Thirteen days later..

  My wires were entwined between my fingers, tight but not dangerous to me. I could feel every coil as it brushed over my skin. Familiar, cold, and thin as breath. I stood in the shadows cast by one of the many towering obsidian pillars that held up this massive throne room. The air was dense with silence, the kind that settles after blood has been spilled and decisions have been made. Purple draped everything—banners, carpets, even the faint glow of the lanterns—our signature color. That would be the case until the end of time, or until there was no one left to remember it.

  My fellow Minerals were all here with me. Well, the ones that were still alive. Borschmack was hunched over on a bench fashioned from darksteel, gnawing away at his fourth roasted chicken of the morning. Grease stained his chin, but he didn’t care—he never did. The Goko Twins sat cross legged on the tiled floor, backs to each other, taking turns flicking a strange little wooden toy. It had a string looped around a blunt hammer-shaped head, which they spun and yanked with a level of focus that made it seem like it mattered. To them, maybe it did.

  The others, Zion, Geralt, and Endo, had all perished on the frontlines. Even Toda. That one still stings, even if I pretend otherwise. The only one still alive is Haet, because of his nature. Normally, when a clan gets reduced to this—hollowed out and limping—I’d abandon ship. Cut my ties and vanish into the underworld. But Tektite is still around, and he’s had more potential than Toda from the start.

  The Goko Twins are too insane to have anywhere else to go. No clan would take them, no squad could handle them, and they seem to like it that way. Borschmack? He owes Toda. Bigtime. That debt's not something he’ll forget, even if he pretends it's just about the food.

  If Tektite still lives, he’ll work for Obsidian. No doubt about it. Little runt even knows my wire technique.

  A door opened.

  It came from the area where only Toda or Tektite are allowed. Their quarters. Deep behind the throne, shrouded by thick curtains and guarded by shadows. The heavy iron door creaked open, echoing through the quiet hall. All of us turned. Tektite emerged, calm and composed, his footsteps soft but deliberate on the polished stone floor. He walked around the throne without pause, his eyes scanning us only briefly, and then made his way to the stairs that led to the elevated platform.

  He climbed it slowly, then sat comfortably on the chair once belonging to Toda. The throne itself had our symbol, and was cushioned in purple velvet.

  He announced, "As you all know, Toda, Geralt, and Zion have died in Hasfra. I have been raised as his successor. If you have no objections, the rest of Obsidian won't either. So, do you have any objections?"

  I adjusted my glasses with one gloved hand, the other still coiled around my wires. They hung from my fingertips. “No, Tektite. Nobody does. You're the strongest and have the right, after all.”

  Borschmack took a huge chunk out of his chicken, speaking muffled through a mouthful of meat and grease, “Only if you avenge Toda. The loss of a body like his is a tragedy.”

  Tektite nodded solemnly. “It is a tragedy. So is our war effort. So far, we have lost more than twenty percent of our controlled towns, a quarter of our gold, and about half of our transcendent forces.”

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  His voice had a new edge now—measured, analytical. He wasn’t venting grief; he was conducting a post-mortem of our clan.

  Tektite explained, “One man, Vellin, the Piercing Serpent, has been the cause of this. Because he entered the Burnout Tournament, he was there to save the Demon Buddha and blow the whistle on the assassination. Because he killed Endo, we lost much of our gold. Because we lost much of our gold, we had to pay half and half with the mercenaries at Hasfra, which resulted in nothing being gained for titanic losses.”

  Yaro Goko, seated with his brother in their usual crouched posture, suddenly dropped the toy they’d been fiddling with.

  Hazo grabbed his younger sibling’s arms, stilling them.

  “Would you like to study Vellin?” he asked.

  Yaro looked disappointed, his fingers twitching slightly. “Sure, big bro.”

  Tektite’s eyes narrowed. He leaned forward slightly, placing one hand on the throne’s armrest. “Vellin killed Toda with his own hands. This is unacceptable.”

  I butted in, stepping slightly out from my pillar’s shadow. “Are we sure it was him and not say, Caleb?”

  Tektite shook his head. “I’ve confirmed it with one of the mercenaries who were there. Vellin killed Toda in a cave on the outskirts. Toda drew him in, but lost.”

  I brought my wire into a spider-like pattern between my hands, letting it shimmer. “Toda had him trapped in a web, but still couldn’t kill him. Vellin’s hiding things from even his own allies. Is it safe to say he’s that type, Tektite?”

  Tektite scratched his head, exhaling as though dragging up something difficult.

  “I can’t say for sure, but from the data your spies have gained, and what Haet has attested to, he is. He’s one of the few with no limits.”

  I smiled faintly, a rare twitch of satisfaction.

  Yaro perked up again. “Hey. Stop keeping secrets. He has no limits?”

  Tektite crushed the throne’s armrest with a sudden crack, splinters falling to the floor. “Yes. You’ve never wondered how the Cardaires were so strong it took the entirety of Sun to take even two out? Transcendents have the ability to grow stronger from near death experiences. You’ve all had some. From them, you’ve had little boosts of power. Very minor. A little faster, a little stronger. For the most prodigious, however, they get major boosts, and have much higher limits to said boosts. With their Unconscious God, they’re saved from nearly all manners of death. They easily attain these boosts and reach their limit quickly. Hematite, Haet, and I have been researching a way to go past this limit.”

  I wrapped the wire along my suit’s sleeve slowly. “That Taekwondo Grandmaster, Ryuha, is the key to this. He’s developing a concoction that increases your speed and power by upwards of two times for five minutes. Only the strongest of transcendent bodies can handle it, however. This is another reason why Toda paid the mercenaries half. This research is costing a lot of gold. Luckily, Ryuha is increasing the concoction’s safety, to where all transcendents can use it. It will pay off, eventually.”

  Tektite reached into his coat pocket and threw something to me. “Catch.”

  I caught whatever it was—reflexes never dulling. It was a small metal cylinder, heavy in my palm.

  Oh, is this?!

  Tektite threw another capsule to Borschmack. “Yes. This is it. Ryuha has coined it 'Surge’. Sadly, I only have three capsules on hand. Sorry Yaro, Hazo. You’ll get one when more are made. It takes time.”

  Yaro shrugged with a faint smirk. “It’s fine. I don’t want to risk my good looks on something experimental anyway.”

  Tektite stood up, his dark cape dragging across the stone floor, rustling softly. The throne behind him looked slightly less imposing with a cracked armrest, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I want you all to gather our available forces. We’re heading to Grand Sasebella to avenge Toda, and show the world who’s the strongest clan.”

  I spun the capsule in my hand slowly, letting the light reflect off its smooth surface. “You’re already proving yourself. With these at our disposal, there’s no way we could lose.”

  Tektite’s cape flared as a gust of wind passed through the chamber’s open archways. He walked forward, down the steps, unshaken and precise.

  “Toda thought he was untouchable. That’s why he died. I know I’m just like the rest, and that keeps me alive.”