The training yard behind the Yazumèi estate simmered with summer heat and the quiet hum of tension. Squad banners flapped lazily in the wind as Shark lieutenants barked orders, the organized chaos of preparation humming in every corner. But all eyes slowly drifted to the center, where two figures squared off.
Zaria stepped into the circle with the grace of a trained dancer, her sleeveless black combat top glistening faintly under the afternoon sun. Thin, almost imperceptible glints of light shimmered at her fingertips—glass thread, ready to sing. Vali stood across from her, tall and silent, arms folded and that familiar faint wisp of darkness coiling at his boots. He looked casual, but everyone who knew him could see the flicker of restraint in his amber eyes.
"Try not to embarrass yourself too hard, Yazumèi," Zaria said coldly, rolling her neck. Her voice was clipped, professional. The years since high school had carved away her softness, replacing it with steel.
Vali gave a half-chuckle. " damn that hurts Zaria. I was hoping we could catch up."
"We are. This is me catching up to you." Zaria said calmly. Kaz, arms crossed, stood beside Amy and Kimara, watching with interest. "This should be fun," he murmured. "He hasn't fought her in years."
Amy leaned in with a smirk. "What's her power again?"
"Glass threads," Kimara whispered. "And she's surgical with it."
Vali took a single step forward. The ground beneath his foot cracked faintly as a veil of dark mist surged out like breath. It was cold and reeked of rusted iron and midnight fog.
Zaria didn't blink.
"Begin!" called one of the squad leaders.
The battle exploded into motion.
Vali lunged, a spike of dark mist thrusting ahead like a lance. Zaria flicked two fingers. A glass thread shimmered to life, slicing the mist in half before it reached her. She slid backward on her heels, hands moving in circles as more threads bloomed in the air around her—five, then ten, then dozens.
Vali vanished into his mist, reappearing behind her in a flash of shadow.
Zaria twisted, one leg snapping up in a spinning kick that launched a volley of glass strands like a fan of blades. Vali ducked, hands up, the mist coiling and hardening into a crescent shield to catch them. The glass struck the shield with a sound like chiming bells, some embedding deep.
Vali raised his hand, mist swirling into a jagged sword. He slashed it down—Zaria weaved sideways, fingers snapping again. A loop of thread caught his wrist mid-swing. With a tug, she flipped over him, dragging the thread taut. Vali growled and twisted his wrist, shadow flaring in a burst to cut the thread.
"Getting slow," she taunted, landing like a spider mid-spin. He smiled. "Getting distracted. You always did that."
They clashed again.
Zaria's threads danced around her like a silver storm, controlled with every twitch and flex of her fingers. She created moving walls of slicing filaments, cages, tripwires, and whips. Vali countered with mist shields, creating duplicates of himself in the fog, punching outward with pulses of shadow like sonic booms.
At one point, Zaria leapt high, flipping through the air as threads anchored her to the sky itself, holding her aloft like a marionette.
"She's beautiful," Amy whispered. "Like...a battle ballerina." Kimara nodded. "Yeah. But Vali hasn't even gotten serious yet."
In the circle, Vali stopped smiling.
Darkness bled from his body in great rivulets. The air dropped ten degrees as his true power bloomed.
"I call this , My Mist Erosion Field," he murmured.
The mist pulsed once—then swallowed the arena.
Zaria gritted her teeth as her visibility dropped to zero. Her threads hummed like tuning forks, expanding around her in wide nets. Any movement, any sound would bounce off them.
Something passed through her net—she twisted, caught Vali's arm with three threads and flung him aside. But he bounced back, the mist disorienting her thread tracking. Another hit, and she lost her footing.
Zaria struck the ground but rolled, threads lashing wildly to force space. Then she smiled.
"I see," she said. "You want to drown me." She pressed her palms together. "Glass Cocoon: Bloom."
From the threads around her body, a hundred tiny fragments of glass broke off—twinkling like stars in the mist. She sent them outward in every direction.
Ping-ping-ping... The impact points rang back, echo-location style.
Vali's shadow surged behind her.
She spun, caught his leg with a loop, and flipped him over her shoulder. He hit the ground with a thud and skidded. Vali laughed from the floor, sprawled out. "Okay, okay. You win this round."
Zaria, chest rising and falling, stood over him, threads winding back into her hands. "I didn't win," she said, voice softer now. "You held back."
Vali smirked. "I wanted to talk, not kill each other." She blinked. "About what?" He sat up. "Why you left. Why you stayed away."
Zaria looked at him, eyes unreadable. "Later," she said. From the sidelines, Kaz whistled. "That was damn impressive," he said, clapping slowly.
Amy grinned. "I wanna fight her next." Kimara elbowed her. "Let's leave some bones unbroken first."
Later At a Coffee shop downtown
The smell of cinnamon lattes and roasted beans filled the air as Kaz, Amy, and Kimara sat in a cozy corner booth. The tension of the earlier sparring session had faded into soft laughter.
Amy took a long sip of her iced mocha and leaned against Kaz's arm. "So... still planning to keep us out of the action?"
Kaz arched a brow. "That again?"
Kimara leaned forward. "Kaz, come on. We're training, we're ready. You can't protect us forever."
Amy poked his cheek. "Besides... after last night, you should know I can handle myself."
Kaz flushed slightly. "Babe, this isn't just about ability. It's about what it does to you after."
Kimara met his eyes. "We know. And we're still here."
Before he could respond, every TV in the coffee shop flickered. The sports channel vanished, replaced by a cracked black screen and a white mask symbol slowly rotating.
A voice rang out, warped and robotic.
"To the Sharks... to the heirs of Seamus Yazumèi. You think you rule this city's underworld? You think your legacy is unshakeable? We are the Red Sigil. We know your faces. We know your allies. You're not kings. You're pawns. Enjoy your last days of peace."
The screen snapped to static. Kaz stared.
A moment later, his phone buzzed. Unknown Number: "Tonight. 11 PM. Dockside Warehouse 9. Meeting of the Kings. Come alone or with your 'court.' Your father's seat awaits."
Kimara looked over his shoulder. "A meeting of the kings?" Amy frowned. "So Mob royalty." Kaz leaned back. "Looks like the board just changed... and I'm the newest piece."