Rock music rattled the walls of the small apartment, bass thumping like a second heartbeat.
Eliah lay sprawled on her bed, electric guitar balanced across her lap, fingers sliding fast over the strings. The sound was raw and loud—messy in a way she loved. It felt honest. Like running.
Her denim-blue hair spilled over her eyes as she leaned into the final chord, Dijon-yellow eyes flashing with focus.
"ELIAH!"
Her mother's voice cut through the music from downstairs.
"Breakfast! You're going to be late again!"
Eliah groaned and muted the strings. "Coming!" she shouted back—though she didn't move right away.
She glanced at the cracked mirror beside her desk. Same sharp eyes. Same stubborn tilt to her chin. Her mother, Brittany, always said she looked like trouble even when she was standing still.
"Turn that noise down and get downstairs!" Brittany yelled again.
Eliah finally stood, slung the guitar into its case, and pulled on her uniform with practiced speed. Jacket zipped. Boots tightened. Visor clipped at her belt—hidden, but never far.
Downstairs, the smell of toasted bread filled the kitchen.
"You live in your own world," Brittany said, arms crossed as Eliah grabbed a slice of bread. "One of these days, that attitude—"
"I know, I know," Eliah said, already backing toward the door. "I'll eat on the way."
"Stubborn child!" her mother called as Eliah slipped outside. "Just like your father!"
Eliah didn't stop running.
The door slammed shut behind her, morning air sharp against her skin. She bit into the bread, eyes lifting toward the city skyline where neon still clung to the fading night.
Rock music. Speed. Freedom.
That was Eliah.
And the city was about to learn her name.
At School—
The school corridors buzzed with morning noise—lockers slamming, voices overlapping, footsteps rushing like static. Eliah cut through it all on her skates, wheels whispering against polished floors as she weaved between students with easy precision.
Rock music pulsed in her headphones, loud enough to drown out the world.
"Show-off."
Eliah slid to a smooth stop and tugged one earcup down. Lucas stood by the lockers, arms crossed, a grin tugging at his mouth.
"Jealous?" she said, pushing the headphones fully off her ears.
Lucas laughed. "One of these days you're gonna get caught."
"Relax. I've got control."
Lucas wasn't just a friend. He moved like a runner—balanced, alert, always watching exits and angles. His jacket hid more tech than it should, and the faint glow at his wrist flickered before vanishing.
Eliah's eyes narrowed. "You running tonight?"
Lucas's grin sharpened. "Wouldn't miss it."
That was all it took.
No explanations. No questions. In Cyber City, you didn't need many words to know who someone really was.
Lucas—student by day, Cyber Runner by night.
The bell rang, sharp and unforgiving.
Eliah kicked her skates forward, rolling past him. "Try to keep up," she said over her shoulder.
Lucas pushed off after her. "You first, speed demon."
Lucas slowed his pace, skating beside Eliah as the hallway thinned out. His voice dropped, casual—but careful.
"Hey… you hear about the new runner?"
Eliah glanced at him. "New how?"
"New as in undefeated."
That got her attention.
They passed a row of lockers, sunlight cutting through the windows in sharp bars. Students moved around them, unaware.
"Name's Nullempress," Lucas said. "She's been taking runners out one by one. No mercy. No reruns."
Eliah frowned. "I would've heard."
"You've been busy," Lucas replied. "She runs off-grid. No flashy intros. Just appears—and someone drops off the board."
They walked now, skates rolling slow.
"Injured?" Eliah asked.
Lucas nodded. "All of them. Every opponent she's faced so far walked away hurt. Bad enough to quit racing for a while."
Eliah's jaw tightened. "You saw it?"
"Not live," he admitted. "I was tied up. But I watched the clips on the cyber site—angles, telemetry, slow-mo."
"And?"
Lucas exhaled. "She's precise. Cold. Like she knows exactly how far to push someone without ending them."
Eliah looked down the hallway, thoughts racing faster than her wheels.
"So she's not just fast," she said. "She's calculating."
Lucas met her gaze. "Exactly. And that's what scares people."
The bell echoed again, distant but insistent.
Eliah pushed forward, skating ahead. "Then she's not running for fun."
Lucas followed. "No. She's running for something else."
Lucas hesitated, then smirked. "Still—didn't expect Nullempress to be… my type."
