The sky turned quiet.
Not gradually. Not naturally. It was as if a mute switch had been flipped across the city.
The Devourer leader didn't give a grand command. He simply raised one hand—barely—and the shift began.
Every Devourer stopped.
Even those in the middle of destruction, those climbing over buildings, those snarling at retreating agents—all froze at once, like puppets with their strings cut.
Then they moved.
Not in retreat. Not in panic.
They simply… sank.
One by one, their bodies melted into shadow, vanishing through concrete, asphalt, even steel. As if the city itself swallowed them. The ground left no trace—no cracks, no burn marks—only the eerie silence of their exit.
Within less than a minute, they were gone.
The city was still again.
But not safe.
Kael stood amidst rubble, blood trailing down his arm, his body sluggish from overuse. His markings had dimmed, flickering weakly as if conserving energy.
His head turned slowly, scanning the empty street.
No sign of Aria.
No sign of the agents who had been taken.
He looked toward the buildings—walls scorched, windows shattered. Cars turned to scrap. He stepped over a collapsed awning and stared down a long alley, where flickers of smoke curled like fingers toward the sky.
Still nothing.
> "They were taken."
"No sound of conflict."
"No signs of survival."
He looked down at the ground—no blood trails, no clues. Just silence.
> "Conclusion: they're dead."
There was no anger. No sorrow. Just logic.
They were captured by an overwhelming force. The odds of surviving such an ambush, with no fallback or support, were statistically low. There were no signs of resistance. The enemy had retreated in full. The objective was likely complete.
He looked up at the sky again.
> "Objective unclear."
He took a step—and staggered. His leg gave out beneath him. His body wasn't healing. Not yet.
A faint hum in the air drew his gaze sideways.
From between a wrecked corner store and a collapsed tunnel entrance, a group of agents emerged—armor cracked, faces pale with dirt and ash.
They froze the moment they saw him.
Kael stood alone. Bloodied, still crackling faintly with dying power. Around him, the bodies of several Devourers remained—burnt, melted, or vaporized completely.
The lead agent raised a hand in caution. "He's alive," he muttered to the others. "Move in. Carefully."
Kael didn't resist. His strength was low, and he saw no strategic value in resistance.
Two of them approached. Another began transmitting on a secure line.
One agent checked his condition. "He needs medical—now."
The other hesitated. "Where's Aria?"
Kael didn't answer.
Not because he refused. But because, based on all collected data, she was no longer present.
> "Status: absent."
"Vital signs: unknown."
"Most likely outcome: they're dead"
Again, no emotion. Just the conclusion of observation.
They lifted him gently. He didn't protest. His eyes remained locked on the horizon as they moved him toward the armored van.
One of the agents looked at him from the side.
"...You're thinking something."
Kael didn't respond. But as he was placed inside the vehicle and the doors shut behind him, his eyes lingered on the empty street one last time.
And then, he asked:
"Where is Aria?"
No fear.
No urgency.
Just the question.