Why did she do that? Gen yelled at herself as she fell through the air. Lights from various offices and apartments drifted by her, and above the pair the skywalk fell and chased their descent. Its glowing metal reminded her of her idiocy like a droplet of plasma burning her skin after choosing to overload a plasma pistol.
Why had she taken Umbra with her? It only complicated things. If she had fallen by herself, she could have aura broken and used her force field to survive the fall. Now that he was with her, doing so would reveal her identity and leave her with no choice but to waste time and kill him. She should have left him to fend for himself against that rocket...
Umbra slapped her back, materializing five head-sized orbs. His aura undulated, and the orbs fired at the skyscraper and combined their lasers into one. Glass shattered, metal screeched. The beam dragged downward, and its energy deflected off the building, forming a slanting, crystal-like spike. Aura spilled from Umbra’s body, breaking their fall as they hit its surface.
Umbra groaned, but Gen, who had landed on him, snickered. It seemed he still had his uses... She didn’t need to steal a ride to return to the gala, nor did she need to climb a vexing amount of stairs. And to her own secret delight, he was unexpectedly soft.
Umbra raised his hands, entrapping her with straightened arms that held her sides. His open palms faced the falling skywalk, and the orbs fired, striking it in a burning mesh of reds and oranges. Sparks flew.
Gen squirmed off his chest and scrambled to her feet. She dashed towards the skyscraper—heels slipping and sliding on the crystal’s surface, so she stabbed with True Stilettos’ blades. Carelessly waving her hand, she called out, “Thanks, Umbra!”
“Wait!” He lay on his back and focused his attack on the skywalk. Unless he wanted it to crash into him and break his crystal platform, he couldn't chase after her. He yelled, “Dessy!!!”
“Sorry!” Gen jumped through the broken window. The choice was simple: her brother was her world. She took off True Stilettos, held them, and sprinted down the hallway—all while aura imbued her muscles and accelerated her speed. The people watched with wide eyes. A few tried to stop her—possibly finding her suspicious with the recent explosions—and she pushed them aside and stormed the stairway.
Fifteen floors. There were fifteen floors until she reached the gala. She bounded upward, legs spreading and hiking up her dress. Gen didn’t care. What was reputation if she didn’t have a family to share in her pride? By the tenth floor, she met people spilling forth from above and fleeing the gala. Some fighters they were... They couldn’t defend themselves despite the weapons they wore.
“Excuse me!” Gen wedged herself through and restrained the urge to pulse open a path. “Ah!”
The stairs shook, startling her as screeching filled the stairwell; the high-pitch sound rang within her ears. Gen grabbed the railing, and the people fell and tumbled. What was happening?
A laser beam pierced the landing in front of her, saturating the stairs with red light. An unlucky man lost half his body—death swift, his organs had disintegrated before he could yell in either pain or surprise.
Standing on a red spike, Umbra rose from the hole and offered his hand. He wore a smug grin. “Up?”
Annoyed, Gen grabbed his arm and dug her nails into his skin. What a psycho. With aura-breakers like him, no one doubted how aura caused the ancient apocalypse and sparked the Dark Era. The mundane had no chance of surviving, and people like Umbra were gods to them, but in a way, so was she.
Umbra pressed her against his body then extended his crystal, elevating them upward. He said, “Saved your life, acted as your elevator... I think you owe me a date.”
“Sure,” Gen said. A large smile plastered her face; her eyelashes fluttered with insincerity.
He nuzzled her cheek with his nose, and she resisted the urge to pulse him—Mind needed her. The scoundrel chuckled. “You don’t seem too sincere. Is it because I tried to kiss you?”
Gen remained silent, face still smiling. They arrived at the gala’s floor.
“Then it’s a date.” Umbra nodded and set her feet on the warped landing whose warmth tickled her toes. Brushing past her, he kicked the door and summoned his orbs with a clap. “Stay behind me.”
Gen flared her nostrils at his comment, and she saw the wreckage as nothing special. Smoke filled the gala’s outer halls; various bodies lay strewn on the ground, groaning in pain; and splotches of blood covered the shattered screens as the walls sparked.
A large gap had rent itself at the far end of the hall, and six soldiers spilled inside, leaping from a large flying pod. Each wore a black, leather suit and a red crow mask that covered more than half their face.