Eliah stopped short. "Your type?" She shot him a look. "Seriously? You're unbelievable."
"Hey, I meant her vibe," Lucas said quickly. "Cold. Confident. Kinda terrifying."
"Uh-huh. Pervert," Eliah said, already skating off.
The warning bell rang.
"Great," she muttered, veering toward her classroom. She slid in just as the door shut behind her.
"You're late, Ms. Eliah," the teacher said, unimpressed.
"Won't happen again," Eliah replied, tone flat.
She rolled her eyes as she moved to her seat, dropping into it with a quiet thud. Outside the window, the city shimmered—too loud, too fast, calling her back.
Class began.
Eliah's mind didn't.
Eliah leaned back in her chair, one ear on the lecture, the other already drifting away.
Slowly, she slipped her headphones on.
With practiced ease, she tilted her phone beneath the desk, palm shielding the screen. The cyber site loaded—static, glitch, then live footage.
A race.
Night. Neon. Speed.
Her breath caught.
The opponent was fast—agile, skilled—but it didn't matter. The other runner moved differently. Sharper. Cleaner. Like she'd already calculated the ending.
"Nullempress…" Eliah whispered.
Lucas wasn't exaggerating.
Nullempress pushed her opponent to the edge—cornering, outmaneuvering, leaving no room to recover. When the run ended, the other runner hit the ground hard, unmoving for a moment before medics rushed in.
Eliah's grip tightened around her phone.
Merciless.
The camera shifted, zooming in.
Crimson-red hair streaked through the dark, glowing under neon lights. Blue eyes flashed through the lenses of a sleek mask—one that fit perfectly with her suit, seamless and unreadable.
No name. No face.
That was the rule.
As the feed cut to static, Eliah pulled her phone away and stared straight ahead.
Her music kept playing, but she didn't hear it anymore.
Whoever Nullempress was…
She wasn't just racing.
She was sending a message.
"Eliah."
The voice was sharp.
She froze.
A shadow fell across her desk, and before she could react, a hand reached down.
"Phone. Now."
Eliah groaned softly as the teacher took it from her grip. "Seriously?" she muttered under her breath.
"That's enough," the teacher said. "You can get this back after class."
Eliah slumped in her chair, annoyance written all over her face. Great. Just great.
When the bell finally rang for recess, she was out of her seat in a second.
The cafeteria buzzed with noise—chairs scraping, laughter echoing, trays clattering. Eliah spotted Lucas immediately, leaning against a table like he owned the place.
"My phone got confiscated," she said the moment she reached him.
Lucas blinked. Then smirked. "That's because you're stupid."
Eliah didn't even hesitate.
She grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked.
"Ow—okay, okay!" Lucas laughed, hands up. "Joking! I was joking!"
She released him with a huff. "You're lucky."
Lucas was still grinning. "Worth it."
Eliah crossed her arms, expression shifting. "Lucas… why is Nullempress like that?"
He raised an eyebrow. Then laughed.
"You've been a Cyber Runner for almost three years," he said, shaking his head, "and you're still asking that?"
"Just explain," Eliah shot back.
Lucas leaned closer, voice lowering. "Alright. Listen."
"All Cyber Runners have different abilities," he said. "Not because they're born special—but because of the suits."
Eliah frowned slightly.
"The cyber suits," Lucas continued, tapping his wrist where his tech usually rested, "they're designed to convert stored energy into abilities. Speed boosts. Invisibility. Phase jumps. You've seen it."
Eliah remembered the footage—one runner vanishing mid-stride, body fading as their energy meter surged.
"Invisibility," Lucas said, "isn't magic. The suit bends light and feeds off stored energy while doing it."
"So Nullempress…" Eliah started.
"She stunned her opponent using one of her abilities," Lucas finished. "Energy-based disruption. Hit them hard, short-circuit their balance and momentum."
Eliah's eyes narrowed. "That's brutal."
"It is," Lucas agreed. "But here's the thing—energy doesn't last forever. The more energy you have, the more abilities you can release. But it drains fast."
"So you can't just spam it," Eliah said quietly.
"Exactly," Lucas replied. "That's why timing matters. Control matters. If you burn everything too early, you're done."
Eliah leaned back, absorbing it all.
"So Nullempress isn't reckless," she said. "She's efficient."
