Last night in Kowloon’s South, Cheng stood shoulder to shoulder with his brethren-in-arms on the rooftop of the Ho Man Ting Mall, his breath forming clouds of condensation in the crisp night air. Each moment prickled with a tension that somehow felt new, despite the habitual chaos of Kowloon’s south.

  He knew he couldn’t draw from any past experiences to aid him now. This wouldn’t be a random skirmish in the alleys, or just another instance of violence reverberating through the concrete veins of Kowloon. The Yau bombings had changed everything, and now he saw every encounter with the Yang as a loaded gun hanging over the city’s innocent populace. He clenched his fists, ready to do whatever he could to protect them all.

  As Cheng stood there, staring at the thousands of heads awaiting in anticipation, his focus was broken by the sound of Shing’s brisk voice. Cheng turned back, hearing General Denzhen give the praefect orders in a hushed whisper.

  ‘… Yes, General. Right away,’ Cheng heard. Shing turned and jogged over to him. As he approached, he offered a bow.

  ‘Good work getting here swiftly, Praefect,’ Cheng said. ‘I don’t see Yutai. Where is he?’

  ‘About that, sir. We were in Kam Shan doing something urgent for Tong Feng. We couldn’t abandon the task for the night. He sends his apologies; he’ll wrap up and get here as soon as he can.’

  Cheng shook his head. I gave Yutai an order. ‘Fine, we’ll discuss this later. Get into position. I have a feeling things are going to kick off soon.’

  Shing walked to Cheng’s right and removed his rifle off his back. He pulled out it’s pronged stand below the barrel and slowly laid himself prone against the gritty rooftop. With his PAW12 perched on the rooftops edge, he placed his eye in the scope and began scanning the crowd. Cheng stood up high above the anxious crowds, hoping Yutai would get here before trouble started.

  As the King rail announced its arrival in Ho Man Ting City, Yutai dashed out, his footsteps echoing through the dark, silent Yau embassy. Exiting the building, he locked the door behind him and was met with a massive crowd surging towards Ho Man Ting Square. Joining the human tide, he navigated the dense sea of people, overhearing whispers of ‘Is that a Kingmaker?’

  Despite the collective body heat making him sweat under his leather trench coat, Yutai pressed on, eyes fixed on the glowing blue display of his holo-map. When the 18/5th corridor appeared, he broke free from the crowd and bolted through a metal gate into a dark alley that was shortcut to his destination. Thunderous roars echoed from the square, increasing the tension with every step. I need to get to the signal before the caller leaves!

  He darted through small alleyways until he found an archway that led towards Ho Man Ting University. Light rain and chilly winds hit Yutai as the alleys gave way to an open overhead space. He approached the backside of the looming brutalist structure, away from the ongoing main spectacle. The roar of the crowd rose from the opposite side of the university building, and he was stunned by the scope of the event.

  Yutai charged up a short ramp towards the back doors of the university, only to find them locked. A twitch of anger surged through him, and he kicked the door in frustration. He walked backwards some distance, taking in the rear of the building as his eyes scanned for a point of entry. The signal is coming from the 13th floor.

  Yutai caught sight of a small scaffold on the fourth floor’s broad landing, with a window at its top.

  An entrance, perhaps?

  With renewed energy, he took several steps back and leapt onto the small awning jutting above the locked door. Hoisting himself up, he scrambled up windowsills and cracks in the greyed, damp plaster, reaching for anything he could leverage to climb higher. Even under the drizzle, the grip of his boot remained steadfast against the wet surface.

  I hope Shing is doing okay.

  ‘Hold fire!’ General Denzhen ordered, standing at the rear of all the men.

  Shing’s finger twitched above the trigger of his formidable PAW12, wrestling with the urge to pull the trigger. His right eye was engulfed by the scope, trained on the silent silhouette of a man known as Mogwei to the Yang, and the Ibilis to everyone else. He stood, a microphone in hand, waiting high up on the ledge of HMTU.

  A granite statue of a man with an unyielding gaze, Denzhen was shouting orders to the six other Kingmakers and the two units of the Nanfang gangsters, making 26 individuals on the rooftop altogether.

