Kaelo lay on the cold floor of the chamber for a long time after Kano left. His lungs burned, and his heart felt as if it were trying to beat its way out of a cage of ribs that had nearly been crushed into dust. He hadn't seen Christian leave; he only heard the distant, muffled roar of a bike engine echoing through the tunnels before fading into the hum of the forest. The realization hit him harder than Kano’s pressure: for the first time since the warehouse, he was truly alone. He managed to drag himself to the small spring at the edge of the cavern. He drank until his throat stopped stinging, then stared at his reflection in the violet-tinted water. He looked like a ghost.

  "Three minutes," Kaelo whispered, his voice raspy.

  He clenched his fist, trying to summon even a single spark of blue. Nothing. His reserves weren't just shallow; they were dry. Kano’s "warm-up" had wrung him out like a wet rag.

  ABUJA OUTSKIRTS

  Christian rode his bike with a calm demeanor bordering on boredom. The "ally" had been right. In a desert-like shanty town, a Republic deserter was using Emission to extort the locals, leveling shacks with balls of condensed violet energy. To Christian, he was a low-level grunt, but to the people there, he was a god.

  Christian pulled the bike to a stop, the kickstand clicking into place.

  "The Republic usually cleans up its own trash," Christian said, removing his helmet. His blonde hair was windswept, and his eyes caught the flickering firelight of the burning shacks. "They must be getting sloppy."

  The deserter turned, his hands glowing with unstable energy. "Who the hell are you? Some High-Tier brat?"

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  Christian didn't answer. He didn't even take a combat stance; he just walked forward.

  "I'm someone who had a very long week trying to teach a kid how to breathe," Christian said. He snapped his fingers, and a wall of violet flame erupted between them—so hot it turned the sand beneath the deserter’s feet into glass. "I’m not in a very patient mood."

  FEJIRO’S OFFICE

  Fejiro stared at the file. He had been a detective for a decade, but this case felt like an inkblot—the more he looked, the more it changed shape. His phone buzzed on the desk. It was a restricted line from the Bureau of Energy Regulation.

  "Detective Fejiro," a cold, feminine voice spoke. "We noticed you’ve been running unauthorized scans on the warehouse site. We’d suggest you stick to the 'boiler explosion' narrative. It’s better for your pension."

  Fejiro didn't blink. He leaned back in his chair, looking at the blue frequency printout. "I don't care about my pension. I care about why the Republic is trying to hide a case by sending direct threats to me. Mind you, this call is being recorded and uploaded to a cloud server. If anything happens to me, it gets released."

  There was a long silence on the other end. Fejiro prayed his retaliation worked. The Republic controlled most of the media, but he hoped the lady on the phone wasn't savvy enough to deduce that.

  "It's a casualty of progress," she replied. "You might end up becoming one yourself. Stay away from Olumo. And your meager attempt at a threat was pathetic. Try looking out for your daughter more, too; accidents spike by eight percent this time of year."

  The line went dead. Fejiro froze. Stay away from Olumo. He hadn't mentioned Olumo Rock; he hadn't even looked at it yet. The fact that they brought it up meant they were guarding a location—but that wasn't his immediate priority. He picked up his phone and rang his wife. It seemed to ring forever until he heard a voice on the other side.

  "Hello, Daddy," his daughter said.

  "Isabella, baby! How are you? Where's Mommy? Are you okay? Call me if anything is wrong." He barraged her with questions.

  "Mommy's making dinner. Are you coming home soon?" the young girl asked innocently.

  "Yeah, yeah. I really missed you, baby." He hung up and heaved a sigh of relief. He needed to take this case off the books. He had to protect his family from the tragic fate that would meet them if he continued using the legal route.