Quin breathed hard as he and Conon crossed one of the sky bridges in town. Even in the cool night air of high altitude, sweat covered his body.

  He moved at a gingerly pace and made sure to keep his head forward. He was especially cautious with darkness abound.

  Conon turned back to his straggling partner, his face stooped while his long sigh revealed some exasperation.

  “Are you okay or not?” he asked. “Ever since we got up here, you’ve been slowin’ down. You had all that energy earlier. If yer ‘n bad shape, you gotta tell me.”

  “I told you, I’m fine,” Quin responded. “I know I’m fine. It’s just my body’s having a hard time keeping up. I’m not hurt though, I’m...fine.”

  Conon shook his head. “Dunno why you think now’s a good time to talk ‘n riddles. Can you tell yer body to hurry up?”

  They navigated through the elevated district of town until they reached a crowd of Sentar’i. The impromptu audience looked down and cheered the Yerps as they climbed the many steps of the taller tower.

  They were a few dozen steps away from being at eye level, every step up brought more cheers.

  Conon stepped into the crowd until he himself had a better view. He raised an eyebrow at the activity.

  He asked no one in particular, “D’you have any idea why they’re doin’ that?”

  “No damned clue,” answered an amused Sentar’i next to him. “They just started racing up the stairs. Surprised they’re still going. Probably as drunk as we are, maybe even more. Still, a show’s a show.”

  He then noticed the interlocutor wore a cloak and their smile vanished.

  “Unless you lot are here to ruin it.”

  “It’s a show til something breaks.” Conon had one foot above the barrier when his eyes spotted other Tyrovivs along the innumerable steps.

  Surrounded in the glow of torchlight, they progressed up the stairs with their steps in sync.

  What took the Yerps several minutes to climb, the cloaked Sentar’i pulled off in seconds. With no signs of fatigue nor exhaustion, they approached the Yerps as if they just started their trek.

  “What sort of madness is this?” a Cosondere asked. “Who or what compelled you to engage in such activities at this hour?”

  Too winded to answer right away, each of the Yerps simply lifted a hand in the air.

  “No matter, it comes to an end now. The trip down shouldn’t be as bad as the trip up, so let’s go.”

  “Nooo!” one of the Yerps yelled out. “We’re not...there yet. We all have to make it first. Then we can go.”

  Quin finally ambled his way over to the crowd. With no interests to look over the edge, he stood behind his teammate and hoped his ears could pick up on the conversation.

  Fortunately for him, the chat below started to get loud.

  “What business would Yerps have up here, and again this late?” the Cosondere raised. “Whatever it is, it can wait for daylight. Now, downwards.”

  “We’ll head down when it’s time to head down,” was the reply they receive. Not a good answer.

  “You’ll head down because I told you to head down! You have one of two options. You go down these stairs at your own Yerp pace, or we’ll help you find a faster way down. Now make your choice and make it fast before it’s made for you.”

  Quin heard groans among the crowd. He saw them roll their eyes or shake their heads. Some already began to leave, they apparently knew how this would turn out.

  “Well it was fun while it lasted,” Quin heard before he slid ahead to get a view.

  Someone else pointed out to a tower further away. “Look, there they are on the other towers too.”

  Just like the steps closest to Quin, Tyrovivs climbed the identical towers. Events earlier put the Cosondera on edge and the sustained lack of any high ranked Cosondere didn’t help.

  The Yerps might have engaged in some spontaneous fun, but spontaneity was the last thing a Cosondere needed.

  The Yerps though, were surprisingly non-compliant.

  “We’re not there yet, so we can’t go down yet. That’s just how it is.”

  The Tyroviv scoffed at that statement. “‘That’s...just how it is’? Is that so?” He raised a finger before he pointed it forward.

  In a flash, a handful of the Cosondera blocked the way ahead. The scene took over Quin’s fears as he had a new worry in his head.

  Across town on the other towers, the Tyrovivs there moved ahead with their aggression.

  In the small patch of light off in the distance, Quin saw the Yerps beaten down with a quickness. One tumbled down several steps before a single cloak attempted to stop their descent.

  Only one word ran in his brain: unnecessary.

  “You two had your choice and it appears you want the hard way,” he heard below. “If that’s the case, then we’ll oblige.”

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  “Wait!” Quin blurted before he leaped over to the crowd in cloaks.

  The Tyroviv in charge turned back to face him. Quin couldn’t get a good look at them with their hood draped over, but the torchlight helped him discern that the cloaked man before him appeared slightly older.

  The Tyroviv sported an irritated frown. “What? Who? What’s this all about?”

  “We shouldn’t waste our energy on...no name Yerps,” Quin started with hands up to signal a stop. “Who knows what else can happen this evening.”

  He slowly walked ahead of the main Tyroviv and moved closer to the Yerps. He continued to face his cloaked associate as he backed up the steps.

  “We should conserve what we have for any real threats and not squander it so uh frivo...frivously? Um...” Where was Onyl when he needed her. “Frivolously! We shouldn’t be so frivolous about it.”

  “What madness are you on about?” asked the Tyroviv. “Do you have any business for jumping in like this?”

  “I’m here for the same reason as you, to try and peacefully put an end to this.”

  Quin backed up to the Yerps and whispered, “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but you got to go now. I can only hold them back for so lon-”

  Close enough to get a better look at the two Yerps, Quin noticed an unsettling feature on the two men. Out of the corner of his eye, dark tips were displayed on top of their hands.

  Bad feelings barely had to sink in before they were confirmed. Crashing noises were heard behind the Tyrovivs, chaos suddenly appeared in the streets below.

  Fights broke out in scattered parts of town. People fled in a mad dash search for safety. Sentar’i propelled themselves to the roofs in flight; Quin saw some crash back down to the ground.

