"Charlotte," Toni barked, tightening his grip on her shoulders, his voice trembling with urgent concern. "What do you mean they're after us?"

Charlotte's lower lip quivered, and her entire body shuddered like a leaf in a violent storm. Her breathing came in sharp, panicked bursts as her fingers twitched, desperately grasping at empty air.

"I never meant to like you," she gasped, her words spilling out in frantic desperation. "I never meant to hurt you—to spiral you. They told me I had to." Her voice broke, raw and unfiltered.

Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't dare meet Toni's eyes. Instead, her gaze locked onto Matthew, who stood just feet behind them—frozen, bewildered, absorbing every word with mounting dread.

Charlotte's sob came in shuddering waves as she whispered, "If Toni spiraled... then you would spiral. That was the plan. That's all they cared about, I promise!" 

At those words, Matthew's entire body went still, the crushing weight of her revelation hanging heavy in the charged silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was flat and cold—almost lethal. "Plan?" he murmured, as if the word itself was a death sentence.

Charlotte nodded frantically, her movements jerky and desperate, her pulse pounding in the oppressive quiet. She turned to Toni, her fingers gripping his jacket like ice. "Please," she pleaded urgently, her voice cracking. "They'll kill me if they know I'm here. You need to prep—"

Before she could finish, the building convulsed with a violent explosion—a deafening exhale that shattered the fragile calm. A blinding flash swallowed the room in fire and shattered glass, as a brutal wave of heat crashed over them. The force threw everyone into chaos; Toni's feet left the ground and his back slammed against the cold marble floor, the impact rattling through his ribs. His ears filled with a static roar while swirling dust and debris obscured his vision.

Then, amid the haze, a second explosion detonated—closer, more violent. The floor lurched violently, and the building groaned as metal screamed in protest, teetering on the brink of collapse. Toni pushed himself up on trembling arms, hacking coughs against the thick, choking smoke that invaded his lungs. The acrid stench of burning metal and scorched leather filled his nostrils, suffocating him as his vision blurred and his instincts screamed for him to look up.

And then, as if the chaos demanded even more, another explosion rocked the structure—closer still—hurling them all to the brink of oblivion. Closer. More violent. The floor shifted once again, and the entire building groaned under the unbearable strain. Toni barely had a moment to regain his composure when he felt it—a subtle, eerie crack in the air that spoke of something far more insidious than mere destruction.

Magic seeped through the oxygen like a slow, venomous toxin—piercing skin with needle-like precision and burrowing deep into bones. It coiled around his ribs, constricting and suffocating, while the very air twisted thick with an unseen, malignant force—something sharp, something profoundly wrong.

And then, amid the chaos, a presence made itself known.

Xero stood behind Charlotte, utterly silent and unmoving. He didn't need to speak; his stillness said it all. His presence filled the room like an oppressive weight, drowning out even the raging fires outside, the groaning skyscrapers, and the distant echoes of screams. In that moment, the entire world shrank to this one space—this shattered boardroom—and to him.

Charlotte's breath caught; her body stiffened, her shoulders locking and her chin bowing like a prisoner resigned to her fate. Then, with a thunderous slam that shattered the silence like a gunshot, the boardroom doors burst open. Out poured the high-ranking elite of Isadora—the once-untouchable, now reduced to panicked, trembling figures. Their status meant nothing here; they were mere shells, caught in the vortex of an unforgiving war.

Some staggered forward, their pristine suits already smeared with blood, while others froze at the threshold—eyes wide, breaths stolen—barely comprehending the scale of the catastrophe unfolding. Their gazes darted to the shattered windows, where the city burned in an apocalyptic glow. Explosions rocked the skyline—each a deafening heartbeat of destruction—while aircraft spiraled downward, their flaming wreckage tearing through buildings like falling stars, and the streets below transformed into a crimson abyss.

And then, amid all the chaos, their attention fixed on him.

Xero moved with a predator's grace, his every motion effortless and fluid, as if he were merely a spectator to the devastation—a stark, chilling contrast to the terror enveloping everyone else. His smirk was carved into his face as if etched at birth, a permanent mask of disdain. He surveyed them all—the terrified executives, the once-powerful figures who had thought themselves invincible—like a god looking down on insignificant insects, utterly unimpressed yet darkly entertained.

"Welcome," Xero drawled, his voice smooth and dripping with a cruel politeness as he spread his arms in a grand, ironic invitation. "Ladies and gentlemen of the board."

There was a pause—so brief, so fragile it almost didn't exist—just enough for the board members, their once-pristine suits now streaked with blood and dust, to stare in silent terror as reality itself seemed to fracture around them.

Then the skyscraper groaned louder—a dire warning that it might not stand much longer. A deep, sickening rumble reverberated through the walls as another explosion ripped through the foundation—closer this time. The floor shuddered violently beneath their feet, while metal beams screamed in protest against the mounting chaos.

