A meeting with fate

Chapter 6: A Meeting with fate

(desolate factory district, wind howling through the broken metal remains. The towering smokestack stands like a crumbling monument above the city.)

Xelric perches on the edge, staring down at the winding streets below, lost in thought. The memory of his village burning still lingers, hazy yet visceral—the scent of smoke, the crackling of flames, and the boy with the golden eyes.

But now… something is different.

For the first time, he understands the city. Not just the skyline, but every path, every shadowed alley, every hidden route beneath the streets. The knowledge isn’t learned. It’s instinct.

A shiver crawls up his spine.

Xelric: (softly to himself)

“What’s happening to me?”

The return to his senses is sluggish, drawn out. His awareness lingers on things that shouldn’t be possible—he can hear the movement of distant guards patrolling the district, smell the oil and iron from the lower sectors, feel the weight of the city pressing around him.

For a fleeting moment, he exhales—and he likes it.

The power. The awareness.

It excites him.

But the moment is shattered by reality.

He isn’t safe. Bronx isn’t safe.

Xelric: (groaning, rubbing his temples)

“I should probably tell someone about these little blackouts…” (his voice drops to a whisper) “…especially now that I’m setting people on fire.”

(A pause. The thought of Lara surfaces. He hesitates, then clenches his jaw.)

As Xelric descended the broken tower, he decided to head back to the shop. He realized how late it was—Bronx was probably locking up.

Turning a corner near the forge, he slammed into someone.

The impact jolted him back a step, but the man barely moved. Silver-haired, gruff, clad in a mismatched set of patched armor—he looked like he had seen more battles than Xelric could count.

Xelric: (quickly, stepping back)

“Sorry, mister.”

The old traveler adjusted his stance, brushing dust off his mismatched armor. Up close, Xelric noticed just how bad it was—kinetic batteries fried but somehow still running at barely 10%, plating patched together from different sets, and… was that tape holding part of it together?

Dan: (gruff, but not unkind)

“You should really watch where you’re going.” (pauses, glancing around) “Can you tell me where the forge district is? I’m heading to the wilds and need some repairs.”

Xelric blinked, still taking in the absolute disaster that was this man’s armor.

Dan: (raising an eyebrow, amused)

“Kid, you alright?”

Xelric: (immediately bristling, crossing his arms)

“First of all, I’m not a kid. I’m 18.”

Dan: (deadpan, unimpressed)

“You look 14.”

Xelric: (scowling, muttering)

“I’m just a little short for my age…” (then, snapping back to focus, eyes narrowing) “Wait—did you just say the Wilds? What are you, crazy?! A geezer like you wouldn’t last ten minutes in the Accord, let alone out there!”

(Xelric gestures wildly at Dan’s armor, still in disbelief.)

Xelric: (pointing aggressively)

“What are you even doing out there?!”

Dan: (calmly, like this is completely normal)

“I’m a researcher. Studying Landrid lifecycles.”

(Beat.)

Xelric freezes. Blinks. Then all hell breaks loose.

Xelric: (anime-style, face distorting in exaggerated horror as he flails his arms)

“WHAAAAAAT?!!!”

(He literally falls over, legs kicking into the air before he scrambles back up. He starts jumping up and down, waving his arms like an angry cat.)

Xelric: (shouting, absolutely losing it)

“DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH, OLD MAN?!”

(Dan casually adjusts his gauntlet, entirely unfazed.)

Xelric: (still yelling, pointing frantically at his armor)

“YOU’RE GONNA GO LOOK FOR LANDRID WEARING A TRASH CAN?!”

(He grabs his own head, dramatically pacing in circles.)

Xelric: (muttering to himself, still flailing)

“Unbelievable. Unbelievable. He’s actually lost it. No, this isn’t just normal crazy—this is beyond crazy.”

Dan: (completely deadpan, scratching his chin)

“Huh. I thought it was holding up pretty well.”

(Xelric immediately collapses face-first into the ground.)

The streets of Hecthalla village hum with late-night activity—blacksmiths finishing their last commissions, merchants closing their stalls. The glow of forges flickers through the streets as Xelric walks beside Dan, still eyeing his wreck of an armor set.)

Xelric: (sighs, shaking his head)

“Alright, just come with me. I work—or worked—for Bronx. His shop’s just outside the gates in Hecthalla Village.”

Dan: (raising an eyebrow)

“Worked?”

