The alleyway stank of burning rubber and something worse—the acrid tang of melted wiring, like the guts of a dying machine.
Jessa's boots skidded on broken glass as she hauled Tink onto her back, his arms limp around her neck.
His breath was hot and ragged against her ear, his ribs shuddering against her spine with every step.
"J-Jessa—" he wheezed, fingers clutching at her shirt.
"Shut up," she snapped, not because she meant it, but because if she let herself think about how light he felt—how wrong that lightness was—she'd stop moving.
And stopping meant death.
Behind them, the world screamed.
Another explosion tore through the sector, close enough that the shockwave punched the air from Jessa's lungs.
The ground buckled underfoot, pavement cracking like ice under a boot.
She stumbled, knees slamming into concrete, Tink's weight nearly sending them both sprawling.
A neon sign—"Zhang's Spell Salvage"—swayed overhead, its fractured glass teeth trembling before raining down in jagged shards.
Jessa twisted, shielding Tink with her body.
A sliver of glass bit into her forearm, warm blood trickling down to her wrist.
She didn't curse.
Didn't even hiss.
Pain was just another voice in the Junkyard's choir, and she'd learned young how to drown it out.
Tink's fingers dug into her shoulders. "K-Karen said—"
"I know what she said." Run. Don't stop. Don't look back.
But Karen hadn't told them where to run.
Just away.
Jessa forced herself up, ignoring the way her legs trembled.
The alley ahead was a throat of smoke and flickering shadows, lit only by the distant glow of Sector 23 burning.
Somewhere beyond it, the arterial road waited—or what was left of it. If they could reach the coolant tunnels, maybe they could—
A sound cut through the chaos.
Not another explosion.
Not gunfire.
Footsteps.
Heavy strides that made the loose rubble tremble with each step
Jessa's blood turned to ice.
She knew something was wrong.
She'd stop only to look for the direction where it was coming from.
But her fear wasn't unfounded since the footstep are going towards their direction.
Her hand flew to the knife at her belt—the knife that was mostly used to defend herself.
The metal was warm under her fingers, its edge dull from too many sharpenings.
Not enough.
Never enough.
Tink whimpered against her back. "Jessa—"
"Quiet." She didn't recognize her own voice.
The footsteps came closer now.
And then—
A shadow peeled itself from the shadows.
The footsteps stopped.
Jessa's knife was in her hand before she'd fully turned, the blade a dull gleam in the firelight.
The smoke curled away like a living thing, revealing the figure standing ten paces ahead.
A man.
Tall, but lean—like wire pulled too tight.
His jacket was studded with charred patches, the leather cracked like dry riverbeds.
Neon light cut across his face in jagged stripes, painting a grin that showed too many teeth.
And on his left hand—
Jessa's breath hitched.
A tattoo.
Not the crude ink of gang markings, but something wrong.
The flame design seemed to pulse, the embers in its depths glowing faintly as he flexed his fingers.
"Nice night for a stroll," the man said.
His voice was a match dragged over stone—rough, with a spark underneath. "Shame about the noise."
Behind him, another explosion rocked the sector, sending a billboard crashing into the street.
He didn't flinch.
Tink's fingers dug into Jessa's shoulders. "J-Jessa—"
She didn't answer.
Her eyes stayed locked on the man's hands.
Empty.
But then—
A flicker.
A spark.
Jessa's eyes snapped to the man's hand as something sparked to life—not in his palm, but above it.
A small, polished device gleamed between his fingers, its surface etched with grooves that pulsed faintly blue.
A Conduit.
Not like the cracked, scavenged ones she'd seen in the Junkyard.
This one was sleek.
The spark twisted, then bloomed.
Fire erupted from the device, not in a wild burst, but in a thin, controlled ribbon.
It shivered in the air like a living thing, weaving itself into the shape of a blade.
Above it, the glyph forming wasn't the rough, jagged scrawl of back-alley casting.
This was something else.
The glyph unfolded—layer after layer of intricate runes spinning into place like the petals of some deadly flower.
The light wasn't just orange, but streaked with blues and whites, the edges so sharp they hurt to look at.
It reminded Jessa of the fireworks they'd sometimes set off in the Spire districts, the kind that painted the sky in perfect, geometric patterns.
But this wasn't celebration.
This was a knife made of pure heat, hovering in the air between them.
