The fire from Andoy's battle still lingered in the air when the fellowship moved on. Ash clung to the neon ruins like snow. Behind them, the village smoldered, safe for the night yet scarred by the blaze.
They traveled through the fractured streets, silence stretched among them. Mateo walked at the center, his gaze on every corner, as though the ruins whispered truths only he could hear. Ramon kept to the front, sword resting across his back, body always tense for ambush. Liwayway's staff pulsed faintly, its glow washing against rusted walls. Andoy trailed near the rear, fists wrapped in smoke, his presence like a furnace even when dormant. Jun muttered complaints but kept pace, glancing nervously at the shadows.
It was in those shadows that another followed.
At first Mateo alone sensed him — a rhythm in the rubble, steps that faltered yet did not hide. He let it play out, knowing that those who followed often revealed themselves when the silence grew too heavy. And at dusk, when the group settled near a collapsed arcade, the shadow came forward.
He was younger than any of them expected. Seventeen, maybe less, lean but strong, fists wrapped in scorched bandages. His cropped hair was dusted with ash, his sharp features cut by lines of sleepless nights. But it was his eyes that caught them — burning faintly, as though caged fire lived behind them.
Ramon half-drew his blade. Liwayway lifted her staff. Jun muttered, "Great, another fire hazard."
The boy lifted his hands slowly. "I'm not here to fight." His voice cracked, rough from disuse. "My name is Nico."
Mateo studied him. "And why do you follow?"
Nico hesitated. His fists clenched, the bandages tightening. "Because I know what you are. Survivors. Carriers of things beyond this rot. I… I don't want to be alone anymore."
They allowed him by the fire. It burned low, sparks reflecting against steel beams above. Around them the ruins flickered with faint neon currents, old screens still bleeding half-dead advertisements into the night.
It was there Nico unwrapped his fists.
The skin beneath was raw, marked by burns that looked more like inscriptions than wounds. His knuckles glowed faintly, as though embers hid in his flesh. When he flexed, the air shimmered.
Jun leaned back. "Well, that's comforting."
Liwayway's eyes narrowed. "Divine flame. But carried in flesh, not tool."
Ramon's expression hardened. "Unstable."
Nico looked away, shame in his face. "I didn't choose this. It chose me."
Mateo's voice was calm. "Tell us, then."
And so the boy spoke.
"I prayed every night. My parents believed, and so did I. We had nothing else — no weapons, no relics, only faith. But when the monsters came, when the abyss opened in our district, my prayers meant nothing. My father was torn apart. My mother burned in the wreckage of our home. I screamed at heaven, begged for an answer. And that was when it came.
The fire.
My fists lit up like stars. I didn't know what I was doing. I struck, and everything around me broke — the monsters, the walls, even the sky seemed to split. My rage became strength, but it was too much. I couldn't stop. I didn't hear my brother calling me until it was too late. One swing, one burst — and he was gone."
The fire crackled. Silence pressed.
Nico's voice trembled now, though he tried to mask it. "Since then, I walk alone. Every time I use this power, I feel his blood on my hands. They called me cursed. Maybe they were right. But if I don't fight, the monsters take everything. If I do fight, I destroy what I swore to protect. I don't know which is worse."
His fists closed again, glowing faintly through the bandages.
Mateo's eyes softened, but he did not interrupt.
Jun was the first to break the silence, half-joking but not unkind. "So… you're a walking bomb. Great. Just what we needed."
Andoy, who had been silent until then, leaned forward. His own fists smoldered faintly. "I know what it is to burn too hot. My fire almost killed those I defend. Yours already did. But you're still breathing. That means you get another chance."
Nico looked at him sharply. "You don't know what it's like."
Andoy's laugh was bitter. "Don't I?" His hand rose, flames flickering. "Every villager I save fears me more than the monsters. I see it in their eyes. Rage and gift, curse and salvation. We are the same."
Ramon snorted. "Two flames in one group. Perfect. We'll be ashes before dawn."
Liwayway's voice cut in, steady. "Not if they learn to master themselves. Rage is raw, but rage can be refined. Even fire forges."
Mateo spoke last, his tone a quiet anchor. "Both curse and gift come from the same hand. It is not the power itself that damns, but how it is carried. Nico — you are not alone in this. Your brother's death cannot be undone. But his memory can still shape you, not consume you."
Nico lowered his head, his eyes burning but wet. "I want to believe that."
The night did not let them rest easy.
From the ruins came the shrieks of twisted beasts. Shadows moved, circuits sparking in their veins. They poured from alleys — biomech horrors with blades grafted to arms, jaws stretched by wires.
The fellowship rose, weapons ready. Ramon's blade thrummed. Liwayway's staff lit with dawnlight. Andoy's fists burned with raw heat.
And Nico — Nico trembled. His hands glowed brighter, bandages smoking. His breath quickened.
"Not again," he whispered. "Not again."
A beast lunged, and his fist shot forward. Fire exploded, divine and violent, hurling the monster into slag. Another rushed, and he struck, his blow ripping through steel and flesh alike. His eyes blazed now, his fists molten.
But the rage took him. His swings grew wider, careless, blasts scorching walls, the ground cracking. He nearly struck Jun, who dove aside with a curse.
"Nico!" Mateo's voice rang. "Enough!"
But the boy could not stop. His fists were no longer his own. Fire screamed through his body. Every punch tore the night apart.
Andoy moved. He caught Nico's wrist, their flames colliding, sparking wild. "You're not alone, kid!" he shouted. "Feel it — I burn too! But it doesn't own me unless I let it!"
Their fire raged against each other, then steadied. Nico's breath hitched, his fists dimming. The beasts lay in ruin around them, the street cracked, the air hot as a forge.
Nico collapsed to his knees, shaking. "I almost—"
Mateo placed a hand on his shoulder. "But you didn't. You stopped. That is the first victory."
When the battle was done, silence returned. The group stood among ruins lit by faint neon and cooling ash.
Ramon sheathed his blade reluctantly. Liwayway lowered her staff, her eyes lingering on Nico. Jun dusted himself off, muttering about crazy fire-kids.
Nico stared at his hands, still trembling. "You should leave me. I'm dangerous."
Mateo shook his head. "You are. So are we all. The question is not whether you are dangerous, but whether you are willing to fight with us, not against us."
Andoy crossed his arms, fire flickering faintly in his grin. "Two flames are better than one. Just try not to roast me."
For the first time, Nico almost smiled.
As they set off again, Mateo thought of the boy's words. Tragedy walked with them now, wrapped in scorched bandages. But so did redemption. Their fellowship was no longer just warriors and healers. It was becoming something more — a place for the broken to stand together.
And in the neon ruins, amid circuits and shadows, even tragedy could burn toward hope.