That night, Kael sat by the window in his room, looking down at the streets. Neon lights bounced off broken glass and puddles, making everything shimmer. Even in the outer districts, the night looked kind of beautiful.
He thought about everything that happened today — the fight, the axe, Lura's relief, Tessa and her team showing up.
"Fucking gods," he muttered. "Only when I almost die do they decide to help me. Surpassing expectations, my ass."
Then he remembered something else. Tessa had said he had to register as a gifted, at a place called the Nexus Registry. He had a week.
More deadlines.
His stomach twisted. He wasn't really gifted. The axe didn't make him one.
But he didn't have a choice. If he didn't register, people would get suspicious. And if he did… he might be sent on missions he wasn't ready for.
He looked at the axe. Its glow pulsed with his heartbeat. It felt connected. He shivered at the thought of losing it — what if that meant he died too?
________
The next day, Kael was helping Lura clean the bar. They didn't speak — they didn't need to. The silence was peaceful.
"Kael," Lura started, still using one of her tentacles to wipe the counter.
"Hm?" Kael stopped what he was doing to look at her.
She leaned on the counter, watching him. "You know… when you first came here, I didn't ask about your parents."
Kael raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet.
"You seemed old enough," she said softly. "And… well, they might not even be around."
He wondered why she hadn't asked before.
His chest tightened for a moment, but he nodded. "Yeah. They're dead."
He didn't exactly lie — they were dead to him.
Lura's eyes softened. "I kind of suspected that. I'm sorry for bringing it up. I just wanted to tell you… being a gifted is dangerous. I don't want you to register. But you have to."
Kael smirked. "Look at you, grown attached already."
Before he could blink, one of her tentacles wrapped around him, pulling him in tight, while another patted his head.
Lura rolled her eyes but smiled. "Fine. I'm fond of you. That's all."
Kael laughed, tugging lightly against her grip but not really trying to escape. "Yeah, sure. Nothing more."
They laughed together, the sound warm and easy, filling the small bar. For a second, he wished life could stay that simple. But he knew better.
_______
Over the next few days, Kael didn't take any scavenger jobs. Word spread fast that he was "gifted," and suddenly everyone either wanted to team up with him or shortchange him — assuming gifted got paid more anyway.
But today, he decided to take one last job. Tarek was leading the team. They were heading into Zone 13 again, and the scouts swore there were no invader sightings. Safe, supposedly.
The group moved through the ruins, flashlights cutting across twisted metal and cracked concrete. Every now and then, someone glanced at Kael's axe, its faint blue glow pulsing like it had a life of its own.
"Let's check that cave," Tarek said, pointing toward a narrow opening in the side of a crumbling tower.
Kael hesitated, looking back at the others. "Yeah… okay," he said. He should've known better.
Inside, the air was damp and cold, smelling of rust and old oil. Flickering neon panels half-buried in the walls buzzed weakly, throwing jittery light across broken drones and shattered crates.
And crouched in the corner was the old man with the mechanical stump of a leg.
Kael froze.
The old man grinned, eyes sharp in the dark — and then the air shifted.
A violent gust slammed into Kael, knocking him clean off the ground. He barely had time to shout before his hands lost their grip on the axe. It clattered away, sliding into the shadows.
"Argh—!"
Kael hit the floor hard, scraping his palms on the rough metal. He coughed, pushing himself up just enough to look at Tarek. "Why are you doing this?" he gasped.
Tarek's face was cold. "You don't know how life works in the outer districts," he said. "Becoming a gifted? That's like finding a gold mine. And that axe of yours… that's worth more than any of us will ever see."
Kael's chest burned. "You're going to steal it?"
Tarek nodded once. "Yeah. Me and him," he said, jerking his chin toward the old man. "We'll split the Hexs. I'll buy my way into a better life, and he gets a new leg."
Kael clenched his fists, anger bubbling beneath his ribs. He expected greed from the old man — not Tarek.
"So what, you'll just kill me?" he said bitterly.
Tarek didn't answer. He stepped toward the axe instead.
The moment his fingers brushed it, a spark jumped. Then another — and a pulse of blue light exploded from the weapon, hurling him backward into the wall with a heavy crack.
"Ahh!" Tarek hit the ground, coughing, his arm smoking.
The old man's eyes went wide. "What the hell was that?"
He turned to Kael. "What's happening?"
Kael just stared back, throat tight, half terrified, half in awe. "I… I don't know."
The old man's expression twisted with anger. His hand lifted, and the air thickened again. Kael's feet left the ground as invisible force wrapped around him.
"Did you really think you'd escape?" the old man hissed. "Tell me why we can't touch it!"
Kael shook his head, gasping as the air crushed his throat.
"Answer me!" the man shouted, tightening his grip. "Tell me or you die!"
Kael's lungs screamed for air. His vision blurred.
And then—
A blinding beam tore through the cave. The sound cracked through the air like lightning.
The old man jerked, eyes wide, before collapsing to the floor, smoke curling from the hole in his chest.
Kael dropped hard, coughing and wheezing, the echo of the blast still ringing in his ears. His whole body ached, and the smell of burnt metal filled the air.
Through the haze and flickering light, he lifted his head — just in time to see a figure emerge from the smoke, hair glowing in the neon flicker.
Whoever it was, they stood there, a beam glowing again and it was aimed at him.