The first hunt did not begin with sirens.
It began with silence.
Entire districts went dark at once—power grids severed, communication towers throttled, civilian networks flooded with emergency maintenance notices that meant nothing and explained less. To the average citizen, it looked like another infrastructure failure.
To Kael, it felt like a noose tightening.
He stood at the edge of Ashfall's underground hub, eyes closed, fire restrained to a dull ember beneath his skin. The air tasted wrong. Metallic. Sterile.
"They've isolated us," he said quietly.
Mira looked up from her console, fingers flying. "They're not just isolating. They're mapping. Every thermal anomaly, every Unrankable signature—we're being boxed in."
Lyra leaned against a concrete pillar, arms folded, expression grim. "Post-Rankers?"
"Yes," Mira replied. "But not like before."
The screens shifted.
Kael's jaw tightened.
They were different.
New armor profiles. Adaptive plating. Fire-null channels layered with something unfamiliar—thin, shifting lines that hurt to look at for too long.
Elias stiffened beside Kael. "Phase Two," he said hoarsely. "They've deployed hunters designed to operate in packs. Shared cognition. If one adapts, they all do."
Kael opened his eyes.
"Good," he said.
Lyra shot him a sharp look. "That's not confidence. That's anger."
Kael didn't deny it.
---
The first strike came underground.
They didn't target Kael.
They targeted Jin.
He was alone in a maintenance corridor, humming softly to himself, fingers tracing frost patterns along the wall. His fire flickered erratically, shifting between states without intent.
He didn't notice the temperature drop.
Didn't hear the footsteps.
By the time the Post-Ranker pack engaged, Jin was already surrounded.
Suppressive fields slammed into place, snapping like cages. Jin gasped, eyes wide, breath fogging.
"No—no, wait," he stammered. "I didn't do anything."
The lead Post-Ranker raised a hand. "Unrankable Jin. Degradation index exceeds acceptable variance."
Jin laughed nervously. "I'm fine. See? I'm fine."
He tried to ignite his fire.
Nothing happened.
The pack closed in.
---
Kael felt it.
A sharp pull behind his eyes. A pressure like ice needles driven into his skull.
"Jin," he whispered.
The system pulsed.
[ALERT: ALLIED UNRANKABLE—CRITICAL THREAT DETECTED]
Kael moved before anyone could stop him.
Fire surged—not outward, but inward, compressing, cycling faster than was safe. He sprinted through the tunnels, concrete blurring, mind narrowing to a single point.
Too slow.
He burst into the corridor just as the Post-Rankers activated execution protocols.
"Stop," Kael said.
The word carried weight.
The pack turned as one.
Shared cognition locked onto him, adaptive systems already recalibrating.
"Target updated," they said in unison. "Unrankable Prime."
Kael didn't hesitate.
He burned.
The corridor warped as Kael transmuted fire into layered states—carbon lattice under tungsten skin, plasma sheathing the exterior. The mental strain hit instantly, thoughts splintering at the edges.
Hold it together.
The Post-Rankers attacked.
Their movements were perfect—angles covered, counters layered, suppression fields overlapping. Kael felt his fire resist, stutter, strain against invisible constraints.
Then the system flared.
[EVENT: POST-RANKER NEGATION — ACTIVE]
The suppression fields collapsed.
Not shattered—invalidated.
Kael stepped through their formation like a blade through water. Each strike wasn't brute force; it was correction. He peeled away adaptive layers, rewrote their counters mid-execution, turned their shared cognition into a liability.
They fell.
Hard.
Silence returned, broken only by Jin's ragged breathing.
Kael knelt beside him. "It's okay. You're safe."
Jin stared at him, pupils dilated.
"They were talking to me," Jin whispered. "Even after they stopped moving."
Kael's chest tightened.
"Jin," he said carefully. "Look at me."
Jin did—but his gaze slid past, unfocused.
"They said I was already dead," Jin murmured. "That I just hadn't noticed yet."
Something broke inside Kael.
Lyra arrived moments later, skidding to a halt at the carnage. "Kael—"
She stopped when she saw Jin.
The way he rocked back and forth.
The way his fire flickered uncontrollably, cycling without purpose.
"Oh no," she whispered.
---
They couldn't hide it anymore.
Footage leaked within hours.
Not from Ashfall.
From the Ministry.
A controlled release, framed as necessary action.
The video showed Jin—confused, unstable, restrained—while an official voice narrated calmly.
"Unrankables suffering advanced degradation pose an existential threat. Termination is regrettable, but unavoidable."
The cut came just before the execution.
Public reaction exploded.
"This is murder."
"They're sick."
"Why were these people imprisoned in the first place?"
Reporters pressed harder than ever.
At a live briefing, a Ministry spokesperson faltered.
"The Freezer was never intended as punishment," she said. "It was a containment—"
The word hung in the air.
Too late.
Screens across the world replayed it in slow motion.
Containment.
Not training.
Not rehabilitation.
Containment.
---
Kael sat beside Jin in a sealed room, fire suppressed to nothing. Jin stared at the ceiling, lips moving silently.
"Do you remember when we first awakened?" Kael asked softly.
Jin smiled faintly. "You burned your shoes off."
Kael huffed a laugh. "You wouldn't stop laughing."
Jin's smile faded. "I don't want to forget that."
Kael swallowed hard. "You won't."
Jin turned his head slowly. "You promised."
The words cut deep.
"I know," Kael whispered.
Jin's eyes cleared for just a moment—lucid, terrified.
"Don't let them decide who deserves to exist," Jin said. "Not the government. Not you."
Kael clenched his jaw, fire threatening to surge.
"I won't," he said.
Jin nodded.
Then his gaze drifted again.
---
Elsewhere, deep within a Ministry black site, officials argued in hushed voices.
"We've lost public trust," one said. "The Freezer is exposed."
The minister's expression remained calm.
"Trust is a luxury," he replied. "Time is what we're buying."
"And Kael?"
The minister smiled thinly. "Let him burn himself out. All Unrankables do."
He turned to the screen, where data scrolled endlessly.
"Prepare the next wave. If Phase Two fails—"
He paused.
"—we move to eradication."
---
Kael stood alone afterward, hands trembling slightly.
The system remained active, silent, observing.
He stared at his reflection in a cracked mirror—eyes too bright, fire too close to the surface.
I can't save everyone.
The thought echoed.
For the first time, it didn't feel like a weakness.
It felt like a truth.
And truths, Kael was learning, were what wars were built on.