As Caelan stared at the cup of coffee before him, his thoughts meandered. The guy sitting in front of him kept talking nonstop. About his exclusive access to a nightclub or something. Stirring his now cold coffee, the soldier's thoughts meandered. Towards his unfinished project at the garage. An old Heritage Classic, prime for renovations.

He noticed how the name of his date eluded him. They must have introduced themselves at the start, right?

This was a mistake. With a sigh, he turned to the man. “Look, I’ll be blunt. This isn’t working, for both of us.”

The guy gawked, jaw slack. Complained how Caelan would miss out on so much by rejecting him. At least that’s what the young soldier thought he said. He tuned out at that point.

The guy leaned forward, flashing an easy smile. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Caelan gave a polite nod, already knowing he wouldn’t. After saying their goodbyes, he checked the time. Matt would kill me if I got back too soon.

He decided to walk around the area. Sunglasses and cap on, he turned to a random direction.

Stuffing his hands into the jacket’s pockets, he let his feet wander. A few deep breaths helped clear his mind, but habit took over. His gaze flicked to the rooftops, then the street corners and officers along the road.

To the untrained eye, everything seemed fine. People walked the streets in troves. Many laughed and acted as if everything went as usual. Buying things they shouldn’t need, in an attempt to feel as if nothing changed.

But the security forces armed with military gear begged to differ. Those days, it felt as if they were everywhere.

If the Children wanted to strike now, it would be disastrous. Looking at the crowd, he expected to see a covered figure. Trying to go unnoticed, before exploding themselves. The council took measures, of course. According to the big brains in R&D, the poles built all over could detect any trace of the Rot.

Yet, here I am. He got close to one of the black constructs. A few taps to its plastic frame had the policemen give him some ugly looks. He smiled and waved.

When he got near the entrance of the place, Caelan could hear an altercation. The security forces barred a small figure from entering the district.

Voices raised, they kept asking questions that went unanswered. The shouting grew clearer. A tense exchange between the officers and someone holding their ground. He didn’t recognize the voice at first.

Until he got a better view of the woman.

A sharp inhale. The way they clutched their bag, shoulders hunched in defiance. The nervous shifting from one foot to the other.

His stomach dropped.

“Sam?”

On the verge of tears, the young woman clutched her bag as if to ward off the world. At first, she looked at him with a rapid blinking. Followed by taking a step back, eyes wide as plates.

“C-Caelan? Holy shit, what the fuck have you been eating?”

All it took for the officers to back down was his military ID. They even asked for pictures when realizing they were meeting the Professor. Caelan accepted, if only to have them let Sam go. He forced his best salesman smile through it all. This stupid nickname has already reached the grunts.

Sam stood to the side, eyes wide as Caelan smiled and waved at the people around them. Even some of the civilian had requested a memento. That reminded him of the brass using him as their poster boy. With a sigh, he played the circus clown. He looked around, ever vigilant for anything out of order. Moments like these are the perfect window for insurgents to act.

Finally freed himself from all the attention, he turned to his old friend.

“So… long time no see.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Ah… yeah.” Sam fidgeted, eyes darting around. “You mind if we… go somewhere else? Less public?”

Caelan took her to the same place he went earlier. The waiters’ whispered as they watched him with Sam. One glare from him enough to quiet them down.

They sat down, silence stretching out into infinity. Once their orders came, he decided to break the silence. “How… how have you been?”

“Good. I mean, can’t complain.” She adjusted her hair, a piece of Rot crystal right beneath her ear. That brought his temperature down a lot. “You moved up in the world. Even I watched you on tv last night.”

He felt his extremities twitch at the mention of that.

“They just want to bolster recruitment. Somehow, I’m the one who gets paraded around for it.”

“I mean, who wouldn’t choose a handsome, rugged soldier for that?” She froze, cup halfway to her mouth.

Smirk all across his face, Caelan leaned against the chair. It protested to hold his massive bulk. “Handsome, huh? Well, now I feel better about the whole thing.”

He couldn’t help but burst into laughter when her face went red. She ended up with a little smile anyway.

It felt like the old days.

“Anyway, why you here?” He stiffened his muscles, words filled with seriousness. “It’s not safe to be out and about these days. Despite what the council says.”