Above them, a crack split the ceiling. Glass buckled and fractured, then shattered into a cascade of razor-sharp shards. A grand chandelier, its crystals catching the dying light, broke free from its chains and hurtled down like a meteor, sending splinters skittering across the marble floor and narrowly missing the scrambling board members.

In the midst of it all, Toni barely registered the screams—they were drowned out by the raw, visceral tremor of something far more immediate, far more terrifying. His focus remained locked on Matthew. There he stood, rigid and silent, his eyes dark and unreadable, his fists clenching until his knuckles turned white. Something was shifting in him—a subtle, ominous change that twisted Toni's stomach into knots, he like Matthew knew, this wasn't merely an attack; it was a calculated takeover.

Another deafening boom reverberated through the room, drawing Toni's gaze to the shattered windows. Outside, thick black smoke billowed upward, as if they were perched on a bed of darkness that swallowed everything below. The roar of fire rumbled through the haze, and he shuddered at the thought of what Isadora had become. In stunned silence, he watched a cargo ship careen wildly—the ship's hull splintering as it hurtled toward a residential district on the far side of the city. In an instant, the vessel vanished into a dense, impenetrable cloud, and moments later, a monstrous explosion tore through the air, sending debris spiraling overhead. Flames surged unchecked, consuming everything in their path like a ravenous plague..

Toni's attention snapped back to the scorched, ruined foyer when Matthew stepped forward with deliberate resolve, positioning himself between the trembling executives and Xero—the dark force looming at the room's center. The terror in the executives' eyes was palpable; they weren't just frightened by the devastation outside the windows—they were horrified by the chaos unfolding right there.

Xero's smirk deepened as he spread his arms in a mocking invitation, as if unveiling the final act of a tragedy no one had chosen to witness. "Today is your reckoning," he declared, his voice slicing through the mayhem like a shard of ice. "But I think you've already figured that out for yourselves."

At that moment, Xero waved his hand, and from the very air, the monsters materialized. They didn't creep in through the halls or slip quietly through the doors—they simply appeared, as if summoned by the very essence of chaos.

For a heartbeat, these abominations were nothing more than pulsing orbs of raw, chaotic energy—then they stretched, unraveled, and took shape. Some bore an almost human semblance, twisted in subtle, horrifying ways: limbs unnaturally elongated, fingers honed like deadly blades, faces stripped of any soul. Others defied comprehension entirely—their bodies shifting in and out of form as if their very existence was unstable. Some had too many arms, too many hands, reaching out in a maddening, endless grasp; others bore eyes in impossible places, blinking erratically like stray marbles in broken sockets.

And then there were the mouths—so many mouths layered where none should be, lined with jagged, predatory teeth that twitched and dripped with anticipation. Their overlapping growls formed a discordant, unholy symphony of hunger and relentless desire.

Then, in a heartbeat, the massacre began. The room erupted in carnage as blood and terror converged in a brutal crescendo, catching everyone off guard and leaving no one untouched by the horror that had just been unleashed.

The first wave surged forward like a tidal barrage—a writhing mass of creatures, their claws and jagged teeth catching the dim light. They emerged from the darkness in one relentless, crushing wave. Matthew had barely a heartbeat to register their presence before they crashed into him, and he met their assault with raw, unbridled violence.

Then the second wave closed in on Toni and Charlotte. In a heartbeat, Toni shoved Charlotte behind him as the creatures lunged, their claws raking across the floor and carving deep, jagged gouges into the marble. Their movements were disturbingly inhuman—erratic and frenzied, as if stitched together from the very fabric of nightmares.

Then Xero struck. His first move was merciless and surgical—too swift to register, too precise to be anything but deliberate. One moment, an executive stood there, his breath catching in his throat; the next, his head was cleanly cleaved from his shoulders in a single, fluid motion. For a terrifying heartbeat, his body lingered upright, as if in shock at its own death, before the head crashed to the floor and the body soon followed.

A thick, arterial spray erupted from the gaping wound, painting the marble in ribbons of crimson. The executive's once-pristine suit transformed into a macabre tapestry, the fabric absorbing the blood like spilled ink.

Xero didn't stop there. Another board member tried to flee, his polished shoes slipping on the blood-slicked floor, his face contorted in desperate, animalistic terror. But he didn't get far.

Every second of that chaos was a brutal symphony of violence. With fluid, unyielding precision, he swung his blade—one clean swipe that split an executive's throat wide open. There was no scream, only a choked, wet gasp as blood cascaded down the front of his silk tie, drowning his final breath. His knees buckled and his fingers twitched in vain before he collapsed, another life snuffed out, another body added to the pile.

The rest of the executives erupted into screams, scrambling for safety in a place where no refuge existed. Their terror mingled with the shattering of glass and the groan of burning metal, transforming the room into a macabre stage of carnage—blood and debris strewn beneath flickering, failing lights.

Toni then finally shoved Charlotte to the ground as another monstrous beast charged. The impact was brutal, sending him staggering backward; his polished black shoes skidded on slick marble as the stench of decay hit him like a sledgehammer. Yet he pressed on, driven by raw instinct and honed training. His blade flashed in a precise arc, slicing open the creature's throat with a wet snarl of steel meeting flesh.

