Before the tear in the barrier could close, Valerius slipped back through it.

  The breach lasted only 1.04 seconds. But for Heful’s control room, that was an eternity.

  The chamber drowned in red light. Sirens wailed like dying beasts, each pulse shaking the reinforced walls. Crimson strobes spun overhead, washing every operator in blood-colored panic.

  BEEP—BEEP—BEEP—

  ALERT: BARRIER BREACH DETECTED.

  “Sector Twelve, eastern wall!” one shouted, hammering keys with frantic precision.

  “Integrity collapse… one-point-zero-four seconds!” another barked.

  The commander stormed to the central dais, cloak snapping at his heels. His eyes locked onto the trembling main screen.

  “Show me!”

  The feed replayed in jittering frames:

  —A golden blur shattered through the dome, the barrier rippling like molten glass.

  —A green streak thundered after it—

  —And then… only one returned. Valerius. He slipped back through, just as the barrier sealed shut with a deafening snap.

  The golden phantom was gone. Outside. Free.

  The room went silent, save for the low drone of alarms.

  “…That wasn’t an attack from outside,” one operator whispered, voice hollow. “It escaped. From within.”

  “The readings don’t make sense,” another muttered, typing furiously. “The barrier’s supposed to be impenetrable.”

  The commander’s fist slammed the console. “Focus! Log everything. If something just walked out of Heful—” His voice dropped, gravel and thunder. “—then our city isn’t safe. Not anymore.”

  An officer swallowed hard. “Sir… we should call Pungence.”

  Another operator’s eyes widened at her console. “U-uh… sir? He’s already there.”

  ---

  The Eastern Wall

  Pungence stood with one hand gripping Valerius by the arm, the other palm pressed against the still-humming dome. His gaze never left the scar where the barrier had torn.

  “Who was that?” His voice carried the weight of mountains.

  Valerius blinked, dazed. Wasn’t I just running home?

  Pungence shook him lightly. “Did you not hear me? Who was that?”

  Valerius opened his mouth — nothing but a mangled croak escaped.

  “Oh. You can’t speak.” Pungence smirked faintly, his thumb brushing the dome’s surface. “Fortifying the city around you, clever. Good to know you’re aware of your surroundings.”

  ---

  Pungence’s House

  The Titan pushed open the door, Valerius trailing behind.

  Ziraiah glanced up from a cup of water. “What happened, Val? You just vanished. Where’d you run off to? Oh—wait, you still can’t talk.”

  She set the cup down with a sigh. “I’m going to school, Pungence.”

  “Fine,” he said, waving her off. “But remember — no elixirs.”

  Eliana folded her arms, stepping in front of Valerius. “Wow. You took quite the beating… again.”

  Then Andrea stormed down the stairs, her eyes wild. She crushed Ziraiah into a hug, only to freeze when she saw her mangled fingers.

  Her mouth fell open. “How could you—”

  She spun, launching a fist into Pungence’s gut.

  BOOOM.

  The shockwave rattled the whole house.

  Pungence leaned aside, dodging easily. “Stop it, woman! Do you want to destroy my house again?”

  But Andrea’s fists blurred, fury incarnate. Every strike detonated like thunder as Pungence ducked and sidestepped, the air splitting around them.

  “Crazy—!” Pungence barked. “Why do you always have to act crazy for something so little?”

  Andrea froze. Slowly, dangerously, her head tilted. “Crazy? Me?”

  Pungence blinked. Oh shit.

  “Andrea, I didn’t mean—”

  KAAA-BOOOOM.

  The house exploded. Windows shattered, walls buckled, the shockwave throwing everyone off the mountain to the city below.

  Outside, citizens barely looked up from their meals.

  One man shielded his eyes, watching the plume of smoke. “Hah. I was wondering when it’d blow again.”

  Another muttered, “Must be Auntie Ann mad at him again.”

