The updated bounty posters arrived three days after the transport raid.
"They're getting worse at this," Dan said, displaying the holographic images with barely contained amusement.
The new posters were somehow even more ridiculous than the first ones. The Shadow Blade was now depicted as a ten-foot-tall demon with six arms, each wielding a different weapon. The Tech Phantom had apparently gained the ability to transform into a giant robot. And the Inferno Witch—
"Is that supposed to be me?" Vivi stared at her cartoonish representation—a floating specter made entirely of fire, with no discernible human features and what looked like horns made of flame.
"I think they're confused about what 'witch' means," Tadano observed.
The bounties had increased too:
WANTED FOR TERRORISM, MURDER, AND THEFT
THE SHADOW BLADE - 150,000 CREDITS
THE INFERNO WITCH - 120,000 CREDITS
THE TECH PHANTOM - 180,000 CREDITS
TOTAL REWARD FOR ALL THREE: 500,000 CREDITSWARNING: SUBJECTS ARE EXTREMELY DANGEROUSAPPROACH WITH LETHAL FORCE AUTHORIZED
"They tripled the bounties but still have no idea what we actually look like," Dan said. "The transport soldiers didn't survive to give descriptions, and the wreckage was too destroyed for forensics. We're ghosts to them. Scary, valuable ghosts."
"Half a million credits for all three of us," Vivi whistled. "That's serious money. We're officially high-value targets."
"Which means more bounty hunters," Alfred interjected. "More danger. More risk every time you leave this facility."
"Good thing we're not leaving for a while," Dan said. He pulled up inventory displays. "We've got enough supplies from the transport raid to last months. Weapons to practice with. Tech to study. No reason to take unnecessary risks."
"Agreed," Tadano said. "We've proven we can hit them. Now we consolidate. Train. Get stronger."
But over the next week, Tadano noticed something different about Vivi.
She was training. Obsessively.
Every morning, she was in the training room before anyone else. Every evening, she stayed late, practicing long after Tadano and Dan had finished. Her fire magic filled the facility—controlled burns, shaped flames, precision exercises that left scorch marks on the target dummies Alfred kept having to replace.
"Your sister is being unusual," Alfred observed one morning, watching Vivi create and dispel flame constructs with intense focus.
"She's always unusual," Tadano replied.
"More unusual than normal. She's barely spoken in three days. Just trains, eats, sleeps, trains more."
Tadano watched his sister. She was creating small fireballs—marble-sized spheres of compressed flame—and launching them at distant targets. Most hit. Some missed. She'd curse, reset, try again.
He'd seen this before. Back in the underground, whenever he'd mastered something she hadn't. The competitive drive that made Vivi push herself twice as hard as anyone else.
"She's trying to catch up," Tadano said quietly.
"To what?"
"To me. My Cursed Arts evolved. I can summon my sword from anywhere now. She watched me unlock a new ability, and now she wants one too."
"Sibling rivalry," Alfred said. "How... human."
"It's how she's always been. I get better at something, she has to match me. I learn a new technique, she learns two." Tadano smiled slightly. "It's annoying. But it's also why she's so strong."
Dan joined them, carrying a tablet and looking concerned. "Has anyone talked to Vivi lately? She's been pushing herself pretty hard."
"I tried yesterday," Tadano said. "She told me she was 'busy' and went back to training."
"She's going to burn herself out. Literally, possibly." Dan approached the training area. "Vivi! Take a break!"
"I'm fine!" she called back, not stopping. Another fireball launched, hit a target dead center, exploded in a burst of heat.
"You've been training for six hours straight!"
"And I'll train for six more if I want to!" Another fireball. Another hit. "I'm onto something. I can feel it."
Dan looked at Tadano. "Is she always like this?"
"When she's chasing a breakthrough? Yes." Tadano walked toward his sister. "Vivi. What are you trying to do?"
She finally stopped, turning to face him. Her eyes were tired but burning with determination. "You evolved. Your Cursed Arts unlocked a new ability. You can do things now you couldn't do before."
"Yes."
"I want that too. I want to evolve. To break through to something new." She clenched her fists, small flames dancing between her fingers. "I'm tired of being the fire mage who just throws big explosions. That's basic. That's Gen 1 at its most primitive. I want precision. Control. I want—"
She gestured at the targets, at the scorch marks from her practice. "I want to be equal to you. Not stronger, not weaker. Equal. Partners. Not the reckless sister who needs protecting, but someone you can rely on in combat."
