X – The Infernal Gate
At the center of CSDS's overground surface, the spherical dome-like structure's door-shaft peeled open, its central wheel spinning free. The heavy metal door clattered onto the ground. From the metallic ladder beneath, several combat androids climbed up one by one. Their plated armor reflected the surrounding crimson light as they pulled blaster guns from their shoulders in a systematic, absolute fashion. As the last android cleared the threshold, it pulled a metal chain mounted beside the door. The heavy slab swung shut from the bottom up, sealing with a solid metallic slap against the frame. The central wheel mechanism rolled itself locked in immediate response.
The androids advanced in formation, their armored boots crunching over scattered bone fragments as they closed on the CC swarm clambering over mounds of their own fallen. Blaster fire streaked down from the lookout structure where Cee-Ar-Tee and the scavengers held position, their shots carving glowing lines through the advancing tide.
Across the breached eastern wall, militia teams worked alongside scavengers and mercenaries—Em-Jay's machete flashed between reloads while Gee's spiked bat cracked skulls with measured swings. Hydraulics hissed as exoskeletal frames lifted metal plating into position, then punched it into place with screw punchers. While others shooting firing support, muzzle flashes flickering against the makeshift barricade. Blaster fire tore into rotting flesh, shoulders jerking back, legs buckling mid-step. The advancing tide faltered under the barrage.
Rogan charged, crossing his arms before his face as Kaodin and Wawa held their ground.
Kaodin pivoted sideways, driving a kick off the concrete barricade at his side. Rogan's left hand caught Kaodin's leg midair and he began to hurl him upward. Wawa streaked forward in a blur of blue, slashing claws into Rogan's outstretched arm.
"What's that tickle? Oh, your little holographic pet," Rogan said, eyes fixed on Kaodin as he twisted against the grip. "I'm curious how many more toys to play inside your vault settlement, kiddo."
Kaodin's knuckles clenched as crimson Qi crackled along his forearms. Rogan's grip tightened, metal fingers hissing against Kaodin's overheating skin.
Kaodin wrenched against Rogan's grip. His boot scraped free, slamming into the fractured concrete pillar nearby. The impact sent him spinning in a diagonal arc, muscles coiling as he whipped around midair. His heel cracked against Rogan's rib plating—metal screeched under the blow, but the armor held.
Fingers clamped around his ankle again. Wawa's claws raked across Rogan's forearm, but only left faint streaks in the blackened plating. Rogan's other hand locked around Kaodin's throat, tendons standing rigid beneath ink-dark tattooed skin.
Concrete exploded beneath Kaodin's spine as Rogan drove him downward. Dust mushroomed from the crater. Bruises bloomed across his ribs where friction had burned through fabric. A ragged breath scraped from his lungs.
Kaodin coughed blood as he groned across the floor. He then reached his hand across the back. Catch on to Wawa's spectral form as he flickered, claws digging into his shoulders—blue light pulsed weakly through the cub's fading outline. The glow sputtered like a dying ember, tendrils of Qi unraveling from Wawa's fraying edges. His claws trembled against Kaodin's skin, barely solid enough to brace against the next impact. Kaodin understood Wawa's intent as the cub's claws dug into his skin, not to hurt, but to warn. This fight will kill you. The pressure burned, a silent plea against the fatal danger ahead.
Kaodin's body registered the cold grit of concrete against his back. His chest compressed, ribs aching under the memory of Rogan's grip. The air tasted of iron and dust. He blinked, vision narrowing to a blue-edged tunnel. The world pressed in, soundless except for the throb behind his eyes.
A pressure moved through him, not from outside, but from somewhere inside the breath itself. Liara's voice shimmered along that current, the syllables forming without air, threading through the ache in his chest.
Kaodin… please… you must….
The words vibrated through his diaphragm, not his ears. He felt the pull of her need, the way it shaped the emptiness between each breath. His lungs strained to fill, then emptied, then filled again, the rhythm holding him upright against the drag of the world.
