Sleep didn't come easy.
Nova lay curled on the slab of a bed, the steel biting into her back through the thin sheet. The cell was silent, but her mind wasn't. It replayed everything, Butcher's blade, the scream of skates, the moment Skater X looked at her and chose to leave her alive.
She closed her eyes anyway.
Eventually, the weight of exhaustion won.
And then the dream came.
She was on the rink again, but it was different.
Empty.
No players. No sounds. Just a thick fog floating over the ice and a spotlight following her every move. The puck sat in the center, glowing gold.
But no one chased it.
No one cheered.
She skated toward it, slow, uncertain. Her limbs felt heavier than they should. Her skates dragged like they were dipped in tar. Her heartbeat echoed louder than any announcer ever could.
She picked up the puck, but there was no goal.
No end.
Just endless white stretching forever.
And then… she was back in Neonfall.
Running again.
Only this time, her mother's voice echoed through the alleyways.
"Nova... why didn't you come back?"
"Why didn't you save me, too?"
Nova turned corners, faster, harder, dodging lights and drones and pain, but the alleys stretched longer than she remembered. The doors were all locked. The city didn't recognize her anymore. Like she was never there.
She stopped in front of the one home that mattered.
Her mom's.
The door creaked open. But the room was empty.
Just a bed.
Cold sheets.
And a framed photo of her mother.
Nova picked it up, but it slipped from her hands and shattered.
And in the glass,
She saw her own face.
Pale. Hollow.
Dead.
She woke with a gasp, choking on breath.
Her body was damp with sweat. Her chest rose and fell like she'd just sprinted laps.
The cell was dark.
Still locked.
She wasn't dead.
But she had never felt so close to it.
Nova sat up slowly, pulling her knees to her chest, forehead pressed to them.
Tears burned behind her eyes, but she didn't let them fall this time.
She just whispered into the silence:
"...I don't wanna die out here.."
The siren wailed like a warhorn.
Nova's eyes snapped open, not because she was rested. She hadn't slept more than twenty minutes. Her body ached. Her thoughts were sludge. But the cold steel doors were already opening.
"On your feet," barked the guard through the speaker.
She dragged herself up, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched.
The dream hadn't left her. It clung like frostbite.
Her limbs were heavy. Her heartbeat dull. Even the chip in her hand hummed quieter, like it could feel her exhaustion too.
Vera was waiting outside her cell.
"You look like hell," she muttered, arms crossed, brows drawn.
Nova smirked faintly. "Feel worse."
"Second match," Vera said, walking beside her as they marched down the corridor. "You're gonna be up against a whole new rotation of freaks. Stronger ones. This time, the puck drops in Sector 3. It's narrower. Harder to skate."
Nova nodded without replying. Her chest tightened as the heavy blast doors opened ahead.
The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers again, syrupy and cruel:
"Welcome back to The Vault! This time, Sector 3's death rink opens its icy gates to twenty hungry wolves! The rules remain the same:
Score a point, you live.
Rack the most points, you earn a day of freedom.
And remember: Top ten players at the end of the tournament walk free.
Everyone else? Well... you get the ice."
The crowd's roar shook the floor.
"Introducing… returning from a shocking immunity steal, ROSE!"
Nova barely raised her head as she stepped into the blinding lights of Sector 3. The stadium was more narrow than before, walls closer, corners sharper. The goal nets looked like mouths ready to swallow her whole.
Her skates touched the ice.
And for a moment… she almost slipped.
She wasn't ready.
Her knees buckled under her weight and exhaustion. The chip in her spine flared faintly, trying to compensate, but she hadn't recovered enough. Her breaths came shallow.
A blurry movement to her left.
A massive shadow on her right.
"Shit," she whispered.
The puck dropped in the center again, metal and glowing, and twenty bodies lunged.
Nova wasn't one of them.
She hesitated.
Bodies flew. Screams echoed.
Someone swung an axe. Another launched across the rink with a rocket boost. Nova stumbled back, slipping out of reach by instinct. A blade zipped past her cheek, kissing skin. She ducked. Spun. Ran.
She was running on fumes, but she was still running.
She always ran.
Three different players came for her, teeth bared, sticks modded into things meant for killing, not goals. Nova's chip finally kicked in, adrenaline slamming into her system like cold fire.
Time slowed. She dodged left. Skated hard. Used a wall as a springboard to evade one attacker. Landed wrong. Winced. Kept moving.