Tadano blinked. "Vivi, I've always relied on you in combat. You're incredibly powerful."
"Power isn't enough. You proved that with the bounty hunters. Skill matters. Precision matters." She looked at her hands. "I've got raw power. But I need to refine it. Master it. Make it into something more than just 'girl who sets things on fire.'"
"So that's what the training is about," Dan said, understanding dawning. "You're trying to force a breakthrough."
"Is that possible?" Tadano asked.
"For magic users? Sometimes. Intense training, pushing limits, forcing yourself to solve problems in new ways—it can trigger evolution in magical abilities." Dan studied Vivi. "But it's risky. Pushing too hard can burn out your magical channels, literally damage your ability to use magic."
"I'll risk it," Vivi said immediately.
"Of course you will," Tadano muttered. "Because you've never met a risk you wouldn't take."
"Says the guy with literal cursed power," Vivi shot back. But she was smiling slightly. "Just... let me try this, okay? I need to know I can do it. That I can break through like you did."
Tadano wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her she didn't need to prove anything, that she was already incredible. But he knew that look. The stubborn determination that meant arguing would be pointless.
"Fine. But you're taking breaks. And eating proper meals. And if Dan says you're pushing too hard, you stop."
"Deal."
She went back to training immediately.
Over the next week, Vivi's focus became almost frightening. She practiced creating flames with increasing precision—smaller, hotter, more controlled. She worked on launching projectiles at various distances, angles, velocities. She studied ballistics data Dan provided, learning trajectory calculation and wind compensation.
"She's essentially turning herself into a living weapon system," Dan observed, watching her hit a target at fifty meters with a marble-sized fireball. "Scary accurate weapon system."
"She always had good aim," Tadano said. "Remember when she hit me in the face during that sparring match? Perfect accuracy, terrible sportsmanship."
"I heard that!" Vivi called from across the training room.
Ten days after she started her intensive training, something changed.
Tadano was practicing his own forms when he heard Vivi gasp. He turned to see her staring at her hand, where a small flame danced. But the flame was different—sharper, more focused, almost solid-looking despite being pure fire.
"Dan!" she shouted. "Dan, get over here!"
Dan rushed over, equipment in hand. "What happened? Are you hurt?"
"I felt it. A shift. Like something clicked into place." Vivi created another flame, and Tadano could see what she meant. The fire had changed. It moved differently, responded differently. "Watch."
She created a fireball—tiny, concentrated, burning white-hot at its core. And threw it.
The fireball shot across the training room like a bullet, impossibly fast, impossibly straight. It hit a target dummy at eighty meters away and punched completely through, leaving a perfectly circular hole that glowed with residual heat.
Silence.
"Did you see that?" Vivi breathed. "The trajectory was perfect. No arc. No drift. Straight line, like I could see exactly where it would go before I threw it."
"Again," Dan said, scanning her with his equipment. "Do it again."
Vivi created another white-hot fireball and launched it at a different target. Same result—laser-straight trajectory, perfect accuracy, devastating impact.
"It's not just the fire that changed," she said, eyes wide with realization. "It's me. When I aim, I can... feel the trajectory. Know exactly where my attack will land. Like my brain is calculating ballistics automatically." She looked at her hands. "I'm a sharpshooter. A magical sharpshooter."
Dan's equipment was going crazy with readings. "Your magical signature changed. The Gen 1 fire magic is still there, but there's something new layered on top. An enhancement. A specialization." He looked up at her, grinning. "You evolved. Not into Gen 2—that's broader magic categories. You evolved within Gen 1, refining your fire magic into something more precise."
"So I did it," Vivi said quietly. Then louder: "I did it! Tadano, I actually did it!"
She threw another fireball—this one curving around an obstacle before hitting its target dead center. "I can even predict ricochet angles. Bank shots. Impossible trajectories. As long as I can see the target, I can hit it."
"That's incredible," Tadano admitted. "Genuinely incredible. But can you do it consistently?"
"Watch me." Vivi created five fireballs simultaneously, each one compressed and white-hot. She launched them in rapid succession at five different targets scattered around the room.
All five hit. Perfect accuracy. Perfect lethality.