“I…” She looked away, whole head going red. “I wanted to leave the house for a bit. And there’s this limited-edition figure for The Ascendant’s Path I wanted to get.…”

She slapped his arm when he once again erupted into laughter.

It didn’t take long to get the thing she wanted. They had some small talk all the time, like nothing had changed.

But the long stretches of time to find the proper words told another tale.

In too little time, they stood waiting for her app driver. Caelan hadn’t felt the minutes going by at all, a contrast to his earlier companion. I wish the guy never gets here.

Of course, the flow of time stops for no one. Soon, she had placed her things on the trunk. With a final farewell kiss, she made her way to the doors.

Just ask for it. Caelan reached for his phone. Five words, that’s all.

He opened his mouth, but then a memory flashed. The sting at his palm, so many years before. His hand froze, hovering near his pocket.

He watched with a slow breath as the car went on its way. Away from him.

She deserves better.

-----

Waking up drenched in sweat had always been familiar to Caelan. From the day he first inhaled the Rot dust, their touch never left him. Until he reincarnated into Leopold’s body, which granted a brief reprieve.

Not anymore, it seemed.

He took out his legs from under the sheets, bare skin on the frigid floor. Sweat-soaked clothes clung to him as he pushed himself out of bed. He always kept a thermal jug in his room, a habit from his army days. Avoided the risk of waking his bunkmates by keeping it close.

Despite the pitch darkness, his eyes adjusted fast. Too fast for most humans. Another sign of the growing infection. He took a sig, hoping it would wash away the bitterness.

Three days went by since he got discharged, no words from Vaedra or Seraphina. Even Lucien wouldn’t stay at the dorm for long. He tried to go back to his previous routine. Exercises and working in Falkner’s workshop. To pretend everything was fine.

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But his very core kept sounding the alarm bells.

Instead, he focused on what he could do. Like prepare himself for the next fight.

Over the past few weeks, Caelan had obsessed over understanding aethertec runes. With all his work on the crossbow failing, even more so. He couldn’t create his own yet, but he had learned enough to replicate useful effects. Knowing that, he picked as many books as he could. Researched practical designs he could copy to his advantage. Falkner offered help, but he felt the need to it himself.

Better not let the professor know he crafted weapons. Wouldn’t approve of a student making those unsupervised.

The displaced glanced at the pile of makeshift tools. Each had one or two uses before breaking down. But even a moment’s advantage could turn a fight.

He had finished drinking when he heard a click. Too faint, enough to have him think a trick of the mind. But with everything going on, his muscles tensed up.

Eyes closed, he could sense the scratching of metal against metal. Coming from his locked bedroom door. He skulked closer, ear to the door. His enhanced senses picked up something else beneath the scratching.

The muffled rhythm of breath. Two people, at least, standing still.

Caelan’s worries vanished in an instant. A strange clarity washed over, his gut proved right. One entry point, two exits, door and second-floor window. Nowhere to hide but the bathroom. No proper cover either. He tiptoed to the bed, using the pillows to emulate a person covered in the sheets. He also left a little surprise for anyone who tried to touch “him”. Without much time, he moved with the bag of gadgets to the bathroom. One to exploit the effects of the gift he left on the bed already at hand.

The hunt is on.

The door eased open with a controlled creak as two figures slipped inside. They both held something like knives in their hands. Moving in uncanny sync, they sneaked their way to both sides of the bed. With a hand gesture, one of them pulled an object from his belt. An acrid smell reached Caelan’s nostrils.

Like chloroform. Sent to capture, not kill?

They pulled the sheet away, freezing in place when they saw the pillows. Then, a moment later, particles of wheat flour scattered in the air. He had rigged it using leftover wheat flour from the kitchen and a pin-based trigger, like a grenade. The latter got tied to the bedsheet, letting it detonate when pulled.

The moment the flour hit the air, the intruders recoiled, blinded by the sudden cloud. Wasting no time, Caelan acted. He pressed a button on the sphere he held, activating its circuits. Before throwing it into the bedroom and closing the door. He jumped inside the bathtub, ears covered.

A muffled scream made it through the deafening blast. A pair of dull thud followed—them hitting the floor.

The contraption he threw in the bedroom only served to produce heat. A lot of it, enough to melt even steel. Didn’t last more than a second, though. Useless to be effective most times.