Xelric: (glancing away, muttering)

“It’s complicated.”

(Dan doesn’t push. Instead, he takes in his surroundings with a veteran’s gaze.)

Xelric: (gesturing ahead)

“Listen, if you go to the forge district, they’ll gouge the hell out of you. And the work won’t be half as good. You want real repairs, Bronx is your guy.”

Dan: (smirking slightly)

“Well, Mr. Worked for Bronx, the name’s Dain Varo.” (extends a gloved hand) “And you?”

Xelric: (hesitating, then taking the handshake)

“…Xelric.”

Dan: (nodding)

“Nice to meet you, Xelric.”

(They continue walking, the distant sound of metal striking metal filling the night air.)

Xelric keeps stealing glances at Dan’s armor—frankly, it’s a miracle the man is still walking. The kinetic batteries are fried, the plating is a mismatched disaster, and—was that tape holding the right pauldron together?)

Xelric: (unable to stop himself, incredulous)

“…What the hell happened to your armor?!”

Dan: (chuckling, glancing at his shoulder plate)

“Field repairs.”

Xelric: (flatly, gesturing at the mess)

“Field butchered.”

Dan: (shrugs, unconcerned)

“Gets the job done.”

(Xelric rubs his temples, exhaling.)

Xelric:

“You said you’re heading to the Wilds. What kind of idiot—no offense—decides to go there wearing a walking scrap heap?”

(Dan’s expression remains easygoing, but there’s an edge beneath it—a man who knows exactly what he’s doing.)

Dan: it’s like I said I’m a researcher

Xelric: studying man eating demons

Dan: laughs there just another animal like us

Dan: (glancing ahead, voice calm but thoughtful)

“But they’ve been around a lot longer than us. When we first arrived here—or got back here, depending on who you ask—the stories change depending on who’s telling them.”

(Xelric listens but stays quiet, watching Dan carefully.)

Dan: (continuing, gesturing at the horizon)

“We were able to survive out here—not just on these distant planets, not just because of the Volundr—but because of the Landrid.”

Xelric: (frowning, skeptical)

“The Landrid? The things that eat people?”

Dan: (smirks, shaking his head)

“They do a hell of a lot more than that.”

(He slows his pace slightly, as if considering how to explain it.)

Dan:

“They changed the landscape before we arrived. Have you ever wondered why planets where humans and Landrid coexist follow the same patterns? Why some places are habitable and others aren’t?”

(Xelric opens his mouth to argue—but stops. He has noticed the strange balance in the world, but he’s never questioned it.)

Dan: (watching his reaction, nodding)

“Scientists agree—planets like this one? They were terraformed by the Landrid.”

Xelric: (disbelief creeping into his voice)

“That doesn’t make sense. Landrid don’t even need habitable zones.”

Dan: (grinning slightly)

“Exactly.”

(That makes Xelric pause.)

Dan:

“Here’s another fun fact—on planets where humans and Landrid coexist, human life expectancy doubles. Sometimes even triples.”

(Xelric’s stomach turns slightly. He hates when things don’t add up.)

Xelric: (cautious, narrowing his eyes)

“…That’s not natural.”

Dan: (shrugs, smirking)

“Nope.”

Xelric: (slowly, realizing the implications)

“If the Landrid wanted to wipe us out, they could do it in months.”

Dan: (grinning, pointing at him like he just got the right answer)

“Now you’re thinking.”

(Xelric exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his head, unsettled. He doesn’t like where this is going.)

The air is thick with the scent of smoke and metal. The forge’s usual glow flickers erratically—something is wrong.)

As Xelric and Dan approached Bronx’s shop, Xelric’s stomach twisted.

Bronx was on his knees, his massive frame hunched, breathing heavy. His clothes were torn, fresh burns scorched across his arms.

Four mercenaries stood in front of him, armor scratched but clean, their weapons drawn. They weren’t nervous.

They were in control.

But it was the fifth man who made Xelric’s breath hitch.

A black suit, pristine despite the forge’s heat.

He wasn’t armored. He wasn’t armed. But something about him was wrong.

The man in black adjusted his cuffs, unbothered, his posture effortless, like he was waiting for something.

Xelric’s hands clenched into fists.

Xelric: (low, tense)

“…Who the hell is that?”

Tension Before the Fight

The bounty hunter grins, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Xelric.

