A month had passed since the attack on the base.

  In that short span of time, the Spectrum Defense Agency had changed, and so had I.

  The air inside the briefing hall felt heavier than usual, thick with tension and anticipation. Rows of newly promoted agents stood at attention, their combat gear still stiff and unfamiliar, badges gleaming under the artificial lights. I stood among them, posture straight, hands clenched loosely at my sides.

  Full-fledged agent.

  The words still felt unreal.

  Several months ago, I had been a civilian with no formal training, dragged into chaos by coincidence and instinct. Now, after relentless drills, evaluations, and missions that pushed me harder than I thought possible, the SDA had acknowledged me, not as an anomaly, not as a liability, but as one of their own.

  The murmurs died instantly when the commander stepped onto the raised platform.

  “As of today, you are no longer recruits,” he announced, voice carrying effortlessly through the hall. “You are agents of the Spectrum Defense Agency. With that title comes authority, but more importantly, responsibility.”

  A large holographic screen flickered to life behind him.

  “As full-fledged agents,” the commander continued, “Your first mission will not involve Frade suppression or civilian evacuation. Instead, you will be tasked with tracking down and apprehending a rogue agent.”

  The word rogue rippled through the room like a shockwave.

  The screen shifted, displaying a familiar face.

  Jayden Brise.

  I felt my jaw tighten.

  The image was taken from an SDA database, older, cleaner. His expression was neutral, almost bored, surgical mask hanging loose around his neck. A man who didn’t look particularly threatening. If I didn’t know better, I’d mistake him for another overworked recruit.

  But I did know better.

  “Over the course of the past month,” the commander said, “Jayden Brise has been operating independently, engaging cultists, Frades, and criminal organizations without authorization or jurisdiction.”

  The screen changed again, grainy footage from street cameras, drone recordings, fragmented reports. Red flashes cutting through alleys. Bodies collapsed in heaps. A dark, amorphous shape surging forward, consuming enemies whole.

  “While his actions have resulted in the elimination of multiple hostile elements,” the commander continued, tone firm, “his continued activity without proper procedures poses a severe risk. Collateral damage. Misinformation. Escalation.”

  Another pause.

  “This behavior cannot be tolerated.”

  I could feel eyes shifting around the room. Some agents frowned. Others looked conflicted. A few looked outright angry.

  Jayden Brise wasn’t just any rogue.

  He had been one of us.

  “Your objective,” the commander concluded, “is to locate Jayden Brise, restrain him if necessary, and bring him in alive. Lethal force is authorized only as a last resort.”

  The screen dimmed.

  The silence that followed was deafening.

  As the agents were dismissed into their squads, my thoughts raced. I had heard the rumors, everyone had. Whispers of a man hunting monsters alone. Of cultists vanishing overnight. Of Frades being torn apart in ways that didn’t match standard Spectrum tactics.

  And always, always, the same name.

  Jayden Brise.

  “Luis.”

  I turned to see Asha approaching, her expression serious but not hostile. She was already in full combat gear, green-lined armor fitting snugly over her frame. Her eyes flicked briefly to the screen before settling back on me.

  “Are you ready?” she asked quietly. “This guy is actually dangerous now.”

  I nodded slowly.

  “I know.”

  In the past month, I had pieced together what I could. Jayden wasn’t just surviving out there, he was evolving.

  Back when we trained together, he had shown decent aptitude with red and yellow Spectrum energy. Not exceptional. Not prodigy-level. But solid. Reliable. He favored ranged attacks, careful positioning, never overcommitting.

  That had changed.

  Recent reports described a fighter who closed distances aggressively. Someone who baited attacks just to step inside an opponent’s guard. Someone who fought like he wanted to be hit, as long as he hit harder.

  And then there were the other reports.

  The ones that made even veterans uneasy.

  “White energy confirmed,” one after-action report stated. “Unauthorized summoning observed.”

  Another read: “Summoned entity resembles amorphous Frade. Slime-like. Displays consumption-type behavior.”

  The footage backed it up.

  A dark, viscous creature erupting from Jayden’s shadow. Tendrils snapping forward. Cultists screaming as they were swallowed whole. Lesser Frades dissolving into nothing as the thing absorbed them.

  A controlled Frade.

  No, more than that.

  A partner.

  I swallowed, unease creeping up my spine.

  White Spectrum users were rare for a reason. Controlling Frades wasn’t just difficult, it was dangerous. One mistake, one lapse in synchronization, and the creature would turn on its summoner.

