Davrin ran through Iron Hollow's back alleys like his life depended on it, because it probably did. Four days. Four goddamn days before they did something irreversible to Mira.
He burst through the safe house door breathing hard. Seraph was packing equipment into a bag, moving with controlled urgency that somehow looked more dangerous than panic.
"What happened?" Davrin demanded. "How do you know they moved the timeline?"
"I intercepted an encrypted Imperial transmission twenty minutes ago." Seraph didn't stop packing. "Lady Ashara Vex sent new orders to the Synthesis facility. They're accelerating all active integration procedures due to, and I quote, 'unexpected security concerns.'"
"Security concerns." Davrin's stomach dropped. "They know. About me."
"They know a Soul Devourer exists. They don't know it's you specifically, not yet." Seraph pulled out a combat knife, checked the edge, slid it into a sheath on her thigh. "But they're smart enough to realize that if a natural Devourer is running around, their artificial version just became a lot more valuable. They want to complete it before you become a threat."
"So we move now. Tonight. Hit the outpost, get the power, then—"
"Then what?" Seraph turned to face him, her mismatched eyes sharp. "Four Reapers won't make you strong enough to assault a Synthesis facility. You'd need to be at least high Kindled, maybe low Blazing. That's twenty, thirty souls minimum."
"Then we get thirty souls." Davrin's power flared involuntarily, red energy crackling around his hands. "I don't care how. I'm not losing her again."
Seraph studied him for a long moment. Then she nodded, seeming to come to a decision.
"Alright. There's a way. Risky as hell, probably going to get us both killed." She pulled up her data pad, showing a map of the city. "But if you're serious about this, if you're willing to go all in, we can accelerate your growth."
"I'm listening."
"There's a soul essence shipment moving through Merchant's Rise tonight. Refined cores from the Forges, heading to Highcrown for sale to the elite." Seraph zoomed in on a route marked in red. "Twenty cores, each one containing a Sparked or low Kindled level soul. The convoy's guarded by six Reapers and a Crimson Guard unit."
Davrin's throat went dry. "That's suicide."
"It's ambitious. Different thing." Seraph's smile was sharp as broken glass. "The Crimson Guard are the problem. Three of them, all Blazing-class. But if we time it right, if we hit the convoy during the narrow window when they're transitioning through the warehouse district, we might be able to separate them from the Reapers."
"Might."
"Might," Seraph confirmed. "But those twenty soul cores? You absorb even half of them, you'd jump straight to mid-Kindled. Strong enough to survive the Wastes, strong enough to have a real chance at infiltrating a Synthesis facility."
Davrin looked at the map, his mind racing. The plan was insane. Going after a heavily guarded Imperial convoy with barely any combat experience was the kind of mistake that got people killed in creative ways.
But four days. That's all he had.
"When does the convoy move?" he asked.
"Two hours. Leaves the Forges at midnight, takes the southern route through the warehouse district." Seraph marked several points on the map. "We set up here, at the old textile factory. Ambush point with multiple exits. Hit fast, grab what we can, disappear before reinforcements arrive."
"You've done this before."
"Twice. Once with the Coalition, once solo." Seraph's expression darkened. "Lost three people the first time. Almost died the second. This isn't a game, Davrin. The moment we attack that convoy, the Empire will bring everything they have down on our heads."
"They're already hunting me."
"Not like this. Not with real resources." Seraph moved closer, her voice dropping. "You need to understand what you're committing to. After tonight, there's no going back. No hiding, no second chances. We burn our bridges and run forward or die trying."
Davrin thought about Mira strapped to that table, about the photograph Seraph had shown him, about thirteen days becoming four. About five years of searching and hoping and failing.
"I'm already committed," he said. "Have been since the night they took her."
Seraph held his gaze, then nodded. "Alright then. Let's go steal from the Empire."
The warehouse district was a graveyard of failed businesses and rusted machinery. Davrin crouched on the roof of the old textile factory, watching the street below through the scope Seraph had given him. Not that he knew how to use a scope properly, but it made him feel slightly more prepared.
"See anything?" Seraph whispered from beside him. She'd changed into dark combat gear, her silver blade already manifested and resting against her shoulder.