Tink whimpered against her back, his fingers tightening in her shirt. "J-Jessa—"
The man tilted his head, watching the fire-blade rotate slowly.
"Neat trick, huh?" His voice was casual, like he was commenting on the weather. "Took me months to get the sequence right. Almost burned my eyebrows off."
He grinned, and in the flickering light, Jessa could see the scars tracing up his arms—old burns, long since healed.
The blade pulsed brighter.
"Now," he said, still smiling. "Let's talk about where your friend Lucent is hiding."
The fire-blade pulsed between them, casting jagged shadows across Ash's scarred face.
His grin didn't waver as Jessa's voice cut through the smoke-choked alley.
"Fuck off, old man."
The words tasted like rust and blood in her mouth.
Behind her, Tink whimpered, his fingers twisting in the fabric of her shirt.
She could feel his breath coming in short, panicked bursts against her neck.
Ash's eyebrows lifted.
For a long moment, the only sound was the distant roar of flames and the crackle of his conjured weapon.
Then—
Laughter.
It started as a chuckle, low and rough, before bubbling up into something louder, wilder.
Ash threw his head back, the firelight catching the silver streaks in his dark hair as his shoulders shook with mirth.
"I like you, kid," he managed, wiping at one eye with his free hand.
The fire-blade never wavered. "That bravado of yours... hell, it's been years since someone told me to fuck off to my face."
His amusement faded as quickly as it came, replaced by something colder.
The smile remained, but his eyes turned flat and dead as old coals.
"But—" He tilted the Conduit slightly, and the fire-blade drifted closer, close enough that Jessa could feel the heat blistering her cheeks.
"That kind of attitude has its time and place." Another step forward.
The stench of burning garbage and something sweeter—accelerant, maybe—clung to him.
"And this?" He gestured at the burning sector around them with his free hand. "This ain't it."
Tink made a small, broken noise against her back.
Jessa tightened her grip on the knife, her mind racing.
The blade was useless against fire, but maybe—
Ash exhaled through his nose, the fire-blade wavering slightly as he rolled his shoulders.
The movement made the old burns on his neck stretch like cracked leather.
"Last chance," he said, tilting the Conduit so the flames licked closer to Jessa's face. "Where's Lucent?"
Tink's fingers dug into Jessa's shoulders. "W-we don't know!" he blurted out, voice cracking.
"Tink!" Jessa hissed, but the damage was done.
Ash's gaze slid from the trembling boy to Jessa. "Is that true, kid?" The fire-blade pulsed, illuminating the deep scars around his mouth.
Jessa's hands shook.
The heat from the flames made her eyes water, sweat dripping down her temples.
She didn't know what Lucent had done to drag them into this mess.
Didn't know why this fire-wielding madman cared.
All she knew was the knife in her hand was useless, Tink was dead weight on her back, and the alley behind them was filling with smoke.
She swallowed hard and nodded.
Ash studied her for a long moment, then raised the Conduit to his mouth.
The fire-blade dissipated into embers as he activated the comm function.
"Boss," he said, voice casual, "the kids don't know where Lucent is." A pause. Ash's eyes flicked to Jessa, then Tink. "Want me to take them somewhere quiet for a chat?"
The words slithered through the smoke-choked alley.
Jessa didn't need to hear the response.
She knew.
The way Ash's free hand twitched toward his belt.
The way he shifted his weight, blocking their escape route just slightly more.
The hungry look in his eyes as they lingered on Tink's injured leg.
They want to kidnap them.
The moment Ash's attention shifted, she moved.
Her legs burned as she launched herself sideways, Tink's weight nearly toppling her as she slammed into a rusted dumpster.
Ash shouted something, but she was already scrambling past it, ducking low as the Conduit flared to life behind her.
Heat seared her back as a fireball exploded against the dumpster, the metal screeching in protest.
Jessa didn't look back.
She ran, her boots slipping on broken glass, Tink's ragged breaths hot against her ear.
Ash's laughter chased them through the alley, bouncing off crumbling brick walls like the cackle of some fire-mad ghost.
Jessa's fingers fumbled at her belt, her sweaty palm closing around the jagged metal of the Conduit she'd built under Lucent's watchful eye.
The device felt wrong in her hand—too light in some places, too heavy in others.
The casing was held together with scavenged bolts and desperation, the glyphwork inside jury-rigged from stolen corporate schematics.
