The train was never meant to stop.
It was designed to cross three metropolitan zones without slowing, a sealed artery of steel and magnetics that ignored city borders and legal questions alike. No checkpoints. No announcements. Just speed.
That was why Kai chose it.
And why the world chose it too.
---
Boarding Without Names
They didn't buy tickets.
They didn't use identities.
Kai forced a maintenance hatch with a single clean cut, and they slipped inside the service corridor between cars as the train screamed forward at near-supersonic speed.
The vibration rattled Qin Mian's bones.
She clutched Yin Lie's sleeve, breathing shallowly, Anchor fragments flaring weakly with every jolt.
"Just… keep moving," Kai said. "If we stay on this line long enough, jurisdiction blurs."
Yin Lie didn't answer.
He was counting seconds.
Not distance.
Seconds until someone decided the train itself was acceptable loss.
---
The World Finds Them Anyway
It took less than three minutes.
Above the train, airspace permissions shifted.
Unmarked craft slid into position at high altitude, invisible to civilian radar, their sensors peeling back layers of interference with surgical precision.
Inside a secure cockpit, a pilot received a single line of confirmation:
> TARGET CONFIRMED ON ROUTE K-9 TRANSIT
No hesitation followed.
---
First Contact — Air
The first missile didn't explode.
It punched through the railbed fifty meters ahead of the train, detonating underneath the track with controlled force. The shockwave buckled steel, throwing the train violently sideways as emergency stabilizers screamed to life.
Passengers screamed.
Lights died.
The train did not derail.
Barely.
Yin Lie slammed into the wall, ice crawling instinctively over his spine to keep it from snapping. Pain exploded behind his eyes.
"Airstrike," Kai snapped. "They're herding us."
Qin Mian cried out as the Anchor reacted violently, resonance flaring in panic.
"They're not aiming at us," she said.
"They're aiming at where we'll be."
---
Second Contact — Ground
The train burst out of a tunnel into open terrain.
And the ground rose up to meet it.
Automated barricades slammed into place ahead—massive steel pylons erupting from hidden foundations, forming a narrowing corridor designed to funnel or stop high-speed transit.
"Ground interdiction," Kai said grimly. "Private contractors. They don't care about passengers."
Yin Lie staggered to his feet.
"Then we don't stop."
He placed his hand against the wall.
Ice spread—not explosively, but with brutal precision—locking damaged sections of the train's internal structure together as the brakes screamed in protest.
The train plowed forward.
Metal shrieked.
Pylons shattered.
The first barrier fell.
---
Inside the Train — Panic
Civilians flooded the aisles, screaming, trampling luggage, trying to escape a threat they couldn't see.
Qin Mian pressed her hands over her ears, shaking.
"They're going to die because of us."
Yin Lie's jaw tightened.
"No," he said.
"They're alive because we're still moving."
---
Third Contact — Internal
That was when the hunters boarded.
The roof split open as two figures dropped into the rear car, landing with impossible balance despite the speed. Their armor was matte black, unmarked, weapons already raised.
Not city hunters.
Independent.
Yin Lie felt it instantly—the way space bent slightly around them, the practiced control.
"Variants," he muttered.
Kai swore. "High-tier."
The first hunter fired.
---
Close-Quarters Chaos
The car exploded into motion.
Yin Lie moved on instinct, shoving Qin Mian behind a structural column as rounds tore through seats and windows, depressurizing the cabin violently.
Ice surged outward, snapping along the floor, freezing the hunter's footing just long enough for Kai to land a clean shot to the visor.
The second hunter adapted instantly, shifting position mid-air as gravity twisted wrong around them.
Yin Lie stepped forward—
and his body screamed.
His left side failed completely, leg buckling as pain tore through his spine.
The hunter saw the weakness.
And smiled.
---
Qin Mian Acts Without Thinking
"No!"
Qin Mian's Anchor flared.
Not wide.
Focused.
The air between her and the hunter folded sharply, compressing space into a crushing wedge that slammed the attacker into the ceiling hard enough to crack reinforced plating.
Blood sprayed.
The hunter didn't die.
But he didn't get up.
Qin Mian collapsed to her knees, gasping, blood streaming from her nose.
Yin Lie caught her.
"Don't," he said hoarsely.
"Not like that."
She looked up at him, terrified.
"I had to."
He didn't argue.
Because she was right.
---
Fourth Contact — The Sky Closes
The train roared toward the border zone.
Ahead, the sky darkened.
Drones.
Dozens of them.
They formed a descending lattice, weapons primed, their targeting algorithms already adjusting for wind, speed, and probability.
Kai stared.
"…They're sealing the air."
Yin Lie looked forward.
Then down.
Then back at Qin Mian.
"We jump," he said.
Kai swore. "At this speed—"
"We die if we don't," he replied.
---
The Jump
The train hit the final barricade at full speed.
Metal screamed.
The moment of impact threw everything sideways.
Yin Lie wrapped himself around Qin Mian, ice flaring violently as he forced one last surge through a body already breaking.
They went through the shattered side of the train—
and into open air.
The world flipped.
Wind tore the breath from Qin Mian's lungs as they fell, spinning, debris raining around them.
Yin Lie forced ice outward beneath them, shaping it instinctively, desperately—
not to stop the fall.
To aim it.
---
Aftermath
They hit hard.
Rolled.
Skidded across broken earth until momentum finally died.
Silence followed.
Broken only by distant explosions as the train derailed behind them.
Yin Lie lay still, chest barely rising.
Qin Mian shook him, sobbing.
"Lie— Lie—!"
His eyes fluttered open.
"…Still here," he rasped.
Kai landed nearby moments later, battered but alive.
She looked back at the burning horizon.
"That was the first," she said quietly.
Yin Lie stared up at the darkening sky.
"…Then they'll come faster next time."
---
End of the Chapter
Behind them, wreckage burned.
Above them, drones recalculated.
Across the world, new hunters updated their files.
The first cross-city hunt had failed.
But it had proven one thing beyond doubt:
The world would not stop.
And next time—
it wouldn't hesitate to burn everything in its path
to make sure they didn't escape again.