Smoke clung to the ruins like a living thing, curling into every breath. Seconds ago, they had survived by a miracle, but the miracle had only bought them seconds. Now the dark pressed closer, as if the tunnel itself had decided they would not escape twice. Each ember whispered that their narrow victory hadn’t saved them at all—only delayed what was certain to come.

  A slow clap of boots echoed through the haze.

  Trigger emerged like he’d always belonged there, a shadow sharpened by firelight. His revolver spun casually in one hand, motion effortless. His smirk caught in the dim glow—cruel and certain.

  Boots crunched over broken stone as he paced the tunnel. Smoke swirled at his heels with every step. He wasn’t rushing. He was circling.

  Ayasha shifted her stance, but her legs wavered. Cael tried to track him, eyes darting, but even he knew he was late—Trigger’s rhythm was always one step ahead.

  “You three don’t even know what you’re playing with, do you?” His voice echoed low, bouncing sharp off the walls. The revolver clicked with each spin. “You think Niches are some gift. Some miracle you train your whole life for.”

  He stopped mid-spin, barrel angled toward the ground, one visible eye burning orange through the smoke.

  “But that’s not how it works. A Niche ain’t discipline. It ain’t talent.”

  The revolver lifted, drifting past Ayasha… to Cael… to Lior.

  “It’s the moment that tears you open.”

  He circled wider, forcing them to pivot with him, smoke curling between them like a leash.

  “You wanna know how mine activated?” The grin stretched—sharp, cruel.

  “I put a bullet in the only friend I ever had. Thought I’d feel regret. Thought it’d bury me.”

  His tone dropped, almost confessional but venom-slick.

  “But instead my heart pounded. The gun felt like it was breathing with me. It was the first time I felt alive.”

  The revolver clicked into place. His eyes flashed yellow. A violent shimmer bled into the tunnel as Trigger’s aura ignited—hot orange fire bleeding from his skin, casting his shadow enormous against the walls.

  TCH-CHK … BANG!

  The sound cracked through the air, metallic and molten—the mark of a Niche being born into the moment.

  —NICHE ACTIVATED: DEADEYE DRIFT—

  Three bullets. Ten seconds. It chases the target through cover, ricochet, and fear.

  Ayasha staggered back, sweat streaking through dirt on her cheek. Cael’s breath caught, calculations scattering like broken glass.

  Lior’s chest locked. The pressure of that orange glow pressed into him like a crosshair carved between his ribs, heat sinking deeper every second.

  “This is Deadeye Drift,” Trigger said, voice smooth as a blade sliding free. “Three bullets. Ten seconds. Doesn’t matter where you run, golden boy—it’ll chase you to hell and back.”

  The revolver steadied—unnervingly still—on Lior’s heart.

  “That’s the truth about Niches,” he said. “They’re born in the moment you break. Pain. Fear. Betrayal.”

  His grin sharpened—surgical.

  “Mine was killing a friend.”

  “Yours?”

  He dragged the question like a loaded round sliding into a chamber.

  “Doesn’t matter. You’ll be dead in a few anyway.”

  The glow pulsed darker. Orange turned to rust-red, crawling down the revolver like dried blood reawakening. Sparks licked the barrel, hungry and alive.

  He kept circling—each step slower, tighter—not closing distance, tightening fate.

  Lior’s fists trembled. His jaw clenched. Slipstream stirred in the pit of his grief—alive but cornered.

  Trigger’s presence was absolute. It smothered the space like a noose of fire.

  And still, he smiled.

  “That was a cute little escape act. But let’s end this now.”

  BANG!

  The revolver locked on all three of them. It barked again and again and again, each round precise, merciless.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  Cael’s thoughts snapped into motion—angles, ricochets, trajectories. He darted sideways just past a bullet that kissed the wall by his ear—

  —only for it to curl midair, loop back, and slam into his shoulder from behind.

  BOOM!

  The mini-blast threw him into the wall with a grunt.

  Ayasha’s steps turned erratic, each stomp storing power.