Unless thrown into a cloud of fine, scattered particles. More than enough to set off a dust explosion.

Heavy moans filled the air. Caelan hoped their aura barriers wouldn’t suffice to protect them. Adrenaline surged through him as he moved to scan the room. Checking the results of his “trick”. Also, on alert for any other intruders.

One of them rolled on the floor close to the bathroom door. He lay on his stomach, left side charred. Knee on his back, Caelan picked the knife from his weakened hand. His yells went ignored by the former soldier.

Thirty centimeters in total length and designed for pure combat. Seemed sharp enough to cut through most materials.

With one hand, Caelan grabbed at his hair. With a practiced motion, he dragged the blade across the attacker’s throat. Warm blood spilling onto his hand. No hesitation, no second thoughts. Another body in a long line of casualties. Hope these aren’t Vaedra’s men. Staying allies would be difficult if they were.

Stomps came up the stairs, seconds away from bursting through the door. Another bomb came out of his bag. He held it, waiting for the perfect moment. Timing was everything—too soon, and it could hit him instead. Too late, it could bounce off before activating.

When the third masked figure crossed the portal, the gadget blew right on their face. A powerful gust of air threw them back, right out the window. he thud of their body hitting the ground outside sent a brief shiver down Caelan’s spine.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it. A fourth invader showed himself in. They lunged, giving the displaced no time to pull out anything else.

Using his forearm, the young man deflected the arm holding the knife. Their attacks avoided lethal strikes, a sign they wanted him alive. You lost that luxury the second you lost the advantage of an ambush. Caelan held no reservations, but each of his slices got blocked by the aura barrier.

With a pounding on his ears, the displaced kept hitting his attacks. Hoping to deplete the essence protections of his opponent. But they required only one hit, while he had to do it a dozen or more.

More running on the stairs. No time to think of the incoming threat, focus on his foe. The enemy twirled the knife between his fingers, a smug grin hidden behind his mask. “Is that all you've got? Disappointing.” Caelan ignored the bait, shifting his stance against the wall. Make it easier to handle multiple foes.

A fifth person got into the room. With a quick glance, Caelan smiled and let his body relax.

Before Seraphina delivered a knee to the assailant’s head.

“Hello, darling. Miss me?”

-----

Caelan analyzed the airstrip, watching men loading cargo on the airship. “You sure this will work?” He got no response from the girl beside him. “Seraphina?”

“Ah… Yes.” She kept looking to the ground, eyes filled with pondering.

Caelan sighed, shifting his body into a more comfortable position to hide. “Something’s wrong?”

She crossed her arms, leaning against the container. “Nothing. Just... didn't expect you to handle it so coldly. The other executors, I mean. Most people hesitate their first time.”

The comment stirred nothing within him. “Considering what Rikareos would do to me, I say it was adequate.” He noticed the way her fingers gripped at her arms. “Next time your colleagues try to harm me, I’ll remember to hold back. Maim or cripple only, deal?”

The remark did not amuse the young woman.

After a few more minutes of vigil, the bulk of the workers went away. Enjoy a fifteen-minutes break, according to the executor. They skulked closer, careful to avoid the sight of the remaining ones. Looking around, they located the box marked as BC-37-e. Seraphina had emptied its content earlier in the day. For the express purpose of smuggling Caelan out of there.

She whispered in a hurry, eyes darting all around. “Remember, the box will be delivered to a warehouse owned by Vaedra. Lucien will meet you there and take you somewhere safer.”

“Got it.” He looked around to check if anyone else appeared. At first, he thought about closing the lid. But with some thought, he sighed and added a few more words. “Hey… thanks. I mean it.”

She gave a tired smile, before she pecked his forehead. His face got some light blush from the unexpected reaction. “Just enjoy the first-class flight, darling.”

Backpack between his legs, Caelan relaxed as the box shifted. Soon enough he heard the sound of engines at work, before the transported lifted off.

With nothing to do, he made a mental inventory of the things he brought. A few clothes, two new hatchets and some electronics. On top of that, the five remaining aethertec bombs. Two flour particles, two heaters and the last gust one.

During the flight, Caelan paid attention to the sounds around him. To the crew patrolling around, their small talk. It would take around an hour to their destination, so he relaxed. Practiced some meditation, mind cleared of all things. He had been lacking in his practices for several weeks.