  He also spotted what appeared to be the source of the bedlam.

  On the ground, dozens of people wrapped in all black assaulted Yerp and Sentar’i alike.

  Some made their attacks above buildings. Some were involved in the random fights. All seemed to posses an object that made them instant threats.

  They’d tossed bottles at any unsuspecting citizen and in no time, the poor souls dropped and writhed in apparent agony.

  Without a doubt, the city was swept up by an ambush.

  Quin and the rest of the Cosondera on the steps charged down with utmost haste. The dangerous figures shot themselves up into the colony.

  A life or death struggle ensued above the city. An ambiance of battle cries filled the ears.

  Up on the sky bridges, one assailant darted a bottle at Conon who ducked it at the last second. His eyes widened as they followed the bottle to the floor.

  The assailant pressed on and met Conon with a series of strikes to the face. Conon blocked each one as he backed away across the bridge.

  Even for a Sentar’i, a drop from their height would lead to certain death.

  Conon saw his opening and went for a high kick. His leg went right through his opponent and over the bridge barricade.

  As soon as he realized he faced another ghost artist, Conon took a lash kick to his back and the rest of him flew over the barricade.

  He couldn’t reach the handrail in his fall, but his [Ghost Chain] made up for that and wrapped around a baluster.

  With his chain, Conon swung underneath the bridge and circled around to meet his opponent from the other side.

  Just when the foe noticed the chain and what transpired, they turned around and received two boots to the chest.

  Now they were kicked off the bridge; their [Chain] couldn’t stretch out to the barricade.

  Back on the ground, Quin had to avoid both flying bottles and flying bodies. In the pandemonium, a fire broke out.

  People who shut themselves indoors now had to escape the burgeoning blaze. Screams were heard in all directions and from all distances.

  Quin just wanted to find Arty and the rest. He wanted to find Aesther.

  The Black Nails got in his way regardless. He ran down a narrow street when one of them dove down before him and lunged forward.

  Quin bent back to dodge their kick and the two briefly squared up.

  The unknown attacker rummaged through their wraps and procured a dagger before they thrust it at Quin.

  At the last second, he noticed the short blade and contorted his torso as far back as he could while he twirled out of the way.

  His opponent snapped back around when he kicked the dagger out of their grip.

  As soon as his foot touched the ground, Quin sent it right back up and planted his boot across the assailant’s face.

  Down they went, but Quin had no time to keep them down. He busted out from the small road and zipped in the direction of where the chroniclers rested.

  The flames burned brighter. The screams rang louder.

  Brave souls passed buckets of water along to put out as much as they could.

  They threw hooks over burning structures and attempted to demolish them to stop the spread. Buildings crashed down with a thud and added to the widespread mix of cacophony.

  The Sentar’i used their speed and strength to douse buildings from above with barrels of water. The spatial artists in particular used their [Airboxes] to impede the blaze.

  Obviously, they wanted no fires to reach their colony and they employed every skill they had to at least keep the spread at ground level.

  Still, Quin took a quick second to appreciate the teamwork among the Sentar’i and Yerps. They could work together when circumstances forced them to.

  Soon, he went back to his search. Despite the combined efforts, smoke still took over the skies.

  It didn’t help that the Black Nails stymied all recovery attempts with their attacks on the unguarded Sentar’i.

  Quin arrived at the district he last saw the chroniclers or at least he believed so. Fire and unfamiliarity did much to hinder his navigation.

  All he knew was he stood on a raised path, up ahead stood a small stairway down to the lower roads.

  The flames lit up the town better than any lantern though and when someone ran up the stairway ahead, Quin noticed a mole right away.

  Quin lifted his mask and screamed, “Yach!”

  Carbon air entered his lungs and a brief coughing spell befell him. It took his attention away from what occurred next.

  “Quin? Is that you?” Yach asked before a projectile bottle smashed against his face.

  “No...NOOOOO!”

  Yach landed side first on the ground, he started to convulse. Quin sprinted over when his eyes detected a shrouded foe.

  At the bottom of the stairs, they were likely the one responsible for what happened to Yach. Their hand carried another dangerous bottle.

  The next second, they chucked the toxic item right for Quin. He went with the first thing that came to mind.

  He blasted a [Gust] attack that not only stopped the flung bottle, but smashed it to pieces. The wind carried it all backwards and bashed it into the swathed attacker.

  Knocked to the ground, they tried to spring up when they dropped back down. They rolled and squirmed on the ground as Quin looked on with uncertainty.

  He was briefly paralyzed with worry and indecision.

  His eyes traveled back to Yach, now motionless. Instantly, his mind and body bolted for the man he journeyed with for this whole time.

  Just when he lowered himself to a crouch to check on the poor Yerp, Quin felt an invisible wall that prevented contact. He made multiple attempts to reach out to Yach, all blocked off by the air itself.

  His head swiveled as he looked for the spatial artist behind this barrier. Past the stairs and yards down a road stood a lone figure.

  Not wrapped up at all, his braided locks made him easy to tell. Arthur only stared at the muddled Cosondere before him.

  In complete contrast to Quin, Arthur lifted a foot over his downed ally with no hints of concern.

  Quin had no time for any scraps. He bashed onto the [Airbox], every attempt more erratic than last. Yach laid just a couple of steps away and yet he couldn’t reach him at all.

  His eyes closed and his mouth opened as he screamed and bashed at the invisible wall; each time, he became louder and louder.

  Finally Quin ceased his desperate knocks. On his knees, he simply stared at Yach. A layer of water covered his eyes. He knew good and well what he was looking at.

  At the same time, he didn’t know for sure. There was no time to mope.

  Quin turned to his new opponent. His prior opponent. Perhaps, his main opponent.