  My legs are burning… but if I keep moving, I get stronger…

  She juked left, the next round streaking past—

  —then whipping back like a snake to catch her hip.

  BOOM!

  Heat and pain ripped through her side as sparks scattered. She hissed.

  “Explosive shells… he’s not trying to kill us—he’s torturing us.”

  Lior’s aura flickered. Slipstream flared. Time stretched. He twisted clear of one round—

  Only for it to drift cruelly and hammer into his ribs from the side.

  BOOM!

  Fire seared through his chest as he stumbled.

  Cael clenched his teeth.

  Two seconds ahead… that shot will ricochet—now!

  He threw himself flat as a round sparked off a pipe, exploding where his head had been.

  They regrouped—barely standing, barely breathing.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Together, they launched a reckless, desperate counterattack.

  Ayasha vaulted high, every muscle screaming, knee drawn for a strike—

  BANG!

  The shot caught her mid-air.

  BOOM!

  She flew back, slamming into Cael, both crashed into a pipe wall, metal shrieking. Their groans bled into the smoke.

  Trigger stepped forward, revolver still warm in hand. Cael and Ayasha lay scattered.

  Lior, hunched and winded, lifted his head to meet the man’s gaze.

  I’m not losing anyone else.

  “You think you’re tough, golden boy?” Trigger asked, cruelly calm. “You’ve got no clue how far behind you are.”

  Lior’s eyes—firm, unwavering.

  “You talk too much.”

  Lior’s pupils flared—a yellow flicker across his irises.

  But this wasn’t Slipstream.

  Heat roared through his chest—unfamiliar, wild. Energy burst outward in sky-blue waves laced with pale gold, pulsing gently like ripples on a sunlit lake. Each breath sent glowing rings through the air, syncing with his rhythm.

  Then—

  TUNN.

  A single tone, clean as struck glass, echoed.

  Words pressed into Lior’s mind.

  —NICHE ACTIVATED: PULSE BREAK—

  Emits concussive energy bursts from the body or hands to stagger enemies or deflect strikes.

  Cael froze mid-step. Sweat chilled his spine.

  “Wait… that's not his aura from before…”

  Ayasha whispered,

  “Does he have…?”

  Trigger’s grin faltered. He lunged, fist cocked.

  Lior didn’t flinch.

  The strike hit the pulse barrier—

  WHOOM!

  Shockwave. Dome of blue-gold light.

  Trigger stumbled back, boots grinding sparks. His eyes narrowed in disbelief.

  “You—?! Two Niches? That’s not possible…”

  Smoke thickened, swallowing everything. Silence fell—broken only by three ragged breaths.

  The tunnel held its silence.

  Lior stood, aura still flickering with blue-gold light.

  For just a moment, time itself hesitated.

  Trigger, still dazed, began to raise his revolver.

  Then—movement.

  All three moved as if their minds were linked, saying the same thing.

  An opening.

  Cael shot forward—no shout, no hesitation. He slid low, slammed Trigger’s arm, knocking the revolver off-course.

  BANG!

  Ayasha followed, bursting from behind—legs detonating with stored power. Every fall, every hit she’d taken ignited into one strike.

  THRAKK!

  Trigger slid back—breath knocked clean—

  —and that was all Lior needed.

  He surged forward, energy bursting from his core—

  KRAA-DOOM!

  The punch landed like a cannon.

  The floor split.

  Sparks jumped.

  The tunnel ROARED.

  Trigger was launched into the darkness.

  Smoke swallowed them again. When it cleared—

  All three were down.

  Lior. Cael. Ayasha.

  Their bodies trembled. Breath ragged. Niches are fading.

  Out of nowhere—

  BOOM!

  Triggers bullet had traced back, landing at Liors back.

  Silence.

  Only their breaths.

  Ayasha fell to one knee, trembling.

  Cael clutched his side, coughing.

  Lior staggered forward, blood running down one arm.

  They’d done it.

  They had to have done it.

  BOOM!

  Liors back exploded from the bullet thrown off course by Cael.

