Lucien stood at the center of this labyrinth, his fists still curled from the effort it had taken to shatter steel and dismantle circuitry in the moments before. Around him, figures moved—shadows of people who had risked everything to try and free him: Rylen, Jason, Emiluna, Karu, and Lisa. Each bore battle wounds, each carried scars etched by the brutal fights in Shinjuku and Shibuya. Yet here they stood, reunited at last.
Lucien's eyes met theirs. His eyes were the color of smoldering embers—deep violet beneath the dim fluorescent glare. He inhaled slowly, as though savoring this final moment of unity before what must come next. Shadows danced across his features, etched by worry and resolve.
He spoke, voice low but unwavering. "You guys need to leave. Now."
For a heartbeat, no one dared to move. Rylen's customary smirk hesitated, replaced by concern and confusion. Jason's jaw clenched, his knuckles white around an invisible grievance. Emiluna's brow furrowed, lips pressed tight against eachother. Karu took a step forward, his presence broad and unyielding, as if to stand between Lucien and the world. Lisa's her eyes flashed from Lucien to Karu, then back again.
Rylen was first to break the silence. "We just made it here, and we finally see eachother again, and you're sending us away already?"
A slow fire kindled behind Lucien's eyes as he turned toward Rylen. He took one deliberate step, the air crackling as Purgeflame tucked around him like a second skin. "If they see you with me here—even for a millisecond—you'll be marked as traitors, enemies of the country of Japan, like I am right now. That's a fate worse than any sword or gun. Leave before they set their sights on you too. This place… it's going to go up in flames in a minute."
Jason's hands balled into fists at his sides. "You can't do this alone Lucien," he insisted. "We've fought alongside you through every nightmare we faced—"
Lucien's gaze didn't waver. "I don't want you to see me become what I have to become in these last thirty days. I'll kill every man, woman, and machine here. Every torturer, every guard, every scientist who let them cut me open over and over again. I will burn this facility to the ground. You can't watch that, trust me."
The words hung in the air like a blade trembling before the strike. Karu's coat rustled as he shifted, conflict warring across his features. "You don't need to do this alone. Let us—"
"No Karu." Lucien's tone snapped like flint. "I have to do this by myself." The violet glow of his eyes intensified. "If I fail now, I fail alone. If I succeed, I survive alone. This… is my burden."
Emiluna's voice trembled. "Lucien, please let us—"
"No." A shudder passed through Lucien's frame, as if he was gathering every ounce of will within him. "It's the only way for me. Because if any of you stay, you will probably die. And I cannot bear watching you die for me."
Karu studied Lucien's face for long seconds, searching for sign of hesitation. But Lucien's eyes burned with a cold certainty. Finally, Rylen exhaled and lowered his head. "We'll trust you on this," he said quietly. "But if we don't see you at the Fifth command post in thirty minutes, we come back in. Understand?"
Lucien nodded. The struggle within him softened as relief flickered across his features. "Understood."
Rylen stared at Lucien for a moment longer, pain flickering behind his eyes. "Be careful Lucien, my little brother." He turned toward the door, the weight of his promise evident—"If you don't return, we will be here in an instant."
Jason gripped Lucien's shoulder firmly, harder than necessary. "Bring that gorgeous fire of yours back to us." His voice cracked with emotion.
Emiluna stepped forward, pressing a soft hand to Lucien's cheek. Her touch trembled. "I'll be waiting for you. Live, Lucien. I don´t want to lose you."
Lisa, her right leg in a metal brace and arms wrapped in fresh bandages, mustered a stiff nod. "Don't die Lucien. That's an order, spirit boy." She let out a mirthless laugh, as though testing herself. "And don't go soft on them. They deserve no mercy."
Lucien's lips curved, just a fraction. "Go," he whispered. "All of you. Now!!."
They turned and ran away—silent as shadows—leaving Lucien alone in the facility's corridors. The door sealed behind them with a hiss of hydraulic locks.
