The Dawn's Pact is looser," Ren said finally. "Freer. Less politics."
"Also chaotic as hell. No structure. No real support network." Patrick shook his head. "You need stability, Ren. You need access to medical tech. The Archivists have both."
"They also have people who think I'm a liability."
"Then prove them wrong."
Ren laughed — bitter, short. "Easy for you to say."
Patrick sighed.
"You ever think about what they took from us?"
Ren frowned. "Who?"
"The Impact. The old world." Patrick gestured at the ruins below. "All those people who used to live here. They didn't have to evolve just to survive. They didn't have to choose between staying sick and staying safe. They just… were."
Ren looked down at the city.
"They're dead," he said softly.
"I know." Patrick chewed slowly. "But sometimes I wonder what it was like. Before everything broke."
The rain had stopped. The moon hung low and full.
"You're not going to choose the Archivists, are you?" Patrick asked.
Ren didn't answer.
"Fine. Be stubborn." Patrick stood, brushing off his pants. "But don't pretend it's about freedom. You're protecting them from you — and that's the dumbest reason I've ever heard."
"And you're not running?" Ren shot back. "Taking your fighter exam in City Three instead of here?"
Patrick froze.
For a moment, he looked like he'd deny it. Laugh it off.
Instead, his grin cracked.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm running too."
The words sat between them — heavy, honest.
"City Three's where the real fighters are," Patrick added, voice lighter now. "If I'm going to prove myself, might as well do it against the best."
"Might as well," Ren murmured.
Patrick lifted his console. "One more game before I go?"
They played for an hour — racing sims, combat arenas, childish brawlers. Reflexes, banter, familiarity. Patrick won most of them. Ren didn't care.
Eventually, Patrick stood at the edge of the rooftop, backpack slung over one shoulder.
"You're really going?" Ren asked.
"Yeah."
"Now?"
"Drive's in two hours. I'll barely make it." Patrick scratched his neck. "Rumors say beast tide movement near City Three. They're pulling all qualified fighters early."
He tried to sound casual. He didn't succeed.
"Surge level?" Ren asked.
"No clue. Could be minor. Could be…" Patrick shrugged. "Either way, they want bodies on the wall."
Ren wanted to tell him be careful. Come back. Don't die.
Instead: "You better not lose to some random nobody."
Patrick grinned — the kind that meant he was scared.
"Please. I'm going to wreck their rankings." He clapped Ren's shoulder. "And when I come back, you better have chosen something. No more hiding on rooftops."
"This isn't hiding."
"Sure it's not, Demon."
Then he vaulted off the roof, disappearing into the tower's skeleton.
Ren stayed.
He leaned against the railing, letting the cold air settle over him. It didn't bother him. Not as much as the ache in his chest — and he didn't know if that was his illness or something else.
Just resting his eyes for a minute.
One minute.
When Ren opened them again, the sky was lavender. Dawn. He'd been out for hours.
Beside him sat a small box.
He'd heard Patrick place it earlier — a faint thunk — but hadn't moved. Now, he opened it.
Inside was a compact pistol. Matte black. Palm-sized. Prototype-like.
But the note came first.
Yo Ren,
Beast tide confirmed near City Three.
They're pulling us early.
Didn't want to wake you. You looked peaceful.
Use this. Takes down someone four times stronger than a pre-Impact human.
Stays hidden from weak scanners. Just like how you hide.
Stop being scared, Demon.
Choose what you want.
— P
Ren exhaled.
Patrick knew him too well. Knew he'd stay behind. Knew they might not see each other for years — if Patrick survived the tide.
And still, he left Ren protection.
Ren lifted the pistol, weighing it. Checking the chamber, the safety, the modifications Patrick had clearly spent months assembling.
Sunrise washed the ruins in gold.
Somewhere far away, his best friend was marching toward a war.
Ren slipped the weapon into his jacket.
He had exams to prepare for.
Decisions to make.
A life to figure out.
But first, he needed to climb down this tower.
One step at a time.
The way he always did.