Morning draped Zenith in bruised lavender. Newsfeeds on every hovering billboard throbbed with a single headline:
"Council Issues Crimson Echo—100 million credits for courier pair."
Below the text, two grainy stills looped: Alaric's hooded silhouette leaping from Slate Tower's scaffolding; a blurred image of Selene's porcelain mask. No Lia. No family name—just "Courier X" and "Unknown Female Assassin." The Obsidian Syndicate knew what had been stolen but not whom to blame in full.
Alaric reclined on Rusted Oak's rooftop, studying the footage on a scavenged holo-slate. Wind whipped at his jacket. Strength E now sang beneath skin—subtle power lending weight to muscle. One hundred million credits: more than most street clans saw in a decade. Every cutthroat in Zenith would sniff the air.
Bootsteps approached. Lia emerged from the stairwell, silver hair tied in a hurried knot, thin jacket billowing. She held two steaming cups. "Thought you'd skip breakfast again."
He accepted the drink. "Bounty's live."
Her eyes hardened, reading the scrolling ticker. Vicious pride sparked beneath worry. "Let them come."
Alaric traced a thumb along the rim of the cup. "A massacre on our doorstep means moving. Griggs's walls won't hold if hunters torch the block."
"Where to?"
"Selene suggested the Catacombs beneath East Harbor. Forgotten subway lines—perfect staging ground." He hesitated. "But school—"
"School can burn," she cut in, cheeks flushing when she realized how fast the words came. "I'll study later. I won't let them separate us."
He squeezed her hand then, feeling the iron in her grip. The warmth lingered longer than comfort. "Pack essentials. We leave at nightfall."
Griggs limped down the corridor at midday, wooden cane thumping. "Heard you're clearing out," he rasped, single eye assessing Alaric's rucksack. "Trouble?"
"Bounty trouble." Alaric tossed a cred-chip. "Three months' rent. Quiet exit."
Griggs pocketed the chip. "Rusted Oak's seen worse. But if dogs sniff close, I never housed you."
"Understood." Alaric reached for the doorknob when Griggs added, almost kindly, "City's turning gears faster than normal, kid. Watch the teeth."
Alaric nodded once. In another life Griggs might have been a decent father figure. Now every connection was a liability.
They met Selene at dusk in a junkyard of derelict cargo cranes. Her mask caught the dying light, crimson flecks still staining chin porcelain.
She regarded Lia with silent appraisal. Lia stared back, chin lifted. The tension between them hummed like a drawn wire until Selene inclined her head the barest degree—acknowledging the girl who would kill for her brother.
"We move now," Selene said. "Sewer grate half a klick east."
Alaric fell in beside her. Lia shadowed his left flank, fingers brushing his sleeve every dozen steps—a tether she refused to sever.
They pried a rust plate open, descended into stifling heat that smelled of salt and ozone. Abandoned maintenance tunnels sloped downward, floor glistening with condensation. Nexuses of old mag-rails intersected here—dead for years, but power conduits still pulsed a pale blue.
At a junction, Selene halted. "Footsteps. Two o'clock, twenty meters."
Alaric's danger sense prickled. Lia slipped behind him, palm already on a slender dagger she'd hidden beneath her skirt. She caught his surprised glance and shrugged: "Extracurricular fencing class."
Shadows resolved into four figures—mercenaries in cheap ballistic gear. Their leader, a woman with a neon-green visor, raised a sonic flash-bang. "Crimson Echo bounty! Boxes on the floor, hands high."
Selene whispered, "Cover your ears." Too late. The device shrieked. Alaric's world flared white; equilibrium shattered. He felt rather than saw Selene vanish. She reappeared behind a merc, blade parting vertebrae. Blood misted phosphorescent under tunnel lights.
Alaric blinked clarity back, drove forward as another merc swung a telescoping baton. Strength E lent heft to his knife block; he trapped the baton arm, elbowed the man's visor, cracking polymer. A stomp shattered kneecap; the merc fell screaming. Lia darted left, dagger slashing hamstring of a second assailant, then burying into kidney with startling precision.
Green-visor fired a flechette burst. Alaric tackled Lia aside, shards skimming his jacket. Pain flared where one nicked his shoulder. He rolled to his feet, closed distance in two steps—Agility D felt like wind—and rammed the merc against a conduit pipe. Knife at her throat. "Drop it." She did.
Selene executed the final straggler, mask expressionless. Four hunters down in less than a minute.
[System Alert: Bounty Clash logged]Skill—Stealth +1.0 %Progress to next stat threshold: 42 %
Alaric searched Green-visor, confiscated two crypto chips and a folded bounty notice stamped with Syndicate sigils. "They're sending amateurs first."
"Storm breakers," Selene murmured. "Softening the target. More elite teams follow."
Lia wiped her blade on a corpse's sleeve—movements steady, eyes bright. Alaric felt unease twist with admiration. She'd crossed a line tonight without hesitation.
He touched her shoulder. She leaned in, breathing the scent of his blood, almost serene. "I'm with you, always."
Selene watched quietly, perhaps noting the feral devotion but saying nothing. She led them deeper. Tunnels widened into a vast atrium beneath East Harbor, pillars of corroded steel supporting a domed ceiling studded with crystal growth—salt leeching from concrete, glittering under stray floodlamps. Makeshift cots, weapon racks, and generator nodes dotted the floor—Selene's hidden warren.
A lone figure in fatigues approached—young, tawny-skinned, cybernetic eye glowing amber. Selene introduced him. "Asha Karim. Quartermaster. Loyal."
Asha offered Alaric a ration bar, surveyed Lia's blood-spattered cuff. "First kill?"
"Third," Lia said softly, meeting the cyborg gaze unflinching.
"Good," Asha replied.
Alaric felt lines being drawn, alliances forming in the cracks. He opened the warm lockbox under Asha's light. Within lay a vial of shimmering red liquid and a crystal data rod marked with Vale biotech logos.
"Part two of Seraphim," Selene explained. "Proof that your mother's research could rewrite human limits. We need part three to unlock the formula."
"Location?"
"Somewhere inside the Council's Cathedral Station—nerve center. We infiltrate once we gather more intel." Selene turned toward a map projector, neon rivers of information overlaying tunnel walls.
Alaric listened, feeling the city's gears grind louder. Hunters above, secrets below. His family's legacy glowed in a vial no bigger than his finger.
He added the new stat point to Vitality. Warmth spread, wound stitching faster. Lia slipped an arm around his waist, resting her head against his uninjured shoulder. He felt her heartbeat—a fierce drum promising violence for anyone who threatened this fragile moment.
Above them, thunder rolled. Zenith's predators were gathering, scenting the Echo bounty. Alaric tightened his arm around Lia, eyes on the glowing map. "Let them come," he whispered, echoing her earlier vow. "We'll teach them what real prey costs."
Selene's mask cocked—a smile behind porcelain. The hunt was only intensifying.