Lucien exhaled slowly, the tense coil and rage within him unwinding like a spring. He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the torment he had endured these last thirty days: the month of isolation, the electric shocks, the obsessive questions about his power, the rain of chemical fire that shattered his nerves, the endless rotations of security cameras. The memories coalesced into a dark cloud at the back of his mind, powering the cyclone of rage and resolution within his heart. Now, it was time to pay each one of them back in blood and death.
Without warning, three guards—fresh from the armory, clad in reinforced armor, and mid-shift on patrol—rounded the corner. Their rifles were raised instantly, and their masks hid the shock behind their eyes.
"Get down!" one shouted, pressing a finger on the trigger.
Lucien's hand snapped forward. Before any guard could squeeze the trigger, a scorching beam of violet energy came from his eyes. The first guard's chest plate vaporized and got shattered, his body collapsing into a molten heap. The second guard barely had time to react before a blast of telekinetic force sent him roaring backward into a prison wall. Lucien's boots followed, sliding forward as he leapt into the air. He extended his right hand, summoning a blast of Purgeflame that erupted beneath the third guard's feet, incinerating his boots and sucking the air from his lungs. The guard's scream echoed once before the fire swallowed him whole.
The hallway glowed with fire, scorched by the aftermath. Lucien landed silently on the floor, cloak fluttering like a specter. No alarms blared—yet. But he did not Tarry. Every second counted; their systems would recalibrate soon.
He ran forward. At each intersection, guards emerged—some rushing from side corridors, some descending from stairwells—and each met the same fate. Death. A barrage of X-ray lasers erupted from Lucien's eyes, carving through armored suits as though they were nothing more then a piece of paper. Guards trained their rifles on him, but those too melted in their grip or bent like tin under the relentless tidal wave of his fist strikes. Telekinetic waves shredded wave after wave of foot soldiers.
Minutes ticked by like agonizing hours. Lucien's vengeance cut through them all. Their screams and gunshots were swallowed by the roar of his silent resolve. The facility began to convulse as security systems struggled to contain him in the facility, the once-impregnable steel bulkheads beginning to flex and warp from the friction of supercharged punches.
Greater numbers approached now: robotic enforcers, mechanized sentries armed with incendiary munitions and electromagnetic pulse projectors. Lucien pivoted on one foot. He struck the lead drone with a beam so hot it collapsed into a molten puddle. The next: torn apart by telekinetic force. Another swung a retractable spiked arm—Lucien caught it mid-air, twisted, and flung the abomination across the corridor where it crashed in a rain of sparks.
In the control room, alarms howled constantly. Technicians scrambled, fingers dancing across holographic consoles to redirect power, to reroute containments, to sound alerts. "Subject 01 on the move—his location is shifting rapidly to the west! Deploy Titanfall immediately!" They barked into comms, their voices edged with fear and disbelief.
Lucien reached the descent down to the lowest sublevel, where the reinforced vaults housing the facility's commander and top officers lay. The final barrier: a ninety-ton steel blast door layered with quantum shielding. Reinforced plating encased in nanocrystal lattice—designed to withstand nuclear detonations. But Lucien only stood a moment, studying its surface. The flicker in his eyes released a pulse of telekinetic force. The blast door hummed, fractures appearing in its molecular bonds. Sparks flew as the quantum lattice buckled under the strain. With a final, thunderous crack, the door collapsed outward, crashing in shards of steel.
He walked through the hollowed-out gateway, entering an even deeper darkness—a cavern of silent oppression where only the fear of what lay ahead could be heard. Ten steps led him to another corridor, this one thick with the rancid stench of coolant and decaying electronics. Red lights traced a pathway to a massive circular chamber: the command core where Commander Saito awaited.
Lucien paused at the lip of the chamber. The room's walls were lined with consoles and monitors, most shattered from the collateral damage he had inflicted. In the center of it all, towering and imposing, stood Commander Saito. Encased in the black-and-gunmetal gray exosuit—code-named Titanfall Invictus X—the aged warrior looked every inch the threat the facility had banked on to stop Lucien. The plating was thick as reinforced titanium, layered with reactive armor. Small fissures on its surface glowed red from internal power surges.
