Tenert, through sheer will, forced himself back onto his feet. "Don't get cocky." He reached down for the knife he'd dropped. "I haven't lost ye-"
He froze mid-sentence, his expression tightening as his gaze drifted past Tyson. His entire posture shifted, tension draining from his form momentarily before he met Tyson's eyes again. He clenched his jaw, then pointed his knife at him. "We'll settle this someday." Without another word, he spun and sprinted for his vehicle.
"Hey, wait!" Tyson called, instinctively raising his palm to unleash a burst of flames, but thought better of it. The risk of collateral damage was too high.
As Tenert's vehicle sped away, the wail of sirens reached Tyson's ears. Several police cars descended toward his position, their flashing lights reflecting off the glass facades of nearby buildings. Some officers fanned out to check on the shaken civilians, while two approached him directly.
Tyson, recognizing the need to de-escalate, kept his hands visible and his stance relaxed, but one of the officers only stopped once he was squarely behind him, a clear signal that they weren't taking any chances.
"Explain this," the officer in front said sternly. "While suspects typically aren't charged for property damage in cases like these, endangering civilians is another matter."
"Of course." Tyson quickly recounted his encounter with the Human Liberation Army, detailing their high-speed pursuit on the bridge-road and his attempts to defend himself and Yon.
The officer nodded slowly as Tyson spoke, his gaze briefly flicking to the watch on Tyson's wrist. "I see. And since your identity as a Veil officer checks out, I have no reason to doubt you." He gestured toward the watch, which Tyson only now noticed displayed a glowing insignia that hadn't been there when he first received it.
"We'll send a report to Veil as well. You're free to go."
Tyson blinked, caught off guard by the quick dismissal. "That's it?" The question slipped out before he could stop himself. It wasn't that he wanted to implicate himself, but the abrupt end to the confrontation felt oddly anticlimactic.
The officer raised an eyebrow. "Is there something you failed to mention?"
"No," Tyson replied quickly. "I just assumed there'd be... more to handle."
"Don't stress yourself, kid. This kind of thing happens every other day in this city." The officer's tone held a hint of sympathy, as if recognizing Tyson's outsider status.
Tyson's ears picked up fragments of conversation from the civilians nearby. "Oh, it's just those terrorists again." "Those nuisances just won't quit." "Pathetic weaklings." Their tone was exasperated familiarity, as if they'd grown used to the chaos.
It struck him then, the citizens of the City of Eminents viewed these terrorist skirmishes with the same irritation one might reserve for a minor inconvenience, a pest problem.
For a moment, Tyson grappled with the stark contrast between this city's hardened indifference and the genuine fear such attacks would evoke beyond its borders. Just what kind of place was this?
"We received a notice," the officer's partner spoke. "A destructive chase is tearing down the 22nd lane in the Northwest District."
Tyson's brow furrowed.
"Most likely the rest of the ones you mentioned. If your partner is their target, he might also be in danger." He glanced at his fellow officer, who gave a brief nod. "We'll be moving to assist once we finish here."
…
Large explosions followed a path down the pre-evacuated city street. The rampant impacts rattled the buildings, and nanomachines prevented any permanent damage to the infrastructure, maintaining the city's towering skyline despite the chaos.
Yon sprinted frantically, weaving through the blasts as lethal bullets sliced the air around him, and he narrowly avoided death with each one shot. His breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps as his feet pounded the cracked pavement.
"Come on, Yon! You still haven't gotten rid of that habit, eh?! Face me like a man!" Victor bellowed, his massive form tearing through the wreckage without hesitation. Behind him, Rhoda provided precision cover, her shots cutting off Yon's evasive paths with frightening efficiency.
"No way! Why would I do that?!" Yon shouted over his shoulder, vaulting over a low barrier that marked the edge of a long flight of steps. The steps stretched far below, lined by tall buildings that descended to match the height of said steps. Far in the distance, the massive dome of the city's blastball stadium gleamed under the broken sky.
Spotting the dome, Yon's mind seized the opportunity. He darted down the steps, his long strides barely maintaining balance as he descended. But Rhoda, already anticipating his move, took a less conventional approach. She leaped onto the central railing, boots grinding against the polished metal as she slid down, her gun already tracking him mid-flight.
Yon's pulse quickened as he saw her closing the distance. His hand instinctively reached for the long, cloth-wrapped object on his back, fingers fumbling for the knot as his mind raced through desperate options.
CLANG!