The monster let out a garbled, guttural scream as thick, black ichor gushed from its wound, splattering across Toni's suit and white-collared shirt. It flailed, its claws scraping the floor, its dying breaths rasping from a grotesque, half-formed mouth. Outside, another explosion thundered through the city, shaking the very foundation beneath them.

He barely registered the shock. He twisted sharply, narrowly dodging a set of claws that sliced mere inches from his ribs, and in a fluid, desperate motion, severed another limb as yet another creature lunged at him.

Beyond him, the massacre raged on. Another executive was ripped from the ground—his feet kicking helplessly—as an unseen force drove a jagged wound straight through his stomach. His mouth opened in a silent, agonized scream, but no sound came—only thick, red spurts of blood bubbling up as his body convulsed and was hurled through the air like a discarded ragdoll. He smashed into reinforced glass with a sickening, bone-crunching crack, sending a spiderweb of fractures racing across its surface before his body slid down, leaving a gruesome trail.

And still—Xero didn't slow.

He moved through the room like a god of war, his blade carving through bodies with lethal precision—a macabre dance of death unfolding with the cold, methodical grace of a butcher stripping meat from bone. Limbs fell. Throats gurgled. Blood rained down, pooling on the shattered floor.

The board members, once the untouchable elite, were nothing more than cattle being herded to slaughter—panic and terror etched on their faces as they realized there was no escape. One savage swipe of Xero's blade sent an arm flying, spinning through the air before slapping the marble floor with a wet, sickening thud. In another effortless, merciless stroke, his blade split a man's torso clean open; the ribcage snapped like brittle twigs, jagged edges jutting from ruined flesh as thick, glistening ropes of innards spilled out.

A woman tried to run, her stilettos skidding on the ever-growing pool of blood, but Xero was upon her in an instant. He yanked her by the throat and hoisted her off the ground. Her legs kicked wildly and her fingernails scraped at his grip, but her raw, desperate scream soon dissolved into a choked, ragged gasp as his crushing fingers silenced her plea. Her body convulsed violently before going limp, her head lolling to one side like a broken doll. Xero let her drop, a lifeless heap crashing onto the carnage-strewn floor.

Then, amid the chaos, the building itself seemed to rebel. The skyscraper shuddered and buckled, its walls groaning in a death rattle that warned of its imminent collapse. The floor vibrated violently beneath their feet as fine cracks raced across the marble, and thick, acrid smoke rose steadily until it mingled with the ground, reducing everything below to a shadowy, unrecognizable mass. It was a grim reminder that the structure could not hold much longer.

Toni barely had a moment to register the horror before a scaled monstrosity lunged—a snarling blur of jagged teeth and dripping, viscous saliva. Acting purely on instinct, Toni drove his blade deep into its torso. Bone and cartilage split with a sickening crunch as steaming blood erupted, drenching his collared suit in vivid, crimson stains

Then, without warning, another creature charged. Toni twisted aside just in time, feeling its claws whip past where his throat had been mere seconds before. His dagger flashed in a lethal arc—swift, merciless—and in one clean, brutal stroke, it decapitated the beast. The severed head tumbled to the ground before its body collapsed in a heap.

Toni gasped, his lungs ablaze and his vision spinning in a disorienting haze. Forcing himself to look up, he caught sight of Matthew—his suit splattered with gore—launching himself at Xero with unyielding fury. The impact was bone-crushing; they crashed through the shattered remnants of the conference table, splintered wood and shards of glass scattering like deadly confetti. Their screams melded into a brutal chorus of agony and rage, but Matthew's cry roared louder—dominant, unstoppable.

He was a force of nature—a storm of fists and fury. His knee smashed into Xero's ribs with a sickening crunch, each strike punctuated by the snap of breaking bone. Xero choked on his own breath, his body buckling under the relentless assault. It was the first clear sign that Matthew's savage onslaught was inflicting real damage. But recovery was a luxury neither had; another hit came, then another, each blow a brutal punctuation in this savage ballet.

Matthew's fists became weapons of pure destruction, each blow landing with bone-rattling force. The floor beneath them was slick with blood—his and Xero's—like oil on a raging fire. They grappled in an animalistic struggle for dominance, flesh slamming against flesh, crimson smearing across the debris-littered ground in a raw testament to the carnage.

Xero was bleeding freely—a fresh gash seared across his temple, red mixing with sweat as it dripped down his cheek. His ribs were shattered; Matthew could hear each agonized hitch in Xero's breath, see the spasms in his torso with every faltering movement.

And yet—he laughed.

Matthew's own breathing came in ragged bursts, his body heaving with a mix of exhaustion and fury, his vision blurred by the mingling of blood and sweat. His fists remained clenched, aching to break something—even himself—but that sound, that derisive, chilling laugh, echoed like Tobias's, crawling under his skin like a sickness, a reminder that no matter how much he fought back, it wasn't enough.