  Yet Jayden was using one freely. Casually.

  Almost intimately.

  “He’s not thinking like an agent anymore,” Asha said, breaking my thoughts. “He’s thinking like a hunter.”

  Or like someone who didn’t expect to live long enough to face consequences.

  I glanced back at the darkened screen where Jayden’s face had been displayed moments ago.

  There was something unsettling about the whole thing.

  Jayden Brise wasn’t acting like a villain.

  He wasn’t acting like a hero, either.

  He was acting like someone who had decided rules no longer applied to him.

  And now, it was our job to stop him.

  Whether he wanted to be stopped, or not.

  I woke to the pale light of morning creeping across concrete and rusted railings.

  For a moment, I didn’t recognize where I was.

  Then I shifted, my shoulder pressing against cold metal, and the memory settled in. A balcony. Fourth floor, maybe. Abandoned apartment complex on the edge of a half-evacuated district. The kind of place the SDA flagged as “low priority”, too quiet to bother guarding, too broken for civilians to return to.

  Perfect for sleeping.

  I yawned and sat up, running a hand through my hair as my joints cracked in protest. Sleeping in random places had stopped feeling strange weeks ago. Park benches, rooftops, fire escapes, the back seats of abandoned vehicles. Anywhere high enough to avoid being surprised, anywhere open enough that I could escape if needed.

  A month ago, I would have called this miserable.

  Now, it was just routine.

  I glanced over the railing. The street below was empty, littered with cracked pavement and old warning tape flapping lazily in the breeze. No cultists. No Frades. No patrols.

  Good.

  I stretched slowly, feeling the stiffness work its way out of my muscles. Despite the constant fighting, my body felt… sharper. Not stronger in the conventional sense, but more responsive. Like a blade that had finally been honed instead of blunted by fear and hesitation.

  I still had money, more than enough, actually. Credits taken from cultist stashes, criminal hideouts, black-market traders who never thought someone would hunt them down alone. I could rent a place if I wanted to. Get a room. A bed.

  But I didn’t.

  Not yet.

  Money was security, and security was something I’d need later. When things got worse. When I finally had no choice but to confront the consequences of what I was doing.

  I rolled my shoulders and stood, boots scraping softly against concrete.

  A lot had changed in the past month.

  Not just in me.

  In the beginning, I had been obsessed with finding the right fighting style. Something structured. Something proven. I told myself that once I figured out what suited me, I’d seek out proper training, boxing, knife work, close-quarters combat, anything with rules and form.

  That plan hadn’t survived contact with reality.

  The library system, whatever higher logic governed records and growth, had made that decision for me.

  I opened my book, the familiar weight settling into my hands as the pages fluttered on their own, stopping at a new entry.

  Demonic Instinct – Growth

  Rank: None

  Record size: 0

  Let your primal instincts take over, enhancing all your senses. Your body will respond to danger and act accordingly. Dodge when possible, and when hit, boost the power of your next attack.

  I stared at the words longer than I probably should have.

  I still didn’t know where this record had come from.

  It hadn’t been a drop. I hadn’t recorded it from anyone. It had simply… appeared. One moment it wasn’t there, the next it was etched into my book as if it had always belonged.

  Useful didn’t begin to cover it.

  The first time it activated, I’d barely noticed. A sudden tightening in my chest. The world sharpening at the edges. Time slowing just enough for my body to move before my thoughts caught up.

  Now, it was constant.

  While fighting, my body moved on its own. Dodging attacks I hadn’t consciously seen. Twisting out of the way when I thought I should push forward. Countering from angles I didn’t intend.

  It made me effective.

  It also made me uncomfortable.

  Control had always been important to me. Knowing why I moved, why I struck, why I retreated. With Demonic Instinct active, that clarity blurred. I was still there, still aware, but my body often made the final call.

  Learning a proper fighting style like this would be… difficult.

  Not impossible. Just harder.

  I exhaled slowly and closed the page.

  I’ll adapt.

  That had become my answer to everything.

  The second major change was far more obvious.

  As if responding to my thoughts, a familiar presence stirred nearby.

  A dark, gelatinous mass oozed out from the shadow cast by a broken air-conditioning unit. It pooled together, rippling softly before lifting part of itself in what I’d come to recognize as attention.

  My slime.

  Not the same one I’d started with.

  A week ago, while resting after a particularly ugly fight, a message had echoed in my mind.

  Your summoned creature is requesting permission to shed to a more compatible form.