Bounty Hunter: (mocking, voice dripping with cruelty)

“Well, well. You must be the pyro kid. I like fire too, y’know.” (gesturing lazily at Bronx’s burning shop) “Thought I’d get a little warm while I waited.”

(Xelric’s pulse hammers in his ears, his fists clenching. The smell of scorched metal and burnt flesh sticks in his nose.)

Bounty Hunter: (tilting his head, smirking)

“Where’s your little girlfriend, kid? I got unfinished business with her.” (his grin widens, twisted with malice) “I know my boys clipped her. She’s probably bleeding out somewhere… unless she’s already dead.”

(Xelric sees red. His breath sharpens. The heat inside him flares.)

Xelric: (low, seething)

“You better not have touched her. I’ll kill you.”

(The bounty hunter’s grin deepens, feeding off Xelric’s anger. He takes a slow step forward—then—)

Dan: (calmly, smoothly cutting in)

“Why don’t we all just talk about this?”

(Before anyone can react, Dan moves. His cloak shifts—and in one fluid motion, he draws his revolver and fires.)

CRACK.

(A single shot. Clean. Precise. The mercenary pointing his gun at Bronx’s head jerks backward, a bullet hole between his eyes. He drops like a stone.)

Chaos Erupts

The other mercs freeze for half a second—then react.

Two of them charge Dan, kinetic barriers flaring to life—distorting the air around them like heatwaves. The barriers slow the bullets, making Dan’s next few shots glance off, but they can’t see clearly through the distortion.

Dan doesn’t slow down.

The first merc swings a blade—Dan sidesteps effortlessly, knocking the weapon from his hand. He sweeps the merc’s leg and, in one smooth motion, drives his short sword through the man’s chest plate.

Mercenary: (choking, voice fading)

“Hhg—”

(A spray of blood. The body hits the ground.)

The second merc lunges with a bayonet—Dan moves like water, twisting around the attack. The blade barely misses his ribs.

Bronx vs. The Merc

Bronx, despite his injuries, grapples with the third mercenary—the two men struggling for control of the gun. Sparks fly as they crash against the worktable, knocking over tools and half-finished weapons.

Bronx roars, muscles straining as he wrestles the weapon away. He looks to Xelric—desperate, furious.

Bronx: (gritting his teeth, bellowing)

“RUN!”

(Xelric doesn’t move. Everything feels slow. Time stretches, every detail too sharp, too real. The heat of the forge, the scent of iron, the flicker of fire reflected in the bounty hunter’s smirk.)

The Man in Black Moves

The bounty hunter, still watching Xelric, lifts his hand—calm, deliberate.

Bounty Hunter: (annoyed, casual)

“You idiots are in my way.”

(And then—flames explode from his palm.)

A wave of fire erupts from his hand, engulfing the struggling mercenary.

The man barely has time to scream before his body is consumed, flesh charring in an instant.

Bronx is caught in the blast—the force hurls him backward. His massive frame crashes through crates, rolling across the ground like a ragdoll.

He lands hard, his legs still on fire.

Xelric’s Breaking Point

For a moment—everything is silent.

Then—Xelric moves.

His instincts ignite, heat surging through his veins. He doesn’t think—he acts.

He extends his hand—Volnyte energy swirls around his fingers, the air around Bronx cooling instantly. The flames die, flickering into embers.

Xelric drops to his knees beside him, hands shaking as he tries to heal him, fix him, something—

Bronx’s chest rises and falls—he’s alive. Barely.

But before Xelric can do anything more—

The bounty hunter is already moving.

Final Moments Before the Transformation

Bounty Hunter: (grinning, stepping toward Xelric, rolling his shoulders)

“Come on, Pyro Kid. Show me what you’ve got.”

*(Xelric’s pulse slows. His vision tunnels. The heat inside him builds. Something in his bones shifts. His gauntlet pulses, the runes glowing bright.)

More mercenaries flood the scene, weapons drawn, keeping Dan busy.

Final Scene: The Breaking Point

(The forge’s glow is nothing compared to the firestorm erupting around them. The air warps, metal twists, and the ground bubbles under the unbearable heat. Xelric can feel his skin screaming, his body trembling as he fights to keep the flames from consuming him and Bronx.)

The Bounty Hunter sneers, irritated, as if the entire fight has become a waste of his time. He dusts off his pristine black suit, rolling his neck with a slow exhale.

