Even Ikemba and Oboro stared in disbelief at the scene unfolding below them.
Oboro pressed against Ikemba's back on the Griffin's saddle, their bodies swaying with the steep descent as the artificial wind sliced across their faces. Below them, Mortivore's brutal rampage continued unabated. Suddenly, the monitor before them flickered, pulsing with an unfamiliar energy signature that made Ikemba's breath catch in his throat. The revelation struck them simultaneously—another Brace had appeared.
"A second Brace?" they exclaimed in unison, their voices carrying notes of both alarm and fascination.
"Interesting..." Ikemba murmured, a contemplative half-smile tugging at one corner of his mouth as his analytical mind began processing the implications. "Very interesting indeed..."
Amid the bombardment-shattered remains of the academy below, Chidi stood transfixed. His eyes, wide with a mixture of adrenaline and disbelief, locked onto the newly manifested Second Brace clinging to Lù-Qímiào's left hand. The metallic sheen of the device caught the light of nearby fires, casting an otherworldly glow across her determined features.
"You? You have a second Brace?" Chidi's voice cracked, betraying the emotional weight of this revelation. His fingers twitched involuntarily at his side, struggling to process what this meant for their already desperate situation.
Lù-Qímiào remained silent for a moment. Her gaze, remarkably serene amidst the surrounding chaos, remained fixed on Mortivore. The war machine's targeting systems adjusted with cold, mechanical precision, recalibrating to mark both Braces as primary objectives for elimination.
"What!? You had this all along? Why didn't you tell me?" Chidi pressed, breath uneven.
She finally turned, her lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. "I was waiting for the right time," she murmured. "Bad timing, I know. But right now… feels like the right time."
Her fingers met his, their touch igniting an immediate connection. His Brace pulsed with energy, and hers vibrated in response, acknowledging its counterpart.
Between them arose a note—low, harmonic, ancient—resonating through the air like a forgotten melody. This wasn't merely metal and nanotech communicating; this represented something older, something genuinely alive. The Braces seemed to recognize each other from a distant past, like old souls reuniting after centuries apart.
Meanwhile, Mortivore lunged forward with terrifying speed, its movements fluid yet unnatural, like a revenant resurrected solely for the purpose of exacting vengeance. Its eyes gleamed with malevolent intelligence, focused entirely on the pair before it.
Chidi felt the Brace on his wrist tremble against his skin. The sensation wasn't born of fear but rather of rhythm—a deliberate synchronization with Lù-Qímiào's device.
Her presence beside him radiated calm determination despite the danger. The two Braces appeared to be weaving a single protective field together, their energies merging into something greater than either could create alone.
His primal instincts screamed at him to flee from the approaching threat, to save himself while he still could. Yet with Lù-Qímiào standing steadfast beside him, her jaw set with resolve, something else surged within his chest—a newfound sense of purpose that overshadowed his fear.
"What now?" he asked. Determined.
She tilted her head toward the rubble where the old war crypts tunneled beneath the Academy.
"There," she said, pointing with her head, while keeping a sharp eye on the Robo-Dog. "Looks like a bunker. We disappear under the belly of the beast."
They moved swiftly, their Braces pulsing with synchronized light. Behind them, Mortivore's final assault roared to life—a nuclear-grade phaser burst cutting through the air like a vengeful specter, hungry for their flesh.
Chidi dared a backward glance, his heart hammering against his ribs. The once citadeled Academy now crumbled into billowing smithereens, smoke and ravenous flame. Its majestic walls disintegrated like fragile parchment caught in a merciless tempest. Years of history, battle knowledge, and memories reduced to rubble in mere moments.
He felt a lump form in his throat as vaporized structures started collapsing from all angles, rapidly gaining on them. Would they escape? Would anyone survive this devastation?
Then—just as he and Lù-Qímiào were this close to being liquified—time seemed to stall, the world around them slowing to an excruciating crawl.
The blast from Mortivore should have vaporized them. Would have—if not for Lù-Qímiào's Brace.
It impossibly unfolded an energy field before them—not as a solid shield, but a shimmering lattice of ethereal light: hexagons nested within hexagons, intricate spirals of geometry predating human language, ever-shifting gates that absorbed the oncoming energy.
The blast collapsed harmlessly against this ancient barrier, dissipating like a powerful wave breaking against an immovable reef.
Time seemed to slow as the patterns pulsed with an intelligence beyond comprehension, casting prismatic shadows across their awestruck faces.
They felt both terror and wonder as the impossible structure hummed with power, its vibrations resonating deep within their bones—a reminder that some forces in the universe remained beyond mortal understanding.
Lù-Qímiào gasped, her eyes widening in astonishment. "I didn't know it could do that," she whispered.
"Neither did I," Chidi replied, equally stunned. He ran a trembling hand through his disheveled hair, checking if he had been charred. No skin-burns.
The rubble ahead fractured with a thunderous crack, revealing a narrow fissure in the ground. Chidi and Lù-Qímiào exchanged a knowing glance, their hearts hammering in unison, before sprinting toward the opening. Without hesitation, they leapt into the darkness below the Academy, their bodies tense with both fear and determination.
Seconds later, the weakened structure gave way completely, tons of debris cascading into the void with a deafening roar. Dust billowed upward like ghostly fingers reaching for the sky. But the pair had already found refuge within the reinforced bunker beneath, its ancient walls bearing the tremendous weight above.
Lù-Qímiào and Chidi silently acknowledged their narrow escape as the bunker groaned under the pressure but held firm.
