The fist — a blur a heartbeat ago — seemed to drag in the final inches before impact, like the moment was stalling long enough to betray it.

  The alley smelled of wet trash and damp concrete.

  Lior’s breath hitched as yellow flickered in his pupils.

  A thin silver-white aura threaded with teal drifted around him — faint and unstable — trailing in wisps as the air stirred around his movement.

  Shock stabbed through Lior.

  Am I dreaming?

  Cold air bit his skin. The scrape of sneakers. The rasp of breath.

  No. This is real.

  His hand rose.

  He caught the wrist and rolled it off-line with a tight step.

  TCHK!

  The punch skimmed past his cheek.

  He tugged at the wrist, dragging the thug forward — straight into his elbow.

  He hit the ground, twisting and clutching his eye as a scream tore out of him.

  Lior blinked.

  How did I—

  Another swing came from his left.

  His shoulders dipped on instinct. His forearm deflected the strike as he shifted inside the attacker’s reach. His knee drove sharply upward into the man’s midsection—

  WHOOMPH!

  Air burst from the thug’s lungs.

  Lior pivoted off his planted foot, fist snapping across the jaw—

  TOK!

  The thug dropped without a sound.

  Lior didn’t pause. His breath shortened. Adrenaline flooded his limbs as a third attacker rushed in from the right.

  Lior stepped back to create space — the man swung wide — and Lior turned his hips through the motion, his fist whipping upward in a tight uppercut.

  WHACK!

  The punch snapped under the thug's chin.

  He came off of his feet, blood leaving his mouth, as he landed right beside Pistol.

  For a split second, everything steadied.

  Lior’s pulse thundered in his ears.

  His hands hovered, ready without thinking.

  The remaining boys hesitated.

  “W-what the hell?” one gasped. “You see that? There’s somethin’ comin’ off him — like light—”

  “Shut up!” the leader barked.

  Pistol stepped in front of Lior, setting his feet and putting his hands up.

  A compact boxer’s stance.

  “It’s time someone put you in your place.”

  His eyes locked on Lior.

  His right foot stepped forward, quickly. Behind it an even faster jab.

  Lior's head moved to the left, slipping it barely.

  Another jab snapped toward his nose — faster than the first — grazing his cheek as Lior leaned away.

  A hook followed.

  Lior ducked under it, pivoting out.

  Pistol pressed forward, tight and efficient — body shot to the ribs — then a short right toward the sternum.

  The punch thudded into Lior’s guard and drove him back half a step.

  Power.

  Lior reset as he realized Pistol was different from the others.

  He’s trained.

  Pistol stepped in close, shoulder driving forward as his right hand loaded for a crushing cross at point-blank range.

  The strike came fast.

  And in the instant before impact —

  SHFFFF.

  Lior’s Eyes flickered yellow again.

  Pistol’s strike stretched — the impact hanging just out of reach.

  Lior’s body reacted before thought could form.

  He pivoted sharply off his lead foot, spinning away from the line of impact. The punch sliced past his shoulder.

  His rotation carried through as his heel whipped around.

  CRACK!

  The roundhouse smashed across the back of Pistol’s head.

  Pistol hit the pavement hard.

  THOOM!

  Sound leaving his body. “Ugh!”

  A stunned murmur rippled through the alley. “He just dropped Pistol—”

  Pistol pushed up immediately, anger piercing through his eyes, as he tried to hide the pain from Lior’s last kick.

  “THAT’S IT! YOU'RE FINISHED!”

  He surged forward again, throwing a wide right.

  Lior stepped inside the arc, caught the forearm, twisted, and drove him into the wall.

  THUD!

  Concrete rattled.

  Lior pinned the arm and locked his weight behind it.

  Pistol struggled once — then stopped.

  The alley fell silent.

  “…he got Pistol,” was whispered throughout Pistol’s gang.

  “No one beats Pistol…”

  Lior turned his head toward the remaining gang members.

  The remaining boys stumbled backward.

  One tripped over his own feet.

  They bolted up the alley picking up and dragging the three who were down.

  Cael jogged into the alley, skidding to a stop when he saw Lior holding Pistol against the wall.

  He blinked. “I feel like I missed something important.”

  Lior released Pistol. “Go.”

  Pistol straightened slowly, rolling his shoulder, tugging his leather jacket back into place.

  He studied Lior. “Hmph. You just surprised me. That’s all.”

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  He turned and walked away down the alley. “This won’t happen again.”

  Lior stood there, breathing hard.

  Then the adrenaline dropped.

  His knees buckled.

  He caught himself on one hand, dropping to the pavement.

