stack of metal crates, as the last echoes of their conversation drifted toward him.
They're going to burn the truck.
That was bad.
The truck had the tracker. If it was destroyed, there'd be no way for Thor to pinpoint his location. IAM quickly pulled out his phone and checked again—still no signal.
He had no way to reach Thor.
So he had to act.
This was his opportunity. The group had split. Masie—their only Ascender—and one other had gone into the warehouse, leaving just three outside. It wasn't ideal, but it was the best chance he was going to get.
He might've been low-experienced, but he wasn't invincible. Especially not against guns. If they saw him, it would be over. He couldn't take them head-on. He had to be smarter and take them out one at a time.
IAM took another slow breath, then, without a sound, he slipped deeper into the shadows.
He had a plan now.
And it was time to move.