Lucas nodded. "And that's what makes her dangerous."
Eliah looked around the noisy cafeteria, thoughts already drifting back to neon streets and midnight runs.
If suits were the source of power…
Then the real race wasn't just about speed.
It was about how well you used what you had.
Eliah straightened, confidence settling in her posture. "Still," she said, calm but firm, "I think I could win."
Lucas chuckled.
Not mocking—amused.
"You really don't hesitate, do you?" he said, shaking his head.
Eliah met his eyes, completely serious. "Why would I?"
That wiped the smile off his face.
Lucas sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest like he was carrying the weight of the city itself. "Because I cannot handle seeing you injured, Eliah. I mean it. Blood, medics, stretchers—nope. I'm out."
Eliah stared at him for a second.
Then rolled her eyes.
"You're being dramatic," she said. "And corny."
"I'm being realistic," Lucas insisted. "Nullempress doesn't play around."
Eliah stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Neither do I."
Lucas watched her, worry lingering beneath the theatrics.
Eliah glanced back once, smirked, and walked away.
Whatever waited for her out there—
She wasn't planning to lose.
Eliah barely heard the cafeteria anymore.
Her mind was already running—routes, timing, energy curves. If she faced Nullempress, she couldn't rely on raw speed alone. She'd have to outthink her. Control the drains. Force mistakes.
"You planning to stare into space all day?"
The voice didn't belong to Lucas.
Eliah looked up.
A girl stood across the table, arms loosely crossed, a smirk carved perfectly into her face. She had long, jet-black hair that fell straight down her back, eyes sharp with amusement.
"I couldn't help overhearing," the girl said casually. "You talking about beating Nullempress."
Lucas frowned. "Do we know you?"
"Nope," the girl replied. "But I know you."
Eliah straightened. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
The girl's smirk widened. "It means whatever you do," she said, eyes locking onto Eliah, "you'll never win against her."
Lucas scoffed. "Great. Another fan."
"Crazy fan," Eliah added under her breath.
The girl laughed softly, clearly enjoying this. "Fan? Maybe." She leaned forward. "But I'm also here to make things interesting."
Eliah didn't blink. "Say it."
The girl tilted her head. "Race her."
The cafeteria noise seemed to dip.
"With Nullempress," the girl continued. "A real run. No backing out."
Lucas immediately shook his head. "Nope. Absolutely not."
Eliah's jaw tightened.
"You lose," the girl said calmly, "and you'll finally understand where you stand."
Silence.
Eliah stood.
Her chair scraped loudly against the floor as she met the girl's stare, eyes burning with resolve. "Fine," she said. "I accept."
Lucas groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You're impossible."
Eliah didn't look at him. "I don't back down."
The girl's smile sharpened—satisfied. "Good."
She turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd as easily as she had appeared.
Eliah watched her go, heart racing—not with fear, but anticipation.
Some challenges didn't come with warnings.
And Eliah had just said yes to one.
Eliah locked in.
Her thoughts raced ahead of her—routes bending through neon streets, energy spikes and drop-offs, the moment where Nullempress would try to corner her. If she timed it right, if she held back just enough—
Smack.
"Ow—what the—?!"
Eliah spun around, rubbing her head.
Vincent stood there, phone in hand, eyebrows raised like he'd done nothing wrong.
"Are you insane?!" Eliah yelled.
Vincent yelled right back. "I was ordered to bring you this!" He shoved the phone toward her. "Teacher said if I didn't, Mom would get called. Again. Because of your stupidity."
Eliah's eyes widened. "You didn't have to hit me with it!"
"It was a gentle reminder," Vincent shot back.
Lucas burst out laughing. "Not gonna lie—that was quite a smack."
"Shut up," Eliah snapped.
Lucas only grinned wider. He slung an arm over both of their shoulders and started steering them down the hallway. "Ahh, siblings. Same face, same volume, double the chaos."
"Get off me," Eliah said.
"Why is he touching us?" Vincent complained at the same time.
Lucas kept walking, smiling like he'd just won something, while the twins argued all the way down the hall—voices overlapping, insults flying, neither willing to back down.
For a moment, the looming race faded.
But only for a moment.
Eliah looked behind her back to glance the girl again one last time narrowing her eyes, she know something was up. And she'll find out later..