Dust rose in slow spirals, carrying the metallic scent of rust and the acrid odor of the chemicals that once flowed through here. The pale cloud, born from the duct's partial destruction, blurred the gray light that barely managed to pierce the depths of the fissure. In the center of the clearing of twisted metal, the silence was heavy, broken only by the distant drip of some leak and the whisper of the wind rising from the abyss.
Tom's gaze was colder than that wind. Fixed, implacable, like shards from the abyss's own ice, it bored into the man cowering before her. The faint, bluish glow emanating from her irises seemed to suck the warmth from the air, promising a contained violence far more terrifying than any scream.
"Surrender. Now." Her voice was a command devoid of emotion, a final sentence. She walked slowly, each step echoing with a dreadful purpose. The triple-staff, now back in its original form, spun with a deadly fluidity in her hands.
The arrogance the man wore like armor crumbled to dust. Before this small figure, who exuded an overwhelming pressure, he saw not a boy, but a predator. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead. With a strangled whimper, he fell to his knees, hands raised in the universal gesture of supplication. "Don't… Please… I surrender!"
Tom stopped, the glow in her eyes fading, but not the contempt in her expression. With swift, efficient movements, she cuffed the man's wrists with a pair of metal restraints she produced from an inner pocket.
"So," she said, her voice still sharp, "what were you doing here?"
The man, now restrained, seemed to recover a spark of his audacity. He spat to the side and glared at her with disdain. "I'm not saying anything without my lawyer!"
"Oh, really?" Tom murmured, a contained anger making her fingers tighten around the metal rods. The triple-staff, held with one end in each hand and the central shaft arched behind her back, vibrated subtly. She aimed the right end at the man's face. "Want to share your partner's fate?"
A grunt of pure fear escaped the prisoner's throat. It was then that the sound of clumsy footsteps and labored breathing broke the tension. Kael appeared at the edge of the slope, making his way down the makeshift staircase with the grace of a sack of potatoes. He stopped, leaning on his knees, his face pale and covered in sweat, looking as if he was about to cough up a lung.
"You… didn't… have to… be… so rough… Herald…" he gasped, fighting the urge to vomit.
Tom glanced at him sideways, impatience written plainly on her face. "If you weren't so incompetent, this wouldn't have been necessary."
The accusation seemed to wound Kael more than any physical blow. He straightened up, his eyes welling with an almost childish frustration. "That's just mean, Herald!"
Tom ignored the lament and turned her icy attention back to the prisoner. "Alright… so tell me—"
Her words were cut off. A sharp instinct screamed in her mind. She leaped backward, the movement so fast it was a blur. In the exact spot where she had been standing, shards of the duct itself, sharp as razors, tore through the air like a swarm of metallic hornets, embedding themselves in the ground with a dull thud.
"You bastard!" she yelled.
In the same instant, Tom released the staff from her left hand, preparing to throw it, but the man who was supposed to be cuffed was faster. He dove and snatched the silver rod out of the air. The previous attack had been nothing but a distraction. Tom's eyes widened as she saw the needle-thin blades, made of the same shattered metal, dance through the air with deadly precision, realizing they had sliced through the prisoner's cuffs.
"It's over, Herald!" the first man shouted, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. A black, oily liquid began to crawl up his free arm, running down his skin before solidifying into a grotesque, sharp spear extending from his forearm, ready to strike her down.
Her mind processed the scene. The second man, the one she had knocked out, was now on his feet, staggering, blood running down his forehead but his arms raised, his fingers trembling as he flung the metal fragments at her.
Cornered, she let go of the staves and jumped toward Kael, dodging the attacks that targeted her, leaving her weapon in the enemy's hands.
The other man, the metal-wielder, staggered over to his partner, calling the shards to orbit around them like a deadly halo, all aimed at Tom and Kael.
"And now, Herald?" Kael's voice was suddenly firm, without a trace of weakness. The atmosphere shifted. Kael's slumped posture straightened. The tired look in his eyes was replaced by a spark of determination as he drew a short, simple wand from his belt.
"You really pull yourself together when it counts, huh…" Tom commented, a hint of surprise in her voice.
Kael just answered with a focused grunt. "Pay attention, Herald!"
The two men laughed, the sound echoing in the silent duct. "What are you going to do without your little toy now?" the one with the spear mocked. To prove his point, he held Tom's staff with one hand and, with the other, struck it with the tip of his shadowy weapon.
The impact produced a dull thud, like metal striking diamond. The black spear shuddered, but the silver staff remained untouched, without a single scratch.
