The sound of combat boots striking the solid floor of a warehouse echoes through a completely deserted district in the city center. Soldiers take their positions, weapons aimed at the doors as they wait for something to arrive. They barely seem to breathe, fully focused on whoever might come through.
A hunched, dark-skinned man emerges from one of the second-floor offices, letting out a huge yawn. Without any effort, he jumps down to the first floor, landing with remarkable grace. He looks over the little soldiers playing at readiness while rubbing one eye, then straightens up and says tiredly,
"What are you idiots doing? It's just your comrades with the shipment."
The soldiers say nothing and keep their positions—except for one who makes the terrible mistake of whispering, almost under his breath,
"As if some useless guy from the Mercenary Association could understand the problem if the enemy locates us."
Reyik smiles. He vanishes in an instant and reappears behind the foolish soldier who couldn't keep his mouth shut. Drawing one of the machetes strapped to his back, he gently places the blade against the side of the soldier's neck and says sweetly, with a wide smile,
"I understand your situation… and I also know I can kill anyone who comes through that door."
The blade slides effortlessly into the man's neck. Blood begins to flow slowly as the metal reaches his throat, then exits his body. The soldier collapses, staining the floor with blood.
The white-haired man exclaims,
"Come on now—no more clowning around. I'm in charge by order of your inept leader! Clean this up before the place starts to stink!"
A truck that looks like a moving van turns onto the street toward the warehouse, followed by another vehicle bearing a cellphone company logo, then a third that appears to be transporting beverages, and finally a car carrier. Unnoticed by the sergeant riding shotgun, someone has been following them for several blocks.
Seeing the vehicles stop and wait for the doors to open, the red-haired teen senses he has found what the vigilantes have been searching for—but he needs confirmation. Spotting a building across the street from the warehouse entrance, he takes a deep breath and crosses over. Quietly, he slips into one of the alleyways near the entrance. He knows he needs to reach the roof to take photos. Using the drone would require turning it back on, which would surely alert everyone.
Seeing no other option, he convinces himself there's no harm in checking if the door is open. To his surprise, it is. Inside lies a spotless hallway, with chargers and weapons scattered everywhere. Fear creeps in—someone could be inside.
The corridors are almost completely dark, lit only by faint light from the windows. The first floor appears to have been converted into a training room or gym, filled with machines and sandbags. The second floor overwhelms him with a fetid stench coming from one room. The door is ajar. He peeks inside and sees it blocked from the other side. Tilting his head through the gap, he finds the room packed with decomposing bodies—buzzing flies, writhing maggots, rotting flesh. The sheer number of corpses makes him recoil, searing the image into his memory.
Startled, Antonio stumbles into another room, knocking over a couple of flasks that shatter on the ceramic floor. The sound of breaking glass makes his heart race—someone might have heard. His fear deepens when he hears voices below:
"It's a damn shame—the dead room's almost full. How are we going to fit this one?"
"No idea. There are already like a hundred in there, and now one of our own."
Terrified of being caught, Antonio sprints to the third floor, then immediately up to the fourth. There he freezes in shock: the entire floor has been turned into an armory. From a single glance at the open wooden crates, he can tell there are enough weapons to arm at least two hundred people.
Finally, he reaches a small ladder leading to the roof hatch.
Outside, fresh air hits him, bringing a wave of relief. He's grateful that a section of the front wall extends high enough to shield him. Carefully peeking over, he sees four soldiers carrying each wooden crate—easy to guess what's inside. His hands tremble. If he's discovered, this could be the end.
He prepares to send his location to Tyron. Carefully leaning out, he snaps the necessary photo so Tyron's teammates will believe him.
The white-haired adult paces impatiently. Babysitting a bunch of useless soldiers so they won't be beaten by teenagers is unbearable. He watches the soldiers move the cargo to the back of the warehouse, storing it with the rest of the weapons.
That damn Captain, he thinks. The suits better pay me double for staying past the agreed time. Stupid contract obligations…
Something catches his eye—an object atop one of the cars on the carrier. He moves to inspect it, then suddenly feels a presence outside. Changing direction, he stands at the entrance, scanning—but finds nothing. A crate crashing to the floor inside pulls his attention back.
Relieved, Antonio exhales and tries again to take a photo. But under the tension, he forgets something crucial: turning off the flash.
The brief burst of light—just milliseconds—is enough. Reyik catches it in his peripheral vision and immediately turns.
A soldier approaches him. "Everything alright, sir?"
Without taking his eyes off the direction of the flash, Reyik replies,
"Yes. Finish up here and then leave. I'll take a look around."
He steps into the street and, with a small leap, climbs effortlessly onto the roof. Finding no one, he smirks and inhales deeply.
"So… lightning Fiu, huh? No—too dense. You're not a user. You're a normal person connected to one. There's barely a trail, but I can tell where you are—the person who sent you values you enough to leave their Fiu mark on you."
He walks slowly toward the hatch leading to the fourth floor.