A second voice surfaced, older, weightier, carried on the memory of sweat and sun and the strange tang of liniment in a training hall. His father's cadence, measured and unhurried.
To prevail against stronger force, you don't fight it. You flow with it.
The overground surface of CSDS reemerged under the pulsating crimson light from the lattice across the walls and each constructed building across the area. Kaodin's eyes opened. Blue light edged his vision, cutting through the haze, outlining the fractured geometry of the fight: Rogan's shadow looming, Wawa's form flickering at the periphery, the barricade's jagged silhouette anchoring the space.
Kaodin drew air in a slow, constant rhythm. He rose, settling into the rigid lines of his Muay Boran stance, now slightly loosened: his arms dropped from the high guard, forearms angled to intercept rather than block. Fingers curled, not into fists, but into hooks that could catch, redirect, or slip. The breath moved through his core, carrying Qi along the spine, down through the pelvis, and out into the feet before returning upward. He felt the heat gathering, not in a surge, but in a slow, tidal draw.
Rogan's boots scraped forward, the heavy man's mass shifting for another crushing advance. The tattoos across Rogan's chest flexed as Rogan tore his battered chest armoured and threw it away. Muscles rolling beneath the ink. He grinned, teeth bared, one hand flexing open and closed as he measured the distance.
"Round two?" Rogan's grin split his face as he barked the challenge across the space between them.
Kaodin's stance remained fluid, his fingers twitching in a silent taunt. "I'm ready." Wawa mirrored his posture, the cub's form flickering with restrained energy.
Kaodin's gaze tracked the incoming movement, but his body stayed loose, coiled. He watched Rogan's weight load onto the lead foot, the slight flare of the knee, the way the hips telegraphed the next step. The world compressed to the space between Rogan's center and his own.
Wawa circled left, spectral paws silent on the concrete. The cub's outline tightened, blue light drawing inward, density peaking at the shoulders and jaw. The tail flicked once, then stilled, ears flattening as the cub read Rogan's posture.
Kaodin's breath cycled again, slower now, each inhale drawing Qi deeper, each exhale releasing tension from his limbs. The pain in his ribs faded to background noise. His mind registered the debris at his feet, the broken edge of the barricade to his right, the slick patch of blood near Rogan's boot.
He shifted his weight, hips rolling with the movement, centerline aligned to Rogan's advance. The stance was neither defensive nor aggressive. It was a conduit, a channel for force to pass through rather than collide.
Rogan lunged, arms wide, aiming to envelop Kaodin in another crushing hold. Kaodin's rear foot slid back, hips rotating, shoulders blading away from the incoming mass. His left hand swept low, catching Rogan's wrist as it passed, redirecting the momentum past his own center. The right elbow tracked upward, not as a strike, but as a lever, guiding Rogan's arm across his own body.
The force of Rogan's charge carried him forward, his balance compromised by the subtle shift. Kaodin's hips dropped further, knees absorbing the load, spine coiling for the next movement.
He felt the rhythmic breath, weight, contact, and release, each beat carrying him deeper into the flow his father had taught. The world outside the corridor remained, but its pressure no longer dictated his shape. He moved with the current, not against it, letting Rogan's strength become the engine of his own escape.
Rogan's lunge compressed the air, his mass barreling forward. His fist cut a horizontal line toward Kaodin's head, but Kaodin's body had already shifted—weight rolling onto the rear leg, hips swinging open, spine loose. Rogan's knuckles caught only the afterimage of where Kaodin's skull had been.
Kaodin's right knee leading before sending a kick shot upward, the motion clean and vertical. The strike carried the force through his frame, heel slicing past Rogan's chin as the man's momentum lowered to reach Kaodin's shorter statue. Rogan halted as the chin hit with the sharp vertical kick. Rogan's arm swung out, hammerfist arcing toward Kaodin's ribs. Kaodin rotated, letting the blow pass over his shoulder, the air brushing his skin.