  Cael and Ayasha moved as fast as they could to Lior.

  Lior was barely able to get to his knees. He looked into the abyss where Trigger had landed.

  All three of them came to the same conclusion. One that the bullet itself had made clear.

  Then—

  CRUNCH.

  A footstep.

  Slow.

  Heavy.

  CRUNCH.

  The smoke parted.

  Trigger.

  His coat torn, collar stained red. Blood traced his mouth. A bruise darkened his chin. He spat—TCH—then calmly slid a new cigarette between his lips.

  He’d always spun the revolver in his right hand and fired the one in his left.

  Now, the left spun.

  The right was still.

  He raised the right.

  This barrel didn’t burn blue.

  It blazed orange.

  Hungry.

  Alive.

  “Tch… I didn’t think you had that in you.”

  He smeared the blood from his mouth with a slow, deliberate swipe.

  “No one makes me look the fool. These rounds will put out that light they cling to.”

  He stepped forward—slower, pained, but steady.

  “This,” he said, aiming at Lior,

  “is what happens when you play soldier.”

  The light behind him dimmed—

  and their hope dimmed with it.

  His finger began to slowly pull—

  —SHHK!

  A hiss through the haze. A dart buried itself in Trigger’s neck.

  Trigger’s eyes widened.

  “Tch—what the—?!”

  From the smoke, a figure emerged.

  Blood soaked her sleeve, but her aim was steady.

  Rei.

  Her chest heaved. Her eyes were knives sharpened on grief.

  “Next time you take a shot,” she said, voice like steel, “make sure the job’s finished.”

  Trigger’s snarl cracked into the ghost of a smirk—then his eyes rolled back.

  The revolver slipped.

  He hit the floor—

  THUD.

  Silence owned the tunnel.

  “…Rei?” Cael whispered.

  Ayasha’s lips quivered.

  “She’s alive…”

  They huddled near a broken wall, bodies trembling, breaths ragged. Smoke rising toward the fractured ceiling.

  Lior sat back against the stone, staring at his blood-stained hands.

  We survived… but just barely.

  Cael’s voice broke the quiet.

  “You… have more than one, don’t you?”

  Lior swallowed hard, fingers shaking.

  “I don’t know what’s happening to me…”

  ?

  They exited the tunnel.

  Smoke thinned.

  Stars burned faint behind haze—uncaring, eternal.

  And beneath that indifferent sky, the world whispered its promise:

  They’d barely scratched the surface…

  and already, the world was trying to bury them.

  ?

  CLICK.

  Static rippled across the feed.

  Deep within Potestas headquarters, eight figures leaned toward a black stone table under cold light. On the central screen—the boy, Lior—his aura flaring once in silver-blue, then again in sky-blue and gold.

  Two Niches.

  “Rewind it,” one commanded.

  A strained chuckle came from the far end of the room.

  In chains sat a man, slumped. Hair matted, lips cracked, but eyes burning—the last scribe of the Koryphi Clan.

  He laughed—bitter and triumphant.

  “So it begins,” he rasped. “The prophecy takes shape. The blood of the Orikai stirs again. A son with more than one flame…”

  “You’ve been withholding information, scribe,” a director hissed.

  “Not withholding,” he smirked, teeth streaked red.

  “Until now I thought it a fable. But look at him—just like the kings.”

  “Prophecies don’t concern us,” another snapped.

  “Results do. Remove him.”

  Chains rattled. The door slammed. His laughter lingered like a curse.

  Beneath stone and sea, something ancient exhaled.

  Potestas had seen the light, destined to destroy them …

  But in the darkness, an answer moved to meet it.

  End of Volume 1

  But in the chapters ahead, he’ll learn just how small that flame truly is—how far behind he stands, and how powerful those under Potestas have become.

  His will is about to be tested in ways he’s never imagined, and a presence will soon emerge to guide that light… pushing it to burn brighter than ever before.

  Thank you for walking through every step of this first journey.

  Volume 2 begins soon. The light hasn’t faded—it’s only waiting to rise again.