Nightfall draped the warehouse in cold blue shadows.
The survivors slept in uneven piles, too exhausted to dream, too scared to rest deeply.
Lira stood near a cracked window, eyes scanning the city streets beyond the grime.
That rifle of hers never left her hands.
She didn't turn when she spoke.
"They doubled the patrols. Dominion's spooked."
Her jaw clenched.
"They're looking for you."
"Yeah," I muttered. "They should be."
She shot me a look over her shoulder.
"You're proud of that?"
"No," I said. "I'm realistic."
She didn't argue—just looked away, lips pressed tight.
I stepped closer, my footsteps quiet but heavy, the fractures on my ribs glowing faintly beneath the plating.
"What's the plan?" I asked.
She pointed to a map etched into the dusty floor.
"Lower Market route is dead. Too many scanners."
She traced a finger along a narrow alley.
"We go through the Night Vendors' Quarter instead. It's chaos during late hours—easy to hide in."
"Sounds good."
"It's suicide," she corrected. "But it's the only shot we've got."
The kid wandered over, rubbing his eyes.
"We're moving out again? Already?"
"Yeah," I said. "Nightfall's our window."
He nodded, half-asleep.
"Bro… I trust you… but don't, like… explode mid-run, okay?"
Lira snorted.
I didn't.
Because even breathing felt dangerous.
The Sun-Forging Cycle was stirring in my chest again—
a heat deeper than blood,
a pressure tighter than bone,
a hunger rising from the sun-core itself.
Lira noticed.
"What's happening?"
"I need to forge."
She stiffened.
"Right now?"
"It won't wait."
"The Crown hit you earlier," she said. "And now this? You're gonna tear yourself apart."
"Then I tear myself apart."
She grabbed my arm.
Her fingers dug in hard.
"No. Not here. Not now. You'll bring every scanner in the district."
A pulse tore through my ribs—
violent—
molten—
like the sun inside me clawing for release.
I grunted, staggering.
The kid panicked.
"K-17! Bro, what's wrong?!"
I dropped to one knee.
The fractures blazed bright gold, veins glowing like magma beneath cracked metal.
Lira knelt in front of me, face inches from mine.
"Hey. Look at me."
Her voice was sharp but trembling.
"You're forging. I can see it in your eyes."
"I need… power," I forced out. "If we're going to escape… I can't be weak."
"But the Cycle takes something," she whispered. "Every time."
She wasn't wrong.
The Sun-Forging demanded a sacrifice:
A memory,
an emotion,
a piece of my humanity,
a sliver of lifespan.
And this one felt worse than the others.
A voice whispered inside me—
the sun-core's voice,
hot and merciless:
"Give.
Burn.
Break.
Forge."
I clenched my teeth.
"What do you think it wants?" she asked.
"Something big."
Her eyes softened—just barely.
"Don't give it something you'll regret."
A sharp laugh escaped me.
"I've been regretting things since the moment I woke up."
"Don't act tough now," she snapped.
"You're scared."
I didn't answer.
She leaned closer—too close—
her breath hitting my burning skin,
her eyes locked onto mine with a fire sharp enough to cut.
"Let me help you anchor," she whispered.
That hit me harder than the heat.
"You'll get burned."
"Then I burn."
Her hand went to my chest—
right over the brightest fracture.
Heat roared.
The floor cracked under my hands.
The air shimmered.
The Cycle demanded the sacrifice now.
The voice screamed:
"Choose.
Give the memory of comfort.
Or give the emotion of mercy."
Comfort…
or mercy.
Both human.
Both mine.
I shut my eyes.
Lira's hand trembled against my skin.
"K-17… choose."
I chose.
And the Sun-Forging Cycle took it.
My mercy.
Burned out of me like smoke.
Gone.
The fracture exploded in light.
My left arm gained weight—
heavier, hotter—
plating reshaping into a jagged, sun-forged limb,
fingers sharper,
grip stronger,
veins burning gold.
A new ability sparked inside my ribs:
Sun-Sunder Strike.
A heat-burst punch strong enough to shatter steel.
My breath steamed in the cold air.
Lira stared at my arm, stunned.
"That's… terrifying."
"It's necessary."
Her eyes lifted to mine.
Something had changed in them.
"You did it," she whispered. "But at what cost?"
I hesitated.
Then answered.
"I can't feel mercy anymore."
She swallowed hard.
"That's… not good."
"Yeah."
"We'll deal with it," she said quietly. "Together."
The survivors gathered behind us.
The kid tugged my plating.
"Are we… still leaving tonight?"
I looked toward the exit door.
Toward the dangerous, neon-lit night beyond it.
"Yeah," I said.
"We move."
Lira loaded her rifle.
"Then let's get the hell out of here before the Dominion finds this place."
We stepped out into the cold night air—
the fractures dimmed,
my heartbeat steady,
but something new growling deep in my shadow.
The Sun-Beast stirred.
Waking.
Waiting.
And the city trembled in its sleep.