Bounty Hunter: (disgusted, tone sharp with finality)

“You’re all useless.”

(His fingers snap. A roaring inferno erupts from his palm, the flames curling into a massive wave.)

Bounty Hunter: (cold, uncaring)

“Burn.”

(The world ignites.)

The Flames Consume Them

Xelric barely has time to react before the fire is everywhere.

It swallows the forge. The alley. The sky. The air.

It devours him.

The heat is unreal—like being dropped into the heart of a star. His gauntlet pulses wildly, Volnyte energy desperately trying to shield him, but it’s not enough.

His skin blisters. His muscles seize.

The flames creep higher—licking at his arms, coiling around his chest—burning, burning, burning.

He grits his teeth, digging his heels into the scorched ground, trying to force the flames back, to protect Bronx, to do anything—but the fire isn’t just burning them.

It’s melting them.

Xelric: The Last Thing He Sees

Xelric: (gasping, voice weak, raw above the crackling fire)

“…Bronx…” (his fingers dig into the ground, the metal twisting beneath him.)

“…we’re melting.”

Bronx isn’t moving.

His massive frame is crumpled, his legs still smoldering, steam hissing where his flesh has fused with the scorched earth.

Xelric’s vision flickers. His pulse slows.

He’s losing.

And then—

The Bounty Hunter steps forward, towering over him. A cruel smirk carves across his face as he lifts his hand one last time.

Bounty Hunter: (amused, tilting his head)

“That’s it? I expected more from you, Pyro Kid.”

(The fire roars higher.)

*(And then—Xelric breaks.)

The Awakening

The moment the flames hit their peak, something inside him snaps.

His breath stops.

His heart stalls.

And then—

His bones shift.

His body twists.

His gauntlet, the Volnyte melded into his skin, pulses once—then explodes into glowing runic scars crawling up his arm, his veins igniting with something ancient, something wrong.

His spine elongates. His shoulders crack. His jaw unhinges.

His teeth lengthen into fangs. His nails sharpen into claws.

The Bounty Hunter hesitates for the first time.

Because the thing standing before him is no longer human.

No longer Xelric.

(END SCENE.)

The Bounty Hunter

The bounty hunter in the black suit froze, staring at Xelric in disbelief.

The boy—no, the thing standing before him—was no longer the same.

Xelric now stood eye to eye with him, a full foot and a half taller than before. His once simple crafting gauntlet had warped, twisting around his arm like a living weapon, pulsing with ominous red energy. His lean form was taut with power, his muscles coiled, his posture poised to strike. And his eyes—those golden, glowing eyes—burned with something inhuman.

Then, it spoke.

Xelric: (voice cold, filled with scorn)

“What are you gawking at, DEAD FOOL?

You’re all the same—swaggering tough when you’re preying on the weak, but the moment you see real power, you freeze like frightened children.”

Before the bounty hunter could even process the words, Xelric vanished.

A blur.

A blink.

Then—pain.

Xelric reappeared inches from him, his clawed gauntlet already slamming into his gut.

The bounty hunter’s instincts screamed at him to react—he had spent years surviving the worst of the streets, priding himself on his close-quarters skills. But this wasn’t a punch.

This was devastation.

The impact wasn’t just physical. It tore through him from the inside, like his very bones were rattling apart. His breath vanished in a ragged gasp as he crumpled to the ground, body convulsing, lungs refusing to draw air.

Above him, Xelric stood, radiating power.

Xelric: (soft, almost bored)

“I’ll give you one chance, dog. One last, fleeting moment of life.”

(Xelric tilts his head, watching the bounty hunter writhe.)

“Run.

“Run to the city if you think it’ll save you. Run while I carve through your men.

“Maybe, just maybe—if your luck holds—you’ll make it.”

(Xelric steps forward, his glowing gauntlet flexing, his golden eyes narrowing.)

“But I doubt it.”

The Breaking Point

“Xelric, stop this! What is happening to you? This is not you! You are not an animal!”

The voice—his voice—echoed inside his mind, raw and desperate, pleading with him to listen.

But he couldn’t.

Because the only thing he could feel was the rush.

The scent of smoldering flesh filled his lungs. The heat of blood still cooling on his skin sent shivers down his spine. The distant sound of his own heartbeat pounded like war drums in his ears, drowning out reason, drowning out everything but the fight.

Something inside him told him to stop.

But his body refused.