"You won't destroy it that easily," Tom said. A thin smile appeared on her lips. She held her hand open in their direction. "It's a bit… attached."
Like loyal hounds responding to their master's call, the staves vibrated violently and shot through the air, returning to her hands with stunning speed.
Tom raised her arm, catching one of the rods by its end. The instant her hand swept down in a smooth arc, the weapon's other end floated with an intelligence of its own, nesting perfectly in her left hand. Holding it that way, with the central shaft connecting the two, felt like the metal's natural state, an extension of her own will.
A taunting, dangerous smile danced on her lips. "Surrender."
Fury exploded on the metal-wielder's face. "DON'T FUCK WITH ME!" he bellowed, and with a savage gesture, he flung every fragment of metal orbiting him. The air hissed with the swarm of deadly projectiles that flew toward Tom and Kael.
Still wearing that mocking smile, Tom took a single, slow step back, as if the attack were a mere inconvenience. In contrast, Kael moved forward, his body low, the arm holding the wand cutting through the air in a precise, elegant arc. "Deflectio!" he cried. A translucent wall of compressed air rose from nothing, and the metal shards slammed against it with a cacophony of dull thuds, deforming before falling inert to the ground.
Without wasting a single moment, Tom used the distraction to leap. She launched herself into the air with a force that defied her size, drawing the shocked attention of both opponents. In the air, holding a single rod with both hands, the weapon reconfigured. The second rod transformed into a chain of liquid silver that circled her in an ascending spiral, while its tip unfolded into a sphere studded with spikes: a lethal morning star.
Mid-air, Tom spun her body, using the motion to build momentum in the orbiting chain. The rotation transferred an absurd centrifugal force to the weapon, which she then hurled at the man with the shadow spear. The speed was so surreal he didn't even have time to think about dodging. The impact came. Instinctively, he crossed his arms to protect himself. The morning star hit him with the force of a battering ram, and the metal floor beneath his feet cracked and buckled from the sheer violence of the blow.
As Tom landed back on the ground, the manipulator, recovered from the shock, raised the shards again and launched them at her. But the projectiles stopped in mid-air, striking an invisible barrier. By the time he realized who was responsible, it was too late. Kael was in front of him, the tip of his wand pressed against his forehead. "Phantasma!" With the incantation, the manipulator's eyes lost their focus. He began to stagger backward, babbling fragments of conversations with ghosts only he could see.
The spearman, throwing the morning star aside, screamed in frustration. "Do I have to do everything myself?!" He charged toward Kael, who, seeing the approach, was already raising his wand. But Tom's metal whip whizzed between them. The man looked back. The morning star was gone. Tom, holding the chain, was running in his direction.
She pulled the chain from the right; the staff at its end came back like a boomerang, forcing the man to jump to avoid it. With her left hand, Tom lowered the chain, throwing it behind her body and stepping on it with her heel. The man saw the play: the right staff was returning to her from below, while the left one, which had reverted to its rod form, was coming in an arc from above. He always has to keep one of the ends with him for this ridiculous weapon to work, he thought. So…
"YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING UP CLOSE!" he yelled, lunging at Tom.
He dodged the left staff that came from above and launched a piercing strike with his spear-arm. Tom was forced to jump back, violently pulling both chains toward her. The man unleashed a sequence of thrusts, forcing Tom into a desperate dance of evasions.
It was then that Kael's voice echoed. He touched his wand to the floor, raised it, and shouted: "Terrae Motus!" The metal floor groaned and rose like a solid wave, a tsunami of steel that rushed toward the man. Tom and her adversary leaped to opposite sides to avoid being swallowed. But the spearman didn't lose his rhythm. The black liquid flowed down his legs, molding into springs of pure shadow energy.
"Are you serious?!" Tom complained, seeing him leap in her direction with superhuman speed.
The rods finally returned to her hands, but he was already on her. The attack came, a direct thrust at her heart. It was stopped with a sharp clang, the spear-arm blocked by the two staves, one in each of her hands.
The man laughed, his face inches from hers. "Up close, you can't fight, brat!"
Irritation flashed in Tom's eyes. "Wanna bet?!"
The two ends of her staff molded themselves. The silver metal flowed like mercury, sharpening into short, cruel blades that caught the duct's gray light. The dance of sparks and steel began, a frantic and dissonant duel fought without a single real sword. The air filled with the sharp clang of steel against the shadow spear, each impact an explosion of orange sparks.
