Arcee crouched beside the utility room's rusted doorway, her eyes scanned the dim fluorescent lights overhead.
The mission wasn't just dangerous; it was impossible. Four of them, trapped on the second floor of the Arcology, surrounded by layers of hostile security and Henry, predictably, acting as if danger was a polite suggestion.
Cagaro leaned against the wall, fingers drumming nervously on the metal frame.
"We need backup." he said, voice low but firm. "This isn't going to end well if we move alone. We pull in a team, we increase survival chances by what—sixty percent?"
He paused, looking at Arcee, then at Blyke, who was adjusting the white coat on his shirt like it could absorb probability.
Henry scoffed, shaking his head. "No. They are on something, they haven't any civilians yet. At least not in our sight."
His optimism or stubbornness... was infuriating. Arcee's mind traced the chain of consequences. If Henry ran ahead, if Cagaro waited for support that might not arrive in time, if Blyke misread the patrol patterns—they could all die before reaching the core of the Arcology.
Blyke remained quiet, eyes scanning the floor below the grated vent. His silence said more than words ever could. He trusted Arcee's calculations but Henry's impatience was a volatile factor he couldn't ignore.
"Henry," Arcee said, her voice even but sharp, "this isn't about courage. Probability favors caution here. One mistake and we lose more than just time."
Henry's jaw tightened. "Fine." he muttered, but his eyes betrayed the conflict. He hated waiting.
Cagaro's eyes flicked between Henry and Blyke, unease coiling in his chest.
"What about Astra?" he asked, his voice barely went above a whisper. The weight of the question hung heavy in the utility room.
Henry's face darkened instantly, the edges of his patience fraying.
"You want to know about it now?" he barked, stepping close to Blyke. "Then you're going to learn it from him, whether you like it or not."
There was no room for negotiation; Henry's insistence carried the authority of experience and obsession. Blyke flinched slightly but didn't resist.
"All right." Blyke said, voice steady despite the tension, "Listen carefully. This isn't casual knowledge."
His eyes locked on Cagaro's, measuring understanding. "Astras are not ordinary weapons. Each Astra is bound to a specific person through a sigil. That sigil is the core link, the lock-and-key between the weapon and its user. Astras are made from Runic Stones, yes, those things which came with the comet. Without the sigil connection, an Astra is useless; it will not respond to anyone else."
Cagaro's brow furrowed. "So anyone can't just pick one up and swing it?"
Blyke shook his head. "Exactly. And even when an Astra chooses its user or rather, when the user unlocks it—the potential is not universal. One person might wield it with minimal effect while another can push it beyond conventional limits. Astras adapt to the user and the user can later modify them to fit their combat style."
Henry's voice cut in,
"Like mine. Dimensional Cut isn't something you just find on an Astra. I developed it. My Runic Flow output is high enough to execute four or five dimensional slashes in a row without collapsing my energy. Someone else with my Astra couldn't even reach one full dimensional slash."
Blyke nodded, continuing for clarity. "The basic attack of Henry's Astra is simple. Throwing wind slashes, multiple slashes in a single strike but the special skills like Henry's Dimensional Cut, are only unique to the certain user who has developed it.
These skills are extensions of the bond between the Astra and its person. The cost is high. Dimensional Cut consumes Runic Flow but in Henry's case, his natural output compensates for it."
Cagaro's eyes widened, awe and fear mingling. "So… it's not just a weapon. It's… part of the person?"
"Yes, somehow..." Blyke said quietly. "Astras are more than tools. They are reflections of their users, their energy, their skill and even their temperament. Understanding one fully is understanding the person it belongs to."
Henry leaned back, arms crossed, exhaling sharply. "And now you know why messing with Astras is not a game. Respect them and keep distance or die trying to harness it."
Henry stretched his shoulders as if he had just finished a warm-up rather than a lecture about dimensional weaponry.
"You know," he said casually, glancing at Blyke, "for someone who explains things for a living, you still sound like a dusty textbook."
Blyke rolled his eyes. "Also, for someone who nearly collapses after a laundry session, you talk too much."
Henry smirked. "Yeah? At least I have a face people remember, yours is forgettable on a good day."
"Bro, your face makes onions cry."
Blyke replied dryly. "I could eat alphabet soup and shit out a smarter sentence than that."
Cagaro watched them bicker, his mind drifting inward. What are they doing? he wondered. We are inside a hostile Arcology, surrounded by unknown patrol routes and they are arguing like this is a café.
Yet beneath the sarcasm, he sensed something else. It kept the fear from settling too deeply.
Henry nudged Blyke's shoulder lightly. "Admit it. Without me, you would still be explaining what Runic Flow is to recruits who cannot even hold a sigil steady."
"And without me," Blyke shot back, "you would have accidentally sliced open a wall into vacuum cleaner."
"That happened once."
"It happened twice."
Arcee, who had been leaning against the metal cabinet while checking the hallway camera feed, finally exhaled through her nose. "Ignore their trash talk." she said calmly to Cagaro. "This is how they regulate stress. If they stop arguing, that is when you should worry.
Henry grinned. "See? She gets it."
Blyke sighed. "Unfortunately."
Cagaro nodded slowly. Maybe this was not recklessness but a way to stay human in a place designed to strip that away.
They moved out of the utility room in a loose formation, boots quiet against the metal flooring.
The corridor stretched ahead in sterile gray panels and dim emergency strips of light.
Henry walked slightly ahead, hands behind his head as if this were a casual stroll instead of a rescue inside hostile territory.
Blyke followed at measured pace, scanning corners automatically. Arcee kept count of intersections. Cagaro stayed centered, observing everything.
"You still overthink everything," Henry said lightly to Cagaro.
"So you underthink everything?" he replied without looking at him.
Henry smirked. "Fame me. We are alive because I am talented." then he sighed. " Glazing yourself feels like wasting time."
Cagaro almost smiled. The tension from earlier had thinned into something manageable. Their voices echoed softly down the long hall.
A violent crash detonated from the far end.
Metal screamed. Something heavy slammed into the ground.
Smoke burst outward in a rolling wave, swallowing the lights. Dust filled the air instantly, thick and blinding.
Henry's posture shifted in a heartbeat.
"They are here."