Location: Lower Verge – Transit Fringe, Near the Abandoned Metro Line
Time: After the Ambush
Ember slammed into the pavement. Metal shrieked. Her breath left her chest in a violent burst.
She rolled, teeth grit, torchblade already back in her hand.
Kaen was coming.
Fast.
No warnings. No taunts. Just fists wrapped in Aether-forged gauntlets—one raised, sparking.
Ember caught the first punch with the flat of her blade. The second grazed her ribs. The third she ducked entirely, twisting under his swing and dragging the blade across his side.
Sparks.
Metal screamed against metal.
Kaen laughed.
"That's more like it."
He grabbed a pipe from the ground—ripped it clean from the cement—and swung.
Ember met it mid-air. Flame erupted where they clashed, throwing both of them back.
She hit the wall. Hard. Concrete cracked behind her like ribs splitting.
Kaen was already moving again—fast for a man his size. She barely rolled aside as his gauntlet slammed into the pavement where her head had been. Stone exploded.
"Damn," he muttered, straightening. "Didn't think you'd still be breathing after that."
Ember pushed to her feet, torchblade igniting in a burst of flame and memory.
"You talk too much," she snapped.
Kaen's grin widened, that cruel twist of teeth and joy. "Nah. Just enough to enjoy the moment."
Then she charged.
Their weapons clashed—metal against heat, fire against force. Ember moved faster now, sharper. Her swings carried weight—but Kaen took them like he'd been waiting for a reason to bleed.
"That's better," he snarled between blocks. "Thought you lost your bite, Goldilocks."
She ducked a haymaker, drove the butt of the blade into his gut.
He laughed. Actually laughed.
"Cute."
She pivoted, torchblade crackling—but he caught her wrist mid-swing and slammed her down again, shoulder-first.
"You're swingin' like you want me to feel something," Kaen said, voice low. "But guess what—"
He leaned in, heat and breath and blood between them.
"Pain's the only thing I trust."
Ember snarled, yanked free, and the Pyra Sigil pulsed. A shockwave burst from her chest, knocking him back a step. She didn't hesitate. Closed the gap, blade spinning with light and fury.
Each clash felt too real—too loud. Sparks flew. Steam rose. The storm that had started as rain was now a symphony of metal and flame. Kaen's gauntlets sparked with impact. Ember's torchblade sang with each cut of air.
They weren't just fighting.
They were exorcising something.
Kaen grunted as her blade grazed his side—just a line of seared flesh, but it made him grin wider.
"There it is," he growled. "Now we're fuckin' talkin'."
Ember didn't answer.
Her eyes said enough.
She wasn't fighting for pride. Or rage.
She was fighting because this bastard wouldn't stop. Because if he didn't break here, he'd chase her forever. Because he'd already taken too much.
Kaen rushed again—like a freight train fueled by hate.
But this time, she met him head-on.
Blade to fist.
Fire to steel.
And then—
A streak of blue light cut through the distance, crashing into the side of a nearby wall. Not from them.
From somewhere else.
Ember's eyes flicked toward the sound.
Kaen noticed too.
Another fight.
Nearby.
Korr.
Vale.
The chaos had spread.
And this was only the beginning.
Location: Rooftop Overlook – Lower Verge, Near the Old Metro Line
Time: Moments After Kaen Engages Ember
The rain hissed against steel and stone, streaking across the rooftops in crooked sheets. Korr Drel stood at the ledge of a crumbling apartment building, one boot planted on the railing, bow drawn halfway, eyes locked on the chaos below.
Kaen was already throwing haymakers like a lunatic—torchblade clashing against armored gauntlets, sparks blooming like dying stars.
Korr sighed.
"Fucking Kaen," he muttered. "We're supposed to bring her in clean, not cave her ribs in."
He adjusted his aim, lining up the shot.
One good pulse-arrow to the calf. Maybe the shoulder. Drop her fast, before Kaen got too creative.
He exhaled, steady.
Then—cold metal touched his throat.
Not the tip of a blade.
The flat edge. Quiet. Calculated. Threat wrapped in patience.
"Think twice before you let go," said a voice behind him—calm, female, and sharp enough to slit a man's pride.
Korr froze.