Saito turned slowly, the suit's optics locking onto Lucien's signature. "You've come far, DemonBoy" his voice rumbled through the armored helmet's speakers, distorted but clear. "Stronger than anticipated. But do you really believe you can stand against me?"
Lucien's grin was cold as ice. "I've already broken every chain they put on me. Now I break you."
He surged forward. The first impact came like a comet strike—telekinetic force knocking Titanfall Invictus X backward. Saito steadied, countering with an uppercut that sent Lucien crashing into the shattered consoles. Splintered metal and sparks rained around him.
Lucien rolled through the debris, rising in a blur as he summoned Purgeflame into both fists. He jabbed twice, searing the suit's arm plating. Saito roared, his nuke reactor in his chest humming into overdrive. The entire metal exoskeleton began to glow orange, suffused with lethal radiation. A low hum flickered to a high-pitched whine as the activation sequence completed.
Saito's sword—hidden until now—emerged from the side of his gauntlet. Its edge shimmered with compressed thermobaric energy. He swung in a wide arc. Lucien backflipped, evading by inches as the sword carved a trench in the floor.
"Impressive agility," Saito rasped. "But not enough."
His fist closed around Lucien's flank, wrenching him into a devastating throw. Lucien slammed through a reinforced support beam, sending shockwaves along the entire length of the chamber. He spat blood, flames sputtering across his body. Even battered, he rose with defiant eyes.
Saito advanced, heavy footsteps rattling the girders. "Nuke Stand: activated." A brilliant wave of heat radiated from him, walls warping from the intensity. He charged again, each step splitting the floor.
Lucien darted beneath the jet of flame, X-ray lasers burning deep grooves into the suit's thigh armor. Steam hissed from the damaged plating. Saito ignored it, sheer mass carrying him forward. He aimed a punch that would have flattened a building. Lucien sidestepped—barely—telekinetically hurling the old warrior headfirst into a console. The consoles exploded, showering them in slag.
Lucien took only a moment to steady himself. "Your toy can't hurt me."
He harnessed Purgeflame around his fists—intensifying his next blows. Saito roared, staggering to his feet, fuelled by PTSD determination. But his movements were slower—age and exhaustion bearing down on him. Lucien advanced, each step measured, each breath controlled.
They clashed in a furious exchange. Metal met flame. Sparks erupted as fists struck plating. Lucien's gauntlets radiated telekinetic pulses, cracking suit armor rather than the flesh beneath. Saito's superstrength pounded as though hammering the heart of a molten core. But Lucien was faster—a phantom fire wielding wrath.
With a final roar, Lucien seized Saito by the chest plating, yanking him off balance. He hurled him across the chamber. The old commander crashed through a wall, emerging on the other side in a spray of rubble. Saito rose, staggering, the reactor's glow flickering dangerously. His suit—already fractured—began to spall, as internal subroutines overloaded.
Lucien crossed the chamber in two strides, catching Saito mid-lunge before he could raise his energy sword. He looped an arm around Saito's waist and lifted him, slamming him downward onto the reinforced floor with brutal force. Pieces of armor cracked; the reactor went critical.
Another lift and slam. Lucien's Purgeflame ignited across his gauntlets, each strike burning deeper. Saito's chest plating buckled—revealing scorched remains of the suit's core. Sparks, smoke, then silence—until Saito's final roar died in his throat as Lucien punched clean through the armor and straight into bone and flesh.
Saito's body went limp.
Lucien stood over the ruined husk of the man who'd been one of the strongest soldiers in history—now reduced to a broken frame clad in shattered steel.
He exhaled, voice soft. "No more games."
A final telekinetic pulse threw Saito across the shattered chamber into a heap of smoking rubble. Lucien turned away, heart pounding but face eerily composed. The reactor's explosion vented steam, sending ghostly vapor curling toward him. He walked out of the room, leaving Saito's body behind.