Antonio runs in panic. He's already on the third floor, shaken by the man's words. If they're true, he can't escape—no matter where he runs, he'll be found. Terrified, he ducks into an empty soldier's room and hides in the bathroom, gently closing the door. Hands shaking, he checks his phone, confirms the drone's GPS is active, and sends it to Tyron along with the address and the photo.
"I need help!"
He presses his ear to the door. Footsteps approach.
"What happened? I sense your trail. You tried going back down to the second floor, but realized you'd lead me to your friends—so you stayed here."
Antonio falls into the bathtub with a clatter, alerting his pursuer. Smiling, the man approaches. Antonio realizes the truth: he can't run. Only the vigilantes can stop this monster. With no choice left, he grabs the metal briefcase from his backpack and begins to suit up.
Meanwhile, in the forest, gray clouds gather and the wind grows violent, whipping the treetops. After showing his friends the messages from Antonio, Tyron leaps to his feet.
"Let's go—Antonio needs help!"
Alexa hesitates. "Ty, it could be a trap—"
"A trap?!" Tyron snaps. "They're using the Director's soldiers' equipment!"
Francesca stands, thoughtful. "You said it yourself—he was in a coma with Erinios inside him. Even if the photo is real, we can't ignore the risk of an ambush. The one who values saving lives the most should decide."
All eyes turn to Emily. She's startled—the blonde usually makes the calls. This time, the decision is hers.
Emily exhales, steadying herself. "We have to go. The fact he asked for help means it's out of his control. And we have the location from the photo. At the very least, that's real."
Decision made, they prepare to head for Guarly. Their master watches the sky.
Before they leave, he says without turning,
"If you need my help, say my full name and I'll appear—Jayden Damnare."
They nod and sprint toward the city at full speed, hoping they're not too late.
Back in the city, Reyik enters a room with machetes in both hands. Smiling, his sense of smell tells him his prey is hiding in the bathroom.
"Seriously? You should've run."
He kicks the door open. Inside, only a backpack lies in the center. He steps forward confidently—until the iron-masked figure lunges from behind the door.
"Hey!"
Antonio smashes the metal briefcase into Reyik's mouth, then grabs his hair and slams his face into the sink five times, shattering it. A left knee sends Reyik crashing into the bathtub. Antonio punches him—but Reyik blocks with his forearm, swallows blood, and grins.
"Nice try. You should've escaped."
A brutal punch to the gut sends Antonio flying. Reyik lifts him by the face and hurls him through a wall into the hallway.
Antonio lies trembling, pain wracking his body. He might have broken something—at least that's what the suit makes him feel. He struggles up, only to be kicked in the head, smashing more wall and spitting blood.
Reyik approaches, machetes resting on his shoulders.
"Good effort. Too bad you're nowhere near my level."
Antonio rises slowly. "I'll make you choke on those words—and your teeth, you bastard!"
He fires his .45. Reyik deflects all three bullets with a single machete. Antonio tackles him, but Reyik elbows him, then knees him into the wall.
"You've got spirit," Reyik says. "But spirit alone doesn't win fights."
Blood drips from Antonio's nose. He laughs harshly. "You don't know me. I'll beat you without more power."
He fires again. Reyik kicks the gun away—but Antonio grabs his leg and smashes a boot into his groin.
"Damn rat!" Reyik yelps.
Antonio rains blows with brass knuckles, blood and teeth spraying. He finishes with a knee.
"Hope you liked the service, idio—"
Reyik rises instantly and kicks Antonio through the ceiling to the fourth floor. Pain explodes in his back—something's broken. A shard of wood is lodged in him. He rips it out, screaming.
He considers the syringes in his suit—but remembers the cost. Still, outmatched, he injects himself.
The fight erupts again. Grenades explode. Gunfire fills the armory. Reyik hurls purple-red energy, blasting holes in the building.
Rain begins to fall.
Reyik steps on Antonio's hand, bones crunching.
"This was fun, but I'm bored."
Antonio injects one last dose, breaks free, and hurls another grenade. The blast engulfs them in dust.
Antonio fires until the magazine runs dry. Relief floods him—until he sees Reyik regenerating, a bullet lodged in his forehead.
"Good thing I focused Fiu there," Reyik says, pulling it out.
Antonio staggers upright. "Will you just die already?"
Reyik kicks him off the edge. As Antonio falls, memories flood him—birthdays, his parents, Tyron, the rescue from Erinios. He smiles… then darkness.
He wakes to searing pain—metal skewering his shoulder. Reyik crouches over him.
"Now I recognize you. Maximus told me about you. You exceeded expectations."
"Don't mention him!" Antonio snarls.
Reyik nods. "He used you. I used him. Everyone did their job. And you did yours."
Accepting defeat, Antonio pulls the pin on his last grenade. Reyik tries to escape—but Antonio hurls it and holds him close.
Antonio smiles beneath the mask… and closes his eyes.
The explosion echoes through the neighborhood.
Footsteps splash through rainwater as the vigilantes arrive. Seeing the destruction, Tyron collapses, a tear streaming down his face as he screams:
"ANTONIO!"