Lucent had warned her a dozen times: "This isn't stable. It'll work once. Maybe."
She didn't have a choice anymore.
Skidding to a stop behind a collapsed ventilation unit, Jessa twisted the activation rune with her thumb.
The Conduit shuddered violently in her grip, the metal growing dangerously hot as she tapped the command through gritted teeth:
Rank 1—Static Veil
The air between them and Ash shimmered like heat haze off scorched pavement.
Jagged lines of blue energy crackled into existence, forming a wavering barrier of distorted space.
For half a second, Jessa dared to hope.
Then Ash walked right through it.
The Static Veil tore apart like wet paper, the glyph collapsing in a shower of sparks that stung Jessa's face.
Ash didn't even slow down.
His boots crunched through the dissipating energy field, the remnants of the spell sizzling harmlessly against his jacket.
"Cute," he murmured, examining his sleeve where the static had touched. "Where'd you even got that trash?"
He took another step forward, the Conduit in his hand pulsing with clean, corporate precision. "Let me show you how it's really done."
Ash's fingers danced across his Conduit with practiced ease, the polished surface catching the firelight as a complex glyph materialized in the air.
The runes burned crimson, far more intricate than anything Jessa's makeshift device could produce.
"Rank 2—Fire Darts," he murmured, almost lovingly.
Six fiery projectiles bloomed into existence above the Conduit, each precisely ten centimeters long.
The darts hovered with unnatural stillness, their tips glowing white-hot as they oriented themselves with mechanical precision.
Jessa's breath caught as four darts angled toward her limbs—two aimed at her knees, two at her shoulders.
The remaining pair circled lazily, cutting off any escape route behind her.
Tink whimpered against her back.
The heat radiating from the darts made the air waver.
Jessa could feel sweat trickling down her spine, her fingers tightening around her useless knife.
"Thermal targeting systems," Ash explained, tilting his wrist to admire the glowing glyphwork.
The firelight reflected in his eyes made them look like molten metal. "Tracks internal heat signatures. Blood flow. Muscle contractions."
One of the darts twitched sharply as Jessa's pulse jumped in her throat.
Another rotated 90 degrees when Tink shivered against her back.
"See?" Ash grinned as the dart aimed at Jessa's right knee flared brighter, responding to her subtle shift in stance. "They know you're thinking about running before you do."
The scent of superheated air filled the alley—that sharp, aether-and-metal tang that comes from burning something that shouldn't burn.
Jessa's eyes watered from the heat radiating off the darts.
She could feel their targeting systems like physical pressure against her skin, tracking every twitch, every panicked breath.
"Now," Ash said pleasantly, rolling his shoulders. "Try to run again." He didn't raise his voice.
Didn't need to.
The six fire darts hovering between them did all the threatening for him.
One of the circling darts dipped suddenly, coming to rest at eye level just centimeters from Jessa's face.
The heat made her blink involuntarily—and the dart followed the movement, adjusting its aim to her eyelid.
Tink's fingernails dug into her shoulders hard enough to draw blood.
***
The armored sedan tore through Sector 21's streets. Lucent's knuckles whitened around the steering wheel as the message from Karen flickered across his cracked dashboard display:
Hideout attacked.
No details. No casualty report. Just those two words glowing ominously in the dim cabin.
Mags shifted in the passenger seat, her fingers tapping a silent rhythm against Nex's tantō.
In the back, Sel groaned as the car swerved around a collapsed mag-lev pillar, her injured body jostling against the restraints.
Lucent's jaw tightened.
He'd expected retaliation—just not this fast.
The Red Dogs moved like they knew exactly when and where to strike.
Like someone had handed them a map with all the weak points circled in red.
His Conduit buzzed again as he tried Karen's frequency. Static. Then silence.
No response.
Mags tilted her head, her dark eyes reflecting the passing neon signs.
"Could be jammed," Lucent muttered, more to himself than anyone. "Or..."
The unspoken alternative hung in the air like gun smoke.
The car accelerated, its engine growling as they passed a burning storefront.
The flames cast flickering shadows across Lucent's scarred face—illuminating the cold calculation in his eyes.
The sedan's headlights cut through swirling smoke as they crossed into Sector 23.
What should have been darkness pulsed with an unnatural orange glow—entire blocks burning unchecked.
The ground trembled intermittently, each new explosion sending shockwaves through the ruined streets.