  A third groaned, brushing dust off his cloak. “Last time, debris flattened my roof. This time I’m charging them tenfold.”

  His neighbor smirked. “I wish it’d land on mine. Compensation money’s good.”

  A passing woman shook her head. “You want your house destroyed? You’re insane.”

  The man shrugged. “You don’t understand. Pungence’s house explodes at least ten times a year. Every family hit gets repaid in gold.”

  From a shaded table nearby, a figure stirred. An elf with long hair lounged lazily, boots on the wood, listening.

  “Really?” His voice was soft, smooth — and terrifyingly calm. “Tell me more.”

  The street grew quieter without meaning to. The stranger’s black leather coat clung to him like a shadow, a deep V cut across his chest. His blue eyes gleamed faintly under the lantern light.

  Dreados had entered Heful.

  ---

  In the smoky corner of a dim tavern, shadows gathered like conspirators.

  At one table, a red Dragoon sat stiffly, arms folded across his chest, dark glasses hiding his red eyes. A black vest clung to his towering frame, his every breath slow and deliberate. Omfry.

  Beside him, in the faint lantern-glow, sat Katos — in his untransformed state. His skin was dark, his hair jet-black, his ears sharp as blades. Even seated, his 12-foot frame dwarfed the table. Against the wall, crouched like a sentinel, sat Bifo, the Hysor. His great blue wings folded tight behind him, feathers brushing the stone. His 10-foot body loomed, brown hair tumbling wild over his brow.

  Further down, Daiel leaned casually against a wall, chewing on a strip of meat. Across from him, an Aurellian with a scar over his left eye devoured food with feral hunger. Richard’s jaw worked like a starving man’s, his 10-foot body hunching over the table.

  Jeriana sat at his side — a young Dragoon woman with crimson skin and short, high-cut hair shaped like a man’s. Her red eyes flicked to Richard as he tore into his plate, her lip curling in faint distaste.

  Dulgebar, an Aurellian, bald and hulking at 10’4, sat stiffly beside her, his posture like stone. Sandra, the Reliard, sat cross-legged, orange skin glimmering faintly, blue hair cascading over one shoulder. Her azure eyes darted constantly, restless, assessing.

  On the floor sprawled Mibotu, dark-skinned Aurellian with woolly black hair and deep-set eyes black as coals. He lay with his arms tucked behind his head, unconcerned. Finally, Magmelar sat with an almost regal stillness, Aurellian features sharp and calculating.

  Each of them wore a simple ring — nothing ornate, but humming with subtle power. These artifacts cloaked their presence completely. Even Pungence himself, the Unstoppable Weapon, would sense nothing while the rings were on.

  They were the broken-out — freed from Striker’s Hell by the Orken Unbound. Now assembled, silent predators in Heful’s underbelly.

  Sandra broke the silence. “So… when do we start?”

  Dreados sat at the head of the table, arms folded, dark eyes like cold knives. His voice was steady, calm, every word deliberate.

  “First, we observe. The strongest man in this world resides here. One mistake… and you die. Keep your rings on. Always. No exceptions.”

  Jeriana shifted uneasily, her crimson fingers tapping against the wood. “We can’t do anything if Pungence is here. Why did they give us an impossible mission?”

  Dreados’s gaze slid to her, slow and sharp.

  “That...is exactly why...we remove him first. The biggest variable… the biggest risk.”

  Katos chuckled, deep and mocking. “You think we can take out the Unstoppable Weapon? You must have screws loose, Dreados.”

  The leader didn’t flinch. His words were soft — but cut like a blade.

  “Open your mouth again, and you will die.”

  Katos smirked, leaning forward. “You talk as if you can.”

  Sandra’s lip curled. “looked like they don’t like each other very much.”

  Omfry, the Dragoon with dark glasses, tilted his head lazily. “Three years they’ve been at it. Nothing new.”

  Richard wiped his scarred mouth with the back of his hand. “So… how do you think we can take out Pungence?”

