The café had become their meeting room by accident.

  It wasn’t a base. It wasn’t safe. It was just public enough that most enemies hesitated, and familiar enough that they could pretend they had routines.

  Garth stood near the counter with the weight of Shediro on his belt and Alisa at his heel. Taco sat on a stool, elbows on the bar, hands wrapped around a mug she wasn’t drinking. Mino and Zacheas took the table closest to the window, both of them watching the street more than the conversation.

  Heroko lounged in a corner like he’d been nailed there by boredom—legs up on a table that wasn’t his, hands behind his head, red eyes half-lidded.

  Garth didn’t waste time.

  “We can’t keep the sword here,” he said. “If Spike decides he’s done playing… he destroys the HQ. He destroys this whole block. We lose Shediro and everyone inside it.”

  Mino’s jaw tightened.

  Zacheas’ fingers curled around her mug.

  Taco swallowed, face drawn.

  Garth continued, voice steady. “I know someone. An old monk. Powerful. The kind of Bounded who learned to be invisible long before this war started.”

  Heroko’s eyes drifted over. “A monk,” he repeated, like it was amusing.

  “He can hide himself,” Garth said. “And he can hide the sword. He’ll hold it until the Union contacts him.”

  Marten wasn’t here. Dimson wasn’t here. This was a decision being made by people who were tired and running out of time.

  Garth looked around the table. “Our mission is simple. Get Shediro to Herderoshi. Safely.”

  He paused. “I need two volunteers to stay behind.”

  Heroko lifted a hand lazily, like a student who didn’t want to be called on.

  “The new girl obviously shouldn’t go,” he said. “And I would like to stay. Because that sounds like a lot of work.”

  A couple of them stared.

  Garth actually laughed—a short, surprised sound that didn’t happen often.

  “Alright,” he said, still smiling faintly. “You stay.”

  Mino watched Heroko’s expression, trying to read what he wasn’t saying. The laziness was real, but it was also a mask. Heroko didn’t do anything without a reason.

  Garth shifted his gaze back to the team. “We leave now.”

  No ceremony.

  No speeches.

  Just motion.

  They were on their feet immediately—Garth, Taco, Mino, Zacheas.

  Alisa bounded up onto Garth’s back, settling there like she’d done it a thousand times.

  Shediro hung at Garth’s hip like a promise and a target.

  They left the café behind.

  They moved fast.

  Not “running” fast—traveling fast. The kind of speed that made the city blur, that made the air bite at your eyes.

  Garth took to the rooftops, then the air. He flew low over streets and alleys, keeping close to buildings when he could, Alisa clinging to him like a living scarf.

  Zacheas and Mino tore across the ground beneath him, bounding over cars, fences, broken concrete, their footfalls turning into a steady, punishing rhythm. They were getting stronger. Even Mino felt it now—not as a dramatic awakening, but as the subtle shock of realizing distances were shrinking.

  Taco rode the wind above them, balanced on her giant shield like it was a cooking pan the size of a door. The air pushed beneath it, held her up, let her skim over the city like a leaf caught in a storm.

  Garth kept his eyes forward, but his mind ran ahead.

  There was little chance Spike wouldn’t notice.

  A weapon like Shediro was a flare in the dark.

  If Spike had hunters, they were already moving.

  Back at the café, the air felt wrong without the others.

  Too still.

  Heroko sat in a booth like he belonged there, legs still up, posture relaxed. He’d claimed a corner cubicle as if he were a regular customer and not a walking threat.

  Cassidy stood near the center of the room with her hands awkward at her sides.

  She looked different now.

  Clean clothes. Fitted gear. Hair brushed. She didn’t look like a starving thief.

  She looked like someone with a chance.

  But she also looked like someone who didn’t know where to put her gratitude.

  Heroko’s eyes flicked up to her.

  “You look nice in your new clothes,” he said, tone casual.

  Cassidy blinked, surprised, then flushed. “Th-thanks.”

  She hesitated, then blurted, “And… thank you. For helping my family.”

  Heroko waved a hand, dismissive. “I was merely keeping my people healthy. Think nothing of it.”

  Cassidy stared at him, helpless. His people. The phrase still didn’t make sense. She didn’t know what it meant to him.

  She just knew he’d killed her.

  Then brought her back.

  Then saved her family without being asked.

  She didn’t know how to respond to someone like that.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  So she did the only thing her instincts offered.

  She crossed the café and sat beside him, then wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him—tight, quick, sincere.

  Heroko went rigid.

  His voice snapped sharp. “Don’t be foolish. I am a killer. You don’t hug me.”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and tossed her off him—not hard enough to injure, but hard enough to make the message clear.

  Cassidy landed on the booth seat across from him, stunned.

  Heroko didn’t look at her.

  He resumed his lazy posture like nothing had happened.

  Cassidy’s cheeks burned. She opened her mouth, closed it, then slowly sat up straight.

  Across from him, she watched him with a new kind of uncertainty.

  He is a good guy, she thought, and the thought felt strange even in her own head. But he seems… troubled.

  Heroko stared at the ceiling like he could see through it.

  Neither of them spoke again.

  The foothills rose ahead like a bruise on the horizon.

  The city thinned. Streets turned into broken roads. Buildings turned into scattered houses and old industrial scraps left behind by a place that had grown and then retreated.

  Garth descended closer to the ground as they approached the ridgeline.

  “We’re close,” he called down.

  Mino nodded, breath steady.

  Zacheas’ eyes scanned the slopes. “Too quiet.”

  The answer came in light.

  Bolts of colored energy flashed out of nowhere—red, blue, yellow—streaking past them like thrown spears.

  Garth reacted instantly.

  A barrier snapped into place around them, a clear, curved shield that caught the attacks with sharp cracks and rippling impacts.

