The air still stank of burnt metal and ozone from the Architect's touch.
Akira's chest heaved, her mind replaying the sensation of her power being ripped away—how close she'd come to losing everything.
Rin's grip on her wrist tightened. "We need to move. Now."
They cut through the twisted remains of the city, ducking under warped steel and shattered neon signs. Every shadow felt alive. Every sound was too loud.
Then Akira heard it—low, metallic clicking.
Not footsteps. Not breathing.
Tracking.
A Sentinel dropped from the side of a half-collapsed tower, its body a blend of black armor and something far too organic. Four glowing eyes scanned the street, its jaw splitting open into razor points.
"Keep going," Rin hissed.
But more came. One from the rooftops. Two from the alley ahead.
In seconds, they were surrounded.
Akira's aura flared—Rank 7 was still hers, and she wasn't about to let these monsters take it. "Stay behind me."
She blurred forward, slicing the first Sentinel's head clean off. Its body convulsed, spraying silver ichor that hissed on the pavement. But when she turned—its head was already reforming, snapping back into place.
"They don't die," Rin warned. "Not like this."
The Sentinels moved in perfect sync, boxing them in. Akira's fangs itched—if she fed now, she could hit Rank 8. But feeding in front of Rin…
The lead Sentinel stepped closer, its eyes burning hotter.
Then it spoke—in the Architect's voice.
"Run, little fang. I enjoy the chase."
The street behind them folded upward like paper, blocking their escape. And above—through the rift—Akira saw something worse.
Not just the Architect watching…
Thousands of Sentinels descending.