The Starblood Sealers. They were aura knights who pretended to be a revolutionary group fighting for equality between the elite aura-breakers and the common person. A decent cause, but they actually worked for Star Prince Janus, which Gen knew only because they, like Umbra, had tried to kill her without reason on multiple occasions.
Umbra frowned at the sight of them, and he released a frenzy of beams. His lasers cracked the translucent shields powered by their opponent’s aura gauntlets. The invaders fired their guns, but having normal ammunition, the bullets curved around them upon meeting the pressure suffused by Umbra’s aura. Someone fired a plasma shot—not something his aura could deflect—and it hid itself within the barrage. Picking it out, Umbra struck it with his beam; the energies exploded, further cracking the screen walls.
Gen, with her True Stilettos tucked beneath one arm, checked her wrist watch. Her lips quivered upon finding no new messages from Mind. Please let him have remembered, she prayed then jabbed a few buttons.
A map appeared, and she sighed in relief. Mind had given her access to his own tracking device, which he had injected into his wrist when she had complained about him spying on her while she herself never knew his location.
She enlarged the map and found that the marker blinked within the inner section. Her brows wrinkled. If he had been there, she would have noticed his presence during her embarrassing display. Or did he seek sanctuary when the Starblood Sealers attacked?
“Umbra, can you take me to the inner hall? The elite section?” Gen asked. She could easily reach her destination using her aura break, but if she had a willing glass cannon, why not have him escort her? It would save her trouble because revealing herself would complicate Mind’s rescue. Presumably, the Starblood Sealers were targeting the empress dowager but would swap targets if they discovered her, because Gen was someone they had hunted for almost ten years.
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Umbra raised his hands, and the beams crafted a web of spikes, blocking the ever-invading soldiers. His breath was haggard—he was running low on aura and had expended most of it during their initial fall. “That’s probably the safest.”
As three of his orbs supplied energy to his blockade, his remaining two carved a human-sized oval into the wall. Braving glass, Gen kicked it with her bare feet and opened the passage.
“Hey.” Umbra placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from walking first. She nodded obediently but crushed his ribs with an imaginary crowbar for treating her like a delicate lady.
“Hurry up,” Gen said. Then, she reminded herself not to deviate too much from Dessy’s personality and that it would be best if she rescued Mind without being caught. She sweetly added, “Please.”
Umbra wrapped his arm around her waist, startling her as he pulled her close and used his body to shield her from danger. It was sickening yet charming. He halted his three orbs, and then the barricade exploded and he carried her into the next hallway. His beams fired—haphazardly striking anyone standing around them, foe or not. Many people, unaware of what happened, lost their heads and plunked to the ground. This psycho... Such needless killing.
“My brother is here.” Gen jabbed True Stiletto R into his stomach. Mind, of course, wasn’t in the outer section, but if he had been, Umbra would’ve taken his head.
He pursed his lips then cut through the next wall—the last one that separated them from the inner section. Gen held her breath, embracing herself for the possible sight. Memories of Law’s dead body clouded her vision: a white skywalk, a puddle of blood, a waterfall of tears.
The slamming of the cut-out wall snapped Gen awake, stopping her mind from drifting. A thick smoke cloud stood motionless before her, so still it was akin to a picture. There was no breeze, and neither was there a sound.
“Disperse,” a voice pierced the silence, carrying with it an overbearing will. The clouds held slave to the word and billowed into the hallway and kicked up the skirt of Gen’s dress. The empress dowager stood at the center of the room, her arms raised like an eagle spreading its wings. Beneath her, her boots released swirling wisps of aura and entangled the plasma shots that hung in the air like floating droplets.
Gen hesitated, not because she felt appalled, but because the empress dowager’s will clashed with hers. She inhaled a deep breath, cleared her mind, and thought of her brother. Don’t give in. Gen’s aura coursed through every cell of her own body, wrenching her muscles from the dowager’s control. Upon regaining her faculties, she scanned the room with bated breath.
Mind wasn’t present; her face paled, hand quivering. Gen clutched Umbra’s arm, which still hooked her waist, and squeezed until her fingers went white and her anxiety calmed. Umbra bit his bottom lip—pained, no doubt.
Think, she whispered to herself.
“Drop,” said the empress dowager. The hovering bullets and plasma shots began to fall, but then an unknown yet oddly familiar aura swept through the room. Gen’s body quivered; her own aura, which she had imbued into her flesh, revolted and shook. Her stomach lurched.
Pop!
Umbra’s orbs exploded, blinding everyone with a sudden flash. Screams. Stampeding feet. More smoke.
