"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power." — Abraham Lincoln
Emergency lights strobed crimson through Cathedral Station's servant levels. Every pulse carved Alaric, Lia, Selene, and Patch into flickering silhouettes sprinting between marble arches. Automated shutters slammed behind them, but Selene's cloaking emitter scattered biometric scans just long enough to slip through each iris-scanner before it clamped shut.
Ahead, a freight-loader shaft plunged thirteen floors to maintenance sewers—their only clean exit. Alaric skidded to a halt at the lift doors and jammed his pry-bar between steel plates. Muscles burned; Strength E ground metal inch by inch until Selene wedged her sword beside him and levered. The doors shrieked apart, revealing a mesh service ladder disappearing into black.
"Down!" Selene barked.
Patch hesitated only until Lia shoved him. The hacker scrambled into the dark, boots rattling. Lia followed, then Selene. Alaric sheathed one knife, gripped the rung, and began the descent just as a platoon of Council shock troops rounded the corner. Crackling spears slammed into the doorframe an inch from his boot sole.
He dropped the final three stories, landing in ankle-deep sludge. Pain lanced up his shins—Vitality dulled it to sparks. Above, spears hissed, but soldiers couldn't fit through the half-pried gap. For now.
Patch fumbled with a flashlight, pale face glistening. "Map says drainage conduit leads to Bay-Seventeen sump pump. Five hundred meters west."
Selene nodded, porcelain mask shimmering in the beam. "Move."
They pounded through ribbed tunnels, water sloshing. Alaric's danger sense beat like war drums; Syndicate hounds weren't far behind. The stat point still banked floated before his eyes. He breathed once, pressed it into Strength.
[Strength E → E+]A hot surge flooded sinew; each stride now cracked water like a whip.
A ventilation hatch above burst open. Three elite bounty hunters dropped in: ballistic cloaks, curved monoblades humming. The leader's visor flashed red. "Echo bounty—terminate."
Selene met the first with a parry so fast sparks flew like fireflies. Blade kissed blade, sliding to hilt. She corkscrewed past, carving the hunter's hamstring, then reversed to open his throat before he hit water.
Alaric lunged at number two. New strength turned his body into a battering ram; knife met blade in a grinding lock. He felt the hunter's stance falter, drove an elbow into plated ribs, heard a crack. The hunter swung wild; Alaric ducked, raked his knife upward under chin guard. Blood sprayed black in dim light.
Lia confronted the third—the tallest. She feinted low, then slashed across visor; sparks blinded him. He roared, overhand strike cleaving air. She pivoted, dagger finding armpit seam. The hunter stumbled. Alaric dashed in, seized visor, and slammed skull against concrete. Water swallowed the body.
Patch gaped. "Remind me never to double-cross you people."
"Run," Lia hissed, cheeks flushed from exhilaration and proximity to her brother's blood-slick knife. They sprinted.
Minutes later, the conduit opened into the sump—a cylindrical vault where waterfall pipes cascaded into frothing sludge. Catwalks spiraled upward, leading to a maintenance hatch high under the docks. Selene started up the ladder first; Patch followed, then Lia.
Steel groaned behind Alaric. He spun—two shock troopers dropped from a ceiling duct, rail carbines glowing. He dodged left; a rail-slug vaporized ladder rungs inches from Selene's boot. She kept climbing, unfazed.
Alaric hurled a throwing knife; it sang end-over-end, embedding in a trooper's shoulder. Lia, halfway up, drew a compact pistol she'd stolen earlier and fired twice. Rail sparks riddled the second trooper's visor; he staggered. Alaric surged forward, seized his carbine, and wrenched it away, smashing the butt into helmet glass. Water swallowed another corpse.
Selene forced the hatch, moonlit harbor air cascading in. Patch clambered out, gasping. Lia surfaced next; Alaric hoisted himself onto the pier seconds later, hatch slamming shut beneath. Sirens echoed across distant quays, but for the moment only gull-cries broke night's hush.
They darted into stacked cargo containers. Selene finally stopped in a shadowed alcove, porcelain mask heaving softly. She produced Key Three. "We have all we need to break the Seraphim cipher. But we need time—quiet time."
Patch wiped sweat. "Quiet? Council will lock the city tomorrow."
Alaric scanned the dark water. "Tavros once mentioned a derelict biotech lab beyond the city's north ridge. Off-grid."
Selene nodded. "Then we ride."
An hour before dawn they reached a forgotten rail depot where Asha waited with an old military jeep. Lia slipped into the passenger seat beside Alaric; her thigh pressed against his, warmth grounding him after slaughter. She leaned close, whispering, "You bleed less now."
"Strength upgrade," he joked, voice hoarse. She traced a finger over dried cuts on his forearm—caress equal parts affection and ownership. Alaric squeezed her hand until Selene barked for focus.
Dust devils trailed behind the jeep as they roared out of Zenith's neon halo, heading toward barren hills streaked by lightning. In the back, Patch tapped frantic code into a portable deck, chasing Council trackers off their trail.
Selene rode shotgun, mask turned to the dawn, as if tasting freedom. "Once we decrypt Seraphim," she said, "we decide whether to release it."
"An antidote or a weapon," Alaric murmured. "Depends on who wields it."
Lia's grip tightened. "We wield it. Together."
Asha guided the jeep off a derelict overpass, engines whining through collapsed tunnels until a rusted research compound rose from desert scrub—sign bearing the faded Vale Biotech crest. Barbed fences sagged, solar panels shattered. Alaric felt ghosts stir: childhood whispers, Mother's lullaby about wings of light.
They rolled inside a loading bay. Asha sealed doors; emergency lights flickered after decades of slumber. Dust motes drifted through silence thick as memory.
Patch set up servers in a security office. Selene placed the three keys onto a central hub, runes aligning like constellations. Holograms whirred: the Seraphim helix, now whole, unfolding into cascading matrices of gene-editing scripts.
Lines of code mapped enhancements far beyond simple stat boosts—cellular regeneration, neural acceleration, toxin-cleansing blood. Lia's eyes widened, luminous. "It could make humans… immortal."
"Or plague factories," Patch whispered in awe.
Alaric stared, heart pounding. Power to topple the Council—or become worse than them. Selene removed her mask, gray eyes blazing. "Tomorrow, the world changes. We must choose its shape."
A sudden hum rattled rust flakes from ceiling beams. Old satellite dishes atop the compound spun alive, picking signals. Asha cursed: "Auto-uplink engaged. Someone's pinging the lab."
Through cracked skylights, they saw distant glow—dropships lifting above Zenith, heading their way. The Council had traced Seraphim back to its birthplace.
Alaric sheathed his blade, resolve crystallizing. "Then tonight, we carve our choice in iron."
Selene smiled like a crescent moon. Lia pressed closer, heat beating through shared adrenaline. Patch gulped, fingers dancing over firewalls. Asha loaded magazines, amber optic pulsing.
Outside, thunder rolled—metal wings bringing war. Inside, a brother, a sister, and a mask-clad huntress stood at the threshold of godhood.