  Beyond the lip of the rooftop below them, the square was packed with thousands of people, gathered under the glow of lights spilling from the gargantuan groundscrapers flanking the square. Their collective murmurs and chatter vibrated through the concrete, a monotonous drone of rebellion fuelled by generations of outrage and alienation.

  ‘I think most here are Yang sympathisers,’ Cheng said as he eyed the crowd. The comment fell on deaf ears, Shing was consumed by the spectacle unfolding across the square at Ho Man Ting University.

  ‘How long?!’ Shing heard General Denzhen bark into his holocommunicator behind them. ‘No, Mr Enji, your men need to get there, NOW! What do you mean there’s been a hold-up at the fort? Then tell them to hurry up!’

  The general growled as he hung up the line. Shing had heard of Mr Enji. He was the district coordinator for Ho Man Ting’s special operative force: The Tien Tao Riot Squad.

  The air felt heavy, dense with anticipation and foreboding, flecks of rain sprinkling past Shing’s magnified scope as he stared at the Ibilis. Suddenly, the elusive figure raised his hands, a simple gesture that wielded the power to silence thousands. Shing watched as the figure began to speak, his voice amplified across the square, bouncing off the steel and concrete of their southern underground city.

  ‘Children of Kowloon, my warriors of the South,’ the Ibilis began. ‘No longer shall we remain bound to the chains of bondage! For too long, they have marginalised us, pushing us to the fringes of society, and silenced our voices. Today, I stand before you to reignite the hope that flickers within the South…

  …They fear us because they know we hold the power. We are the backbone of this world. We toil in the mines, we run their machines, we leave our homes and families to build their towers of concrete and steel throughout Kowloon. And still, they overlook us, disregard us, and treat us as less than the dirt they tread upon. Operation Searchlight provided proof of their actions, when they violently deported our innocent brothers and sisters in District Yau with no proof or due process. They marched them south, through hundreds of kilometres of suffocating alleys. Our children left dead in gutters along the way, the Light awaiting them to this DAY!’

  His vengeful voice thundered from the square, from the other side of the university building. The escalating roars that followed dangerously raised Yutai pulse. He stood on a scaffold cluttered with paint cans and rollers just outside a closed window on the fourth floor. He attempted to hoist the window, but it was locked.

  Damn it!

  Cursing under his breath, he withdrew his hand cannon from beneath his trench coat, shattering the window with a single, silenced shot drowned out by the noise from the crowd. After kicking out the remaining shards, he unlatched the window from the inside and hoisted himself indoors, the crunch of shattered glass beneath his boots welcoming his intrusion into the dark hallways of the university.

  Now he had a new predicament: left or right? Opting for the right, he sprinted down the winding hallway, his eyes scanning for an elevator amidst the closed doors and windows. The soft sounds of rain hitting the windows accompanied his dash down the hallways, shadows of the streaks of water slithering down the left walls. Yutai saw a sign pointing towards the fire escape. He ran in that direction and found an open door to a staircase – an emergency exit with no railings, its grey walls promising a quick ascent. He rushed up the stairs, mentally ticking off the levels as he ran.

  7… 8… 9…

  Dashing two steps at a time, he heard the Ibilis’ voice reverberate through the university walls and echo up and down the fire escape.

  ‘Our cousins in the north, the core, the west, they live a life we can only dream of. Well-lit homes, abundant food, warm clothes on their backs, while we’ve been fighting over scraps for generations. Is this justice? Is this equality? Is this how we treat the people of Dong’s birthplace? As we watch our eastern brethren starve on our doorstep, we see our shared oppressor locking their door, leaving them to their slow deaths. Those very brethren who laid their lives to defend us during the bloody rebellions. We watch the dynasty scoff at our demands for fairer treatment, laugh at us when we demanded our imprisoned siblings back from their foreign prisons…’

  … and then they have the audacity to act surprised when we resist!’ The Ibilis raised an open palm and placed it over his chest. ‘A new flame burns blue in the heart of the south. A flame that the winds of their neglect and apathy cannot extinguish, but fan to intensities untold. That flame is the spirit of the Yang – the spirit of resistance and the manifestation of Dong’s final calling. We are the successors of his mission, the chosen of the Light!’