It would never be enough.

Then the building groaned.

A low, resonant howl echoed from the upper levels, vibrating through the fractured walls like the dying pulse of a living thing. The floor beneath Matthew's boots seemed to breathe—dipping and flexing, as if ready to devour him whole. A deep, ominous groan rippled through the marble, a death rattle that slammed against his heart. Fine cracks raced across the floor, and in the next instant, the ground gave way entirely—gravity wrenching control from him in a violent, unyielding plunge.

Xero's laughter was abruptly silenced, swallowed by the thunderous roar of twisting steel and collapsing concrete. Walls moaned like wounded beasts, while a thick, dusty miasma filled Matthew's lungs with each desperate, ragged breath.

Then—they fell.

Even with his powers, Matthew couldn't react fast enough as the skyscraper disintegrated in a deafening cacophony of collapsing concrete and shattering glass. He crashed through the upper level—a floor that, under the overwhelming force, buckled and splintered, sending sparks and jagged shards of concrete flying like deadly confetti. The roar of tearing metal drowned out every other sound as he careened into a chaotic mass of debris.

In the midst of the descent, his eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette—Xero, falling alongside him, his form crashing into floors and splintered concrete. Floor after floor crumbled as they plunged deeper into chaos. Desperation seized Matthew as he reached out to grab onto something—only to feel a jagged steel bar slam into his arm, its serrated edge raking his flesh with a burning, acid-like pain that seared through every nerve. Then the floor gave way completely, and he was hurled again, Matthew sustained more than just bone-crushing impacts. 

A jagged shard of glass tore across his cheek, ripping open skin,  falling steel beam slammed into his left arm, fracturing bones and scattering splinters of metal and flesh. When each level gave way, his rib cage shattered further, the force of the impacts splintering his vertebrae and sending shockwaves of pain radiating through his entire body.

Floor after floor crumbled as he plunged deeper into chaos. Desperation seized Matthew as he tried to reach out to grab onto something—only to feel a jagged steel bar slam into his arm, its serrated edge raking his flesh with a burning, acid-like pain that seared through every nerve. Then the floor gave way completely, and he was hurled again, each level of collapsing concrete slamming into his ribs and legs, with the sickening crunch of breaking bones echoing around him.

He tried to brace himself, muscles locking in a frantic bid for stability, but there was nothing solid to hold onto—only tumbling floors, shards of broken glass embedding in his outstretched hands, and twisted beams slicing through the swirling darkness. For a single, paralyzing heartbeat, Matthew was weightless in that void, lost in a sickening freefall that stretched time into an eternity of agony.

Then—impact.

Matthew slammed into the ground with a bone-crushing impact, sending a nauseating shockwave rippling up his spine. His lungs seized as a strangled gasp tore from him, and his vision flared white-hot with excruciating agony. A searing pain erupted along his side—as if a blazing blade were slicing through muscle—while warm blood trickled over his lip and seeped into his mouth, leaving behind a bitter, metallic tang that mingled with his choking breath.

Nearby, Xero was hurled into a tangle of mangled steel beams and crumbling walls, unleashing a fresh cascade of dust and jagged stone into the air. The floor groaned in protest, threatening to drag them even deeper into the collapsing ruin of the skyscraper.

Water from burst pipes cascaded down, spraying over Matthew's body and splattering across his face, forcing him to blink against the onslaught. His vision swam as he dragged in a labored breath through clenched teeth—each inhale a raw, stabbing ache that seared his chest. He tried to move, but his left leg felt pinned; with a trembling hand, he reached along it—and froze. A jagged shard of metal protruded from his upper thigh, impaling his flesh against the debris beneath him.

He fought back rising nausea as the edges of his sight blurred. In that instant, the roar of collapsing floors above screamed down through the hollow core of the skyscraper. He turned his head just enough to glimpse Xero, passed out on the opposite side of the platform—a temporary reprieve, as if that level had briefly halted their deadly descent.

"Motherfucker," Matthew rasped, blood misting his lips as his curse echoed with desperate fury. In that moment, with the world fading around him, a single, fierce thought ignited: he needed to gut that son of a bitch.

***** ****

Toni stirred, a searing pain tearing through his side as he realized he hadn't expected the floor to give way so quickly. With each collapsing level, every breath he drew was choked by swirling dust, and reality itself seemed shattered. With a pained groan, he forced himself upright, his hands gripping the shifting rubble as he fought to regain control.

Nearby, Charlotte lay on her side, coughing weakly as she pressed her eyes shut against the relentless chaos of falling debris. A light drizzle of water, escaping from the damaged pipes overhead, pattered on Toni's face as he struggled to remain upright. "Charlotte," he croaked, reaching out with trembling hands. A sharp, burning pain flared at the back of his head; when he touched it, his fingers came away streaked with fresh, red blood. Disoriented, Charlotte slowly lifted her gaze—her face smeared with ash and pockmarked with cuts.

