The Shatterscape trembled.
Sylas Korr stood with her silver hair lashing in the neon wind, staring down a nightmare born of crystal and shadow. The Behemoth loomed above, its body a jagged fortress of obsidian and glowing scars, eyes pulsing like dying stars.
The Codex thrummed in her chest like a war drum.
"Yo, big guy," Sylas called, lips curled in that same wicked grin. "You're blockin' my view."
Beside her, Veyra Sol's cloak snapped in the wind. The exiled Sentinel gripped her Aether-forged blade, frost dancing along the steel.
"You're insane," Veyra muttered, eyes locked on the towering beast. "That's an A-tier Behemoth. We need to fall back."
Sylas cracked her knuckles, her ember-lit runes glowing across scarred skin. "Retreat? Nah, ice queen. I don't run from bullies anymore."
The Behemoth roared.
Obsidian ground fractured. Crystal daggers rained down.
Sylas dove, Voidstep flaring—a flicker of space tearing her ten feet to the left. A claw the size of a transport container slammed where she'd stood.
"Missed me, ugly."
Veyra moved like a phantom, blade flashing arcs of frost. Her ice bound the Behemoth's leg, slowing it.
"One hit and you're dead," she snapped.
"Then I won't get hit."
Sylas lifted her palm. Emberclad flared—fire roaring from her hand, searing a line across the Behemoth's flank. The beast howled, its body pulsing with rage.
The Codex's voice coiled into her mind. "No trial this time. Just survive, little spark. Show me you're more than talk."
The Behemoth slammed both claws into the ground—an obsidian shockwave blasted outward. Sylas Voidstepped mid-roll, landing behind a crystal spire. Pain flashed—shard to the ribs. She bit back a scream, blood soaking her shirt.
Still grinning.
Still gangster.
"That all you got?!"
Another Emberclad blast. Another howl. Veyra's frost caught its leg again. The two fought like chaos incarnate—ice and flame, fury and control.
But Voidstep was draining her. Every flicker chipped away at her stamina.
"You're running dry, spark," the Codex warned. "Keep it up, and you'll collapse."
"Zip it, glow-ball."
Then: Opportunity.
The Codex whispered temptation.
"You've got Marks. Use them. Unlock what's next."
Sylas grit her teeth. Fifteen Marks. She burned five.
Strength Upgrade. Confirmed.
Fire rushed through her veins, thick and molten. Her body stabilized, her stance firmer. She leapt, Voidstepping mid-air—
—and landed on the Behemoth's back.
Fist flaring with Emberclad, she slammed it down.
Crack.
Fractures spidered across crystal hide.
"Eat this!"
A second punch. Crystal exploded. The Behemoth shrieked, thrashing.
Below, Veyra lunged—sword sweeping low, ice crawling up the beast's leg. The giant stumbled, wounded and enraged.
Sylas Voidstepped to the ground, legs nearly giving out.
"Finish it!" Veyra shouted.
Sylas raised both hands. Emberclad surged—hotter than ever, fueled by fury, pain, and pure, stubborn will.
Firestorm.
A torrent of flame slammed into the Behemoth's chest.
Boom.
Crystal ruptured. A shockwave of shards cascaded outward. The creature crumbled, its body imploding in a burst of color and essence.
"Behemoth slain. Fifteen Ecliptic Marks awarded."
The Codex was smug. "Not bad, spark. You might survive this world after all."
Sylas collapsed to her knees, panting. Runes pulsed. Blood dripped. The sky calmed.
Veyra approached, blade lowered. She studied Sylas like a mystery unsolved.
"That power—it's not normal. It's tied to the Veils. Isn't it?"
Sylas wiped blood from her lip and smirked. "What, think I'm some kinda chosen one? Nah. Just a slum rat with good aim."
Veyra tore cloth from her cloak, handed it over. Sylas wrapped it around her wound. For a moment, the walls dropped.
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet." Veyra nodded to the rift's shimmer. "The Sentinels saw that. They'll come for you."
Sylas grinned, swagger back in full force. "Let 'em try. I'm done being their punching bag."
Through the Veil shimmer, Ironhaven waited. Kids watched from rooftops. One of them—the bruised boy—clutched the vial she'd left him, eyes shining.
She straightened.
"For them," she whispered.
But something shifted.
A shadow moved on a rooftop. Not Sentinel. Not Scavenger.
Something else.
Her runes flared, reacting.
"Who's that?" she muttered, hand twitching toward flame.
The figure vanished.
The Codex's laughter was low, amused—and laced with warning.
"Careful, spark. Some shadows bite back."
[TO BE CONTINUED]