  Dreados finally leaned forward, voice low and heavy with intent.

  “I have a plan. Brutal strength will not prevail against him. That is why I selected you — your talents interlock. I have studied each of you. When the moment arrives, we strike. It will not bind him indefinitely. A few seconds… will be enough.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  From within his coat, he placed a sealed envelope on the table. His finger tapped it once.

  “Two weeks. Zitry will fête its youngest prince with a royal ball. That night… we strike.”

  His gaze shifted to Jeriana. “For now, blend in. Especially you and Omfry.”

  Jeriana’s brow rose. “You mean… change my skin color?”

  “You’ve devised a spell for this, haven’t you?”

  She exhaled sharply. “…Yes.”

  Dreados turned to Bifo. “Can you retract your wings?”

  Bifo’s glare was flat. “Can you shorten your ears?”

  Daiel burst into laughter, choking on his food. “Hah! Good one.”

  Jeriana smirked faintly. “I’ve got a spell for that too.”

  The room settled into silence again — tension humming beneath the surface.

  ---

  Meanwhile, across the city, Pungence’s house was being rebuilt by sweating mages. Mr. Baby stood arms folded, blood trickling from his temple, grumbling furiously at a foreman.

  Pungence himself was still busy apologizing to Aunty Ann, his massive form unusually subdued as he endured her fury.

  Ziraiah and Eryndor had left for their dormitory. Ziraiah unlocked her door, stepping inside.

  David was there.

  His eyes widened as he took in her battered state. “Ziraiah… what happened to you?” He rushed forward, hands cupping her face.

  She managed a faint smile, touching his hand gently. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

  “Fine?” he barked, eyes flaring with panic. “You’re not fine, you’re—”

  His gaze dropped. He froze. Her mangled hand rested in his own. Fingers gone.

  His jaw trembled. His eyes rose back to hers, horror and grief mingling in his voice.

  “…How did this happen?”

  ---

  Ziraiah walked away from him and said, "I said I’m fine."

  David turned around, his voice softer but laced with frustration. "Don’t do that."

  Ziraiah glanced back over her shoulder. "Do what?"

  David’s jaw tightened. "Shut me out."

  They stared at each other for a long moment, her towering height dwarfing his slighter frame. Then he spoke again, his tone quiet but insistent.

  "Look, I know you’re not the kind of girl to pour your heart out, but still… you know you can tell me anything, right?"

  He stepped closer, craning his neck to look up at her. His voice softened further.

  "You don’t have to keep this in. I love you, Ziraiah. The question is… do you feel the same about me?"

  Ziraiah’s eyes flickered, unreadable. Then she strode forward without slowing. David instinctively stepped back until his shoulders hit the wall. His breath caught as her hands locked onto his waist, lifting him effortlessly from the ground.

  She kissed him — long, unbroken, filled with a heat that made his legs tremble.

  When she pulled back, she whispered against his lips:

  "Does that answer your question?"

  With one hand she reached to her side, closed the door, and twisted the key. The lock clicked into silence. Then she flicked the light off. Darkness fell, broken only by the pale shimmer of moonlight streaming through the window.

  Their lips met again. This time slower, deeper. She pushed him toward the bed, her fingers tugging at his clothes.

  David gasped between kisses. "No, Ziraiah, you’re hurt—"

  She silenced him, her voice low and commanding.

  "David… shut up and kiss me."

  He froze for half a heartbeat — then obeyed, kissing her with desperate need. Clothes fell away piece by piece. Soon they tumbled onto the bed, Ziraiah above him, the moons spilling silver light across her skin.

  David’s hands trembled as he undid her bra.

  Then someone knocked on the table twice. David glanced upward, breathless—

  And froze.

  In the shadowed corner of the room… two green eyes glowed.

  David shot upright, panic flooding his voice.

  "Ziraiah, someone’s here."

  Both of them turned. The shape in the darkness did not move.