Lucent's grip on the wheel tightened as the car hit a pothole, the suspension groaning in protest.
Through the haze ahead, something glinted on the cracked asphalt—a metallic glimmer that didn't belong among the debris.
As they neared, the shape resolved into familiar contours.
Mags stiffened beside him as Lucent slammed the brakes.
There in the middle of the road lay the twisted remains of a Conduit—its casing warped from heat exposure, the crude stabilization runes Jessa had painstakingly carved still visible along its side.
The very one he'd watched her and Tink assemble on his workbench just days before.
Lucent killed the engine.
The sudden silence was punctuated only by distant screams and the ever-present crackle of flames.
No bodies.
No blood.
Just the abandoned Conduit lying in the open like a discarded toy.
Mags was already moving, slipping from the vehicle with predatory grace, her boots silent against the pavement.
Lucent followed, his own Conduit humming to life in his palm as he scanned the surrounding ruins.
The device was still warm to the touch.
Lucent knelt in the middle of the ruined street, the heat from nearby fires pressing against his back like a physical hand.
His fingers closed around the warped Conduit, its metal still warm from whatever violence had separated it from its owner.
The stabilization runes along its side—crudely etched but carefully placed—were unmistakable.
Jessa's work.
Mags appeared at his side, her boots making no sound on the broken pavement.
She tilted her head slightly, the question clear in her dark eyes even as her expression remained unreadable.
Lucent turned the damaged device over in his hands. "This conduit," he said, his voice low and rough with smoke. "I know who built this."
The implications settled over him like falling ash.
Where were they?
Had they dropped it while running?
Or had it been taken from them?
Somewhere in the distance, another explosion rocked the sector, the shockwave rattling the broken windows of nearby buildings.
The glow from the fires painted the ruins in flickering oranges and reds, turning the streets into a maze of shifting shadows.
Lucent stood abruptly, the Conduit clenched tight in his fist.
His gaze swept the surrounding wreckage—the scorch marks on the walls, the shattered glass, the faint scuff marks leading away from the abandoned device.
Too many questions.
But only one that mattered right now.
He looked at Mags, his jaw set.
"We need to find them."
Mags' fingers twitched toward her tantō, her dark eyes scanning the burning streets as she voiced the only word that mattered:
"Where?"
Lucent exhaled through his nose, the heat of the ruined Conduit still bleeding through his palm.
He turned the device over once more, as if it might suddenly reveal some hidden clue.
"That's the problem," he admitted.
The smart play would be returning to his hideout—or what remained of it.
The security cameras along these streets might still have footage.
If he could hack into the surviving feeds quickly enough, he might pick up their trail before it went cold.
He slipped the damaged Conduit into his belt pouch, the weight of it settling against his hip like a bad omen.
The sedan's doors thudded shut behind them, sealing out the sounds of the burning sector.
Lucent gripped the wheel, his knuckles pale as the engine growled back to life.
In the backseat, Sel stirred weakly, her breath labored. "...What...happened?"
Lucent didn't glance back as the car accelerated through the smoke.
"Just more trouble."
The words had barely left Lucent's mouth when the world erupted.
A deafening explosion tore through the street ahead, the shockwave slamming into the sedan like a giant's fist.
The vehicle lurched violently, tires screeching as it fishtailed across the broken pavement.
For one terrifying second, the car balanced on two wheels—hovering at the edge of tipping—before crashing back down with a bone-jarring impact.
Lucent's hands flew across the wheel, muscles straining as he wrestled the sedan under control.
Beside him, Mags braced herself against the dashboard, her other hand already drawing Nex's tantō in one fluid motion.
In the backseat, Sel cried out as the sudden movement jarred her body.
The car skidded to a stop half-mounted on the sidewalk, its front bumper crumpled against a shattered storefront.
Dust and smoke swirled in the air, reducing the world to a hazy, orange-tinted nightmare.
Then—
Through the dissipating smoke, two figures materialized, locked in brutal combat:
Karen, her prosthetic arm sparking from recent damage, holding a pistol aimed towards another person.
Her opponent—a woman with ember-orange tattoos snaking up her bare arms—danced backward with unnatural grace, flames licking at her fingertips.
The scent of burning metal and concrete filled the air.
Mags' fingers tightened around her weapon.
Lucent's Conduit hummed to life in his palm.