  ‘Sir?’ Shing shouted through the din to General Denzhen. ‘I can put an end to this right now!’ His glass scope was fixed on the Ibilis’ left knee. If he fired now, it would rip the madman’s leg into two pieces.

  ‘No, not yet. This is the first time they’re stating their demands publicly. Even they deserve to say their piece.’

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  ‘Why the fuck are we letting them do this?’ Shing muttered under his breath.

  The Ibilis continued, quieter, more sombre. ‘That is why I appear before you with a heavy heart. All of you know how hard we have tried… with our lives no less. But the painful reality is that, from Shenzhen to Nam Bato, the streets are filled with desperation and grief. The East starves. The West may not know it, but they are on the brink of divine punishment. In the Huang Wildlands, the blood of our starved brethren stains the floors of every building red, from the ground to the peaks of the 100th levels…

  … Today, the people of Kowloon want freedom, the people of Kowloon want to survive, and the people of Zhongguo want to have their right to a dignified life! The Yaozhi’s Mandate of Heaven has been smashed, and all can see it!’

  Upon reaching the 13th floor, the sprawling labyrinth of hallways stretched before Yutai, blanketed in a foreboding stillness. From this floor, only the echoes of the Ibilis’ voice reached him, the crowds a lot more distant. He quickly snatched at every knob, hoping one would be unlocked. He crossed windows, still fighting against the patter of rain, hoping his target hadn’t escaped.

  Yutai turned a corner and noticed a door ajar in the distance. He approached it slowly, with the Ibilis’s amplified voice as the foreboding backdrop to his advance.

  Cautiously, Yutai slid out his RS6 hand cannon from its holster with one hand, then nudged the door open with the other. He aimed the gun inside, panning left and right in tandem with his racing heartbeat, scanning the vast darkness that swallowed the room. He was in a chemical laboratory. A spectral crimson glow spilled through a wide window at the far end of the lab, bathing the furniture and walls in an eerie red wash that almost seemed to drip down their surfaces. Yutai realised the colour came from a length of red fabric draped over the window outside, fluttering in the wind and muting the harsh lights beyond. Right now, where was the caller?

  Could it have been…

  ‘Our THIRD demand, AND OUR FINAL AND MOST IMPORTANT ORDER…

  … Puyin and the Kingmakers’ unconditional surrender of the Ditu over to the people of Kowloon, for true freedom will only come once we depart from the chains of the underground! By his word, the Prophet Dong has promised you!’

  ‘That’s enough,’ General Denzhen hissed, arms crossed, hearing the cheers and roars of the crowd. ‘Take your shot, Shing.’

  ‘Kill or—’ Shing began.

  ‘Kill.’ The General’s voice was icy cold.

  The time for listening had ended.

  In an instant, Shing’s aimed his scope to the Ibilis’s forehead and his finger pulled the trigger. Barking a single deadly shot, the deafening echo reverberated off the buildings and tore through the open space above the square, the air spiralling around the metal round, the dull glow of the tracer striking the centre of the mask.

  As Yutai stepped into the dark lab, the rip of a single rifle shot from the square outside stilled the air around him. A sound he recognised all too well – Shing’s PAW12. He hesitated briefly, his foot poised in mid-air before taking another step into the room.

  ‘Brothers and sisters, they mean to silence me! This isn’t over; do not let our dreams perish!’

  Suddenly, a barrage of gunshots unleashed from the outside, with what felt like a hundred guns letting loose. The relentless firing battered against the building, causing the room to shudder. The voice from the outside echoed, the crowd’s roar intensifying into pandemonium. Amid the gunfire and frenzied shouts, Yutai’s gut forced his gaze onto the obscured window, his brows knitted in expectation. A hunch gnawed at him, the hairs on his arms rising as if he were standing on the precipice of something momentous…

  CRASH!!

  A sudden fury of movement and shattering glass erupted around Yutai, the deafening crack of a splintering window slicing through the air past him. He raised his arms to protect his face from the sharp shards, the lab now howling with wind and pulsating lights from the square.