  I hadn’t understood it at the time. Shed? Compatible with what?

  But the word compatible stuck with me. The slime had saved me more times than I could count. If it needed to change to survive alongside me, who was I to deny it?

  So I agreed.

  The transformation hadn’t been violent, but it had been unsettling. Its draconic features, jagged ridges, pseudo-wings, hints of a skeletal frame beneath the slime, had dissolved, melting back into a pure, amorphous form.

  What emerged afterward was… different.

  I flipped to the page beside its summoning record.

  Demonic Spectrum Slime

  Rank: Gold

  Record size: 10 (120)

  Rating: 10

  It pulsed faintly, as if reacting to my gaze.

  After consuming cultists and Frades alike, it had adapted in ways I hadn’t anticipated. It could now use Spectrum energy on its own. Red bursts that struck harder than mine. Yellow reinforcement that let it slam into enemies like a living battering ram. Even traces of blue, forming crude barriers when it sensed danger.

  Better than me in some ways.

  Smarter, too.

  But the evolution had come with a cost.

  Every ability tied to dragons, flame adaptation, draconic resilience, aerial mobility, was gone. Stripped away as if they had never existed.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  At first, I thought that was it.

  Then I noticed the new page.

  Draconification – Torn Record

  Rank: Diamond

  Record size: 0 (280)

  It sat there, incomplete, frayed at the edges like a page half-ripped from a book.

  I reached out instinctively, trying to activate it.

  Nothing.

  No response. No feedback. It didn’t even feel like it belonged to me. More like something placed in my book temporarily, waiting for conditions I hadn’t met.

  Or maybe something I wasn’t allowed to touch yet.

  I let my hand drop.

  “So you keep the dragon,” I murmured, glancing at the slime. “And I get the leftovers.”

  The slime wobbled, as if amused.

  Despite everything, I couldn’t bring myself to be upset. Whatever it had lost, it had gained far more. And judging by the way it moved, fluid, alert, constantly aware of its surroundings, it was thriving.

  Just like I was.

  In a twisted way.

  I closed my book and leaned against the railing, looking out over the quiet city.

  I had questions. Too many of them.

  About the library. About records that appeared without explanation. About torn pages and growth-type abilities that seemed to rewrite how my body worked.

  About what would happen when I finally went back.

  “I have so many questions to ask when I get back…” I muttered.

  The wind carried my words away.

  For now, though, I wasn’t going back.

  Not yet.

  There were still enemies out there. Still instincts to sharpen. Still a path to carve, one fight at a time.

  The first thing I felt was pressure.

  Not the physical kind, no shockwave, no sudden gust of wind, but something heavier, deeper, like the air itself had grown wary. My chest tightened as if an invisible hand had closed around my lungs, and every instinct I had screamed the same word.

  Danger.

  A pillar of red light tore through the sky in the distance.

  It wasn’t fire. It wasn’t plasma. It was red spectrum energy compressed to such an absurd density that it bent the light around it, turning the clouds above into a swirling crimson vortex. The beam didn’t explode upward, it forced its way into the heavens, as if the world itself had been pierced.

  I froze mid-step.

  The ground beneath our boots vibrated faintly, pebbles hopping against cracked asphalt. Windows several blocks away shattered in delayed bursts, the sound rolling toward us like distant thunder.

  Then, before I could even process it,

  Another pillar erupted to the east.

  Blue.

  Cold, sharp, precise.

  Where the red pillar felt violent and domineering, the blue one felt absolute. Like a command issued to reality itself. The air temperature dropped instantly, my breath fogging as frost crept along nearby metal surfaces.

  And then-

  Yellow.

  Southwest.

  A golden spear of light slammed into the sky, radiating raw, oppressive vitality. The pavement buckled beneath our feet, spiderweb cracks racing outward as if the city itself was struggling to withstand the surge of reinforced energy.

  Three pillars.

  Three directions.

  Three spectrum signatures so dense they made my skin crawl.

  “What the hell…?” I whispered.

  I turned sharply to Asha, my heart hammering. “What’s going on?”

  Her expression had changed completely. Gone was the composed, battle-hardened agent who had dragged me through my early training. Her jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed, one hand already raised to her earpiece.

  “H-HQ,” she said, voice tight but controlled. “This is Agent Asha, Squad lead for the Brise pursuit. We’re detecting multiple high-density spectrum surges. Confirm immediately, what’s happening?”

  Static crackled in her ear.

  For a second, there was no response.

  That second stretched unbearably long.