Lucien emerged from the subterranean depths to the world above for the first time in thirty-two days. The massive steel hatch clanged open, revealing the sky—wide, blue, and boundless. Rays of sunlight raked across his face. He inhaled deeply, the warm air filling his lungs like forgiveness.
A throbbing ache slithered through his limbs—pain from countless wounds finally beginning to fade. His eyes shone with unspent tears, but he blinked them away. This was not a moment for weakness. He was free again.
He spread his arms and floated upward, the swirl of aftersmoke from the hatch dissipating behind him. His coat billowed like wings of dusk and flame. Beneath him, the ruin of the prison lay in smoldering ruins—bars of steel, shattered glass, and remnants of shattered lives.
Lucien's lips curved in a faint smile. It was time to go home.
With a surge of Purgeflame, he rocketed across the sky, crossing the distance to the Fifth Division command post in an instant. The cliffside complex stood modestly atop a rocky ledge overlooking the valley below—a hidden fortress of reinforced steel and arched airlocks.
As he neared, the front door swung open.
Rylen, arms folded, leaned against the doorway. Embers of street lamp glow highlighted the lines of weariness on his face. His eyes widened as Lucien appeared, descending like a comet.
"Twenty-nine minutes," Rylen said, voice rich with relief. "I was about to come back in and drag you out."
Lucien's laughter rang out—tiresome yet genuine, a sound not heard in more than a month.
He landed lightly on the steps, and Rylen enveloped him in a brief, tight embrace. Lucien's arms wavered as he returned the hug. The world seemed to tilt, as though life itself had been rediscovered in that moment of reunion.
Jason hurried forward, carrying a steaming pot of stew and a battered loaf of bread. Emiluna and Lisa followed behind, setting down bowls and utensils. Karu approached with a warm smile that seemed almost unnatural on his usually stoic face.
Inside, the common room glowed with soft lantern light. A long wooden table sat at the center, already laden with food—freshly roasted meats, steamed vegetables, and bowls of fragrant rice. The walls were plastered with maps and tactical boards, silent witnesses to the battles that had raged on half a world away.
Lucien stepped inside, letting out a long breath as the warmth and laughter washed over him. Rylen pulled out a chair for him; Jason placed the stew at his elbow. Emiluna handed him a bowl of rice.
He settled into his seat, every muscle relaxing for the first time in weeks.
Lisa took her place at the other end of the table, his eyes studying Lucien with a mix of pride and concern. Karu provided a nod—an unspoken acknowledgment that this moment was earned.
For a long moment, no one spoke. They simply stared at each other—survivors reunited.
Then Rylen raised his spoon. "To Lucien," he said, voice steady, "the only person who could set a prison on fire from the inside—and come back out to dinner."
Laughter echoed around the table, joyous and unrestrained. Lucien dipped his spoon into the hot stew and took his first bite. The rich flavors bloomed across his tongue. It was more than dinner; it was a symbol of life returned.
He glanced around the table—Rylen, Jason, Emiluna, Karu, Lisa—each face lit by candlelight, each carrying their own burdens of pain and hope. And for the first time in thirty-two days, he allowed himself to feel something entirely unexpected: home.
The night wore on. Plates were emptied, glasses refilled. Stories were shared: a clumsy misfire of Karu's suit tests, Jason's near suspension hearings, Emiluna's sleepless worries for Lucien's fate. Lisa teased them all about their cooking skills. Sidesplitting laughter punctuated each bite, each apology, each promise of tomorrow.
When the final spoon had been set aside, Lucien leaned back, stomach warm with food and gratitude. Silence settled again—this time, comfortable and full of possibility.
"Thank you," Lucien said, voice soft, eyes shining. "For not giving up on me."
Rylen raised his glass. "No matter what happens, you know we're always going to come for you."
Lucien smiled, tears glinting at the corners of his eyes.
And as they leaned forward, voices rising again in friendship and strategy, Lucien looked up at the moonlit sky beyond the window and whispered a vow—so quiet that no one could hear, yet powerful enough to kindle a new storm within his heart:
"I am not finished yet.