  As his mind surged into overdrive, a masked, robed figure materialised through the window. A punch, swift as a silent spear, surged towards Yutai’s head. With a sharp snap of his arms, Yutai blocked it and countered with a combination of powerful jabs and swings; all which the the figure ducked and weaved around. Yutai’s strikes spoke of an intention to cause serious bodily harm… but when the masked man punched back, it whispered the intention of murder.

  Shoving the man back, Yutai vaulted off a lab bench on his right and rocked him with a spinning tornado kick. Yutai’s officer’s cap flew off in the flurry, but the masked man barely wobbled, firing back a barrage of rapid jabs. Yutai, graceful as a shadow, danced away, just out of reach.

  Capitalising on a brief opening, Yutai grabbed both the man’s arms, yanked him closer, and smashed the masked face with a powerful headbutt.

  Shockwaves reverberated through his skull as he realised the ‘mask’ was more a helmet than a piece of vanity. Both of them stumbled back from the headbutt, but Yutai forced his own pain and nausea aside as he lunged forward, aiming to grapple him to the floor. Instead, he received an iron-hard uppercut to his chin.

  His consciousness flickered as he stumbled backwards. As the masked man shuffled forward, bobbing through the air like a boxer, Yutai grabbed his hand cannon and swung it towards the man’s head – the man swiped it to the side – BANG!

  The right wall exploded into fragments and splinters across their faces.

  The man grabbed Yutai’s gun arm, seizing the wrist and striking the elbow. The gun fell out of his palms, but then Yutai’s two fingers dove straight into the eyeholes of the mask and he yanked it back.

  Fuck, I can almost see him!

  With a startled grunt, the man released Yutai’s arm and scrambled to secure his mask – but Yutai wasn’t about to let him. Seizing the sides of the mask with both hands, Yutai drove a powerful kick into the man’s midsection, determined to rip it off once and for all. But the masked figure clinched tightly around Yutai’s torso, slammed a knee into his groin, and hurled him onto a lab bench cluttered with computers.

  Spitting blood, Yutai sprang to his feet with a swift kip-up, but his opponent was already atop the bench, fists and legs a blur of martial arts prowess. Bone clashed against bone as kicks and punches snapped through the air, their exchanges turning into a desperate slugfest.

  ‘He’s gone!’ voices murmured from around the rooftop, incredulous.

  ‘Rioters, storm the building! Leave no corner unseen! I want that Ibilis in Xhiku links before the hour!’ the general barked into his holocommunicator.

  ‘Shing, do you have a visual?’ Cheng called. Shing’s scope scanned the rip in the banner, through which he could see a shattered window. As he fixed his sight through the dark hole…

  ‘What in the name of the Light?’

  ‘What do you see, Shing?!’ Cheng demanded.

  ‘I have a visual of the Ibilis inside the room… but there’s another person inside, and I can’t tell what they’re doing.’

  ‘General!’ Cheng shouted to the back.

  ‘What is it, Cheng?’

  ‘We have confirmation that the Ibilis is inside that room!’ Cheng pointed to the shattered window behind the torn banner. ‘But there’s another unidentified person inside. What are your orders?’

  The general nodded and contacted the Rioters storming the university building.

  ‘Mr Enji? Have any of your rioters reached the Ibilis? All right, understood.’

  The general raised his arm in the air. ‘Men! Take aim at that window!’

  Despite his adept defence, Yutai found himself retreating inch by inch; the masked man assault was relentless. The martial arts style was something he’d never encountered as his adversary seemed to predict every one of his moves.

  Beakers shattered, circuits flew, and lab materials transformed into weapons swung around the lab, discarded as quickly they were used. They leapt from bench to bench as the brutality continued. Yutai glanced at his hand cannon on the floor near the door.

  The brief distraction a mistake – his assailant deftly manoeuvred around Yutai, leaping onto his shoulder and yanking his left arm straight. Yutai lost his footing and they both crashed to the floor, his arm now trapped between the masked man’s crisscrossed legs in a tight armbar. He pulled it back, subjecting Yutai’s arm to untold pain.