"Are... are you okay?" she rasped, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

For a moment, Toni said nothing, too absorbed in assessing his own battered state. Nothing felt right—his muscles screamed, his ribs burned with every labored breath—but at least he could move. They had landed on a collapsed section of floor several levels below where they had last fought, and the building groaned around them like a wounded beast.

Wincing, Toni crawled toward a jagged edge of shattered concrete, his heart pounding as he peered into the oppressive darkness. Dust drifted in the shadows like lingering ghosts. There was no sign of Matthew or Xero—no flicker of magic, no flash of battle—only the distant wail of evacuation sirens and the acrid stench of scorched metal.

A knot of dread coiled in his stomach. "Matthew!?" he shouted into the void, his voice echoing back mockingly. "Jesus, fuck," he muttered, anxiety peaking with every passing second.

Then he turned to Charlotte, who struggled to sit upright amid the rubble. "What is all this?" he snarled, his voice ragged with fury and confusion. "What the fuck do they want?"

Charlotte flinched under his glare, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered, the words hollow and weak.

"I DON'T FUCKING WANT 'I'M SORRY' FROM YOU!" Toni roared, his voice cracking with raw emotion as his anger threatened to consume him. "I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS!"

Charlotte sobbed, her body shaking as she tried to form a reply. "I—I didn't mean to...I just did what I was told!"

"You did what you were told?" Toni spat, power flaring around him and making the very air tremble. "So you sold me out—sold out my family—like it was just a business deal?"

"I swear to you, Toni—none of this was ever about you! Not really!" Charlotte cried, crawling over the debris with trembling fingers reaching out for him. "They only wanted Matthew. It was all meant to distract him, to keep him from protecting her!"

Before Toni could answer, another explosion rattled the floors above, and steel beams groaned like wounded beasts.

"Protect who?" Toni snarled, his voice rising into hysterical fury. "Who is he protecting? Who are they after? WHAT IS THIS!?"

Then, from behind them, a scornful voice rose—dripping with lethal intent. "This is the day you little fucking children finally die."

In that moment, Toni felt his sanity shatter, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Slowly, he turned to see Isis—a dark, menacing figure looming in the half-light. His lungs seized as if the very air had turned toxic. "Hello, Toni," she purred, her lips twisting into a mocking smile that sent a chill straight to his core.

There was no time for Toni to react before a brutal force slammed into his back, ripping the breath from his lungs. He crashed to the floor, shards of glass tearing at his palms as he fought desperately to break his fall.

Then, without warning, a thick cord snapped tight around his neck—swift and merciless. In one violent jerk, it stole his air away, leaving him gasping and choking. Toni gagged, his fingers clawing frantically at the biting rope as his lungs screamed in protest. The cord dug deeper, crushing his windpipe with relentless pressure. His vision blurred and his heartbeat pounded so loudly it drowned out every sound—except one.

"Please, please—you said you'd bargain with me, not kill him. Please, he wasn't who you were after!" Charlotte pleaded, her trembling voice breaking through, every word dripping with fear and guilt.

"CHOOSE A FUCKING SIDE, YOU STUPID LITTLE GIRL!" Isis shrieked. "OR I WILL KILL YOU MYSELF ONCE I'M DONE WITH HIM!"

Toni's body jerked violently, his strength ebbing away with each passing second. "Char—" he croaked, the word rasping painfully through a throat already half-crushed.

She sobbed, her cries echoing in the crushing silence.

"You've been a thorn in my side for years—worthless, spineless little children," the woman snarled, her hot breath scorching Toni's ear as she twisted the cord mercilessly. Each yank tightened its grip until Toni's airways were nearly sealed.

"You're gonna die here once and for all—the whole lot of you!" Isis continued, her voice dripping with malice.

Toni's body convulsed as he fought for any leverage, his feet kicking out in a desperate, ragged frenzy. But Isis held him down, her grip unyielding. With a snarl, Toni summoned every ounce of strength for one final twist, flinging his weight sideways in a last, futile bid for freedom. They crashed into the ground, shards of glass gouging his palms as they embedded in his skin. Blood and sweat mingled as he drove his elbow forcefully into Isis's ribs.

She grunted in response, but instead of releasing him, she leveraged the momentum to pull the cord even tighter. With brutal force, she wrenched Toni's head back, and his vision blurred as black spots danced before his eyes.

Toni's trembling hands—small, shaking, desperate—fumbled against Isis's unyielding grip. For a single, heart-stopping heartbeat, a fragile glimmer of hope sparked as he caught sight of Charlotte's outstretched fingers, a silent promise that she would come to his aid. She was going to—

Then, searing pain exploded around him. Unbearable pressure tightened its vice around his throat, crushing his windpipe until he could no longer draw a breath. His vision wavered, the world narrowing into a dark, suffocating tunnel of pain.

"Stop—?" Toni managed to choke out, his voice barely a whisper in the overwhelming agony.

