Kael stood poised, his body coiled and ready. The two Reviver agents held their ground before the vault door, a perfect, practiced formation. The shield-bearer was an immovable anchor, his massive barrier glowing with that pale red energy. The other man, the one with the chain and spiked ball, watched Kael with cold, patient eyes, his weapon slowly spinning at his side.
Kael needed information. He needed to understand what they could do before he could find a way past them. The chain was obvious, a ranged threat. The shield's repulsion field was clear now, a zone of denial. But the chain-user's deeper ability remained hidden. Kael had to force it out.
He made his decision. Instead of circling or retreating, he ran straight at the shield-bearer.
The chain-user reacted instantly. The spiked ball whipped through the air, aimed at Kael's center mass. But Kael was already dropping, sliding across the stone floor on his hip. The ball passed over him, close enough to ruffle his hair. As he slid past the chain-user's legs, his hand shot out and grabbed the trailing chain just behind the spiked head.
He yanked with everything he had. The chain-user, caught off guard by the move, stumbled forward, his footing lost. He crashed to the ground, the chain pulling taut in Kael's grip.
The shield-bearer moved immediately. He stomped forward, planting himself between Kael and his fallen partner. The red glow on his shield flared brighter, and the familiar pressure of the repulsion field washed over Kael, pushing him back.
Kael didn't fight it. He used the momentum. Still holding the chain, he pivoted and hurled the spiked ball directly at the center of the glowing shield.
The heavy projectile flew true. As it entered the repulsion field, it slowed, pushing against the invisible current like a swimmer fighting a strong tide. It hung in the air for a single, impossible second, then the field reversed its course. The ball shot back toward Kael with the same force he had thrown it.
But Kael was already gone, having released the chain the moment he threw. The ball clattered harmlessly on the stone where he had stood.
He had what he wanted. The chain-user was on the ground, momentarily separated from his weapon. One threat neutralized.
Kael took a step forward, angling to bypass the shield and reach the vault door. Then he heard it.
A soft, sizzling hiss.
He glanced back at the fallen chain. The metal links were changing. They softened, lost their shape, and pooled into a shimmering, liquid puddle on the stone. The silver-grey substance did not spread randomly. It flowed with purpose, moving not toward Kael but in a wide arc around the edge of the shield-bearer's repulsion field. It snaked around the barrier's influence, climbed up the shield-bearer's leg, and streamed into the outstretched hand of the fallen chain-user.
The man rose slowly to his feet. The liquid metal swirled around his hand and forearm, solidifying with a series of sharp clicks and grinding sounds. When it finished, his entire lower arm was encased in a massive, brutal gauntlet of gleaming grey steel. The fingers ended in curved, razor-sharp claws.
Kael's stomach dropped. Not a chain specialist. Metal manipulation. The chain was just a shape, a form he could change at will.
The man flexed his new metal fist. The claws scraped against each other with a sound like grinding stone.
"That was clever," the man said, his voice flat. "Won't work twice."
He charged.
Kael raised his daggers, but the first punch told him everything. The metal gauntlet crashed against his crossed blades, and the force of it drove him back three steps. His arms went numb. Another swing came, low, aiming for his ribs. Kael twisted, the claws tearing through his shirt and leaving a shallow, burning line across his side.
He retreated, trying to find space, but the man pressed him relentlessly. Each strike was heavy, brutal, meant to crush and maim. Kael parried, dodged, gave ground. The shield-bearer held his position, the repulsion field a constant, invisible wall cutting off any attempt to flank.
Kael was being herded. The metal-armed fighter drove him left, then right, always keeping him within range of the shield's influence. If he tried to break for the vault, he would have to enter that field and slow to a crawl, leaving himself open to the gauntlet's devastating power.
A clawed swipe caught him on the forearm, tearing through cloth and skin. Blood ran down to his wrist, slicking his grip on the dagger. He stumbled back, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.
The metal-user smiled. "Running out of room, little spy."
Kael's mind raced, searching for an opening, a weakness, anything. The shield's repulsion field was anchored to the man holding it. It didn't move fast, but it was always there. The metal-user was faster, stronger with his gauntlet, but he was also aggressive. He committed to his attacks.
If Kael could make him overcommit, pull him past the shield's coverage for just a second, there might be an angle. But that required getting inside the man's reach, past those claws, and making physical contact.
Kael needed to touch him. He needed to borrow what he could not match.
The metal-user lunged again, a straight punch aimed at Kael's chest. Kael dropped low, letting the blow pass over him. He drove upward with his shoulder, slamming into the man's extended arm, forcing him off balance. For a split second, the metal-user's bare wrist was exposed above the gauntlet.
Kael's fingers brushed against the skin.
The hunger surged.
A violent, electric jolt passed between them. The metal-user's eyes went wide, his mouth opening in a choked gasp. Kael felt it all flood into him in a single, overwhelming torrent. The knowledge of the metal, the way it softened and hardened at will, the precise control over its liquid and solid states. It burned in his veins, a stolen power demanding to be used.
The man stumbled back, clutching his arm. The gauntlet on his hand flickered, the metal rippling uncertainly as his control wavered. "What... what did you do?"
Kael didn't answer. He looked at his own hand. The fingers trembled, not from fear, but from the raw, alien energy now coursing through them. He felt the metal in the man's gauntlet. He could sense its weight, its density, the way it could flow or harden at a thought.