  His lungs dragged in air that didn’t feel like enough.

  His heart hammered like he’d run miles.

  A spike of pain drove through his skull.

  “…why do I feel like I ran a marathon…” he rasped.

  Ayasha rushed to his side. “Lior!”

  Cael crouched beside him, eyes wide.

  But Lior stared at his hands, flexing his fingers like they belonged to someone else.

  What was that?

  Behind the dumpster, a phone screen glowed.

  A hidden student grinned, thumb hovering.

  “Got all of that,” he whispered. “Viral gold.”

  Tap — WOOP!

  ?

  Far across the ocean, black waters churned around a steel fortress.

  The stronghold of Potestas loomed against the storm, gulls circling its jagged crown.

  Inside, the command floor pulsed with light — holo-maps flickering, red code streaming.

  DEE-DEE — dee-DEE…

  An operator leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he saw the red bold letters light up across all of the screens..

  [CONFIRMED FACIAL MATCH]

  BEEP — BEEP — BEEP!

  A courier raced across the deck and burst into a glass-walled office.

  “We found him! We found the boy!”

  The figure inside sat cloaked in shadow, a cigar smoldering between his fingers. As he lifted it to his lips, the ember glow revealed a small American-flag tie clip. He exhaled slowly, tapped ash into the tray, then spoke — his voice cutting through the silence. “Closest operative?”

  “Trigger,” an officer replied. “Ten hours out.”

  The commander leaned back in his chair, as he took another inhale from his cigar.“Good. Brief him. Failure isn’t an option.”

  A dispatch flashed across a nearby console.

  TCHIK — FWMP.

  ?

  Inside a black SUV, tinted windows swallowed the city lights.

  A gloved thumb swiped across a secure device.

  Lior’s picture appeared beside the message:

  [TARGET: PROPHECY — PRIORITY ALPHA]

  The device buzzed once — BZZT — PING.

  Trigger’s reflection in the mirror revealed nothing but cold resolve. The brim of his hat dipped low, shadow cutting across his eyes.

  When he spoke, his words came slow, lazy, soaked in an old-west drawl — yet heavy with promise.

  “Copy. Movin’… Golden Boy’s already ridin’ his last trail.”

  A gloved hand flipped open the cylinder of a weathered steel revolver.

  Bullets slid into place —

  CLINK… CLINK… CLINK…

  He spun the cylinder before snapping it shut.

  CHHK!

  The engine growled low as the vehicle merged into traffic, slipping back into the city’s veins.

  Lights crawled across Trigger’s face in fractured flashes — steel, shadow, something darker.

  He tilted his hat forward, voice rough as gravel, words curling like smoke. “Dust is risin’… and so will I — over carcasses if need be.Your my ticket Golden Boy.”

  ?

  The next day, after wrestling practice, Lior bounded up the porch steps, a grin stretching wide.

  Cael and Ayasha followed behind him — quieter, uneasy.

  “Wait till Anya sees this,” Lior said, voice bright with pride.

  Inside the family room, he thrust his phone toward Brock, pausing the screen on his fight.

  “Twenty-four hours — and look at the views. I’m famous!”

  Brock didn’t smile.

  His face darkened.

  In the doorway, the lieutenants appeared — silent, watchful.

  “They found him,” Brock said grimly.

  Kalu moved immediately toward the garage — checking exits, securing equipment — tension sharpening every motion.

  Lior’s grin faltered.

  Brock looked at him — the warmth gone from his eyes.

  “You need to hear this. Alone.”

  Lior shook his head, gesturing toward his friends.

  “If it’s about me — they stay. They know everything.”

  Brock hesitated.

  Then quietly:

  “…Alright.”

  He exhaled heavily and led them into his office.

  Anya, Carter, and Rei remained in the doorway — silent, fixed, ready.

  Brock didn’t sit.

  “Your parents didn’t die the way you were told,” he said.

  “They died protecting you.”

  Color drained from Lior’s face.

  What is he talking about?

  “There is an organization,” Brock continued, voice low, controlled, “that manipulates wars… disease… disasters. They shape the world from the shadows.”

  Ayasha swallowed.

  Cael stared at the floor.

  “Your father fought against them,” Brock said.

  “Your mother… was enslaved by them. She lived her entire life on an island that doesn’t exist on any map.”

  Silence ticked.

  Lior shook his head.

  An island that doesn’t exist?

  He gave a nervous laugh.

  “That’s enough, Brock… I already have enough horrific dreams.”

  Brock didn’t blink.

  “That dream you’ve had since you were a kid— was real.”