  Ziraiah yanked the blanket over herself and flicked on the lamp. Light washed over the corner — revealing him.

  Valerius.

  He sat slouched in a chair, bandages swathing his head, only his eyes left exposed. His presence filled the room like a predator crouched in silence.

  Ziraiah’s voice cracked. "Val? What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

  Valerius’s voice was calm. Cold.

  "Please...don’t stop for me. Go ahead."

  Valerius’s stare bore into them like a blade. He spoke through clenched teeth, every syllable slow and cold.

  "Just know that I have a record of crippling people. "

  David blinked, panic mingling with indignation. "That's your brother?"

  Ziraiah’s voice came out thin, guilty. "Val listen... it's not what it looks like."

  Valerius’s laugh was dry and merciless. "Oooooh reeeeally. Then what does it look like? A training exercise, a negotiation? Cuz to me it looks like you're spreading your legs for any worthless parasite pretending to be a man."

  He pivoted his glare onto David, razor-sharp. "And you... worthless piece of shit."

  Valerius rose from the chair, the bandages on his head rustling like paper. He closed the distance and leaned in until he was close enough for David to smell the metal tang of blood and sweat on his breath. One hand slid behind his back — a slow, casual gesture that made the room inhale.

  "You know... I've never castrated someone before. Well, first time for everything, right?"

  Ziraiah’s eyes widened in horror. "Val please calm down."

  Valerius’s voice dropped, cold and unhinged. "Oh ok, I'll calm down...and think of all the ways I'll dismembered him."

  David snapped to his feet, chest heaving with bravado that trembled at the edges. "Look, I know you're her brother and everything, but you don't get to control her life. You're all bandaged up, looks like someone beat you up really good. Dismember me? How do you plan to do that? You're a non-Gifted. So get your ass out of here before I lose my temper. You're lucky you're her brother."

  The words hit like gasoline. Ziraiah’s pulse spiked; she lunged forward, voice panicked. "Shut up David. Don't make him angry."

  David sneered. "Why are you afraid of him, huh? 'Cause he's your brother? What can he do?"

  Ziraiah’s mind raced: no, no — you don’t understand. He can’t control his strength; if Val hits you, you'll die. She looked toward Valerius, eyes searching, terrified that maybe he’d been faking being mute.

  Valerius forced himself to speak again, squeezing each word out through the pain. "It's good you ran your mouth like that, that way, I won't have to feel bad for what am gonna do to you. How would Eryndor say this. Yes, say more, every word you spit strips away my restraint. Hope you enjoy being a cripple."

  A hand — invisible and absolute — snapped around Valerius and held him in place. Ziraiah, trembling, summoned the force and shouted with all the authority she could find.

  "Run David."

  David laughed, furious and unbelieving. "Run away? What can he do? He's just a non-Gifted."

  Ziraiah screamed, raw: "I said run you idiot. Shut up and get the fuck out."

  For half a beat David stood his ground — then the room grabbed him. An invisible torque took him by the collar; his limbs flailed. He tried to scream, tried to fight, but the force dragged him out through the doorway with horrifying speed. His clothes ripped and reassembled around him as he careened down corridors, through stairwells and past stunned students, until the invisible hand pitched him out at the boys’ dormitory door like a live cannonball.

  Ziraiah walked closer. She raised her hands toward Valerius. "Val, you have to calm down."

  His bandaged head turned to her; his eyes were molten with warning and something fiercely protective. He swallowed, voice small and steady.

  "I know what he feels like, Ziraiah. You can't hide him from me. Maybe not today or tomorrow, or this week. But tell him this. I will get him. He will regret ever meeting me. What I'll do to him... will make what I did to the others look like a picnic."

  Silence fell heavy as stone. In the dark aftershock of David’s forced flight, the room held its breath — the threat still hanging in the air, and the promise behind it colder than any wound.

  ---

  To Be Continued...