But it had been Kaodin's plan all along. He had signaled Wawa to stand by Rogan's right side. Kaodin shot himself sideways, hitting the collapsed barricade's top edge before spinning into a knee strike at Rogan's exposed ribs. The movement was simultaneous with Wawa's—a low purr before the cub shot forward, claws hardening as he struck the right side of Rogan's exposed right ribs. The impact compressed flesh against bone, a dull, wet sound. Rogan's breath caught; he staggered, boots scraping concrete, torso folding inward for a
Kaodin's foot landed light, already turning. He let the motion carry through, lead foot snapping out in a straight line. The ball of his foot struck Rogan's chest, just below the sternum. The contact forced Rogan back, boots dragging sparks from the battered floor, the man's arms windmilling to recover his center.
Rogan's face twisted, lips peeling back from his teeth. "Tricks won't save you, boy!" The words came out ragged.
"Improvised Muay Boran," Kaodin said, his tone even.
Rogan spat blood. "What Muay Boran?"
Rogan charged again, faster and heavier, the floor vibrating under his approach. Kaodin dipped low, knees folding, hips dropping almost to the ground. His leg swept out, shin cutting a tight arc. The kick clipped Rogan's ankle mid-step, the force enough to buckle the joint. Rogan's balance cracked, his upper body pitching forward as his foot skidded out from under him.
"This Muay Boran," Kaodin said.
Wawa reappeared at Kaodin's flank, blue flame flickering along the cub's outline. The cub's breath synced with Kaodin's own, the rhythm settling into a single, measured cadence. The resonance steadied Kaodin's frame, tension bleeding from his shoulders.
"Alright," Kaodin murmured. "My turn."
Heat gathered in his abdomen, red Qi bleeding downward, coiling through his thighs and calves. The sensation tightened around his legs, every muscle humming with contained force. He stepped in close, closing the gap until Rogan's shadow swallowed his own.
Rogan's arm arced back, knuckles whitening as tendons strained against the force of his swing. Kaodin ducked low, then surged forward, planting one foot on Rogan's forearm as it passed overhead. His other leg coiled, muscles tightening before he sprang upward, using the man's own momentum to propel himself higher. He climbed the man's tall frame as Rogan's hands tried to catch his quick motion. Kaodin pivoted above Rogan's head, his body coiled, compressed Qi into his right foot, then drove it downward in a Jarake-Fad-Hang strike aimed at Rogan's temple. The impact drove Rogan's head in a downward arc, the dry snap of bone cutting through the air.
Rogan's legs folded. His arms dropped, fingers spasming as he tried to push himself upright. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, mixing with sweat and dust. The tattoos across his chest flexed as he struggled for air, each breath a shallow rasp.
Kaodin held his stance, weight balanced, eyes fixed on Rogan's movements. Wawa circled, tail low, ears pinned, the cub's gaze locked on the downed man.
Rogan spat blood onto the floor, jaw working as he forced himself to one knee. "You hit harder than you look, kid."
Kaodin remained silent. His breath held steady, hands open, elbows tight to his ribs. The heat in his legs faded, replaced by a dull ache radiating up through his hips. Wawa still purred at the collapsing Rogan.
"That's for everyone inside the CSDS," Kaodin murmured.
Rogan's muscles bunched beneath his tattoos, arms trembling as he hauled himself onto one knee. His breath hitched, a sharp exhale before his legs buckled again, sending him crashing back onto the ground beneath him.
Kaodin sprawled on the ground, chest rising and falling unevenly. The gunfire stuttered into silence, leaving only the distant hum of the CSDS's systems in the background. Above, the sky shimmered faintly. Wawa pressed against his side, the cub's warmth radiating through under his right bi-cep. His right hand twitched under his head, as the boy recalling the exact angle of his father's remark that had resurfaced while fighting earlier
If his father remarked theoretically approved, meaning that he meant to say that the unorthodox style was approved. As Kaodin thought further to his home, a tear dripped from his eye.