Ever since Sam’s funeral

All of a sudden, a sense of danger overwhelmed him. Opened eyes looked ahead of him, heart beating fast. His instincts told he had to get out of the box at that exact moment.

He pushed against the lid, throwing it in the air. All around, rows of boxes formed corridors inside the cargo hold. The grunt heard chilled his blood, but what he saw froze Caelan in place.

Purple-eyes, staring at his very soul.

He flung a gust bomb between them, the pressure wave sending the attacker flying. The force upended the box, sending it tumbling. Caelan rolled with it, landing in a crouch with his hatchet drawn. A spectral copy jaunted over his former hideout, its knife lunged at his throat.

No time to think—just act. His training took over, muscles moving before the mind could process the danger.

He parried the attack, before delivering a heavy kick into its torso. With enough distance created, the displaced threw a particle/heat bombs combo. Before he turned to run away, without checking the results.

Walls shuddered with every movement. Hum of the engines making the floor vibrate under his feet. The air smelled of oil and metal, thick with the heat of the cargo hold. Every sensation heightened by the adrenalin surging in his body.

Caelan’s ears ringed with the blast concentrated in the confined space. An alarm began to sound, red lights painting the hold in crimson. With a quick turn to the head, he saw an incoming clone attack. Body twisted as he avoided the thrust. On the same motion, the displaced walloped its head with his elbow. Brought him down for a few seconds.

A door leading out of the cargo hold opened. Several crew members spilled into the place, voices screaming in confusion. “Get out of here!”

Not a moment after the words came out, five ghost copies went at them. They lasted a total of four seconds while Caelan ran from his stalker.

A chill ran down his spine. He was toying with us before. Now, the bastard is serious.

Caelan needed a plan. Too many moving pieces. Need to even the playing field.. Glancing back, he noted something. The more copies appeared, the more rigid their movements became. Like puppets with tangled strings. Maybe the attacker can’t control them properly with so many.

A weakness. One he could exploit, with some luck.

His eyes darted around, breaths coming out harder. A locker with a clear sign caught the displaced’s attention. More important, however, the door beside it. Heart pounding, he dropped a dust bomb at his feet. It obscured him from view, long enough to let him grab the lever on the door.

With a pull, he released the emergency mechanism, opening the door. The pressure inside the plane caused a rush of air to leak out the portal. Caelan held at the safety bars with numbing arms. He prayed for the success of his plan.

A wave of warmth went through his chest. Triggered by the copies ejected out of the aircraft.

When the suction stopped, he opened the locker to find three parachutes. Halfway through putting it on, the young man jumped away. A set of throwing knifes bounced on the metal walls, their owner not far behind. They would caught up in a second, if Caelan did nothing.

Oh, this is a REALLY dumb idea.

Breath held, he jumped out of the door. Without securing the chute all the way.

He thanked the heaves for the design being like what he used before. Even so, the drag made it harder to finish putting it on. Rolling around mid-air didn’t help either. All without a clue how long he had before reaching critical altitude.

The rising sun revealed the sand-colored ground below him. That got snuffed out at once. Worry about where I fall once I’m there, alive. Still, he registered what looked like a lake. Better try to fall there, if anywhere.

Drills came to his mind, together with the proper motions. Once he believed he had done everything, he pulled the ripcord. Soon after, he jerked up by the force of the deployment sequence starting. He felt his body yanked as he decelerated, heart skipping a beat or two. The sudden yank felt like it wrenched his spine out of place. Breath caught in his throat as the harness bit into his ribs.

Three thoughts raced through Caelan’s mind in quick succession.

Pain from all over hid body. How do people enjoyed doing this for sport again?

A vast expanse of desertified land stretched all around. I’m landing on the Wastes! No food, no shelter, no second chances.

Stomach dropping as he remembered the many drills at the army. I opened it too late!

Caelan knew he had to open it at least above three hundred meters. Any lower and he risked serious injury or death. And from his calculations, he had done that.

He maneuvered himself to the water surface. Higher chance of survival that way. He watched as he came closer to it at an alarming speed. The diving lessons came to him, his body forming a straight line for impact.

Then, the world went dark as he slammed into the water.