He tore at the cord, writhing desperately, only to see Charlotte's trembling fingers—only to realize, with a jolt of icy dread, that she wasn't prying Isis away at all. She was... helping her.

Toni's heart pounded in his ears, his lungs burned, and his legs thrashed uselessly. In the midst of the chaos, Charlotte's ragged sobs broke through the silence. "I'm sorry, Toni," she whispered, and the words hung in the air like a final, haunting plea.

And in that excruciating moment, with the world on the brink of collapse, Toni felt everything slip away into darkness.

****** *****

Matthew dragged himself across the rubble, every muscle screaming in protest. A jagged metal shard had punctured his upper thigh, its crude edge soaking his shredded pant leg with spurts of blood. Still, he refused to relent. Broken glass and twisted steel dug mercilessly into his palms and knees as he crawled toward Xero, who lay sprawled among the debris, each ragged breath of his betraying a deep, desperate agony.

A low snarl contorted Matthew's lips as raw fury pulsed through his veins. Though half-hobbled by the brutal wound in his leg, he reared back, ready to strike—

Then, without warning, Xero's hand lunged out. A shard of glass—slick with blood and grime—smashed into Matthew's ribs. The pain was blinding and immediate, tearing a guttural cry from his throat. He recoiled instinctively, but Xero only pressed the shard in deeper, grunting as if determined to drive it right into him. Even in that searing agony, Matthew's training kept him fighting.

In a sudden burst of wrath, Matthew's anger coiled, and he struck Xero square in the face with a savage blow. The shard slipped from his grasp as he groaned, gasping in torment. With trembling hands, he seized the jagged shard once more, hissing through clenched teeth as he wrenched it free. Blood sprayed across his tattered black shirt, staining it a deeper, ominous crimson. Fury and desperation warred within him, and with a final, savage thrust, he drove the shard deep into Xero's chest—a brutal act of retribution.

He pressed his other hand over the shard, even as it tore into his skin, determined to drive it deeper, as if to seal Xero's fate once and for all. Xero sneered and spat, "I'll fucking kill you," his voice a vicious promise. Matthew groaned, channeling every ounce of strength as he pushed harder, intent on ending Xero's threat. But then, in a final, defiant surge, Xero's fist shot up with alarming speed and collided with Matthew's face. The impact was punishing—Matthew's head snapped back, his spine colliding with broken concrete, and his ribs throbbed painfully under the brutal force.

In one swift, vicious motion, Xero climbed onto him and drove his other fist mercilessly into Matthew's temple. The impact was so overwhelming that, for a split second, the world shattered around him.

The skyscraper groaned again—a deep, resonant wail that vibrated through every crumbling inch of the building. The floor beneath them cracked ominously before giving way entirely, hurling them to the next level with a bone-rattling thud. Xero collided violently with jagged debris as Matthew slammed into solid ground; a cascade of rubble pinning his already injured leg.

For a long, excruciating moment, both men lay there, their bodies convulsing with raw pain. Slowly, Matthew turned his head toward Xero, his voice low and seething with barely contained rage. "You piece of shit."

Xero's lips curled into a sneer as blood gurgled from his mouth. "I should've killed you the moment you set foot on Creon," he spat.

Matthew growled back, "And I should've destroyed your fucking planet not just the city."

Xero laughed—a harsh, chilling sound that mingled with his gushing blood. Then, as the building groaned once more, he propped himself onto his elbow and glared at Matthew, who lay trapped amid the debris. "You're gonna die here," Xero declared, his voice dripping with venom, "and I'm going to turn your world into a graveyard."

A cold smirk played across his face before he vanished, leaving behind only a faint, mocking shimmer.

Matthew lay there, stunned, his head spinning, blood pounding in his ears. Faint echoes of his name drifted from above—followed by screams and the relentless clamor of battle. The building groaned and buckled with every tremor, a dangerous reminder of how precarious everything had become.

His hand instinctively moved to his chest, where warm blood seeped through his fingertips, the wound pulsing with every labored breath. With immense effort, he forced himself to calm, drawing in one ragged lungful of air after another as he urged his battered body to heal. The relentless ache in his ribs was a searing reminder of his shattered state, but what pulled him from it all was the screaming above.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice trembling with pain and worry. "Toni."

With a shuddering inhale, Matthew summoned every ounce of strength within him. Adrenaline and sheer will surged into his battered limbs as he forcefully dislodged the concrete fragments clinging to his leg. Though his powers were nearly spent, he forced himself to stand, his gaze lifting toward the chaos above. With a final burst of determination, he propelled himself upward—racing toward Toni, into the heart of the raging battle—undaunted, resolved to reach his best friend even as the world around him crumbled into oblivion.

***** *****

Toni's world had shrunk to a strangling cord around his throat. His legs thrashed, lungs burning, every breath a desperate gasp for air he couldn't take in. Spots danced at the edge of his vision—until, without warning, the pressure vanished.

