"They aren't stopping, Tenert. I might have to blow up the car after all. Yon with it as well." The bald man known as Victor referred to the driver.
"I suggested that from the start."
Victor bellowed at Tenert's response. "You're still so heartless, after all." He then suddenly stopped, grabbing Tenert by the collar. "Or is it that you believe I won't be able to kill that elusive little shit anyway?"
Tenert gave him no physical reaction, his eyes fixed on the target car. "Why do you assume so?"
"You tell me." Victor grinned. "He is your little brother, after all."
"..."
The purple-haired young woman in the same vehicle raised her head, her first active reaction throughout their endeavor. It came as a surprise to her that she'd aimed directly at Yon, with clear intent to kill, before he dashed into the car. Yet Tenert had expressed no reaction, no concern for his safety. Despite how much she hated Veil officers, she'd expected family to be a different matter for others like her in the Human Liberation Army.
"Instead of worrying about me, you might want to look ahead," Tenert responded, and they all turned their attention forward, catching sight of a red-haired boy climbing atop the speeding car ahead of them.
He stood with his palms extended, the wind tearing through his hair and clothes, threatening to sweep him away entirely.
"Is he insane?!" Victor exclaimed, bursting into hysterical laughter.
The boy then unleashed a spear of flames, which zipped through the air before striking the road rails ahead of them.
"Now that was a warning shot!" the boy shouted. But the poor trajectory of his attack cast doubt on his bravado.
"Pfft, ha! Challenge accepted!" Victor aimed the cannon again, launching a volley of missiles at the desticar.
Tyson repeated his "Expel" for each missile racing toward them. The impacts sent violent tremors through the vehicle, causing it to swerve wildly before forcibly regaining control each time. Maintaining his balance took every ounce of concentration he had.
Then came a critical moment. Two rapid-fire missiles approached in quick succession. Tyson managed to detonate the first, but as his hand sparked with another burst of flame, a bullet grazed his cheek, forcing him to swipe his flames aside along with the second missile instead of blocking it outright.
The resulting explosion caused the car to swerve dangerously, tipping it over. Tyson tumbled off the side.
Before he could hit the ground, however, Yon caught his hand through the open window, dragging him alongside the car for a breathless moment before helping him back up.
"Thanks..."
"No problem, but you're still insane," Yon replied to Tyson's breathless gratitude. "We're at an exit. The plan starts now."
"Got it."
Their attackers watched as the desticar swerved into an exit ramp, heading down toward the surface level.
"A detour? The ambush ahead is useless, then." Victor clicked his tongue in frustration.
"They won't get away." Tenert swerved into the exit as well, bearing down on them before they entered the congested civilian route.
The Human Liberation Army had grown adept at weaving through the complex bridge-road networks, evading law enforcement long enough to frustrate even the most determined pursuers. The city's relentless nano-machines, tirelessly repairing any damage to its infrastructure, had made high-speed chases like this one almost routine for them.
But entering civilian territory would be different. Here, their every move would be scrutinized by the ever-present eyes of the city's surveillance network to prevent harm to civilians. They'd have to move fast.
In his rush to close the distance, Tenert failed to notice the desticar braking sharply at a curb. He slammed the pedal, but it was too late. His vehicle rammed into the desticar, the two machines screeching as they skidded across the intersection and crashed into the corner of a nearby building.
Dust and debris erupted from the impact.
"Damn it!" They quickly dismounted, weapons drawn, closing in to inspect the wreck.
The desticar's airbags had deployed, its door flung open, following an emergency protocol. Yet something felt off.
"It's empty..." Tenert muttered, pulling aside the inflated airbags.
"But how could they have escaped so quickly?" Victor ripped through the fabric in frustration. There were no signs of a struggle. It was as if they'd vanished into thin air before the crash.
Then they heard it, rapid footsteps, loud even over the murmur of the gathering crowd.
They turned to see Yon, sprinting through the crowd, slipping between startled onlookers.
"Yon!" Victor roared in rage. "That brat isn't getting away again!" He broke into a full sprint, cannon still in hand.
