There isn't much difference between swimming and running. Muscles burn, breathing hitches, ribs squeeze the air out of the lungs. If pushed to the extreme, the pain numbs your senses and there are chances of losing consciousness, vomiting and other side-effects.

Yaryu glides, slipping through physical matter as a being of pure light. Every atom of her body temporarily covert to photons, breaking apart, travelling together in a single direction predetermined by her nervous system. She didn't know how it worked, cavemen never knew the science behind swimming until studied. The case remains the same for her, she doesn't know how her body loses physical form taking a shapeless form. Like a reflex she flashes in a stream, sliding past other light particles.

She hurtles through the thick, crumbling air of the city. Teleportation is meant to be instantaneous, but something goes wrong—again. Her mastery over light, the very essence of her soulbound, is still incomplete. She flickers into existence, crashing through the shattered remains of an abandoned building, her body slamming against a rusted, skeletal beam. Yaryu bends to her side, coughing the air out of her lungs in a rasped gasp.

"Landing's harder than taking off." She wheezes gripping the edge of a mailbox for support. Steam hisses out of her, as if she came straight out of a sauna. Skin flushed red, flesh burning hot and a painful tickle roaming all over her nerves. She managed to cover fifty kilometers in a blink of an eye but not at a free cost, her body is jet lagged.

"Damn it," she curses under her breath, struggling to her feet. Her muscles ache from the sudden stop, and a sharp pain shoots through her right shoulder where she landed awkwardly.

She glances at the sky. Darkness shrouding every nook and corner. No stars, no moon, nothing. But edging in the horizon the curtain isn't black, it's a matt blue shifting to a brighter hue ever so slightly. In an hour it will be sunrise. Time's running out, and Crow's counting on her. They all do. Orion, her students, Teresa.

Dusting herself off, Yaryu surveys her surroundings: the decayed remnants of what was once a bustling city, now overrun by the infected, the broken, and the lost. Buildings lean precariously, patches of char scarring their lobbies from car crashes and explosions. It seems more like a battlefield, a city of ruins. She pulls out a small compass Anaki had given her with the directions. She's almost there.

A sudden sound—like the scuffling of feet—thrums from behind her. Yaryu freezes, listening, searching. An undead, its rotting body hunched and twisted, staggers out from behind a wrecked car, its eyes glowing faintly with malice. Its jaw hangs loosely, dark blood seeping from its cracked teeth as it groans and lunges forward with terrifying speed.

Yaryu sprints at it, the exhaustion in her body almost sending her tumbling but she tightens her core and rams hard into the undead, sending it flying backwards. She presses all her weight on a single point in her toes and launches in the air, body hardened like steel. She swings herself to the side, spinning and drives her left foot right into the infected's jaw. It rips off dropping a few meters away from the crumpling body.

She lands on her feet, her gaze fixed on the pale corpse. It was once a woman, a civilian, maybe even a mother. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, bending down to cover the body with a tattered cloth. Suddenly, the head snaps upright, claws slashing toward her eyes. Yaryu jerks back, drawing her sidearm in a split-second reflex. The undead's nails rake into her arm, tearing at her flesh. She squeezes her eyes shut as a shot rings out, echoing across the empty cityscape. The bullet punches through the air and embeds itself in the creature's forehead, spraying blood across Yaryu.

She stumbles back, wiping her face and spitting out the gore as she watches the infected collapse, finally lifeless.

A shaky breath escapes her. I almost died. She turns, scanning the distant remains of a skyscraper and catching a hint of movement at the top. Someone's up there. But as she narrows her gaze, a chill crawls up her spine.

She rolls to the side, just in time to dodge a devastating strike aimed at the back of her head. The ground beneath her explodes into dust and debris as a heavy boot stomps where she stood moments before.

She springs to her feet, on guard. A man stands before her—a towering figure, his presence heavy and unyielding unlike anything she's felt before. His feathered black hair clings to his forehead, and dark eyes lock onto her with a focus that sends shivers through her body. He has a rock-solid stance, grounded and deadly.

From shock Yaryu lets out a nervous chuckle, she hasn't someone this well-built since her years in the nationals. "Who are you?" She asks, her voice hammering in her chest.

No answer. In a blink, his fist was flying toward her ribs—direct, heavy. No wasted movement. She felt the rush of air as she twisted aside, her fingers snapping out to grip his arm. The weight of him nearly knocked her off balance, but she dug her heels in, using his momentum, shifting her hips.

But he plants himself like a mountain, His footwork is impeccable. The moment she tries to flip him, he anchors himself and twists his body, using his sheer strength to turn the tables. His elbow crashes into her shoulder, and she winces, feeling the raw power behind his blows. This isn't some brute; this is a trained fighter.

Yaryu grits her teeth, she can't back down, he's too dangerous. She shifts her weight, aiming for his legs with a sweeping kick to disrupt his foundation. But he is fast—too fast for a man his size. He dodges her sweep and retaliates with a devastating uppercut. The blow grazes her chin, sending her stumbling back.

Dammit, who's he? She lunges forward, aiming for a shoulder throw, but the man dodges again. His heavy fist connects with her abdomen, knocking the wind out of her. She doubles over for a brief second, pain rippling through her. Whoa!—She ducks under his next strike, and drives her elbow into his ribs.

He grunts, his biceps coiling with throbbing veins. And they explode springing at her, one after the other. Yaryu slides back, forearms throbbing from the impact.

"You're good." She ducks, grabbing his arm and pivoting on her heel. This time, she manages to toss him off balance, but even as he falls, he rolls smoothly, landing back on his feet effortlessly.