"Nothing yet." Davrin lowered the scope, his hands sweating despite the cold night air. "Are you sure they're coming this way?"
"Imperial logistics run on precision. They'll be here." Seraph checked her watch. "Three minutes."
Those three minutes felt like three hours. Davrin's power was coiled tight inside him, responding to his anxiety. He forced it down, trying to remember Seraph's training about control. Panic made you sloppy. Sloppiness made you dead.
Lights appeared at the end of the street. Two armored trucks, moving in formation.
"There," Seraph breathed. "Right on schedule."
The trucks rolled closer. Davrin could make out the Reapers now, black armor gleaming under the streetlights. Three on each truck, weapons ready. And between the trucks, a command vehicle carrying the Crimson Guard.
"Those are the soul cores," Seraph pointed at the rear truck. "Locked container in the back. You'll need to rip it open fast once we engage."
"What about the Crimson Guard?"
"I'll handle them. You focus on the Reapers." Seraph's blade began to glow brighter. "Remember, absorb the essence but push back against the memories. Don't let it overwhelm you."
The convoy was almost beneath them now. Davrin's heart hammered against his ribs.
"Ready?" Seraph asked.
No. Absolutely not. "Yeah."
"Good." She stood, blade blazing with silver light. "Let's make them regret their career choices."
Seraph jumped.
She fell three stories and hit the lead truck like a meteor, her blade punching through the roof. The vehicle swerved wildly, soldiers shouting inside. The Reapers on the back scrambled for weapons.
Davrin jumped a heartbeat later.
He had no blade, no fancy techniques. Just his fists wrapped in crackling red energy and a desperate need to not die in the next thirty seconds. He crashed onto the rear truck, the impact jarring his bones but the power cushioning the worst of it.
A Reaper spun toward him, chain weapon whipping out. Davrin ducked under it, muscle memory from street fights taking over. His glowing fist connected with the Reaper's chest plate.
The absorption happened instantly.
Energy flooded into him, raw and burning. The Reaper convulsed, essence pouring out through the point of contact. Davrin gritted his teeth against the flood of foreign memories trying to force their way in. Push back. Control it.
The Reaper collapsed empty. One down.
Two more were already on him, chains lashing. Davrin rolled, came up moving, his power flaring brighter now with the new essence settling into his core. He was faster than before, stronger. The chains missed by inches.
He grabbed one chain mid-swing, let his power flow up the metal. The Reaper on the other end screamed as red energy raced toward it.
Another absorption. Another flood of essence and memories pushing against his mind.
Something exploded behind him. Davrin turned to see Seraph locked in combat with a Crimson Guard, their weapons throwing off sparks and light. She was holding her own but barely, the Guard's superior strength showing.
No time to help her. The third Reaper was charging, and more were pouring out of the lead truck.
This was going wrong fast.
Davrin threw himself at the charging Reaper, abandoning defense for pure aggression. They collided in a tangle of limbs and chains. The Reaper was stronger, better trained, but Davrin had something it didn't.
Desperation.
He grabbed the Reaper's helmet with both hands, channeling everything he had into the absorption. The Reaper fought it, its essence resisting, but Davrin pulled harder. Memories exploded through his mind, too fast to process. Pain. So much pain.
The Reaper went limp.
Three down. Davrin stumbled, his head spinning from the rapid absorptions. Too much, too fast. Seraph's warning echoing in his mind.
The truck lurched to a stop. The container with the soul cores was right there, ten feet away. All he had to do was—
A blade of pure crimson light punched through the truck's roof between him and the container.
A Crimson Guard pulled herself up through the hole, armor gleaming blood-red. She was massive, enhanced muscles visible through gaps in the plate. Her blade was longer than Davrin was tall.
"Soul Devourer," she said, her voice amplified by her helmet. "Surrender and we'll make it quick."
"Yeah, I'm good, thanks." Davrin's power flared, but he could feel how unstable it was now. Three absorptions in under two minutes. His mind was barely holding together.
The Guard charged.
