Escape

They´d been found out.

Lina yanked his arm up, exposing the Nyxian mark in full view of the others. Aria stiffened visibly.

Her smirk was razor-sharp. “I had a feeling the princess was lying. She’s never been very good at that, or at anything e- ”

He moved before she could.

A hand shot out, gripping her wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to silence. For a heartbeat, their eyes met—hers, wide with terror; his, cold with resolve.

Then the tent exploded into motion. Shadows twisted in the firelight as Militian soldiers surged forward, their weapons gleaming, bodies coiled with tension.

Neon stood at the center.

About twenty blades. Twenty trained fighters. He had no weapons. No suit. His wounds still ached beneath the gauze, muscles stiff from fatigue. Yet, in that moment, he was stiller than the soldiers themselves.

A breath. A shift of weight.

Then he launched.

The air cracked as he pushed off the ground with impossible force, his body soaring too high for any human. The soldiers barely had time to react before he was above them, twisting midair in a gravity-defying arc. The torchlight painted his silhouette against the tent's canvas as a dark streak of motion. 

He dropped.

Landing in a crouch just beyond the ring of soldiers, he barely paused before springing forward. The first attacker came at him with a diagonal slash. Neon sidestepped, catching the sword’s flat edge between his palms and twisting sharply. The weapon wrenched free from the soldier’s grip and clattered to the ground.

Another came from behind. He felt the rush of air before he saw it. Without looking, he ducked, the blade slicing harmlessly over his head. Using the momentum, he pivoted on his heel and drove his elbow into the soldier’s ribs. A choked gasp followed, then the man crumpled.

More footsteps. More weapons gleaming.

A blade thrust toward his stomach. Neon turned sharply, grabbing the soldier’s wrist mid-strike. With a flick of his own, he redirected the force, sending the man stumbling forward, off-balance. Neon hooked a foot behind the soldier’s ankle and yanked. He hit the dirt hard, breath knocked out of him.

Another came at him with a downward strike, fast and brutal. Neon caught the soldier’s forearm before the blade could fall. A swift twist, a sharp exhale, and the man’s grip loosened. The sword dropped. Neon kicked it aside.

His rule was simple: No deaths.

Disarm. Disable. Move.

He didn’t wait for the next wave. Pivoting sharply, he sprinted out of the tent, his breath steady despite the chaos behind him. The wound on his side throbbed, but he ignored it. Speed was his only advantage now.

A few meters away, Aria still stood frozen, her body rigid as she processed what was happening. Then...

The tether snapped at its limit.

The invisible force yanked her forward violently, her feet barely touching the ground before she lost balance.

A startled yelp filled the air. Then she crashed face-first onto the dirt.

Neon’s stride faltered. He turned, skidding to a stop just as she groaned in frustration.

"You idiot!” Aria pushed herself up, wiping dirt from her cheek, her glare searing.

Neon stepped back quickly, crouching beside her. “You fell.”

“No kidding!” she spat, smacking his arm hard.

"Less hitting, more running," he muttered, pulling her up.

Their pursuers were still on them. Shadows moved in the periphery. More soldiers, swords drawn, boots slamming against the ground. Neon’s thoughts snapped into sharp focus.

His bag. His suit. He needed them.

“You keep running!” he told Aria.

“What?”

“I need my stuff!”

Her mouth opened in protest, but he was already gone, veering off toward their shared tent.

The fabric rustled as he slipped inside. His eyes adjusted to the dimness, his breathing measured despite the urgency. He spotted the bag immediately. Shoved into the corner, exactly where he'd left it.

He lunged for it.

The moment his fingers closed around the strap the tether yanked again.

Hard. There was a huge SNAP.

The tether wrenched him backward with unnatural speed, his feet leaving the ground in a sharp lurch. His body twisted midair, the world blurring past in streaks of firelight. A normal person would have easily lost control.

But Neon adjusted. Angled his weight. Turned the momentum into movement rather than resistance.

By the time his boots hit the dirt again, he had already matched Aria’s pace, running alongside her as if nothing had happened.

Aria flicked a glance at him, panting. “That was ridiculous. And impressive.” 

Neon simply smirked, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder. “I try.”

Behind them, the Militian soldiers were gaining, the gleam of their swords catching the firelight as they tore after the two fugitives.

Neon’s heartbeat settled into the rhythm of the chase- fast but steady. He could hear the tension in their movements, the aggression in their footfalls. These were not just trained men. They were fighters who despised Nyxia, and he and Aria were the prey.

Not if I can help it.

A sharp twang split the air.

Neon’s instincts screamed. He ducked just as an arrow sliced through the space where his head had been a second ago. Another whistle. Another shot.

He pivoted, barely a flicker of hesitation in his step. A second arrow, aimed at Aria.

He shoved her to the side. Not hard, just enough to shift her weight, to knock her off the arrow’s path.

She yelped as she stumbled sideways—then the tether snapped once again, flinging her violently in the opposite direction.

Right into Neon’s arms.

He caught her mid-spin, barely losing momentum. Aria blinked up at him, stunned beyond words.

"Could you not throw me around like a ragdoll?" she gasped between breaths.

“Then don’t stand where arrows are supposed to be.” He said, panting, and set her back on her feet before pushing forward.

The soldiers weren’t slowing. More arrows rained toward them, slicing through the air in lethal streaks of silver.

Neon twisted between them, body bending with an almost unnatural fluidity- ducking, pivoting, rolling just in time, as if he could intuitively tell the trajectory of each arrow coming from behind. 

One arrow grazed his shoulder, slicing through the fabric but missing skin. He didn’t flinch.

The trees loomed ahead, dark and dense. A chance.

“Forest!” he called.

Aria didn’t question him. She pushed harder, trying her best to match his sprint as they tore toward the tree line. The Militians were still close. Too close, but the cover would buy them time.

They dived into the shadows of the woods, the world shifting instantly. White starlight cut through the branches in jagged silver shards, the undergrowth crunching beneath their boots as they weaved between trunks. The sounds of pursuit dulled slightly, muffled by the thick canopy.

Neon spotted a hollowed-out section between the roots of a fallen tree, just large enough to hide in.

"Here!" he whispered sharply, pulling Aria down with him. They crouched, breath heavy but controlled.

Silence.

Some of the Militian soldiers thundered past, their shouts fading as they ran deeper into the woods, searching. The moment stretched, tense and breathless, before the danger finally moved beyond them.

Neon exhaled. Slowly, he pulled open his bag in complete silence.

The bodysuit was sleek and dark, folding perfectly into itself, weightless in his grip. He worked quickly, sliding into it, the fabric syncing to his form as it activated.

As soon as the last seal clicked into place, he felt it.

The connection. Power hummed beneath his skin. His agility, his precision, his weapons, all returning in an instant.

Aria, still catching her breath, eyed him.

“So what now?" she said between breaths. "We need to keep moving.”

Neon hesitated. His fingers flexed.

He met her gaze, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. 

“I’m sorry," he whispered softly.

Aria frowned. “For wha—”

He moved before she could react. A sharp tap to the pressure point at the side of her neck. Quick. Precise.

Her body tensed, her eyes fluttered. Then her limbs went slack.

She gasped a sharp, startled breath before her body went completely limp. He caught her before she hit the ground, one hand carefully placed to support her head.

For a moment, he just stood there, looking down at her unconscious form. Then he exhaled, getting up while lifting her gently into his arms.

The forest stretched around them, dark and endless. The Militians were still hunting.

And Neon still had a job to do.