He fell forward, choking and heaving, vision swimming. A dull throb pulsed in his neck where the cord had cut into his flesh. He clawed at the rope, tugging it free in a frantic scramble for relief. When he finally managed to lift his head, he saw why the cord had loosened.

Matthew stood behind Isis, sword half-buried in her stomach, blood running across the blade in thick, dark rivulets. Toni watched in stunned disbelief, mind reeling. A snarl twisted across Isis's face, and then—she was gone, vanishing in a swirl of dark energy or magic that left no trace but the gleaming bloodstains on the floor.

Charlotte staggered to her feet amid the debris, her eyes darting to Toni. Before she could speak, Matthew lunged for her, his hand latching around her throat in a viselike grip.

Toni froze. He wanted to move, to stop him—but his body wouldn't respond. Shock and exhaustion pinned him in place.

"Matthew!" he screamed, voice raw and desperate. "Don't! Wait!"

But it was already too late.

Matthew's hands twisted.

A sickening snap reverberated through the ruined room, and Charlotte's body crumpled to the blood-slick floor with a heavy thud.

For a moment, Toni couldn't breathe. Everything tilted, his vision blurring. He felt like the building was collapsing all over again—like the floor was opening beneath him.

Matthew stood there, breathing hard, blood trailing down his face, his collared suit in tatters. His eyes were dark, cold, and merciless.

Toni swallowed hard, his voice nearly lost to his own shock. "W-what... what did you do?"

Matthew stared Toni down. "Killed her before she killed you." His monotone voice echoed through the trembling skyscraper, leaving Toni reeling, unable to process what had just happened. Matthew wiped his mouth, spat onto the floor, and took a long, shuddering breath.

Another explosion tore through the skyscraper, and the metal around them screamed at them almost to get out of there.

"Jesus," Toni muttered, panic clawing at his gut.

Matthew's breathing was ragged as he looked down at the metal rod jutting from his upper thigh. Without warning, he gripped it and yanked, releasing a howl of agony that reverberated through the twisted steel around them. His powers surged, beginning the slow work of closing the wound. "Fuck," he rasped, the building itself seeming to shudder in echo. "Xero's on the move." He glanced toward the devastated upper floors. "Fuck."

Toni swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly bone-dry. "He killed them all," he whispered. "The whole board."

Matthew shook his head, as though he couldn't—or wouldn't—process the weight of it. Another explosion rumbled through the skyscraper, and somewhere beyond, Isadora burned. His gaze swept upward, senses on edge, searching for any sign of Xero or Isis.

"We need to go," he said quietly.

Then he was gone.

For a moment, Toni just stood there, heart pounding against his ribcage, one hand pressed to his throat. He knew he'd been seconds away from death—still felt the cord's bite as he looked down at Charlotte's crumpled form. A single question beat in his mind: Who the fuck were they trying to get to?

He dropped to his knees beside her, body moving on autopilot. Carefully, he brushed a lock of hair from her face, fingertips skimming her cheek. The roar of explosions and collapsing steel faded, just for a breath, as he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. War had turned friends into enemies—had twisted her into a weapon aimed at those she once cared for. In that instant, all Toni could feel was the hollow ache of betrayal and grief, mingling in the haze of dust and blood.

His hands trembled, cold with shock. Then, summoning a breath that felt like it might tear him apart, he stood—disappearing into the eye of the storm.

***** *****

Eko's joggers pounded against the fractured pavement, her once-white shoes grinding debris into dust with each heavy step. The city convulsed as if hellfire rained from above, and the ground lurched again—harder this time—nearly toppling her.

Screams tore through the air, people racing past in every direction. Farther ahead, a camera crew filmed and reported on the carnage, frantically broadcasting each moment of destruction.

Eko's mind struggled to process the devastation engulfing her. The district of Isadora lay in ruins: flames licking at skeletal building frames, thick plumes of smoke choking the streets. A nearby explosion had tossed her and the others like leaves on a gale, scattering them across the rubble. She stumbled upright, eyes wide, confronted by what remained of a once-proud neighborhood—now a wasteland of crumbling stone and twisted metal. Everything she'd known lay consumed by chaos.

A tightness cinched her chest, but deeper still, a heavier dread churned in her gut, leaving her lightheaded. Her throat constricted as her gaze locked on a monstrous horde emerging from the haze—lumbering, grotesque figures whose pounding footsteps seemed to match her own racing heartbeat. Each new abomination promised further destruction, amplifying the horrors around her.

Her stomach lurched, bile threatening to rise. One hand clutched her midsection, trying in vain to quell the nausea clawing at her insides. A cold sweat beaded on her brow, the unrelenting destruction and raw adrenaline gripping her like a vise. It felt as though her body itself rebelled at the sight of this madness.

"Oh... God," she whispered, voice trembling, barely stifling the terror that threatened to consume her.

***** *****

Richie tore through the dense smoke, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest as he scanned the wreckage for any sign of Mya. Every shattered window and burst of flame was a stark reminder of the chaos that had consumed them. Then, amid the debris, he finally spotted her—staggering to her feet, clothes in tatters, blood streaming down her temple like a cruel, red banner.

