Klaus watched as the man he'd always believed was unbreakable was torn apart in front of him. His father, the quiet strength that had held their whole world together, folded like paper. A scream ripped out of Klaus's throat as his knees hit the broken ground, and hot tears streaked down his face, cutting clean lines through the dust.
When he finally raised his head, the man who had killed his father was already turning toward him.
Joseph didn't hurry. He walked the way a predator walks when the hunt is already won, each step unhurried and deliberate, as though the boy in front of him was nothing more than a game he intended to enjoy. Fear sank into Klaus's chest and spread outward until it felt as though the whole sky had lowered itself onto his shoulders. He stared into Joseph's deep blue eyes, and every instinct he possessed, in this life and the last, screamed the same word.
Run.
He didn't remember standing. He only remembered the ground rushing past beneath his feet as he ran with everything he had left.
Far across the city, a massive armored vehicle ground to a halt, and a man stepped down from it. He was enormous, built like a fortress, with flaming red hair and eyes of the same fierce color, his face drawn tight with the weariness of someone who had seen too many disasters already. Soldiers and officers spilled out of the vehicles behind him and stopped to stare up at the abyssal crack splitting the sky.
"I can't believe we actually have to fight this," one of them muttered. "Who knows what's going to come out of that thing."
"Don't worry," another said, trying to sound braver than he felt. "As long as Headmaster Victor is with us, we'll be fine."
Victor wasn't listening. His gaze had caught on something in the distance: buildings collapsing in a precise, advancing line, as though some invisible blade were being dragged across the city. It was moving straight toward them. One thought snapped into his mind.
Spatial wave.
"Everyone, on the ground, now!"
He hit the dirt faster than a man his size should have been able to, his massive frame flattening against the earth. Most of the soldiers followed, pressing themselves down. Those who hesitated didn't get the chance to regret it. The wave swept through, and the slow ones snapped in half like broken pencils, dropping before they'd even understood what struck them.
No one had time to mourn. From the depths of the crack came a thunderous chorus of roars, and the monsters poured out.
Hollows were creatures that had terrorized the world for as long as anyone could remember, abominations that could twist the souls of the living into hideous, bloodthirsty parodies of what they'd once been. These monsters were large, taller than four meters , but built wrong in every way that mattered. Their arms hung long and spindled, studded with spikes at the elbows. They had no eyes and no ears, only a mass of pulsing, vein-laced flesh where such things should have been. What they did have was a mouth, a gaping, cavernous thing lined with teeth that stretched all the way down their throats. Their black skin was rough as bark, bristling with spines, and their claws gleamed wickedly in the sorrowful afternoon light.
Millions of them spilled out of the sky, and the city began to scream.
An hour later, Victor was still moving, hunting down one of the creatures. This one was strong, powerful enough to rank in the Foundation Establishment realm, while Victor himself stood in Core Formation. It should have been a fair fight. It didn't feel like one.
"Tyrant Halberd Technique," he roared, pouring his earth element into the strike. "Sovereign's Sweep!"
The weapon arced through the air with a sound like a mountain splitting. Wind and stone were torn away in its path, and the Hollow's skull collapsed in a spray of black.
Victor dropped to one knee, wheezing, his lungs burning. When he finally raised his eyes, he saw the battle raging farther off, and his blood ran cold. Two figures were fighting there, Mark and Joseph, and the sheer pressure rolling off them made his own power feel like a candle next to a furnace. Either of them could have crushed him like an insect.
He stayed frozen until the clash seemed to end, then began to edge away, quiet and careful, desperate not to be noticed.
"Please! Help us!"
The cry cut through the smoke behind him.
Klaus threw himself toward the man in armor with everything he had left, his voice cracking with desperation. "Please! You have to help me! He's trying to kill me!"
The man looked past him and saw it: a fire elemental walking steadily toward the child, unhurried and unstoppable. And then he turned and walked away, faster than before.
Klaus's eyes caught the emblem stamped on the man's armor, and the shape of it was unmistakable. Government. Protectors of the people. His mind refused to accept it.
Why is he acting like he can't hear me?
"Please, that man is going to kill me! Help me!" He screamed it louder this time, stumbling after him with everything he had left.
Victor's hands were shaking. Fear had hollowed him out, and he walked faster, eyes fixed forward, refusing to look back. Then something caught his leg. He glanced down and saw a small boy with white hair and crimson eyes, tears streaming down a dirt-streaked face, clinging to him like the last rope over a cliff.
Victor didn't think. He kicked.
The blow landed with all of his strength behind it. Klaus flew backward, and something inside his chest gave way with a wet, sickening crack. He hit the ground and coughed, and blood spilled from his mouth in a bright, shocking mouthful, spreading across the broken stones beneath him.
Above him, the sky was still split open, and no one was coming to save him.