Unleashed

The streets reeked of blood and burning flesh. Smoke curled through the night air, thick and suffocating, as the dim city lights cast flickering shadows over the carnage.

The bounty hunter in black staggered back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His body screamed at him to run, to put as much distance as possible between himself and this thing standing before him.

This wasn’t possible.

Dain cursed under his breath, barely keeping the rest of the bounty hunter’s men at bay. His sword cut through them with sharp, efficient strikes, but it wasn’t enough—not against this many.

And then Xelric moved.

Not to defend.

Not to protect.

But to end it.

It was his eyes that held the bounty hunter frozen.

Glowing, burning—gold like molten metal.

And the grin on his face… it wasn’t rage. It was something absolute.

A chill ran through the bounty hunter’s spine.

This isn’t just some street kid. This is something else.

Something was wrong.

Then, the screaming started.

Merc 1: (staggering back, barely holding onto his weapon) “S-sir—what the hell is this?! What is he?!”

Merc 2: (clutching a bleeding arm, voice rising in panic) “We need to run!”

Merc 3: (shouting, frantically reloading) “Screw that! Kill him! Hit him with everything!”

They raised their weapons.

Too slow.

Xelric moved—not with a lunge, not with a charge—he was just there.

A gauntleted fist crushed through Merc 1’s chestplate, armor buckling inward with a sickening crunch. His body folded backward as if a steel beam had caved in his ribs. Blood sprayed from his mouth before he even hit the ground.

The second merc barely had time to turn before Xelric grabbed him by the throat.

Merc 2: (gasping, struggling) “No, no, please—”

Xelric squeezed.

His gauntlet-arm flexed, the red energy pulsing through its plates. Bones shattered beneath his grip. The man thrashed—then went limp, his neck crushed like brittle glass.

Merc 3 swung his blade in blind desperation, but Xelric barely even looked.

His hand shot up, catching the blade mid-swing.

The metal screeched against the gauntlet’s reinforced plating, the Volnyte edge sparking wildly. The merc’s eyes widened in horror as Xelric slowly pushed back—his arm steady, unshaken, effortlessly overpowering him.

Then, he twisted.

A sickening snap echoed as the merc’s wrist snapped sideways, the sword clattering uselessly to the ground.

Xeric's gaze bored into him.

Xelric: (low, steady, eyes glowing) “Didn’t you hear me?”

Merc 3: (desperate, voice breaking) “No—please, I—!”

Xelric struck.

A single, bone-shattering blow—his gauntlet-arm hammering straight through the man’s chest and out the other side.

The body slumped, the ground beneath them slick with blood.

Only one left.

The final merc—the one who had **begged to run—**turned in a panic, trying to bolt.

He didn’t make it two steps before Xelric tore his arm clean from its socket.

The merc collapsed to the ground, screaming, clutching at the ragged stump where his limb had been. His own blood sprayed across the dirt in violent arcs.

Xelric tilted his head, stepping over him.

Xelric: (mocking, voice smooth) “I told you not to run.”

His gauntlet-arm rose—then came down, crushing the man’s skull against the pavement with a single downward strike.

Silence.

Only the soft crackling of fires and the distant howl of wind filled the streets now.

The bounty hunter in black stood frozen.

His body refused to move.

His mind screamed at him to act.

But what was the point?

He had faced killers before. He had stared death in the eye more times than he could count.

But this… this was something else.

Something unnatural.

His legs tensed. Every nerve screamed at him to run. But his pride—damn his pride—held him still.

Bounty Hunter: (gritted teeth, whispering) “Damn it… damn it all…”

His hand hovered over his sidearm.

Run? Fight?

Could he even win?

Dain watched it all unfold from the alleyway, heart hammering in his chest.

This wasn’t the reckless, stubborn kid he had met earlier.

This was something else.

Something beyond human.

For a split second, he considered trying to stop it. Considered stepping in.

But then—he heard Bronx groan beside him.

Dain: (low, decisive) “No time for this.”

Whatever was happening to Xelric, it didn’t matter right now.

Not when Bronx was barely clinging to consciousness.

Dain grabbed Bronx, hauling him to his feet.

Dain: (gruff, to himself) “We’re getting out of here.”

He turned, dragging Bronx toward the far end of the street. If Xelric was going to tear through them, fine. Let the mercs deal with their own problems.

Because if they stayed any longer, they wouldn’t survive the aftermath.