Eyes recovering, Gen discerned the moving figure of the empress dowager. The elderly woman held a miniature plasma pistol and a rapier—who knows where she had hid them on her person? She somersaulted through the air, dress fanning the smoke and body dodging the incoming plasma shots. Twisting to safety, the empress dowager landed beside an enemy soldier and thrust her blade into his skull.
The kitchen! Where else would Mind be if he wasn’t in the elite section? Gen shoved Umbra in order to free herself, and a giant shield of ice slammed into his back and alarmed her with its appearance. It would have struck her too if she hadn’t fled his side.
Aether. That careless jerk.
“Umbra,” Aether’s voice was quiet, yet the sound nipped her ears with an icy chill. Hail spun around his body like a vortex of resentment. He spat, “You traitor.”
Umbra, now freed from the empress dowager, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. “I’m not part of this.”
Aether snorted and raised his right hand. One of his seven shards transformed into a claymore, and its pommel bore the crest of the Puresoul family—a cloud pierced by a strike of lightning.
Gen slunk into the smoke, leaving them as she tightly gripped a True Stiletto in each hand. The shoes were the worst dagger handles, but she liked the blade itself.
“Dessy, stay close,” the two men said in unison, causing her to frown.
Couldn’t they continue their argument? Why drag her into it? She had her brother to rescue, so she turned and sprinted, aiming for the hole in the ground where a few enemy soldiers had entered. She should have realized it first, but the floor below the gala held all the utilities needed to host events. A computer and broadcasting room, a storage area with tables and chairs, a backup generator, and most importantly, a kitchen. These were all things Mind loved most.
Gen clenched her jaw and clutched her high heels, fingers turning white. Her brother better have survived the blast or she’d do what she had always been hesitant to do—kill Janus and face his Star Line’s wrath. Her eyes dampened with fear and tears, and she told herself, be tough.
Gen charged at the soldier blocking her path, and the man stumbled back a step. He lifted his handgun—a cheap 15cc plasma pistol that fired globs the size of its designated volume—and took aim. Gen’s foot released a pulse of aura, jolting her forward. Her shoulder turned as she ducked, avoiding his pistol’s delayed shot.
Although their shots resisted the pressure created from aura, plasma guns had a split-second delay before firing, and during this time they couldn’t be moved unless one risked jamming and overheating the weapon. They weren’t as efficient for killing people as a normal pistol, but if one wanted to kill an aura-breaker, one needed to use a plasma weapon. That or either a blade through the heart or the more expensive magma alternative.
Gen knocked the pistol from his hand and sliced his neck with True Stiletto R. His blood sprayed, and as he fell, she abandoned her True Stiletto L and snatched the 9mm handgun from his holster. Feeling its weight, she instinctively knew it was fully loaded, and she turned and pulled the trigger. A bullet planted itself into the forehead of a female Starblood Sealer who had tried to ambush her.
Boom!
Gen’s spine shivered, and aura condensed around her, bending the path of a flying shard formed from both Umbra’s energy and Aether’s ice. The projectile brushed past her temple; its wind lifted a lock of her hair.
These idiots! Aether and Umbra... Regardless of whether or not their goal was to clear the smoke or to kill each other, there was no need for friendly fire.
“You two, stop,” the empress dowager ordered, and the muscles of the two men stiffened. Aiming for those possessing adequate amounts of aura, she loaded plasma into multiple Starblood Sealers then pointed her rapier at a group of stunned elites. “Fight.”
The elites rose and activated their respective aura gauntlets and weaponized boots. It surprised Gen that none of them had previously acted professional. This was a weaponized fashion gala... Where were all the battle-hardened aura knights?
Aether and Umbra turned their heads towards Gen. Umbra frowned, scrunching his brow until he looked like a child who had just been scolded and abandoned. Gen feared what kind of expression Aether bore beneath his helmet.
Seriously? Leave me alone, she grumbled.
She flipped them both off, despite the fact all her fingers gripped her pistol and shoe. Her actions could just as easily be mistaken for a wave as it could be for an obscene gesture. Feeling a mixture of guilt and satisfaction at deviating from her Dessy disguise, Gen leapt into the hole and landed on checkered flooring.
The kitchen. Smoke blanketed the area and hid the sparking appliances, while the acrid smell of burning plastic—she couldn’t identify its source—assaulted her nostrils.
“Ascending!” she called.
No response.