Dawn's first rays crawled over Zenith, sharpening the Grand Spire's mirrored flanks into a blade of glass and steel. From an alley opposite the corporate plaza, Alaric studied the skyscraper's service wing: a nondescript block of reinforced concrete, deliveries routed through armored doors, drones sweeping predictable arcs. The real treasure sat underground, buried deeper than any vault Tavros had described. Tonight, he and Selene would slice their way inside.
Selene leaned against a trash chute, mask glinting beneath her hood. "Recon complete. Three layers of security until we reach the freight lifts. After that, motion sensors and autonomous guards."
Alaric slipped the warm lockbox into his pack alongside tools: micro-wire, EMP pellets, a carbon string-saw lifted from yesterday's dead elite. "We ghost the delivery line after dusk. No alarms."
"Alarms are optional," she replied, and though the modulator blurred her voice, he sensed the upward curve of a smile. "But fun."
They parted to prepare. Alaric circled toward Tavros's clinic for dermal sealant—his flank wound still oozed when he twisted. Tavros clucked disapproval but injected a coagulant that sent cold fire through Alaric's veins.
"Your blood's a ledger," the doctor warned. "Too many debts, it shuts down."
"I'll pay," Alaric said, tossing him two cred-chips from Syndicate pockets. The doctor's optics widened; transaction complete.
Back in the Grey Quarter, lunchtime bells rang across Zenith High. Alaric waited outside the wrought-iron fence, shadowed beneath a maple. Lia emerged with Elio and Mira. Her eyes locked on him instantly, and whatever she'd been laughing at died mid-sentence. She hurried over, expression flicking between joy and worry.
"You're hurt again." She brushed knuckles along his bandaged flank through the jacket.
"Stitches," he said, downplaying the ache.
Mira raised a brow, green eyes calculating. "You two always drama. Vale family soap opera?"
"Occupational hazards," Alaric murmured.
Elio nudged his glasses. "We heard about shots near Dock Row. Was that—?"
Lia cut him off with a bright smile. "Just city rumors." Her hand tightened around Alaric's wrist; a silent plea to leave questions buried.
They walked until the others peeled away. Once alone, Lia tugged him into a side street, pressed her palm to his chest. "Promise me tonight isn't suicide."
"Calculated risk." He held her gaze. "Selene has a route. I won't face the Council yet."
"Selene," she echoed, tasting the name with faint jealousy. "This hunter—can you trust her?"
"About as far as she trusts me." He brushed a silver strand from her cheek. "But she needs me alive."
"That's not comfort." Lia's fingers curled in his sleeve. "Come back. Or I'll burn the Spire myself."
"I know." He kissed her forehead—her breath hitched, cheeks flooding crimson. "I always return."
Evening draped the city in neon halos. Alaric regrouped with Selene atop an adjacent parking tower. Below, cargo drones hovered by the Spire's loading dock, depositing crates before retreating skyward. Two manual guards yawned beside a mag-sealed gate.
Selene produced two capsule rounds. "Flash-dummies. Blinds organic, fries optics."
Alaric counted drone sweeps—eight-second gaps. "On three."
They leapt.
Midair, she lobbed a capsule. It burst in a silent flare; guards clawed at helmets as visor lenses whited out. Alaric rolled, palmed his carbon saw, and sliced the gate's padlock with a hiss. They slid inside while alarms remained mute.
A freight elevator awaited, walls plastered with safety posters no one read. Selene hacked the panel; the lift descended, rumbling into the earth. With every meter, pressure built behind Alaric's ribs—the sense of crossing thresholds no street rat was meant to know.
Doors opened onto a corridor of polished obsidian tile, lights embedded like frozen stars. Motion turrets tracked air currents, but Selene's cloaking emitter fuzzed their sensors; they glided beneath cold barrels without a whisper.
At the corridor's end, a circular vault door loomed—steel petals folded shut, each etched with fractal patterns. A biometric pedestal pulsed at its heart.
Selene gestured. "Vale blood, as promised."
He pressed his hand to the plate. Needles pricked skin, drank a bead of crimson. The petals unfurled with a sigh, revealing a chamber bathed in cyan light. Walls of mirrored glass reflected them hundreds of times, every move echoing into eternity.
Data cores hummed within crystalline towers. In the center hovered a console projecting a frozen genetic helix—fragmented, incomplete.
"Key one," Selene murmured, sliding her lockbox into a slot. Runes cascaded down the helix, filling gaps with luminous code.
Alaric followed, inserting his box. The core glowed brighter, helix stabilizing… then halting, two sections still missing.
"Two down," she breathed. "One left."
A siren shrilled overhead. Console scroll changed to red: Unauthorized retrieval detected.
Selene cursed. "Failsafe scan—your suit may have tripped an EM trace."
Footfalls pounded outside. Alaric drew twin knives scavenged from fallen elites. Vitality dulled ache; agility coiled like springs. When the first security unit stormed through the petals—sleek armor, shock-spears live—Alaric lunged.
Blades flickered in mirrored walls, making every strike appear infinite. He parried a spear thrust, stepped past the ripple of electricity, and stabbed through underarm plating. Armor absorbed some force, but the point pierced flesh; the guard crumpled.
Selene danced opposite, sword carving reflections into shards of blue light. Two guards fell, throats blooming red against glass. Sparks showered from a shattergrenade; mirror panels cracked, distorting endless copies of their fight into jagged fragments.
A lieutenant advanced, plasma shield glowing. He herded them toward the console. Alaric feinted right, drawing fire; Selene vaulted left, using a broken reflection as cover. She slid under the shield edge, stabbing upward into exposed thigh seam. The lieutenant screamed; Alaric's knife found the gap beneath his chin, ending sound.
The siren cut abruptly, replaced by an automated voice: "Security breach contained. Gas release in sixty seconds."
Selene yanked her lockbox free; Alaric did the same. They sprinted, weaving between corpses and shattered glass. In the corridor, turrets spun live—optics recovered. A capsule flash blinded sensors; they dashed through flickering muzzle arcs, pellets sparking tile behind them.
The freight lift doors started closing. Alaric shoved Selene inside, jammed his knife between panels to keep them open, and held until he dove through. Pellets clanged off the inner wall as the lift ascended, sealing them in darkness.
Breathing ragged, Selene leaned against him. Through her mask he felt a tremor—was it laughter? "Predators, indeed."
He allowed a breathless chuckle. "Two keys, one to go."
The lift surfaced in the deserted dock. Sirens echoed distant floors below, but up here only rain greeted them. They fled across containers, disappearing into Zenith's maze before gunships could circle.
At the Rusted Oak, Lia paced the hallway, eyes wild. She lunged into Alaric's arms, crushing him. Her gaze flicked to Selene, narrowed, but softened when Alaric whispered, "We did it."
Selene dipped her head. "Next hunt begins soon. Rest while you can." She vanished down the stairs, cloak whispering secrets.
Alaric closed the door, heart still hammering. Lia pressed her forehead to his chest. "I felt you bleed again."
He kissed her crown. "Worth it." He opened his status. [Stat Point: 1] awash from the quest. For the first time, he poured it into Strength, feeling muscles tighten, bones thrum.
Outside, neon storms lashed the skyline, but inside, Lia's arms anchored him to quiet. The final key waited somewhere in the towered city, and the Council would come like wolves. Alaric smiled into her hair, whispering an old anime mantra: "Bring it on."