Then the air changed.
Cold. Like someone had opened a door into the underworld.
Nova's skate caught on a crack. She stumbled forward, and before she could right herself,
WHAM.
A body slammed her from behind. She crashed into the ice hard, a gasp bursting from her lips as the blade cut straight across her side, hot pain. Burning.
A voice whispered in her ear, low and venomous, as breath chilled her neck:
"That was my brother you humiliated, little flower.Now Reaper's gonna cut you down nice and slow."
Her blood went cold.
She knew that name from the rumors. From hushed convos in the cells. From nightmares stitched in silence.
#066 – Reaper.
The air froze. The crowd vanished. It was just him.
Nova's breath hitched as she forced herself up, hand pressed to her bleeding side. Her skates scraped across the ice, she launched herself forward.
Run. Run. Just run.
But Reaper was faster. He didn't sprint, he glided. Effortless. Soundless. Like a phantom chasing her reflection. She darted between fighting players, hoping someone would slow him down. But he didn't even blink. Didn't even hesitate.
He followed her through fire and chaos like death had her scent.
"Go ahead," his voice hissed behind her, low and amused. "Run, little flower. I'll still catch you. And I'll make you scream."
She spun too hard around a corner and skidded off balance. Her back slammed into the boards. Ice bit her skin.
He was there.
Shadow looming over her, masked face unreadable, except for the glint of something hungry in his silence.
She ripped the combat knife from her boot and slashed out, messy, defensive. He batted it away with his scythe-stick, a curved blade dripping with red from another match. Nova tried to lunge past him, but he caught her wrist mid-dash and yanked her forward, slamming her into the wall with brute force.
"Not fast enough," he whispered, pressing the blade near her throat. "You were quick last match, sure. Cute dodge. But me?" His mask tilted. "I'm not my brother. I'm worse."
Nova kneed him in the side and scrambled back, ice spraying from her skates. She gritted her teeth, raising her blade, hands trembling.
She wasn't gonna die here.
Not without fighting.
They clashed, steel against steel. Sparks flew. Her strikes were raw, untrained, fueled by terror and instinct. His were methodical, elegant, controlled.
"Scared yet?" he muttered, deflecting her again. "You should be. You're not a killer. You're just a scared little girl."
He swung and clipped her arm. Blood bloomed.
Nova screamed and drove forward, ducking low and slicing at his side. Her blade caught flesh, barely. Enough to stagger him.
But not enough to stop him.
"There she is," he snarled, voice twisted with glee. "The killer's waking up."
Then he charges her and slams her on the ice. His scythe to her throat cut deeper with every word as she struggled against him.
His grip tightened.
Nova's breath was shallow, heart pounding in her chest as Reaper's hand clamped around her wrist, pinning her down on the icy floor. His scythe-stick just into her neck, taunting her, the cold steel a constant reminder of how close death was.
"Thought you had something in you, huh? Look at you, so damn weak," he taunted, his voice dark, venomous. "You're just another punk trying to survive. And you're gonna die just like the rest."
Her eyes darkened. How did he find out about her mother? Her side burned where he'd cut her earlier, but it was nothing compared to the rage that started to flood her chest. His mocking words cut deeper than any blade.
"You're a dead girl walking," he sneered, leaning in closer. "Your mom's gonna be around to see you fail. Then she's gonna die, and you won't be there. Isn't that the irony?"
Her heart lurched.
The memory of her mother, the one person she'd vowed to protect, the one person she couldn't let go, it all hit her.
No.
His words didn't matter anymore.
Reaper leaned down, his face inches from hers, and in that moment, it felt like the world slowed down. He smirked as he saw the fear in her eyes, savoring the last moments before he finished her off.
But Nova's eyes burned with something else now.
Her teeth gritted, and her grip tightened around her combat knife, the weapon trembling in her hand.
"You don't know shit about me," she hissed, voice tight, but fierce. "Cause if you did you'd keep your panties up around me boy."
Reaper laughed, cold and mocking. "Thats why I'm gonna enjoy killing you and then I'll have my outside boys put her out of her miseries for you sweet cheeks.."
That was the last straw.
With a scream, Nova twisted her wrist free and sliced upward, her combat knife digging into the side of his face. His mask cracked, a deep gash forming along the cheek, and his blood spilled across the ice.He let out a pained yell before releasing her.
