The air was thick with ash and static. Every breath Kael took was a struggle against the acrid smoke and the weight of his exhaustion. Yet he moved, ghostlike through the battlefield, senses stretched thin across the radius DarkBind afforded him.
A flare of heat exploded to his right. He dodged instinctively—Ryken's companion, the brute in white, had hurled a wrecked car like it was a baseball. The twisted hunk of metal smashed into a storefront behind Kael, sending glass and debris raining onto the street.
He didn't have time to retaliate. Civilians still scattered across the chaos, ducking for cover, sobbing, frozen in panic. Kael's focus narrowed. He had to keep moving, keep them safe. That meant holding the line—alone if he had to.
In the distance, sirens howled.
—Elsewhere in the city—
Mount Lady loomed tall in her towering form, backlit by fires raging through the commercial district. She stomped down, creating a shockwave that sent two low-level villains tumbling like rag dolls.
"Kamui, two more down! East side's clear—for now!"
Kamui Woods sprang from the shattered remains of a billboard, vines whipping out to snare a speedster trying to zip away.
"This chaos isn't random," he growled through grit teeth. "Someone's directing this. We're plugging holes in a sinking ship."
—Back at Kael's battlefield—
Kael ducked under a flurry of electrified tendrils. The dreadlocked woman hissed, her strikes growing more erratic. She was overextending—she could feel the smokescreen suffocating her, her energy slipping with each failed strike.
Kael's DarkBind twisted upward, wrapping two tendrils around her wrist. He yanked—off-balancing her—and followed up with a flash of movement, planting a knee into her gut and knocking her back.
But Ryken didn't wait.
Kael's vision exploded into pain as a reflected bolt of kinetic force caught him in the chest—his own earlier attack, redirected. He slammed into the side of a mail truck and slid to the ground, gasping. Blood pooled at the corner of his mouth.
Healing Aura kicked in again—just enough to dull the worst of it.
"Stupid move," Ryken said, his voice a razor's edge in the haze. "You'll die protecting people who'll never know your name."
Kael wiped the blood from his mouth and rose.
"They don't need to know me," he muttered. "They just need to live."
—Elsewhere—
Best Jeanist's threads surged through an intersection, binding three villains dressed in improvised gear. He frowned, observing the chaos that spread even into the suburbs.
"These aren't random attacks. This is coordinated disruption," he said into his communicator. "Edgeshot, status?"
Edgeshot's voice crackled back. "North districts are stabilizing. I'm redirecting to the epicenter. Ryukyu's already in the sky."
—Back in the warzone—
Kael grit his teeth as he focused, pulling both Smokescreen and DarkBind tighter, narrowing his field of control. He was burning stamina fast now. Healing Aura had kept him alive—but now it risked leaving him drained.
He had to end this. Fast.
He isolated Ryken away from the brute in white, trapping him in hamsterball construct made from DarkBind. It would'nt keep him there forever, but hopefully long enough to end Rykens reign.
There were no distractions. No civilians. Just the two of them.
He charged forward, DarkBind snapping like a whip, aiming high—then low. Ryken deflected the first strike, then the second. But Kael wasn't trying to land hits.
He was herding him.
Kael's third strike was a feint, and Ryken dodged straight into the arc of a fallen streetlamp Kael had wrapped with DarkBind.
The lamp cracked over Ryken's head—useless as an attack.
But Kael touched the pole a second later.
And sent DarkBind through it, into Ryken's blind spot.
The bind snared Ryken's ankle.
Ryken's Reflector flared, but it only reflected energy and physical impact, not stealth or capture.
Kael surged forward, channeling three quirks in perfect rhythm—Flashstep, DarkBind, and Healing Aura keeping his body from collapsing.
He landed a blow just under Ryken's chin—finally connecting with flesh.
Ryken's eyes widened.
BalanceKeeper surged.
Kael yanked.
And pulled nothing.
He cursed under his breath. Ryken had thought ahead—he wasn't touching Ryken's skin. That faint shimmer of the Reflector reflected in Kaels eyes—it was a thin barrier just along Rykens skin.
So.
No direct contact. No Quirk transfer.
But now Kael knew Rykens little trumpcard of sorts.
And next time, he'd punch harder.
He turned in time to see the dreadlocked woman recovering, fury in her crackling tendrils and the brute bursting out of the ball, angrier than he's ever been.
The fight wasn't over.
But it was turning.
And above it all, sirens wailed as Manual, drenched and panting, turned a hydrant on an inferno near a fleeing family.
"Where the hell is everyone?" he muttered. "How many more of these freaks are out tonight?"
The city was under siege.
Kael had lit the fuse.
But someone else had prepared the firestorm.
…