Davrin tried to dodge but his body was too slow, too overloaded with stolen essence. The crimson blade came down and he threw up his hands instinctively.
The red energy around his hands solidified.
It happened without conscious thought, pure survival instinct overriding his lack of training. The energy formed into a crude barrier, just enough to catch the blade inches from his face. The impact drove him to his knees, power straining.
The Guard's eyes widened behind her helmet. "Impossible. You're only Sparked-class—"
Davrin didn't let her finish. He released the barrier and lunged forward while she was off-balance, driving his hand into her chest plate. The armor was enhanced, reinforced with essence. It should have stopped him.
It didn't.
His power burned through the metal like it was paper, making contact with the Guard beneath. The absorption hit like lightning.
This was different from the Reapers. This was a Blazing-class soul, so much essence it felt like trying to swallow the sun. It poured into him in a torrent, threatening to tear him apart from the inside. Memories crashed through his mind, hundreds of kills, decades of service to the Empire, training and pain and power.
Too much. Way too much.
Davrin screamed, unable to stop the flow. The Guard collapsed but the absorption continued, draining every drop of essence from her enhanced form. His body lit up like a torch, red energy blazing so bright it hurt to look at.
Somewhere distant he heard Seraph shouting his name.
The world tilted sideways. Davrin hit the truck bed hard, essence still burning through his veins. His mind was fracturing under the weight of foreign memories. Had to push back, had to control it, had to—
Everything went black.
He woke to Seraph slapping his face.
"—up! Davrin, wake up now or I'm leaving you here!"
His eyes snapped open. They were moving, the city passing by in a blur. He was in the back of one of the convoy trucks, and Seraph was driving like a maniac.
"What..." His throat was raw. "What happened?"
"You absorbed a Crimson Guard and nearly killed yourself doing it." Seraph took a corner too fast, the truck tilting dangerously. "Your body shut down for thirty seconds. I grabbed the soul cores, grabbed you, and stole their truck. We've got maybe five minutes before every Reaper in the city is on our trail."
Davrin tried to sit up. His whole body hurt, but underneath the pain he could feel the new power settling into his core. So much stronger than before. The Crimson Guard's essence alone was worth ten Reapers.
"The cores," he managed. "Did you get them?"
"All twenty. They're in the back." Seraph's gold eye gleamed in the rearview mirror. "You did it, you crazy bastard. You actually pulled it off."
Sirens wailed behind them. Red and blue lights painting the buildings.
"Celebration later. Survival now." Seraph yanked the wheel hard right, sending them down a narrow alley. "Hold on to something!"
The truck barely fit between the buildings, scraping paint off both sides. Behind them, the pursuit vehicles were too wide, forced to find another route.
"Where are we going?" Davrin asked, finally managing to sit up properly.
"Somewhere they won't look. Somewhere we can lay low while you integrate all that essence." Seraph's smile was visible even from behind. "And then, my friend, we're going to the Scorched Wastes to find Vera Cross."
The truck burst out of the alley into a wider street. Seraph killed the lights, taking random turns through the warehouse district, losing their pursuit in the maze of identical buildings.
"Four days," Davrin said quietly, feeling the weight of it. "We have four days to find Mira."
"Then we better not waste them." Seraph glanced at him in the mirror. "How do you feel?"
Davrin closed his eyes, sensing the power inside him. It was massive now, barely contained, like holding a thunderstorm in a bottle. The Crimson Guard's memories were there too, accessible if he focused. Combat techniques, strategic knowledge, things that should have taken years to learn.
"Strong," he said. "I feel strong."
"Good." Seraph turned down another alley, finally slowing the truck to a less insane speed. "Because this was the easy part. Next comes the Wastes, and the things out there make Crimson Guards look like training dummies."
She pulled the truck into an abandoned garage and killed the engine.
"Get some rest while you can. Tomorrow we leave the city."
Davrin leaned back against the truck bed, exhaustion finally catching up to him. Twenty soul cores sat in locked containers behind him. Four days until Mira's integration. An entire Empire hunting them.
The odds were terrible.
But for the first time since this all started, Davrin felt like maybe, just maybe, he actually had a chance.
End of Chapter 5