  Lior looked around the room — searching for a smile, a shrug, anything.

  He found only grim certainty.

  Brock hands went interlocked behind his back as he turned away from Lior. “There is a council controlling everything, And you—”

  Lior’s breathing shortened.

  Why isn’t he stopping?

  Brock's head turned back to him.. “…you were born in defiance of them. There is more. Your destiny is—”

  The room seemed to spin as Lior couldn’t grasp what he was hearing.

  Stop.

  Brock continued, voice low, steady — carrying weight. “Your father trusted us with you,” he said. “He put you in our care… and gave us a mission.”

  Lior’s brow tightened.

  Mission?

  The word echoed louder than anything else in the room.

  He turned and looked at the three lieutenants standing in the doorway. “That’s what I was to all of you?”

  His voice dropped, that single word cutting deeper as he spoke it. “A mission?”

  His eyes found Rei — tears pooled at her lower lids, refusing to fall.

  She stepped forward immediately, tears already gathering. “N–no, Lior… it was never—”

  “STOP!”

  He turned away from her, his gaze locked onto Brock. “The training… the talks… the way you watched me grow up…”

  His breath shook, tears he couldn’t hold back anymore beginning to fall nonstop down his face. “…all of it. Just something you had to complete!”

  Ayasha flinched as Lior’s voice raised. Her and Cael's eyes never left the floor.

  Brock’s face softened as he reached toward him. “Lior, you’re misunderstanding—”

  Lior slapped his hand out of the way. “Don’t touch me, That soft smile won’t change anything.”

  Brock reached again but froze as he saw Lior’s face. “Lior—“

  Lior turned from him, and began to walk towards the door. He paused where the Lieutenant stood and looked back at Brock. “Your mission is done here. You're dismissed.”

  He pushed through the lieutenants and stormed out. The front door slammed hard enough to rattle walls.

  Ayasha and Cael rushed after him.

  Rei moved instantly to follow—

  But Brock caught her arm.

  She yanked free and stepped toward the door anyway.

  Brock moved in front of her. “Rei.”

  Her chest rose sharply, eyes burning. “He’s hurting! He needs someone!”

  He held her gaze. “This is something he has to accept himself.”

  Rei gave him a sharp look. “That’s not what a family does. We do nothing alone.”

  Brock sighed and moved out of the way.

  Rei sprinted towards the door.

  The house fell silent.

  And at that moment, the house felt empty for the first time in sixteen years.

  ?

  Outside, the air felt thin. They walked fast down the path, each step hitting harder than it needed.

  Lior’s breath shook.

  This whole life… everything was a lie?

  Ayasha and Cael exchanged a silent look — fear tightening their throats.

  Lior’s pace quickened — tears streaking without permission.

  I’m just supposed to believe this?

  He wiped his face — forcing a shaky laugh. “Maybe this is all a joke. Brock likes to test me… see how I react.”

  He laughed harder — brittle. “Yeah. That has to be it… right, guys?”

  A breeze moved through the street — too still, too quiet.

  The kind of silence that warns before it bites.

  Above — the sky ripped open.

  A dark streak slashed across the fading blue — too fast, too violent to be a plane.

  WHHOOOOOOM…

  Ayasha’s eyes widened. Cael’s glasses reflected fire.

  They looked up—

  Before they could comprehend what they saw—

  KRA—

  Light swallowed the house.

  One heartbeat of absolute silence—

  Then the world detonated.

  KOOOOOM!

  Flames roared skyward. Windows exploded in a chorus of crystalline screams.

  The shockwave tore down the street—

  BOOOOM!

  Pavement cracked underfoot.

  Then—

  WHOOOM!

  The force launched them — tossed like scraps in the wind.

  ?

  When Lior’s eyes opened… His ears rang.

  Eeeeeeeee—

  Heat scorched his face.

  He staggered up — stumbling — eyes locked on the inferno.

  No… no no no no—

  Fire devoured every memory he ever knew.

  His breath caught. A broken scream tore through the ringing—

  “BROOOOOCK!!”

  The house collapsed inward. Beams crumbled. Paper turned to floating embers.

  FOOOOOSH — CRACKLE — GROAN—

  Lior surged forward — legs driving toward the inferno.

  “Lior—!” Ayasha and Cael reached — but caught only air.

  He didn’t hear them. He couldn’t.

  All he saw… was fire.

  All he felt… was the void ripping open inside.

  Chains of his life — routines, safety, even the lies — snapped in the blaze.

  In that instant, the life he thought he knew burned away…

  Shattered to nothing in the flames.

  End of Chapter 2