But the man was right. Tom didn't have the raw strength for a direct confrontation. With every blow they exchanged, his were heavier, faster, more visceral. The tables turned. The offensive became a desperate defense. Now it was he who attacked, a storm of piercing and slashing strikes, and Tom could only defend, the shock of each block sending a wave of paralyzing pain through her arms. Feeling exhaustion sap her resistance, the overwhelming pressure about to break her guard, she yelled, her voice strained with effort:
"Are you done yet?!"
The man seemed to realize too late that he had fallen into a trap. Kael, who until then had seemed a mere spectator, held his wand pointed at the dark ceiling, finishing his chant. The air around him crackled, blue sparks dancing on his fingers. His eyes glowed with the raw power of a storm. "Fulgur!" he shouted, bringing the wand down like a judge delivering a sentence.
Lightning leaped forth, not as a magical imitation, but as the pure, untamed fury of the heavens, enveloping the man in a cage of crackling electricity. His muscles contracted violently, a scream of agony torn from his lungs. Tom jumped back, out of range, watching him being fried alive. But his determination was unshakeable, forged in desperation. Before collapsing, in a final act of defiance, he roared in anger and "threw" nothing. His spear detached from his arm and shot through the air—not toward Kael, who dodged instinctively, but toward his still-dazed partner.
The black blade pierced the metal-wielder's shoulder. He fell forward with a cry, and it was then that Tom understood, a shiver of dread running down her spine. He can't control big pieces, she thought. But now… the floor is all shattered.
Before his body even hit the ground, the manipulator turned to them, his eyes filled with tears of pain and a fanatic, brotherly love. "I'LL SAVE YOU, BROTHER!!"
The fragments of the floor—now small enough for his will—rose up. Not as projectiles, but as a swarm, a storm of shrapnel that flew like torpedoes. They hit Tom and Kael like a machine gun, the deafening sound of metal tearing flesh and ricocheting off hastily erected energy barriers. A cloud of dust and debris exploded, swallowing the scene, and then, a heavy silence followed.
The spearman ran to his brother, who was on his knees, his arm bleeding profusely.
"Brother, are you okay? Sorry about the arm!"
"It's alright, brother… This is nothing!" They looked at each other, a victorious and exhausted smile on their faces. "Let's get out of here!"
The fraternal moment didn't last. The dust was blown to the back of the duct by a sudden gust of wind. From behind a makeshift barricade of twisted metal, Kael emerged, his body marked by multiple cuts, blood running from his forehead and staining his face. His gaze was pure steel. "Wasn't that enough?!"
"He's one of the Captains, of course he wouldn't go down that easy!"
"Damn you!!!"
Kael glanced discreetly over his shoulder. I hope the Herald is okay, I couldn't protect him…
"But now it's two against one! I doubt that kid made it out of that alive!"
The taunt hit Kael like a fist. His teeth clenched, the hand holding the wand trembling with rage. However, back in the heart of the now-thickening dust cloud, a blue light shone, intense and cold as the void. The three men turned, hypnotized. Where Tom had been, ethereal runes materialized in the air, humming with an ancient power and forming a crescent moon that orbited her body. Her eyes glowed with a light-blue, almost lifeless sheen.
Unblinking, Kael whispered, his voice filled with a reverent fear. "Lunar… Magic…"
The two brothers screamed, a mixture of fury and primal panic. "DON'T FUCK WITH US!!!!!!"
Tom just leaped. The motion was the same as before: holding one of the rods with both hands, the chain circling her in spirals. This time, however, the other end didn't transform into a morning star. The metal flowed and expanded, forming the disproportionate blade of a gigantic half-moon axe, its edge glowing with the promise of oblivion. She spun in the air, and then, the weapon was thrown.
The spear-brother pushed his partner aside, knocking him out of the direct impact. Upon hitting the floor, the axe exploded. A bluish light, clear and lifeless, emanated in all directions, a wave of annihilating energy, a tsunami of frigid light that didn't burn, but extinguished.
Dust rose. Coming from the destroyed part of the duct where they stood. Tom's cold, freezing gaze fell upon the man, who was crawling toward his unconscious brother.
"It's over…" She walked slowly, each step a nail in her opponent's coffin. "You've already lost…"
The man then turned, collapsing over his brother's back, terror stamped on his face as he pleaded for his life.
As Tom approached, staff raised, ready to knock out the final adversary…
"WATCH OUT!"
Kael's desperate shout ripped through the air. Tom turned instinctively toward the sound of something slicing through the air.
And then the world was swallowed by a blinding white light.