Reaper staggered back, stunned as she got up. That's when Nova's body seemed to come alive. She wasn't just fighting anymore. It was a dance.
Her legs moved fluidly, the tension in her muscles snapping with deadly precision as she pivoted on the ice, her movements smooth, almost balletic, like she was gliding through a dangerous waltz. Her blade flicked through the air, swiping in a deadly arc. Her body flowed with it, graceful, yet filled with raw power.
Then, from her arms, The petals.
They burst from her arm guards with a sudden, sharp snap. Like deadly daggers, they shot out, each one glinting like cold metal in the dim light of the arena. The petals sliced through the air, sharp and sleek, curling around her limbs in a violent, controlled storm. Each petal seemed to follow its own path of destruction, but together they formed an unrelenting assault.
Reaper's eyes widened in shock. The audience in dead silence at the show.
He tried to dodge.
But she was too quick. She spun, the petals bursting from her arm guards with deadly precision. They tore through the air, cutting into his side, his chest, his legs. They found him, everywhere, piercing through his armor, sinking into his flesh.
Her movements were fluid, calculated, every step was part of her deadly ballet. One, two, a graceful twist, then a cut through the air, another flurry of petals launching with precision. He couldn't escape.
Nova was a blur of speed, beauty, and destruction. Her body moved like a predator, unpredictable, fast, unstoppable. She wasn't fighting him anymore; she was fighting for her, for her mother, for herself.
Reaper tried to retaliate, stumbling as the petals shredded through his armor and his mask. But Nova's strikes were relentless, fluid, each movement more graceful and devastating than the last. She danced around him with speed, every step a defiant cry for survival.
His breath came in gasps. His mask was nearly shattered, his body covered in blood. He faltered, his footing slipping on the ice.
And then, in a sudden burst of speed, Nova moved like lightning. She twisted her body into a tight spin, carving through the air with a speed so intense it was as if the ice itself was giving way to her fury. She moved like a storm, every movement a flash of deadly beauty.
She was almost a blur, but as she spun, circling him, her blade sliced through the ice, carving a vivid red rose into the frozen surface, glowing with an eerie neon light, a violent bloom of crimson in the center of the rink.
And that's when she struck.
With one fluid motion, Nova drew her double-sided blade, the cool steel glinting in the light. She moved faster than Reaper could react, cutting through the air in a deadly arc.
Her blade was sharp, precise, its edge kissed by the neon light of the rose. She moved like an unstoppable force, closing the gap in an instant. With a swift, brutal strike, she raised the blade and swung it down, through his neck.
The sound of metal cleaving through flesh was sickening, but it was the finality of it that echoed in Nova's mind.
Reaper's head dropped, rolling onto the ice with a sickening thud. His body slumped forward, lifeless, the blood staining the once-pristine ice, the red rose beneath him glowing faintly in the darkness.
The arena fell silent.
Nova stood over him, chest heaving, her breath coming in heavy gasps. Her heart was still pounding, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She had done it.
But the victory tasted bitter.
She looked down at the body, her breath shaky as the reality of what she'd just done set in. She had killed him. She had taken a life. The weight of it pressed down on her, but she couldn't let herself linger on it.
Her mom's face flashed before her eyes. She had to survive. For her. For everything she was fighting for. The glowing rose beneath them was already fading, its neon light a soft whisper in the cold silence. No one moved. The players, the watchers, the cameras, they all just watched her.
She was covered in sweat and blood, her arm guards still smoking from the petal burst, her blade dripping from the final strike. But her eyes didn't waver.
Then she saw it. The puck.
Lying just at the center line, unclaimed. Forgotten.
Something snapped in her.
Her legs burned, her ribs ached, but she charged with a roar. The other players flinched out of her path, none dared test her now. She grabbed the puck, skated in a blur, and struck it with her whole soul.
CLANG,
The goal light exploded in crimson.
Silence.
Then the speakers crackled, announcing over the thunder of the crowd:
"IMMUNITY CLAIMED, #047 The Poisonous Rose!"
It started low, then grew into a storm:
"ROSE! ROSE! ROSE! ROSE!"
The name echoed from the upper decks, the walls, even from the announcer booth.
"THE BLOOM OF DEATH HAS ARRIVED IN VAULT-ZERO!"
Nova stood at the center of the rink, backlit by red goal light, her breath curling in the air like smoke. She didn't smile. Didn't wave.
She just collapsed holding her head as tears spilled from her eyes.