"Victor! It's clearly bait," Tenert shouted, but Victor was already gone. He sighed, turning to the young woman beside him. "Rhoda, follow him. Yon wouldn't do this without a plan."
She gave a curt nod and darted off after Victor.
Tenert remained still for a moment, even as the seconds ticked by, his instincts tingling. Something about this felt wrong.
Then, a searing jet of flames cut past him, scorching the pavement behind him.
"A cheap shot," he muttered as Tyson stepped out from the shadows. "I'd expect no less from a Veil officer."
"Just so you know, I meant for that to miss," Tyson said, letting a burst of flame flicker to life in his right hand before snuffing it out just as quickly.
"I think you mean you can't hit me." Tenert met his gaze, unblinking.
"What gives you that idea?"
"You would have aimed to destroy our vehicle back on the bridge-road if you could have."
Tyson's brow twitched. "That conclusion is baseless. You don't know for sure if—"
"Of course I do! You Eminents treat the rest of us like ants," Tenert snarled, his voice gaining a sharp edge. "You see our lives as nothing more than sport."
Tyson frowned, caught off guard by the sheer bitterness in his tone.
"Which is why..." Tenert unlatched the case slung over his shoulder, revealing two combat knives lined with neon-edged blades. "...I'll do whatever I have to on behalf of the Human Liberation Army."
"H-Human?"
"With these, I can cut down monsters like you on equal ground." Arcs of electricity crackled from the blade down the length of Tenert's body.
"Now, tell me where the worshipper is, and I might just let you walk away."
Tyson tensed, his fists sparking with crimson light. "Not happening."
The blade's edge streaked toward Tyson's throat, a sudden flash of lethal intent that nearly slashed his neck. He leaned back just in time, feeling the wind of its razor arc. A second strike followed, this time from the opposite hand, forcing him to blast the ground beneath his feet, propelling himself back to gain a fraction of space.
"So fast," Tyson thought, catching his breath as Tenert closed the gap again with only a few measured steps.
"You're at a disadvantage," Tenert said, his eyes fixed and unblinking. "A caster-type like you can't hope to keep me at bay for long up close."
Each swipe and thrust felt as though it could cut through steel, forcing Tyson into a desperate dance of evasive steps and rapid flares from his palms and feet. Sparks and flames scattered like thrown embers, each burst a brief, frantic effort to carve out inches of distance.
Tenert suddenly feinted mid-swing, his blade shifting into a forward stab that Tyson instinctively tried to backpedal from. But Tenert's boot clamped down on his foot, anchoring him in place.
Tyson managed to twist his head aside just before the blade could skewer his face, but not without cost. A shallow slice traced across his cheek, searing with a heat that felt unnatural.
Despite the slight contact, the wound cut deep, a gash scorched into his flesh. Tyson's mind reeled. An Eminent's body, even with modest authority, should resist ordinary blades like tempered armor. Yet this weapon carved into his skin as if it were nothing more than raw flesh.
Tenert grinned, blood now flecked across his own face, his eyes alight with sadistic satisfaction. Riding the momentum of his initial strike, he twisted his stance, bringing the second blade around for a sideways stab aimed directly at Tyson's head.
Pure reflex took over. Tyson's eyes snapped from the blade to Tenert. He then lunged forward, crashing his forehead into Tenert's nose with a bone-cracking impact. The sudden blow stunned Tenert, his blade slipping off target as Tyson's forearm looped around his opponent's upper arm, locking him in place for a heartbeat.
"Honestly, I never had the chance to train as a proper caster," Tyson said through gritted teeth, his fist already pressing against Tenert's gut. "Close combat was the only path I had to follow, even if I had to carve it out on my own."
Crimson flames erupted from his fist, a focused, explosive burst that sent Tenert spiraling back across the concrete, his body rolling like a tossed ragdoll before skidding to a charred halt.
Tenert clutched his seared abdomen, his breaths ragged and wet. Tyson wiped the blood from his cheek, the heat of his own flames still simmering on his skin.
"The problem is," he muttered, eyes narrowing, "my fighting style didn't exactly prepare me for the unpredictability of shadow-beasts, so it was never acknowledged, and I had to stop relying on it. Sorry you had to be the one to take such a hit."