Right now, survival was all that mattered.

The Escape

Dain stumbled into a nearby tavern, his breaths ragged, his grip tight around Bronx’s barely-conscious form.

The moment he pushed through the door, the dim, ale-soaked air of the establishment fell into silence.

Eyes turned toward them—some wary, some curious. None willing to get involved.

Dain didn’t have time for hesitation.

Dain: (gritted, urgent) “I need a medic. Now.”

A few men exchanged glances before a cloaked figure stood from a corner booth. Without a word, they motioned Dain toward the back, where a makeshift infirmary had been set up.

Bronx groaned weakly, his breathing shallow.

Dain set him down carefully, then turned back toward the door.

Xelric was still out there.

And so was the bounty hunter.

The Bounty Hunter’s Gamble

Bounty Hunter (to himself, seething): “Pathetic. Remember your training—he’s just some overgrown street rat.”

His fingers tightened around the grip of his sidearm. His hands were shaking.

He wasn’t used to fear.

Not like this.

Bounty Hunter (low, forcing himself up): “Get up. Get the hell out of here.”

He gritted his teeth, then snapped his sidearm up—and fired.

A streak of blue-hot plasma screamed toward Xelric’s head.

Xelric barely moved. His gauntlet shot up, catching the shot mid-air. Sparks scattered as the energy dispersed across the Volnyte plating, harmless.

The bounty hunter didn’t hesitate.

His free hand twisted, activating a Volnyte Ignition Charge.

A sphere of searing flame erupted from his palm, hissing with raw power.

With a snarl, he launched it directly at Xelric’s feet.

BOOM!

The fireball detonated with a deafening explosion, the force sending shockwaves through the alleyway. Flames roared high, swallowing Xelric in a column of blazing light.

The bounty hunter didn’t stay to see the result.

Bounty Hunter (panting, thinking): “That takes care of that.”

He turned and ran, doubling down the alley, boots pounding against the rain-slick pavement.

Then—

Footsteps.

Fast. Too fast.

And then—

Laughter.

A slow, low chuckle. Twisting into something sharp.

The bounty hunter’s stomach dropped.

He didn’t dare look back.

But the laughter was getting closer.

He could see the shadows behind him now

The Hunt Ends

The laughter was getting closer.

The bounty hunter gritted his teeth, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. His instincts screamed at him—Move. Now.

He could see shadows flickering behind him, stretching across the alley walls like grasping hands.

Then—small red dots appeared around his feet. Too many.

No.

His stomach twisted.

Then—the world exploded.

The charges detonated in sequence, concussive waves tearing through the narrow alley, forcing him into a desperate sprint.

He zigzagged, vaulting over debris, weaving between the blasts. His body moved on pure survival instinct, adrenaline dulling the pain in his battered limbs.

But one caught him in the side, throwing off his balance.

Then another.

And then—a final explosion erupted beneath him.

His world spun violently as he was hurled through the air, slamming hard onto the unforgiving stone. The impact sent a sharp jolt through his already broken body.

For a second, his vision blurred, his limbs refusing to respond. Smoke curled around him, heat rippling through the ground.

And then—a voice.

Calm. Close.

The End of the Hunt

Xelric: (soft, amused) “Looks like you were a little too slow.”

The bounty hunter’s breath came out in ragged gasps as he forced himself up, vision swimming.

He turned—Xelric was standing just ahead.

Completely composed.

Not even winded.

Xelric’s golden eyes burned in the darkness, his eerie red gauntlet pulsing, stronger than before.

Xelric: (grinning, rolling his shoulders) “And here I was, not even using my Volnyte energy—until you threw that charge at me. Nice move.”

The bounty hunter’s hand hovered over his sidearm, but his fingers trembled.

He had one shot.

One chance.

Xelric’s smirk faded, his voice dropping to something colder, sharper.

Xelric: “But I think I’m gonna end this now.”

Then—he disappeared.

The bounty hunter’s stomach dropped.

Where—?!

A sudden, blinding red flash ignited before him.

Before he could even react, Xelric reappeared mid-strike.

A pulse of pure, volatile Volnyte energy erupted from his gauntlet, the force slamming dead center into the bounty hunter’s chest.

The impact sent him flying.

His body tore through the air, armor cracking apart under the sheer force.

Then—pain.

A white-hot slicing sensation ripped through his lower body.

His leg—gone.

