Chapter 2
A cracked desert plain stretched far and empty, where the concrete of a once-proud highway now buckled under the weight of time and poison. In the haze, where the mist threatened to swallow everything, a tall, weathered figure walked forward. The fog split briefly around him, revealing his old cloak fluttering and the oxygen tank strapped firmly to his back.
"Some men carry breath like a weapon. Others carry it like a burden."
From a high ridge, Silas Vein peered down at a small cluster of survivors huddled beside a makeshift purifier rig. He removed his cracked goggles, his eyes sweeping the ruins with quiet, practiced intent. His fingers touched a worn badge on his chest—a silver fang looped through a broken mask strap.
"Red Zone kid. Fast link surge. Untrained but breathing. He's the one."
The wind screamed around him, lifting poisoned sand and memory in equal measure.
Years ago—he could still see it—Silas dragged coughing, half-dead survivors from a burning building, smoke choking out the sun. He blinked it away. In the now, he tapped the oxygen dial on his tank. The light flickered red.
"Guess we're both running out of time."
With that grim resolve, Silas turned toward the ruins.
Far below, Erno Linx walked alone through fractured asphalt, dragging a scavenged crate of air canisters behind him. His boots cracked brittle concrete with each step. He paused to wipe the condensation from his mother's mask. The lens flickered and glitched briefly.
"I shouldn't be alive," Erno thought, "but maybe that's the point."
A tattered banner from an abandoned shelter flapped past him in the wind. He stopped, feeling it before he saw it—something, someone, approaching.
Silas dropped silently into his camp like a phantom. Erno spun, Vapor Blade in hand, ready.
"Easy, Linx," Silas said, voice calm but edged with warning. "If I wanted your breath, I'd have taken it already."
The two stared at each other, eyes hidden behind cracked visors, power humming between them.
Erno lowered the blade, but didn't relax.
"Who are you?"
Silas stepped forward and dropped an old badge onto the ground.
"Name's Silas. I run with the Canes."
The badge glinted faintly in the sand as if remembering its old shine.
"We help linkers stay alive long enough to matter."
A flicker—Erno's memory distorted. His mother, gasping in his arms, her breath giving out. He clenched the crate's edge.
"I'm not a hero."
"Good," Silas said without hesitation. "Heroes die."
He leaned in closer, voice low and heavy.
"We just need fighters who remember why."
Silas pried open the crate, examining a canister.
"You're already doing the work. You just don't know it yet."
He tossed Erno a medallion bearing the Canes' symbol. Erno caught it, confused.
"Come with me. We're recruiting someone named Jin."
They walked side by side now through the industrial wasteland.
"He's in the Gray Verge, right?" Erno asked.
"Doesn't trust anyone," Silas replied. "Sounds like someone else I know."
In the shadows of crumbling alleys, a boy ran—Jin Yoshi. He darted through the wreckage like smoke, pausing beside a group of coughing children. Without a word, he handed them air canisters.
"Thank you, mister!" one child squeaked.
Jin offered only a whisper in return.
"Just… keep breathing."
From a rooftop, Jin watched as Silas and Erno approached. His hand tapped the dial on his wristwatch. Time blurred. In the next heartbeat, he was behind them.
"I know who you are," Jin said. "I'm not interested."
Erno turned, defensive.
"We're not selling anything."
Jin's gaze was steel.
"It always ends with someone else choking."
The air around them thickened.
"Bleak's moving," Silas said. "He wants gifted links."
Jin's jaw tensed.
"Not my problem."
Silas' voice dropped an octave.
"It will be."
A tremor quivered beneath their feet.
A thunderous crack split the air.
BOOMMMMM. The wall behind them fractured. Dust stormed into the street. Screams rang out.
"That ain't debris," Silas muttered.
Something massive stepped into view—GATE, masked, armored, with hissed green vapor seeping from vents.
"Target: Jin Yoshi. Eliminate and harvest."
Jin's eyes narrowed.
"Try me."
In a blink, Jin moved—time-blinking behind Gate and slashing. But the enemy barely staggered.
"Second Surge ineffective."
Gate raised an arm cannon. The battlefield exploded into motion.
Jin flickered in and out, slashing. Silas summoned a windwall to shield civilians. Erno drew a breath and detonated a Breath Zone.
FWOOOSH — SNAP — CRACK — SHUNK.
Gate caught Jin mid-blink and flung him into rubble.
Silas smashed his own tank.
"GRAVESTONE SHIFT!" The ground rose, shielding Jin.
Erno surged forward.
A blast of compressed air tore from his hand.
AIR BURST.
Gate staggered, armor cracking. His HUD flickered.
"Recording... Erno Linx..."
And then he vanished into the toxic fog.
Silence. The battle was over. Silas helped Jin to his feet.
"I didn't ask for help."
"You didn't have to."
Later, in the wreck of an abandoned house, Silas rigged filters. Erno bandaged his arm. Jin sat off to the side, silent, distant.
He watched Erno clean his gas mask with quiet reverence.
"That mask… your link?"
Erno nodded.
"My mom's. Hurts, but it moves me."
Jin clutched his watch. In a flash—his father, dying, out of air.
"Maybe I can do more than survive."
He stood.
"I'll join. But I don't take orders."
Silas smiled, something almost like pride in his eyes.
"That's how we know you belong."
Erno gave a small nod, silent but approving.
Moonlight spilled through the broken roof. Erno and Jin sat side by side.
"You fight for your dad?" Erno asked.
"I fight because I'm tired of running."
Erno clutched his mask.
"Then we fight for those who can't."
Jin looked at him, unreadable.
Outside, the storm was building. A distant rumble shook the silence.
Above, poison clouds twisted violently. Somewhere across the ruined land, Bleak stirred.
"Somewhere... the choir breathes."
Epilogue
High atop a black spire, Bleak stood, coat snapping in the poisoned wind. He held a bloodstained relic in his gloved hand.
"Jin. Linx. Silas. All singing... soon."
Chained figures knelt before him, their breath ragged and haunted.
"Let's begin a new hymn."
Later that night…
Lantern light flickered inside the house. Silas slept upright, his mask humming faintly. Jin and Erno were awake.
Jin stared at the ceiling.
"You ever think we shouldn't have these powers?"
Erno's voice was quiet.
"All the time. But we do."
Jin's gaze drifted to the gas mask beside Erno.
"You treat that thing like it's sacred."
Erno didn't look away.
"It is."
Jin's hand twitched. He stood.
"What if someone else needed it more?"
He reached down and picked it up. The room froze.
Erno stood, slow, breath steady.
"Don't joke about that."
"I'm not."
The mask hung between them.
Jin held it out and tossed it to his feet.
"Then fight me for it."
Silas stirred in the background but said nothing.
"They have to decide what they're living for..." he thought.
Both Erno and Jin stepped forward.
Their fists pulled back. Power crackled. Emotion surged. The mask lay between them, sacred and fragile.
The house trembled.
"Your breath is your bond… but tonight, it's your reason to fight. The weight of breath."
TO BE CONTINUED...