A bullet struck an exposed sheath, sparks flashing as metal met metal. Despite the force, the sheath remained unscathed, its polished surface undented. But before Yon could recover, a stray, spiraling rocket-propelled grenade smashed into the stairs just below them, its explosion swallowing the narrow passage in a deafening blast.
"Damn it!" Yon hissed, the concussive force hurling him sideways. But in a single, fluid motion, he yanked the blade free, its edge singing as it sliced through the air.
"Repel!"
The explosion rippled around the blade, its force deflected like a crashing wave against an unbreakable cliff. The redirected blast smashed into Rhoda, sending her tumbling down the stairs in a brutal arc before she crashed through a glass storefront below, disappearing into a haze of shattered debris and twisted metal.
Yon, though not unscathed, was hurled onto the rooftop of a nearby building, his ribs screaming in protest as he skidded to a halt. He forced himself upright, without sparing a glance at the distant plume of smoke where Rhoda had disappeared.
"Sorry, newbie!" Victor shouted, unfazed by his partner's sudden exit, as he leaped after Yon, his massive boots cracking the concrete rooftop upon landing.
Yon bolted for the stadium arch, the sleek curve of its support frame stretching over the colossal dome like the spine of a metal beast. Victor's heavy footfalls thundered behind him, each one shaking the roof tiles as the man's mechanical cannon hummed with pent-up energy.
Yon reached the edge of the rooftop and launched himself onto the arch. The structure trembled beneath his weight as he scrambled upward, his pulse hammering in his ears. Victor, his speed shocking for his size, closed the gap with each bounding stride.
'This is too easy,' Victor thought as he watched Yon scramble ahead. 'He's up to something.' But even as the doubt crept in, his battle-hardened instincts urged him forward. He reached for Yon, swinging the cannon like a massive club.
Yon twisted, his blade flashing as he parried the wild swing. The impact threw him off balance, and before he could recover, he was slipping down the far side of the arch, his body spinning in freefall toward the stadium's transparent dome.
Victor hesitated only a moment before hurling himself after Yon, his cannon primed and already tracking the plummeting figure. 'Not this time,' he thought, finger squeezing the trigger.
Yon twisted in mid-air, his eyes locking onto the rapidly approaching missile.
"Parry!"
The blade met the missile's nose, the explosion bending around the blade's polished edge as Yon twisted, guiding the blast away. The redirected force tore a jagged hole through the dome below, the auto-repair systems already knitting the damage together as Yon slipped through the gap.
"It's pretty funny, isn't it?" Yon said as he plummeted through the blast hole. "I've spent my life running from everything in this city. I know the structure better than anyone."
As he angled through the opening, the dome's repair function activated, nanomachines sealing the breach just as Victor followed. The pursuing man's eyes widened, his limbs flailed—
"Your biggest mistake..." Yon continued, calm in freefall, "...was chasing after me."
"You… basta—!"
SMACK!
Victor's curse was cut off as his body crashed against the fully restored dome with a satisfying thud.
Yon chuckled blissfully as he descended back-first toward the ground. He wasn't worried.
This was a blast ball stadium. Its rubberized field stretched half a mile, designed to endure the brutal impacts of a sport built for Eminents. Even the spectator zones were fortified.
Between games, human inspectors combed the field for damage, scrutinizing anything the auto-repair systems might miss. And to protect them, a safety net was always deployed.
Yon fully expected to land on that net.
"...ahhh shi—"
There was no net. No personnel. Just the unforgiving rubber ground rushing up to meet him.
Four years at the academy. Of course, the protocols had changed. They'd probably replaced human inspectors with something more "efficient."
"Wait… wait! No, damn it!" Yon's voice grew louder with every foot of descent.
'I don't wanna die like this! But maybe I won't? Or maybe I will. I've never fallen from this high before. Even if I live, the pain might kill me. Someone do something!'
His thoughts spiraled, until a single word clicked in his mind.
'Hold on… impact.'
His eyes narrowed. He clutched the sword with both hands, adjusted his body midair, and braced.
"Repel!"
BANG!
The blade struck first, dispersing the force and launching Yon into a rebound. He hit the ground, rolled forward in a wild tumble, and finally slid to a stop.
Silence.
Then, he blinked. Sat up. Patted himself down.
No broken bones.
Yon sprang to his feet, laughter erupting from his lungs as he kicked the ground and rolled in pure relief.
"I did it! I lived!"
His celebration was cut short as the lights around him flashed crimson.
"…"
"…Come on, man."