  Around us, the rest of the squad reacted on instinct. Dmitri raised his rifle, scanning rooftops. Yuri’s blue energy flared faintly around his hands, forming thin hexagonal constructs without conscious effort. Marco and Imelda shifted into defensive stances, yellow energy reinforcing their frames.

  Everyone felt it.

  The pressure intensified.

  The red pillar pulsed once, and my vision blurred for a fraction of a second. My knees buckled slightly before I caught myself.

  This isn’t normal, I realized. This isn’t just powerful.

  This was arrival.

  HQ finally responded.

  “Asha,” the operator said, and even through the comms, I could hear the strain in their voice. “We’re confirming now. Preliminary readings indicate… high-tier Frade manifestations.”

  My blood ran cold.

  “How high?” Asha asked.

  Another pause.

  “…Minimum Gold-class,” HQ replied. “Possibly higher.”

  My grip tightened unconsciously.

  Gold-class Frades weren’t just stronger versions of the monsters we’d been fighting. They were walking disasters. Entities that could wipe out entire squads if mishandled. Ones that usually required coordinated teams, heavy preparation, and ideally, advance warning.

  We had none of that.

  “And there are three?” Asha pressed.

  “Confirmed. Three simultaneous manifestations. Each aligned with a primary spectrum. Red, Blue, and Yellow.”

  The implications hit me like a hammer.

  Simultaneous.

  Aligned.

  This wasn’t random.

  My gaze drifted toward the red pillar again, my stomach sinking.

  Jayden Brise.

  We were supposed to be tracking a rogue agent. A dangerous one, sure, but still human. Someone who had gone off-protocol, hunted without jurisdiction, and drawn too much attention to himself.

  But this?

  This was something else entirely.

  “Asha,” Dmitri said quietly, eyes never leaving the skyline. “This doesn’t feel like coincidence.”

  She didn’t respond immediately.

  “HQ,” she said instead, “what’s the probability this is cult activity?”

  The reply came faster this time.

  “High,” HQ answered. “Extremely high. Energy density suggests ritual-assisted summoning. Possibly synchronized across multiple nodes.”

  Cultists.

  My jaw clenched.

  Frade-worshipping lunatics. People willing to sacrifice entire districts if it meant bringing their so-called gods into the world. And now they’d done it, three times over, all at once.

  Yellow energy flared brighter around Marco as he muttered, “They’re insane…”

  “And smart,” Yuri added grimly. “Splitting our response.”

  He was right.

  Three Frades in three different locations meant three potential catastrophes. Civilian casualties. Infrastructure collapse. Panic. Chaos.

  Exactly the kind of chaos someone like Jayden would be drawn into.

  Or blamed for.

  “Asha,” I said, before I could stop myself. “Jayden, he’s been fighting cultists nonstop. If they’re reacting to him-”

  “I know,” she cut in. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  The red pillar pulsed again, and this time, something moved within it.

  The beam twisted, spiraling inward as if space itself were being dragged toward a single point. The clouds above churned violently, forming a massive vortex that glowed from within.

  Then the pressure spiked.

  I dropped to one knee as a wave of raw red spectrum energy rolled across the city. It wasn’t explosive, it was crushing. Like standing too close to a roaring engine that demanded submission.

  My vision swam, red static dancing at the edges.

  “Luis!” Asha snapped.

  “I’m—fine,” I gasped, forcing myself upright. “Just… heavy.”

  She looked at me sharply, then nodded. “Everyone feeling that?”

  A chorus of confirmations came through.

  “HQ,” Asha said, “we need directives. Are we engaging?”

  The answer was immediate.

  “Negative,” HQ replied. “All available squads are being rerouted. You are to observe and avoid unless civilian lives are in immediate danger. Repeat, do not engage Gold-class Frades without authorization.”

  Asha’s lips pressed into a thin line.

  “Understood.”

  She lowered her hand slowly, eyes flicking between the three pillars.

  Observe and avoid.

  That was the smart call.

  It also felt impossible.

  A distant roar echoed from the direction of the red pillar.

  Not sound, intent.

  My teeth rattled as the air vibrated. Somewhere far away, buildings collapsed. Sirens began to wail, their cries overlapping into a chaotic symphony of panic.

  The blue pillar flared next, its light sharpening, condensing. I felt my thoughts slow, like my mind was being forced into orderly channels against its will. Yuri winced, clutching his head.

  “That one’s messing with my constructs,” he muttered. “It’s like it’s rewriting the rules.”