He barely registered it before his body collided with a crumbling wall, the shockwave rattling through his bones.

His head slumped forward, body screaming in agony. His severed limb landed a few feet away, smoke still rising from the wound.

For a moment, everything was silent.

Then—footsteps.

Slow. Deliberate.

The bounty hunter barely lifted his gaze. Xelric was approaching.

His gauntlet still hummed, faint embers of red flickering along its plating. His golden eyes pierced through the darkness, fixed on his fallen prey.

Xelric stopped just inches away, tilting his head.

Xelric: (mocking, voice smooth) “Not so fast now, are you?”

The bounty hunter’s breath hitched.

His fingers twitched toward his weapon—but the pain crashed into him, drowning out the last of his strength.

His vision swam, the edges of the world turning black.

And then, the final, cruel realization settled in.

This wasn’t just some kid.

This was a nightmare given form.

And the worst part?

Xelric was smiling.

The Breaking Point

Xelric exhaled slowly, his golden eyes still glowing as he leaned forward, gripping the bounty hunter by the collar with one hand.

The man barely struggled—his remaining leg kicked weakly, his breath shallow, pain consuming whatever fight he had left.

Xelric drew back his gauntleted fist, the eerie red glow intensifying, Volnyte energy surging around his arm like a living force.

One strike.

That was all it would take.

Then—a voice.

Not his own.

Lara: (desperate) “Xelric, I’m here! Don’t do it! Please—this is all my fault. Just listen to me—you don’t have to do this!”

His fist hovered mid-air.

The words hit something deep inside him, like a memory just out of reach.

The voice wasn’t his.

It was softer. Familiar.

Lara.

She stood just beyond the alley’s edge, eyes locked on him, urgency in her voice but no fear.

Lara: (pleading) “Please, Xelric! The Voldragoons are coming. We can still make the caravan, but we have to go now!”

(Xelric’s grip tightened around the bounty hunter’s collar. The man let out a weak, ragged breath—his final.)

Lara: (shouting now) “I don’t care what’s happening to you, but I need you to come back! Now!”

Xelric’s gaze snapped to her.

For the first time since the fight began—something flickered in his expression.

Something human.

His gauntleted fingers twitched. For a brief moment, his clenched fist loosened—like he might stop.

Then—his golden eyes darkened.

Without looking back at the bounty hunter, he formed his gauntlet hand into a fist.

The red energy flared violently.

And then, with a single crushing motion, he drove his fist down.

A sickening, final crack.

The bounty hunter’s body fell limp.

Xelric dropped him without a second glance.

And then—he moved.

Before Lara could react, Xelric rushed toward her, closing the distance in an instant.

She gasped, her body tensing—but he didn’t attack.

Instead, he pulled her into an embrace.

The heat of the battle still clung to his skin, his breath uneven. His body trembled.

Then—a whisper.

Xelric: (voice raw, shaken) “Your fault?”

Lara’s breath hitched.

For the first time, Xelric sounded afraid.

Then—his arms tightened.

And before she could answer—

He pulled her with him and vanished into the darkness.

The alley fell into silence, save for the distant wail of sirens.

The Voldragoons had arrived.

But they were already gone.

He pulled her close—too close.

Lara’s breath caught as Xelric’s arms tightened around her. His grip was firm, unrelenting—not painful, but absolute. She could feel the sheer strength coiled beneath his skin, the quiet promise that even if she wanted to pull away, she wouldn’t be able to.

But she didn’t try.

She had always felt safe with Xelric. Always.

But this feeling—this was different.

The heat radiating from him wasn’t just warmth—it was energy, thrumming, alive, intoxicating. It wrapped around her like a current pulling her into deep waters. A part of her wanted to resist, to ground herself, to think—but the other part?

The other part felt euphoric.

Like standing at the edge of something vast, something beyond reason—and wanting to fall.

Her pulse quickened. This wasn’t safety.

Not by a long shot.

But she didn’t let go.

And neither did he.

As they vanished into the night, Lara’s mind swirled with uncertainty.

Their home was gone.

The Hierarchy wouldn’t let them escape—not after this. Hecthalla would hunt them down. There was no going back.

And then there was that old guy. The one with Bronx. Who the hell was he? Why was he even there?

But none of it mattered as much as the question she couldn’t push away.

Her gaze flicked to Xelric, his form barely visible in the dim glow of the city behind them.

What is happening to you?