"...Well, shit."
He eased his bowstring back, hands slow and open.
"Didn't know you were into her that much," he said, half-grinning. "Gotta say, I'm flattered. Most people just stab me from behind."
No answer.
Only the press of that sword against his neck.
Then—motion.
Fast.
Korr's bow snapped—twisting in his grip, reshaping with a hiss of sliding parts and quiet pulses of energy. In a blink, the long arc of his weapon flattened, curved, and unfolded into a sleek naginata, edge glowing faintly with pale-blue resonance.
He ducked.
Steel rang as his blade caught hers—deflecting with just enough force to stagger her half a step. He spun backward, distance claimed in a flash, landing clean with a lazy shrug.
"I knew you looked familiar," he said, naginata spinning once in his grip. "One-eyed swordswoman. Eyepatch. That storm-gray scowl."
Vale followed, steady.
Korr smirked.
"Vale of Fractured Dawn. Or should I say… former?"
That stopped her for a half-second.
Korr's head tilted.
"You used to run black ops for them, right? Then you ghosted. Rumors said you died.
Empire files said you never existed."
Vale's jaw tensed.
Korr watched her in silence, studying her weight, her stance. He wasn't mocking anymore.
"You were one of the good ones," he said, tone oddly quiet now. "What the hell happened to you?"
The rain fell harder between them.
Vale spoke low, each word like iron scraped across regret.
"Helion tore my squad apart.
Virex buried it under 'classified status.'
Dawn fractured from the inside out.
I burned the colors. All of them."
Korr blinked once.
No jokes. No grin.
Just stillness.
Then—he smiled again, bitter.
"Shit," he muttered. "Now I feel bad for trying to gut you."
Vale didn't smile back.
She just raised her blade.
"You're still going to try."
Korr spun the naginata once, then dropped into stance—balanced, sharp, like a viper uncoiling.
"Yeah," he said, voice light. "But I'll be nice about it."
Then they moved.
Together.
They met at the center of the rooftop like two storms colliding.
Steel rang.
Korr's naginata swept wide—fluid, arcing, meant to test her spacing.
Vale didn't flinch. She stepped in with a pivot, knocking the polearm aside with a tight parry and slicing low for his knee.
He jumped—barely—twisting midair and landing behind her with a smirk.
"Still fast," he muttered. "I like that."
Vale didn't answer.
She spun, her blade flashing upward like lightning—Korr barely blocked it with the reinforced haft of his weapon. Sparks kicked between them, then vanished in the rain.
Korr backpedaled, eyes narrowing.
"You really think you can stop this? The girl's marked. She's one of them."
Vale's blade hissed as it came up again—guard raised, breath steady.
"I don't care what she is," she said. "She's not yours."
Korr lunged—this time with real intent.
The naginata blurred, a flicker of precise strikes aimed at her side, her ribs, her wrists. One-two-three.
Vale met them all.
Her sword was a wall—calm, adaptive, and merciless. She blocked. Slid. Redirected.
Then she stepped in.
Too close for his polearm to matter.
Korr's eyes widened—
—and Vale elbowed him hard in the jaw.
He staggered back, blood on his lip.
"Okay," he breathed. "Not just fast. Rude."
He spun the naginata around, retracting it with a hiss, then re-extending it—shorter now, like a staff with twin edges. A close-combat mod.
"No more dancing," he said.
"Good," Vale replied. "I don't dance with killers."
Their weapons met again—this time with force.
Vale's strikes were surgical. Every swing cut air, whistling sharp. Every block from Korr was pure instinct. The rooftop groaned beneath them—boots scraping over wet stone, weapons clashing like war drums muffled by the rain.
Korr ducked under a thrust and drove the butt of his weapon toward her ribs—
Vale caught it mid-motion with her forearm, then headbutted him clean across the brow.
He cursed, spinning out, shaking stars from his eyes.
"You're seriously pissed," he muttered.
Vale advanced without a word.
Korr grinned through a bloody mouth.
"…I get it now. You see her. Ember. She reminds you of your squad, doesn't she?"
Vale paused for the first time.
Korr tilted his head.
"She's fire and guilt and fight.
Just like you.
That why you're protecting her?