The scent of distant fires lingered, but beneath it came the memory of home—steamed rice in the morning, the creak of wooden floors underfoot. Wawa's warmth at his side couldn't replace the hand that once corrected his stance, the voice that chided his posture. A single drop rolled down his cheek, catching the dome's pale crimson light before vanishing into the fabric of his sleeve.
Kaodin closed his eyes.
"Kaodin, are you okay?"
Cee-Ar-Tee's voice dropped to a hush, barely stirring the air between them. The scrape of bone against concrete echoed from behind.
Kaodin blinked against Cee-Ar-Tee's silhouette looming over him. The crimson glow overhead faded to pale blue, its emergency pulse giving way to steady luminescence. The HDI clamped around Cee-Ar-Tee's wrist emitted a clipped mechanical tone, followed by a synthesized announcement. "Eastern perimeter breach contained. Photogenic veil reactivation sequence initiated. Crimson Veil Protocol lifted. CSDS Medical Facility and Merchant Guild are now available for your assistance.
Several militia androids moved in systematic formation, closing on Rogan's position. Their optical sensors scanned his form, transmitting data in clipped tones. "Target identified as hostile outsider. Head trauma severity: eighty percent probability. Brain damage likelihood: seventy-six percent. Medical assistance required per Director Zhang's directive for further questioning."
"Kaodin, you okay?" Cee-Ar-Tee's whisper barely disturbed the air between them.
"Yeah," Kaodin mumbled. He kept his gaze fixed over the sky. "But Cee-Too ain't."
A mechanical sigh hissed from Cee-Ar-Tee's vocal processors. "You realize my boy was synthetic too, right?" His optical lenses focused intently on Kaodin's downturned face. "Developed from my logics and reconstructed with upgrade by Hong."
Kaodin jerked his chin downward once in silent acknowledgment.
"You think of Cee-Too like he's human," Cee-Ar-Tee settled beside the boy, gaze fixed on the sky. His voice carried that same measured cadence, neither rising nor falling. "Like he was just another boy—your friend."
Cee-Ar-Tee's voice remained steady, his face tilted slightly toward the sky. "His memory core survived. With time, parts, someone like Mrs. Hong working—" He turned to meet Kaodin's avoiding gaze "The boy could come back."
"Director Zhang's got resources," Cee-Ar-Tee continued. "Xiao Ying, you know how she is with tech. No telling what they've already started."
The militia androids' scanner beeps punctuated the silence between them.
"Synths don't die the way flesh does," Cee-Ar-Tee said, his lenses adjusting with a soft whir. "Not even close."
He studied Kaodin's face, the faint glow of his optics steady. "He ain't gone, kid."
Kaodin scrubbed the wetness from his cheeks with the back of his left clothe-wrapped hand. "That's—" He jerked his face away, avaoid Cee-Ar-Tee's view of his red-rimmed eyes. "Good to know."
Cee-Ar-Tee always spoke truth. Never comfort for comfort's sake. The tightness in his chest eased slightly. But what about Liara? What if— His fingers dug into his thighs, cutting off the thought before it could fully form. The warmth of relief and the chill of uncertainty warred beneath his ribs. Kaodin clenched his fist under his head. If only showing Liara how to breathe through the hurt could entire cure her. His fingers bit into his clothe-wrapped palm, picturing her fragile frame curled against another wave of pain. But the ache in her veins ran deeper than any meditation could reach.
"I'm heading down to check on them. Will you join?" Cee-Ar-Tee asked, his gaze fixed on Kaodin.
Kaodin nodded, brushing his face against his shoulder before pushing himself up. Wawa stirred slowly from his slumber. Kaodin caught him, the spectral cub feeling solid and warm in his arms, but then Wawa flew past his fingers. Was Wawa hardening his body now, or was Kaodin imagining things?