  “And the yellow?” Marco asked.

  As if in answer, the yellow pillar detonated outward, not in an explosion, but in a wave of reinforced force. The ground lifted. Entire sections of road rose several centimeters before slamming back down, shattering completely.

  I swallowed hard.

  Three Frades.

  Three different expressions of power.

  And somewhere in the middle of all this-

  Jayden Brise.

  Asha turned to us. “Listen up. We’re moving to high ground. We track, we report, and we do not jump in unless absolutely necessary. Understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the squad replied in unison.

  I nodded with them, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

  Is this what he’s been dealing with? I wondered. Is this what happens when someone hunts without restraint?

  Another roar thundered through the city, closer this time.

  The red pillar collapsed inward.

  The beam vanished in an instant, leaving behind a massive, distorted silhouette standing amidst a crater of molten asphalt.

  My breath caught.

  Even from this distance, I could feel it.

  The Frade had arrived.

  And whatever Jayden Brise had been doing...

  It had finally caught up to him.

  The first thing I noticed was how small everything looked from up here.

  I stood at the edge of a collapsed overpass, chunks of concrete still tumbling into the crater below. Cars burned in twisted piles, their alarms wailing uselessly. Smoke coiled upward, mixing with the remnants of red spectrum energy that still stained the sky like a bleeding wound.

  At the center of it all.

  The Frade.

  I looked down at it, and for a brief, irrational moment, my mind tried to deny what my eyes were seeing.

  A serpentine dragon coiled within the crater, its body easily longer than a city block. Scales the color of molten iron layered over one another, each etched with glowing red veins that pulsed in time with a slow, thunderous heartbeat. Its form wasn’t entirely physical, parts of it shimmered, phasing between solidity and raw energy, as if the world itself struggled to decide whether it was allowed to exist.

  Its head lifted.

  Six eyes opened along its elongated skull, each one burning with compressed red spectrum light.

  And when it looked at me.

  The pressure hit.

  I staggered back a step as raw hostility washed over me, my vision blurring, teeth grinding together as if my body were bracing for impact.

  So this is a Gold-class Frade…

  No.

  This felt worse.

  The dragon opened its mouth, and the air screamed.

  A beam of red energy detonated upward.

  I dove.

  The beam sliced cleanly through the overpass where I had been standing, vaporizing steel rebar and concrete alike. The structure behind me collapsed in a roaring cascade, the shockwave throwing me across the asphalt.

  I rolled, barely managing to twist my body before slamming into a wrecked bus.

  Pain exploded through my ribs.

  Before I could even gasp, the dragon reared back, coils tightening.

  Another beam.

  “Shit-!”

  I thrust my arm forward, red energy flaring instinctively.

  The blast met mine midair.

  For a split second, the two forces ground against each other, sparks of spectrum energy tearing free and detonating around us like fireworks.

  Then my beam shattered.

  The remainder slammed into me head-on.

  The world went white.

  I skidded across the ground, carving a trench through asphalt and debris before finally stopping against the base of a shattered building. My ears rang violently. My lungs refused to draw air.

  I coughed, blood splattering against my glove.

  Too strong.

  Way too strong.

  I forced myself upright, every muscle screaming as Demonic Instinct kicked in, flooding my senses with heightened awareness. The world sharpened painfully, every sound distinct, every movement exaggerated.

  Civilians.

  I snapped my head to the side.

  Down the street, people were still running. A group of maybe twenty, families, office workers, a couple of kids, frozen in panic as the dragon’s massive head turned slightly in their direction.

  “No,” I muttered.

  The dragon inhaled.

  Red light gathered in its throat.

  I moved without thinking.

  Yellow energy surged through my legs, reinforcing them beyond their limits. I launched myself off the ground, tearing forward in a blur, red energy forming instinctively along my arm.

  “HEY!”

  I slammed my fist into the ground between the Frade and the civilians.

  Red spectrum energy detonated outward in a concussive shockwave, ripping up asphalt and debris, forcing the dragon’s head to snap back slightly.

  The beam fired anyway, but wide.

  It carved through empty buildings instead of people, slicing towers in half like paper.

  The civilians screamed and ran.

  Good.

  That was all I needed.

  The dragon roared.

  Up close, the sound wasn’t just noise, it was pressure. My bones vibrated, my vision warping as if reality itself recoiled from its presence.

  The creature lunged.

  Its massive body uncoiled with terrifying speed, jaws snapping shut where my head had been a moment earlier.

