The skies were blood-red.
Cracks split across the burning field like broken glass smoldering veins of destruction laced the air.
Vernon Slade stood amidst the carnage shirtless, steam rising off his torso. Deep gashes marked his chest and shoulders, but he didn't stagger.
He thrived on it.
Each drop of blood that left his body...
Made him stronger.
"Give up."
His voice boomed, guttural and heavy as a war drum.
"Even if you're one of the original members—
—you can't beat me, Sefe."
"Only Tyler… or Solarius could."
He stomped forward, the ground cracking under the weight of his amplified power. A red aura pulsed around his fists—dense, raw, and brutal.
Across from him Sefe, now fourteen, still held her stance.
Hands smoldering, her palms flickered with fire not hers, but borrowed.
Embers twirled around her body like miniature satellites, drawing heat from cracked pipes, oil stains, even the ashes of war.
But her breath was short. Her arms trembled.