Or are you just hoping she turns out better than you did?"
For a split second, Vale's grip faltered.
Korr saw it—and struck.
But she recovered faster.
Her blade met his halfway, deflecting clean. Then she pivoted, slamming the flat of her sword into his chest and shoving him back toward the ledge.
His boots skidded.
Vale pointed the blade at his heart.
Rain slid down the steel.
"Say her name again," she said coldly, "and I will end this."
Korr stood there, chest heaving, one hand tight on his staff-blade.
Then he smiled.
Not cocky.
Just tired.
"…You really were one of the good ones," he said.
And then he stepped back—off the ledge.
Vale moved fast—too fast—
But it was a controlled drop.
By the time she reached the ledge, Korr had vanished into the lower scaffolding. Gone.
She didn't chase.
Not yet.
She just looked back toward the fight below—the flare of gold and red fire in the distance.
Ember still stood.
And Vale's grip tightened.
Location: Lower Verge – Transit Fringe, Near the Abandoned Metro Line
Time: Ongoing
Kaen landed hard, boots carving into wet concrete, arms spread like a beast ready to tear something apart.
"Still standin'?" he said, chest rising, lip bloody. "You're better than I gave you credit for, Goldilocks."
Ember didn't answer. Her breath came fast, ragged. The torchblade trembled in her grip, flames stuttering like a storm caught between dying and becoming something more.
The Pyra Sigil glowed under her collarbone—brighter now. Hotter.
Kaen didn't wait.
He surged forward, gauntlets flaring.
Ember moved on instinct. Her blade met his strike—flame against steel, fury against mass.
She ducked under his swing, twisted, and slashed across his ribs. The scent of scorched cloth filled the air. He grunted—but didn't stop.
He never stopped.
Another hit. Ember blocked. Another. She parried, but the blow still sent her skidding across the ground.
Her vision blurred. Her arms ached.
He was too strong.
Too relentless.
She collapsed to a knee, panting. Rain hissed against her skin.
He's going to kill me.
Not quick.
Not clean.
But like all the others.
She thought of Renna.
Of Axel.
Of the bunker.
The blood. The screams. The fire—
No.
The flame inside her chest flared. The Pyra Sigil pulsed—once, twice—and then caught like a fuse finally lit.
The torchblade didn't just burn now.
It howled.
Flames snapped outward, spiraling around her in a cyclone of molten air.
Kaen hesitated.
"What the—"
Ember stood.
Slow. Straight.
And for the first time, she didn't feel the fire.
She was the fire.
The torchblade burned brighter than ever—its cracks glowing like veins in a living thing. Her hair danced in the heat. Her eyes… gold. Not just reflecting it. Becoming it.
Kaen's face shifted—something between awe and caution.
He charged anyway.
A punch aimed straight for her throat.
She caught it.
With her bare hand.
Kaen's eyes widened.
The gauntlet hissed against her palm—but didn't move.
Ember's voice came low, steady.
"I don't need to outrun you."
She twisted his wrist—fire lancing into the metal.
"I don't need to overpower you."
Her blade came up—angled just under his ribs.
"I just need to burn what's left of you away."
She drove it in.
Not deep—but enough.
Enough to hurt.
Kaen roared, stumbling back—but she didn't stop.
She followed him.
Strike.
Burn.
Strike.
Strike.
He swung wild—she slipped it, caught his arm, and flipped him over her shoulder. The pavement cracked beneath him.
Kaen gasped, the wind knocked out of him.
Then—
She stood over him.
The flame danced around her like wings made of judgment. Her silhouette was carved in fire, her body outlined in molten defiance.
"You wanted a monster," Ember said, voice like ash and thunder.
"You found one."
The torchblade rose.
Kaen looked up—no grin now.
Just silence.
And maybe, for the first time—
Fear.
Then—
BANG.
A pulse shot cracked the air—blue light slicing between them.
It didn't hit Ember.
Didn't have to.
It reminded her.
Of where she was.
What she was doing.
Who she was.
Her blade stopped—just shy of Kaen's throat.
He blinked.
Ember stared at her own hand.
Shaking.
But not from fear.
From control.
She'd stopped.
Not the flame.
Herself.