  I dodged sideways, Demonic Instinct wrenching my body into motion before my conscious mind could catch up. The movement wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t planned.

  But it worked.

  Barely.

  I skidded beneath its neck, scales radiating heat so intense my coat began to smoke. I slammed my palm against its side, red energy discharging point-blank.

  The blast staggered it, only slightly.

  The scales cracked, glowing brighter, but didn’t shatter.

  That did almost nothing.

  Its tail came around.

  I felt it before I saw it.

  I jumped, twisting midair, but the sheer size of the tail made it impossible to fully evade. The tip clipped me, yellow energy flaring desperately as my body reinforced itself.

  I was sent flying anyway.

  I crashed through the front of a convenience store, glass and shelves exploding around me. My back hit the far wall hard enough to crater it.

  I slid down, gasping.

  Demonic Instinct surged.

  Pain sharpened into fuel.

  My next movement was faster.

  I burst from the rubble as another beam tore through the storefront, vaporizing everything behind me. I sprinted down the street, deliberately leading the dragon away from the evacuation routes.

  “Come on,” I growled. “Look at me.”

  As if amused, the Frade lifted itself higher, coils rising until it loomed over the buildings. Red energy condensed along the lines of its body, flowing toward its head in a terrifying display of control.

  Not just beams.

  It was charging something bigger.

  I raised my arm, book flickering open in my peripheral vision.

  Think.

  I couldn’t overpower it. I couldn’t outlast it.

  So I did the only thing I’d been doing for the past month.

  I adapted.

  White energy flared.

  “Summon.”

  The ground beside me rippled.

  My slime emerged in a surge of dark, glossy mass, its form wobbling before stabilizing. Unlike before, it didn’t just sit there passively.

  It reacted.

  Red, blue, and yellow energy shimmered faintly within its body, mimicking the dragon’s spectrum alignment on a much smaller scale.

  Good, I thought grimly. You feel it too.

  The dragon fired.

  Not one beam.

  Three.

  They fanned outward, sweeping across the street in a devastating arc.

  “Now!” I shouted.

  The slime surged forward, expanding rapidly, its body flattening and thickening. The beams struck it head-on.

  For a horrifying second, I thought it would be erased.

  Instead, the slime absorbed part of the impact, its surface rippling violently as excess energy bled away in unstable flashes.

  Still, the force hurled both of us backward.

  I rolled, coming up on one knee, chest heaving.

  The dragon hissed.

  Annoyed.

  That realization sent a chill down my spine.

  I wasn’t a threat.

  I was an obstacle.

  And obstacles get removed.

  The Frade descended, its body coiling around nearby buildings, crushing them effortlessly. It struck again, jaws snapping shut inches from me.

  I ducked, drove upward with an enhanced punch, and felt my fist slam into something that might as well have been a mountain.

  The recoil shattered the pavement beneath my feet. Pain exploded up my arm, bones screaming.

  The dragon didn’t even flinch.

  Its head swung sideways.

  Impact.

  I didn’t see the hit. I only felt it.

  My body flew, slamming into a residential building hard enough to tear a hole straight through it. I burst out the other side, tumbling across the street in a broken heap.

  My vision blurred.

  Blood pooled in my mouth.

  Get up.

  Demonic Instinct roared in my head.

  Get up.

  I forced myself to move.

  Somewhere nearby, sirens wailed. Helicopters circled at a distance, too far to intervene.

  Civilians were still running.

  Good.

  As long as they were running.

  Another beam fired.

  I rolled, the blast scorching the ground where I’d been lying a heartbeat earlier. The heat washed over me, searing my skin.

  I laughed weakly.

  “So this is how it ends, huh?”

  The dragon reared back, energy condensing for what felt like a finishing blow.

  I planted my feet.

  Red energy flared around me, unstable, flickering.

  Yellow reinforced my body beyond what it should have endured.

  Blue sharpened my focus, forcing my thoughts into painful clarity.

  I raised my arm.

  Not to attack.

  But to signal.

  I poured everything I had into one final blast, not at the dragon’s head, but straight into the sky.

  The beam tore upward, a defiant crimson line cutting through smoke and cloud.

  A beacon.

  A challenge.

  “OVER HERE!” I shouted hoarsely.

  The dragon answered with a roar that shook the city.

  It lunged.

  And I braced myself, knowing one thing with absolute certainty,

  I wasn’t winning this fight.

  I was just buying time.

  And I would keep buying it.

  No matter the cost.