Moments ago, a plummeting aircraft had obliterated half of the Zeta Team in one horrifying impact—a brutal echo that still pounded in Richie's ears. That memory was a searing reminder of how swiftly everything could be lost.

"Flick!" he called, his voice cracking with fear and desperate urgency.

Her head jerked upward; raw terror quickly melted into overwhelming relief as she forced herself forward, limping with every ounce of strength she had left. Without hesitation, she staggered toward him, and they crashed into each other's arms as if fate itself had conspired to bring them together—if they ever let go, it would feel like they were being flung into oblivion. For that single moment, the chaos around them faded: no explosions, no monstrous threats—only the desperate comfort of their embrace. He felt her trembling, sensed the rapid, uneven cadence of her breath, and in her touch, he found the grounding reminder that he was not alone.

Reluctantly, Richie pulled back, his eyes scanning the ruined skyline—crumbling buildings, thick ash clouds blotting out the sky, and a looming, monstrous silhouette trudging closer with ominous intent. "We gotta move, hunni," he said, his voice taut with dread.

Mya swallowed hard, fighting to steady herself. "Where, Richie? What is all of this?" Her wide eyes locked onto his, silently pleading for answers he didn't have.

Then a deafening roar sliced through the air. The enemy's command echoed down the ruined streets, sending a fresh, icy chill through their veins. Instinctively, they ducked behind the remains of a collapsed wall, hearts hammering as the harsh words reverberated around them:

"Kill them all!"

Mya's gaze flickered up at Richie, her voice trembling as she whispered, "Was that... Cid?"

***** ****

"They're coming for us, not the civilians!" Jasmine shouted, dodging a blade thrown her way and countering with a swift strike that dropped a nearby creature. She raced through Isadora's labyrinthine streets, the monstrous horde relentless—surging from every dark corner as though the city itself were birthing them.

Amid the pandemonium, Jesse maneuvered through narrow alleys, weaving past clusters of creatures until she spotted Jasmine, who was directing Allegiant soldiers near a school. Her focus was singular: evacuation. Terrified children spilled out of classrooms, clinging to one another while Jasmine guided them toward safety, her urgency mirrored in their tear-streaked faces.

"We need to get them out of here!" Jasmine's voice rang out, sharp with desperation. She shot a glance at Jesse, eyes dark with fear and determination. They were boxed in—monsters closing from all sides—and the soldiers were fighting tooth and nail to hold them back.

Jesse scanned the hopeless situation, an uneasy knot twisting in her gut. "Crap," she muttered, realizing their only option was using their powers to teleport the children. She met Jasmine's gaze, and both warriors understood what had to happen.

"Matthew's gonna kill us for this," Jasmine growled, steeling herself.

"We'll deal with him later." Jesse knelt, gently taking a child's hand. "Everyone—grab hands! Hold on to each other!" Her voice held steady despite the chaos. The children complied, forming a wobbly line, while the Allegiant soldiers fended off the creatures with every ounce of strength.

With Jasmine clasping several small hands, the two warriors exchanged a grim nod. Their powers flared outward, shimmering waves of light capturing startled gasps from the children, illuminating their fear and awe. Then, in a flash, Jesse and Jasmine transported them all away from Isadora's war-torn streets to the safety of the Allegiant stronghold.

They landed in the grand halls of Allegiant, where stunned onlookers gawked. Soldiers stepped forward, confusion etched on their faces.

"Get these children to the medical bays—now! Check them over!" Jesse barked, her tone sharp and urgent. At once, the soldiers led the frightened children to safety. Jesse and Jasmine shared a look of relief—but their duty called them back.

Without hesitation, they wrapped themselves in magic once more and vanished, returning to the battlefield they had left behind, determined to hold the line a little longer against the horrors threatening Isadora.

**** *****

Standing at Isadora's smoldering edge, Teshia and Vause surveyed the devastation. Thick smoke choked the sky, and each explosion sent violent tremors through the shattered cityscape. Vause's gaze darted to Teshia, desperation flickering in his eyes—they were cornered.

"We need to go," he said, voice tight. "They're here for us."

But in a brilliant flash, Isis appeared amid the rubble, her hand pressed to a fresh wound weeping at her abdomen. She smirked at Teshia. "Hello, pet. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

Vause's frustration mingled with worry as he watched Teshia's fierce determination blaze like a firestorm. Despite the odds, her resolve matched his own.

"One more step," he warned, voice low and taut, "and I'll decimate you."

Teshia's eyes burned. "This ends here and now. You can't hurt me anymore, witch!"

A derisive laugh echoed from behind. Cid materialized at their backs, a cold grin curling his lips. But what truly made Teshia's blood run cold was the monstrous beast beside him, smirking with grim intent.

"So this is where you scurried off to," Cid sneered, gesturing at Isadora's desolate skyline. "All you helpless little children huddled in one place— it makes things so much simpler. Two birds. One stone and all."