Mortivore howled into the swirling dust, its metallic cry echoing through the chaotic ruins. It had failed—or rather, not yet succeeded. Rage, or the closest algorithmic approximation to it, surged through its circuits. Its scanners swept methodically across the underground complex, advanced algorithms recalculating probabilities and mapping potential escape routes.
The machine paused, adjusting its sensors to filter out background interference. A cold determination, programmed into its very core, drove it forward. The preys had proven more resourceful than anticipated, but that merely made the hunt more intriguing. It would find them again. It always did.
The Griffin wheeled above the ruins of the once-proud Academy of Bullet Bending. Below, broken bodies lay scattered among shattered glass and the ghosts of lessons past. Survivors scattered—some dragging the wounded, some digging with bare hands for anyone still breathing.
Through the smoke, Mortivore emerged—slow, deliberate. It glided forward with the confidence of an apex predator, secure in the knowledge that nothing would dare stand in its path. The Academy, with its ancient walls and centuries of knowledge, wasn't its true target but merely collateral damage in a grander scheme—insignificant rubble beneath its mechanical feet.
With a sinister mechanical whirl that sent chills down the spines of those who witnessed it, its metallic body began to transform. Gleaming panels slid across one another with precision, razor-edged wings unfolded and locked into place with thunderous clicks.
The machine's posture changed, its frame lowering into a crouch like a jungle cat tensing before the fatal pounce. For a breathless moment, it seemed to gather its strength, sensors glowing with malevolent purpose.
Then it launched skyward with devastating force, leaving a crater in the ground as it rocketed toward its waiting commander—Ikemba, whose impassive face betrayed nothing of the destruction he had orchestrated.
Far below the chaos, Chidi and Lù-Qímiào crouched inside a survival bunker—bomb-proof, fireproof, earthquake-proof. The dim flicker of an emergency light stretched their shadows long across the walls. Their Braces glowed just enough to illuminate the bunker, casting twin beams that cut through the dark.
Above them, silence had settled—a silence soaked in ash and loss.
Lù-Qímiào's left shoulder still bled faintly, the stain drying on her torn clothing.
"How's the arm?" Chidi finally asked.
"A little numb," she replied, her voice steady. "But I heal fast."
"You'll still need proper treatment," he said.
"Later," she countered. "For now, we wait. The firestorm above will burn out by morning. This bunker will hold."
The quiet stretched—heavy and dreamlike.
"So… where did you learn to fight like that?" Chidi asked.
Lù-Qímiào smiled, as though expecting the question. "Japan."
"I thought you were Chinese."
"My mother was Japanese," she corrected.
"Was?"
"She died giving birth to me," Lù-Qímiào said softly. "My father stayed in Japan, honoring her memory. In many ways, he became more Japanese than Chinese."
"I'm sorry."
"It's been sixteen years," she said with a small shrug.
A pause, then Chidi said, "So, since we're going to be in here for a while, we might as well stay busy with our stories. Whose comes first: yours or mine?"
"A gentleman should lead," she teased.
"And what happened to 'ladies first'?" he threw back.
"Oh well," she grinned. "I'll start then."
She shifted in the dim light, her Brace casting faint, dancing shadows across her face.
"I was born under a red eclipse," she began. "They said the sky bled when I first cried."
Chidi listened with rapt attention.
She raised her left hand—there, under the glow, a faded spiral wrapped in crescents and stars. "It was etched into my skin from birth. Some called it an omen. Others, a blessing," she murmured, tracing the pattern with her fingertip. "My father called it the Ancient Sigil of the Shinobi."
"Shinobi? Like ninja?" Chidi asked, leaning forward with undisguised curiosity.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, a flash of ancestral pride crossing her face. "Older. Deeper. The Shinobi were not mere assassins—they were guardians of hidden power, keepers of relics lost to time. My bloodline was one of the last," she declared, her voice carrying the weight of generations. "We remember. We protect. We endure."
Her voice softened as she continued, gaze drifting to some distant memory. "My father raised me in isolation. Every step was ritual, every motion, meditation. I learned to hear a leaf fall in the dark. To climb walls with bare hands. To kill with a thread and heal with a whisper."
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "By ten, I sparred with masters. By twelve, I defeated their masters."
"Whoa! What?" Chidi gasped in astonishment. "That's freaking awesome!"
"Story of my life," she said simply, shoulders straightening. "Lost all my childhood while living it. No toys. No dolls. No coaster rides. No birthday party."
Chidi felt sad.
"Don't be," she said. "That was the path I chose. No regrets."
Then her expression darkened, shadows gathering in her eyes. "When I was fourteen, they came for the Brace. They thought it was on me. They didn't know it was in me. My father died protecting me—his blood still haunts my dreams. I fled, hiding for two years, chased by shadows that never seemed to tire."
She leaned back, eyes fixed on the low ceiling as if seeing beyond it to distant stars. "And then... I found the prophecy."
Chidi's attention sharpened, his breath catching.
"In an ancient Mongolian temple," she said, fingers unconsciously tracing the sigil on her skin again, "painted across the walls was the story of the Armor of God—eight relics from the Old Cosmos. The First and Final Force. One of them..." she paused, meeting Chidi's gaze, "was a Brace."
Chidi's eyes widened, a spark of recognition igniting within them. "Eight artifacts? Armors of the God-King Anu?" His voice trembled with excitement.
She nodded, a solemn certainty in her movement. "And my path led me to you," she said, reaching toward him without quite touching. "Your Brace isn't just a weapon—it's a compass. And it pointed straight here."