The alleys twisted like serpents, slick with rain and shadows. Elias led the way, Seraphina close behind, boots splashing through puddles. Every corner seemed alive with unseen eyes, every shadow a potential threat.
The rhythmic pounding of boots grew louder—Obsidian soldiers, relentless. Elias could feel the pressure in his chest intensifying with every step. It wasn't just fatigue. It was something sharper, deeper, a warning that his body might betray him at the worst possible moment.
"We need a vantage point," Seraphina hissed, scanning the rooftops. "If they're coming this fast, we can't let them corner us in the streets."
Elias glanced upward, rain plastering his hair to his forehead. "There's a fire escape there. Could give us a minute to catch our breath… or a better angle."
She nodded, and together they vaulted onto the slick metal, climbing with the grace and precision of hunters. The city stretched below—a labyrinth of dark stone and flickering lanterns. Elias' lungs burned, and for a heartbeat, the world wavered—blurred edges, a momentary blackness at the periphery of his vision. He forced it down. Focus. Focus.
The sound of approaching footsteps reached a sharp crescendo. Elias peered down and saw them: two squads, moving like shadows, scanning the streets systematically. And behind them, faint but unmistakable—the tag's faint red glow pulsing on the scout's chest, visible even through the rain.
"They'll split if we stay visible. We need to divide them," Seraphina said sharply.
Elias' mind raced. Every option carried risk. Every move could cost lives—or worse. "I'll draw one squad east. You take the other. Meet at the eastern bridge. No mistakes."
Her eyes met his, the storm reflecting in both their irises. "You're pushing yourself too hard, Vale."
"I have to," he muttered, almost to himself. "No one else can."
Before she could argue further, he leapt from the fire escape, disappearing into the shadows. The first squad turned instinctively, chasing the blur of black and rain. Seraphina watched him go, unease flickering in her chest.
Somewhere deep inside, buried under years of training and pride, Elias felt it—the subtle crack forming in his armor. One day, it would split wide open. And when it did… he clenched his fists. Not today. Not yet.
Rain lashed his face as he darted into the eastern alley, boots barely making a sound. A flicker of movement—the first squad had spotted him. Reflexively, he vaulted over a crate, pivoted midair, and struck the first attacker down. His body moved on instinct, but the pain in his chest flared. A low hiss escaped him.
One down. Two more closing fast. He rolled, grabbed a discarded pipe, and swung with calculated precision. Metal met metal, a harsh clang echoing in the alley. His vision tunneled, every heartbeat pounding painfully in his ears.
Somewhere above, Seraphina's sharp voice shouted orders, splitting her enemies, carving a path through the second squad. They would meet at the bridge. They had to.
Elias ducked another swing, a searing pain slicing through his chest. He stumbled, barely catching himself. He couldn't afford to slow down—not now. Not ever.
From the shadows, a figure moved—a ghost among the rain. A reminder. A promise. Varekk was watching, waiting, testing. The hunt had truly begun.
And deep inside, Elias knew: his body was breaking. He could outrun fate for now. But not forever.