---
It started with a crack in the sky.
The group had just begun to relax, sprawled across the grassy hill outside the dome's training facility, when everything went still. The breeze paused. The sky darkened. And then—like thunder rolling backwards—a rip opened above them, black and oozing mist.
From it, something fell.
He wore no armor, no grand robe—just dark skin, silver eyes, and a cloak that dragged shadows behind him. His presence made the grass curl in on itself, the light bending away.
Sia stood immediately. "Get behind me," she said, voice tight but calm.
Liana squinted. "Who the hell is this guy?"
"A messenger of Death," the man said simply. "Death sends his love. And a warning."
Without another word, the air exploded.
The group was thrown apart—dirt and flame erupting around them. Alex rolled, every joint screaming. Liana was already dragging Mia back, blood trailing from her shoulder. Kyle leapt at the stranger, only to be swatted away like a fly.
They tried to fight. Of course they did. But nothing worked. The messenger didn't dodge, didn't even move—he just stood there, letting them crash into him again and again. His strikes weren't punches—they were judgments.
"You're not supposed to die today," he said to Alex, crushing him into a crater. "But it's tempting."
Sia burst between them, eyes glowing with quiet fury. "Enough. They're just kids."
"You're defying Father?" the messenger asked.
"No," she said coldly. "I'm saving your future victims."
"You won't stop him?" Alex shouted, ducking another strike.
"I'm not allowed!" she snapped, grabbing his arm. "But I know someone who can."
And there she stood—Ciara. Glowing eyes, not a scratch on her.
"Seriously?" she said, cracking her knuckles.
The messenger faltered.
"Go," Ciara said without looking back. "I've got this."
"You sure?" Alex asked.
She smirked. "I'm not thousands of years mature for nothing."
"Move!" Sia yelled, yanking them toward the teleporter. One by one, they leapt in. Behind them, Ciara and the messenger clashed in a whirlwind of light and shadow.
Right before Alex vanished, he saw Ciara land a punch that cracked the sky. Then nothing. Just silence and light.
---
Ciara stood alone in the ruined hall, sword gleaming in dim light. The messenger paced, eyes cold and focused.
The silence was suffocating until he struck first—a bolt of dark energy flying toward her with blinding speed. She sidestepped just in time. The blast shattered the stone wall behind her.
"You're not like the others," he sneered.
Ciara gripped her sword. "Then let's see what you've got."
They collided. Shadowed fists met steel with a violent crash. She stumbled, slashed at his chest, he blocked with a forearm. The force sent him skidding back, but he closed the distance again, relentless, faster than she could react.
Each strike pushed her back, the ground trembling beneath him. He struck with punches and dark blasts, forcing her to dodge and weave, heart racing.
Ciara gasped, parrying another blow. She needed space. Her feet danced across the broken hall, sword a blur. But he was faster. Each hit heavier.
She knew she couldn't win with strength alone. She had to trick him.
Feinting a stumble, her hand brushed the messenger's blade as it sliced into her palm. Blood dripped onto the floor.
He saw an opening and charged, sword raised.
But the blood exploded, sending a shockwave in all directions. They were both thrown back. Chaos—light, force, debris—filled the hall.
As the dust settled, Ciara struggled to stand, wound burning, still alive. The teleporter hummed beside her. The messenger pushed himself up, enraged—but it was too late.
With one final, knowing glance, Ciara stepped into the teleporter.
---