The night air screamed.
Axel was airborne, his back arched, boots dangling uselessly over nothing as Rika held him by the neck with both armored hands. Her grip was iron—cold, mechanical, unyielding. The wind tore past them as the Hive shrank below into a patchwork of darkness and broken lights.
"Why can't you just—fucking—die?!" Rika screamed.
Her voice cracked halfway through the sentence. Rage. Desperation. Something feral.
Axel slammed his fists against her forearms, teeth clenched, muscles burning. Nothing. The armor didn't even flinch. Her grip tightened instead, metal fingers digging deeper as they floated higher, drifting forward through the night.
Rika laughed—then choked on it. "You know what?" she shouted, half to him, half to herself. "I'm done playing with chances. Not after your ability fucked everything up tonight!"
Her wings flared. Jetpack thrusters ignited with a violent roar.
They shot forward.
Axel's eyes widened as the city rushed up beneath them. Empty streets. Dead traffic lights. And then—
No.
A gas station.
Bright, lonely, glowing in the dark like a target painted by fate itself.
She's aiming for it.
"She's gonna kill us both," Axel realized, cold and sharp.
Rika was smiling now. Crying too. Tears ripped away by the wind as she yelled incoherently—at Axel, at herself, at the sky. Her arms locked around him in what felt less like a hold and more like a promise.
An unbreakable hug.
Axel stopped struggling.
He took the bet.
The dice appeared.
Two glowing cubes spun inside his mind—green faces, white dots, edges crackling with electric light. The world stretched, slowed, screamed.
First roll.1–2.
Axel's jaw tightened. No.He didn't take it.
Second roll.3–4.
His stomach dropped. Still not enough.Still death.
The gas station rushed closer. A third of a second away, from death.
"Come on," Axel whispered—not to luck, not to fate. To himself.
Third roll.
The dice slammed to a stop.
6–6.
Axel didn't hesitate.
Use it.
Time shattered.
Milliseconds stretched into eternity as reality bent—not around him, not around Rika—but around the space itself.
They were a breath away from impact when—
BOOM.
The explosion didn't come from below.
It came from her.
Rika's metallic wings detonated mid-flight, internal rockets erupting violently, tearing through armor and jet thrusters in a blinding flash. The force ripped them apart, throwing both bodies downward out of control.
They slammed onto the gas station's flat roof instead of into its core.
Concrete cracked.
Metal screeched.
Axel and Rika rolled across the rooftop, limbs tangled, sparks flying, pain detonating through every nerve. They skidded to opposite ends of the roof, smoke curling into the night sky.
Silence followed.
They were alive.
Barely.
The rooftop of the gas station was a warzone. Concrete cracked, metal scraps scattered, sparks flying from twisted beams. Axel and Rika pushed themselves up, both trembling, breathing ragged, muscles screaming, but neither giving an inch.
Rika lunged first. Her armored fist smashed into Axel's chest with a deafening clang. Axel staggered back, nearly losing his balance. Pain stabbed through his ribs, lungs burning—but he rolled.
Dice roll.2–1.
Axel's vision blurred slightly. His stamina was dropping fast. Every roll now cost him more, but he had no choice. He had to survive. He took the roll.
Rika swung again, but this time her metallic arm cracked. The armor splintered along her elbow, exposing pale skin beneath. Axel saw the opening and acted instantly.
He grabbed her broken arm, pulled her across his back, and slammed her onto the rooftop. She hit the concrete hard. Pain tore through her, but Axel wasn't done. He stomped down on her arm. Blood ran freely, soaking her sleeve, dripping onto the rooftop.
Axel straddled her legs, fists raised. He rained blows across her face. Each hit echoed, each drop of blood a reminder of the chaos between them.
"Just like that night…" Rika gasped, her voice weak, barely audible through the blood and pain.
Axel smirked, leaning down slightly. "Yes. Actually, it is just like that night."
Rika's eyes filled with tears. Her armored mask broken, her face bruised, she whispered, "You know… I actually loved you. The army… they gave me… a good job and—"
"And you tried to kill me and my friends?" Axel interrupted, raising an eyebrow, his fists still trembling from the effort.
Silence. The city stretched around them, empty and dark. It felt like the world had paused. Axel let her go. She lay there, bleeding, broken, but alive.
He stepped back, exhausted, every muscle burning. A few steps away, he felt the barrel of a gun behind him.
Bang.
The shot whizzed past his ear. Rika had fired again.
Axel chuckled softly, almost to himself. "I predicted it… again."
He turned slowly. Every step measured, every movement precise. He grabbed her hyper-desert eagle from her own hands. Cold metal pressed against her temple.
The trigger clicked.
The bullet hit.
A tear slid down Axel's cheek—but it wasn't for her. It was for the girl who had been brainwashed, for the first love he had lost, for the person the army had taken from him.
Rika's body went limp in his arms. Axel's chest heaved. Pain, guilt, exhaustion—all tangled together. He adjusted his grip, carrying her carefully.
From the rooftop, he leapt. One building to the next, the city blurring beneath him, concrete and shadows passing in a dizzying rush.
He moved fast, almost impossibly fast, until finally he reached their underground base.
Axel laid her down gently. The fight was over. But the scars—physical, mental, and emotional—would last forever.
The dice had rolled, and tonight, luck had chosen him… but at a cost.