"Seriously?" Yaryu gasps breathless, she has to start working out again and her injured body isn't helping.

Her eyes widen on the flying fist, it collides with her cheek, sending her sprawling to the ground. She didn't have a chance to evade. Her vision blurs for a moment, pain flaring across her face.

The man steps back, breathing heavily, but not out of control. He shakes his head and lowers his fists.

"I apologize," he says, his voice calm but firm. "You're not my enemy."

Yaryu blinks, wiping blood from her lip as she sits up. "What...?"

The bruises set in, her cheek throbbing from his last hit. "Then why did you attack me?" she demands, wiping her mouth. He tilts his head slightly, his grey eyes assessing her. "I mistook you for someone... else." His voice is steady, not a hint of apology beyond the words themselves. It's like he's used to people crossing his path, and anyone could be a threat.

She glares at him, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"You're lucky I can fight," she spits out, "because if I couldn't, you'd have blood on your hands, and not just from the infected." She raises an eyebrow, holding his gaze. "What if I'd been some civilian trying to get by? Would you have just... crushed me?"

The man's expression barely shifts, his eyes sharp as steel. "This is no place for untrained civilians," he replies evenly, as if that justifies everything. "And those who survive here learn quickly."

Yaryu clenches her fists. "Well, not everyone's some boxing brute who runs on instincts and assumptions." She eyes his calm stance with disdain, half-expecting another attack.

He remains silent, but a slight shift in his posture tells her he's debating whether to respond. "It's true—I rarely do. But you appeared suddenly, in a place meant to be empty." He studies her for a beat. "A place where people don't usually survive."

She feels her shoulders tense; his cold logic feels more like a judgement than a compliment.

"If you're done playing games, I need to go—" But before she can finish, he grabs her collar pulling her back from a gunfire. Bullets rip through the infected behind her, their bodies collapsing like rag dolls. Yaryu looks up and spots the figure silhouetted on the rooftop. "Didn't expect a sharpshooter to be lurking around here." her eyes drift between the man and the figure on the rooftop. Realization dawns with a bitter twist in her gut.

"Of course," she mutters. "He's with you."

He smirks, a glint of amusement in his eyes, and finally nods. "Good guess. We don't rely on luck here."

Yaryu scoffs, casting a look back toward the rooftop. The gunman disappears from sight, likely moving to another vantage point, but his presence lingers. "If he's half as reckless as you, it's a miracle either of you are still standing."

A slight, almost unbothered shrug from the man. "Recklessness and strength aren't the same, but not everyone survives on that knowledge."

Yaryu rolls her eyes, taking a step back, her stance still defensive. "Yeah, guess it's not all luck out here." She snaps, sidestepping an infected and grabs its arm, twists, and slams it to the ground, then delivers a swift, crushing kick to its head.

The last infected falls, its head splattered from another perfect shot from above. Yaryu grunts, looking up at the rooftop gunman, then back at him.

"Guess you owe someone for saving your ass," He taunts Yaryu.

She gives a quick, mocking salute toward the rooftop. "Now I owe nothing."

A smile creaks on his silent face.

"Well, if you two have this handled, I have somewhere I need to be." Yaryu steps around him. "Try not to get in my way."

"You're wasting your time." His voice hardens. "The place you're heading... it's overrun. Better you head back."

But she ignores him, sprinting down the highway. Yaryu steadies herself, eyes fixed on the faded sign marking the long road to the industrial site. She takes a breath, calling on her power, feeling the tingle of her body preparing to dissolve into light. Come on, I can do it, one more time, please.

But just as her form begins to shift, she flickers out, her body sputtering like a dying light bulb. With no control, she collapses mid-air, hurtling forward before rolling hard into a rusted car from a forgotten accident.

Groaning, she pushes herself up, her old bruises stinging with new ones. "At this rate I'll be a pie before I can find them."

A shadow looms above her, and she looks up to see him again—the stranger from earlier. His eyes dance with barely hidden amusement.

"Rough landing?" he asks, barely suppressing a smirk.

"Shut up," she mutters, bracing her hand against the car as she stands, brushing off the dirt. She winces, a fresh ache blooming in her shoulder. It's dislocated. Well shit.

He crosses his arms, his gaze curious as he sizes her up. "So what exactly are you doing out here, anyway? No supplies, no backup...kind of a bad call, isn't it?"

She straightens, glaring at him. "None of your business." and with a harsh twist relocates her bone back in place, a painful ache punching her in the shoulder.

The stranger's lips twitch in mild amusement. "Maybe not, but you've got me curious. Doesn't hurt to share, does it?"

She scoffs. "You sure have a lot of free time."

His expression falters for a fraction of a second, a shadow darkening his eyes before he shrugs it off. "More than I'd like," he mutters.

Before she can respond, a figure joins them from behind—the gunman from earlier approaches them, lowering his weapon with a quick wave. He nods to the stranger with a look of shared understanding and then glances between them.

"Going solo into that site? That's a death sentence." He had an accent, his face covered by layers of scarves. "You'll get yourself killed before you even reach the front door."

"You two have fun attacking civilians," she replies, shooting him a cold look. "I've got a job to do."

"If you've come this far, I assume you really need help." The man crosses his arms. "I'm Lucioun. If you want, we can help as compensation for getting in your way. Be a shame to lose a fighter like you."

Yaryu's heart skips a beat. "Lucioun?"

"That's my name." He extends a hand, "full name's Lucioun J. —."

"No way."

Lucioun.

The one she was looking for.

She found him.

This guy?