  Taco swore and rose higher on her shield, wind surging around her.

  Mino lifted her arms instinctively, bracing.

  Zacheas slid into a fighting stance.

  More bolts hit the barrier.

  Then the hills erupted with figures.

  A massive army of Astrebounds poured out from behind rocks and scrub trees, spilling down the slopes like a flood.

  Garth’s eyes narrowed.

  This wasn’t a patrol.

  This was a prepared kill zone.

  He didn’t hesitate.

  “Mino!” he snapped. In one motion he unhooked Shediro and shoved it into Mino’s hands. Then he lifted Alisa from his back and set her with her too, like passing off the most important parts of himself.

  Mino’s arms tightened around the sword and the animal at once. “What—”

  “Keep going,” Garth ordered. “Get to Herderoshi. Don’t stop. That’s the mission.”

  Mino’s throat tightened. “And you?”

  Garth’s jaw set. “We hold them.”

  Taco dropped lower, wind roaring. “Go!”

  Zacheas’s voice was tight. “I’ll stay with him.”

  Mino’s instinct screamed to argue.

  But Shediro was heavy in her grip, and Alisa’s paws pressed into her shoulder like she knew what was happening.

  Mino nodded once.

  Then she ran.

  Mino tore forward across the foothills with Alisa clinging to her back, the sword bouncing against her hip. Her legs ate distance in long bounds, each step launching her farther than the last.

  Behind her, the battle exploded.

  Wind screamed. Energy cracked. The sound of bodies hitting rock and dirt came in dull thuds.

  Mino glanced back once and saw Garth’s barrier flare brighter under impact. Saw Taco drop like a meteor on her shield. Saw Zacheas vanish into the crowd with a speed that made the eye struggle to follow.

  Then she forced herself to look forward.

  Drop the sword off as soon as possible, she told herself. Then go back. Then help.

  It was the only way her chest didn’t split open.

  She pushed harder.

  A spell caught her midair.

  One moment she was leaping over a boulder—

  The next she was suspended, arms locked, legs hanging, body held by invisible force.

  Her heart lurched.

  A figure appeared in front of her as if he’d stepped out of the air itself.

  An old man.

  Thin, straight-backed, eyes closed like he wasn’t worried at all. His robe was plain. His feet were bare on the stone, and yet he looked more solid than the hill beneath him.

  He opened one eye.

  “Hello,” he said calmly. “I believe you have something for me to protect.”

  Mino’s breath came hard. She didn’t answer immediately.

  She’d been told the name.

  But the world was full of traps now.

  “I do,” she said carefully. “If you have the right name for me.”

  The old man’s mouth twitched, almost amused.

  “Herderoshi,” he said.

  Relief hit Mino so hard her eyes stung.

  She pulled Shediro free and held it out.

  The monk reached forward with two fingers and touched the sword’s hilt like it was an old friend.

  The spell released her.

  Mino dropped, hit the ground in a roll, and came up running before she even fully regained her balance.

  Behind her, she heard nothing.

  No footsteps.

  No voice.

  When she risked a glance back—

  Herderoshi and Shediro were gone.

  Hidden.

  Please be alive, Mino thought, and the plea was aimed at the universe more than any god.

  She ran back toward the sound of war.

  The battle was in full swing when she returned.

  The foothills looked like a storm had passed through—scorch marks on stone, trees snapped, chunks of earth lifted and thrown as if gravity had temporarily lost authority.

  Taco hovered near the ground on her shield, wind whipping around her in violent spirals that shoved enemies back in waves.

  Garth’s barrier was up, cracked in places, flaring as impacts struck it. He looked tired. Not weak—tired. The kind of tired that came from holding back an ocean with your hands.

  Zacheas was everywhere at once, weaving through bodies, striking with precision. Each time she moved, another enemy went down.

  Mino launched herself into the fight with a roar that surprised her.

  She hit hard. Harder than she used to. Enemies flew. Bones cracked. She was stronger—she couldn’t deny it anymore.

  And it felt wrong that strength came from killing.

  Zacheas found her side in the chaos like their bodies had learned each other’s rhythm.

  “Thank god,” Zacheas breathed, and the worry in her voice slipped through the armor she pretended was permanent.

  Mino glanced at her, chest heaving. “You alright?”

  Zacheas nodded quickly, then struck an approaching enemy and kicked him off the hill. “I am now.”

  Mino’s mouth tightened. “Sword’s safe.”

  Zacheas’ eyes flashed relief. “Good.”

  They fought together, back to back, cutting through waves that seemed endless.

  And the longer they fought, the easier it became.

  Not because the enemies got weaker.

  Because they were getting stronger.

  Then Kyle arrived.

  He didn’t charge with the army.

  He walked into the battle like it was a stage, stepping over bodies without looking down, weapon drawn and gleaming with something ugly.

  The moment Mino saw him, her stomach dropped.

  Kyle’s grin spread as he looked around, enjoying the destruction like it was art.

  His eyes found Garth.

  “Ah,” Kyle called, voice carrying easily. “The big hero.”

  Garth stepped forward, barrier flickering out as he shifted from defense to confrontation.

  Kyle’s smile sharpened. “You know,” he said, “I killed the great Luther.”

  Garth’s jaw clenched, anger flaring behind his eyes.

  Kyle tilted his head. “So I don’t think I’ll have any trouble taking down you.”

  Garth’s voice came out low. “You talk too much.”

  Kyle laughed and lunged.

  Steel met steel.

  Their weapons locked with a scream of metal that cut through the chaos like a signal.

  Garth planted his feet, muscles tightening, eyes locked on Kyle’s.

  Kyle leaned in, grinning like he’d been waiting for this moment.

  And around them, the battle didn’t slow.

  It only tightened—like the whole hillside was holding its breath, waiting to see which way the war would tip.