"I'm calling it 'Sure Shot,'" Vivi announced proudly. "My new ability. Sure Shot. Because if I shoot at something, I'm damn sure I'll hit it."
Tadano blinked. "You're... naming it?"
"Of course I'm naming it! All the best abilities have names."
"No they don't."
"Sure they do! It's cooler that way. More memorable." She created another fireball. "Sure Shot. It sounds awesome."
"It sounds like you're trying too hard to be cool," Tadano said, but he was smiling.
Dan, however, was nodding enthusiastically. "I like it. Names are good. They help define abilities, make them concrete. My laser sword? I call it 'Photon Edge.' The earth manipulation? 'Terra Control.' Naming things makes them real."
"See?" Vivi grinned at Tadano. "Dan gets it."
"Master Dan names everything," Alfred interjected dryly. "He named his socks last week. 'Left Foot Champion' and 'Right Foot Hero.'"
"Those are excellent names," Dan protested.
"They're ridiculous names that serve no tactical purpose."
"They serve a morale purpose!"
"Naming your socks does not improve morale."
Vivi laughed, the sound bright and genuine. It was the first time Tadano had heard her truly laugh since the transport raid. Since they'd killed six soldiers and watched them burn.
"Okay, tactical disadvantages aside," Alfred continued, "we should test the limits of this new ability. Range, accuracy at various distances, how many projectiles can be maintained simultaneously, energy cost—"
"Way to ruin the moment, Alfred," Vivi muttered.
"I'm preventing overconfidence, which in combat leads to death. You're welcome."
They spent the afternoon testing. Vivi's Sure Shot ability was remarkable—she could hit targets accurately up to one hundred meters, maintain perfect accuracy even while moving, and the more she practiced, the more complex her attacks became. Curving shots. Multi-target strikes. Projectiles that split mid-flight to hit multiple enemies.
"This changes our combat options significantly," Dan said, taking notes. "You're now our ranged specialist. Long-distance support, precision elimination of high-value targets. Combined with Tadano's close combat and my mid-range control, we've got full battlefield coverage."
"We're becoming an actual team," Vivi said. "Not just three people fighting together, but a coordinated unit."
"About time," Tadano replied. "Only took us several near-death experiences."
That evening, after training ended, Vivi found Tadano in the common area. She sat beside him, exhausted but satisfied.
"Thanks," she said quietly.
"For what?"
"For not trying to stop me. I know the training was risky. But I needed to do it. Needed to prove to myself I could break through."
"I know the feeling," Tadano said, touching his sword. "Cursed Arts require that same drive. That refusal to accept limits."
"We're both obsessive, then."
"Always have been."
Vivi was quiet for a moment. "Do you think about them? The soldiers we killed?"
Tadano didn't pretend not to know what she meant. "Yes."
"Me too. Every night. I see their faces. Smell the burning." She looked at her hands. "But I'd do it again. Does that make us bad people?"
"I don't know. Maybe." Tadano met her eyes. "But we're fighting for something bigger than ourselves. For every child the Darks have taken. For everyone living under occupation. If being 'bad people' means stopping that, then I'll accept it."
"Heavy thoughts for teenagers."
"We stopped being just teenagers the moment we left the underground."
"True." Vivi created a small flame, watching it dance in her palm. "At least now I can hit targets at a hundred meters. Sure Shot and all."
"You're really committed to that name."
"Absolutely. It's going in my signature move list."
"You have a signature move list?"
"I'm starting one. Sure Shot is number one. I'm working on number two—thinking 'Inferno Cascade' for my multi-target spread attack."
Tadano groaned. "You're actually serious about this."
"Dead serious. Every legendary fighter has signature moves. I'm going to be legendary, so I need a list." She grinned. "What about you? Going to name your sword summoning?"
"Absolutely not."
"Come on! 'Blade Recall'? 'Steel Return'? 'Come Here Sword-y'?"
"Never saying any of those words."
"You're no fun."
But she was smiling, and so was he, and for a moment, the weight of what they'd done—the lives they'd taken, the path they'd chosen—felt a little lighter.
They were revolutionaries. Killers. Teenagers with impossible powers and blood on their hands.
But they were also siblings. Partners. Two people who'd broken through their limits together and come out stronger.
The Shadow Blade and the Inferno Witch.
And now the Inferno Witch had a new trick.
Sure Shot.
The Darks wouldn't know what hit them.
Literally.