  Locked in his assailant’s vice-like grip, Yutai could feel his elbow creak under the strain. He scrabbled at the floor with his right hand, spotting a fallen broomstick about a meter away. But when he reached for the thick white strands of the mop head, the masked man yanked his arm even harder, causing Yutai to shriek.

  He felt his elbow hyperextend and about to pop out, but with one final heave, dragging the masked man’s body with him, Yutai grabbed a single strand of the mop, seized its long handle, spun it around and thrust it into an eye hole of the mask.

  The man let out a yell, and suddenly the crippling hold was broken. Adrenaline shot Yutai back to his feet as he shook off the searing pain in his arm, while the masked man scrambled to his feet, and covered the mask’s left eye hole with his hand.

  Yutai was laser-focused on his adversary. I better have taken that bastard’s eye!

  He felt something pour out his nose and he wiped it with his sleeve, noticing a streak of red against the black leather. His assailant looked at the hand that was covering his eye and rubbed his palm against red robes.

  The two stood there, a tense stand-off punctuating the whirling chaos that had lasted mere minutes since the window shattered in Yutai’s face. Now was the moment to end it. Both Yutai and the robed figure raised their fists to their chin. Each braced for the deathly round to restart.

  Suddenly, the room erupted in a furious storm of bullets coming through the window.

  BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

  Without a second thought, Yutai slid across the floor behind a nearby bench. The masked assailant mirrored his actions and ducked behind a second bench just a meter away from Yutai, divided by a curtain of gunfire. Yutai noticed the man’s eerie calmness through the deafening sounds.

  The bullets flew into the back wall of the room and the floor; computers blew up, glass closets shattered, and everything in the room slowly disintegrated. Yutai knew if he peeked out for even a second, he would lose his head. He looked at the cover where the masked man had been… but he was gone. The door slammed open, and Yutai caught a glimpse of the man’s red robes as he ran off. He’d escaped, but the firing had not stopped. Yutai, knowing Cheng was with the other gangsters firing into the room, called him from his holocommunicator.

  As Cheng answered, Yutai could hear the echo of gunfire on his end too.

  ‘STOP FIRING! I’M IN THE ROOM!’ Yutai yelled over the chaos. ‘I’M IN THE FUCKING ROOM!’

  The confusion in Cheng’s voice was palpable. ‘YUTAI? YOU’RE WHERE?!’

  There was a brief pause, and then Yutai heard Cheng’s distant voice order, ‘CEASE FIRE! WE HAVE A KINGMAKER INSIDE!

  ‘YUTAI IS INSIDE!’ Cheng roared across the rooftop, waving his arms like a madman to signal the cease-fire, but his voice couldn’t overpower the deafening sounds of the firing squad. General Denzhen was the only one who registered Cheng’s panicked pleas, his eyes widening with horror. He yelled even louder, flailing his arms to catch the attention of everyone as he echoed Cheng’s command.

  ‘CEASE FIRE! I REPEAT, CEASE FIRE!’

  The gunfire dwindled and then stopped, replaced by distant cries from the panicked crowd below. Shing felt his heart rise up through his throat, about to be vomited out his mouth.

  What did he just say? Yutai’s inside!?

  Shing gaped at Cheng and shot him a horrified, wide-eyed expression. Cheng returned the same expression, his face bloodless as he raised his wrist to try and reach Yutai’s communicator. Shing quickly turned back to his scope, scanning what he could through the hole in the wall where the window was, looking for any signs of Yutai. As the room looked still, Shing began to pray out loud.

  ‘O Light, I humbly plead, O Light, I humbly plead, O Light, I humbly plead, O Light, I humbly plead, spare my brother!’

  When Yutai’s head popped out of cover from behind a lab bench, a rush of relief washed over Shing, so potent that he almost dropped his rifle.

  As the dust began to settle, Yutai approached the decimated wall and looked out at the Kingmakers and Rioters across the square. Shing scanned Yutai’s body for signs of bullet injuries. Apart from bruises and lacerations to his face, he looked to be in one piece. However, his dull gaze and ponderous movements were sobering.

  Sensing movement, Shing glanced up at Cheng to his right. The young tribune stood tall on the ledge of the mall, a silhouette of unwavering resolve against the dead, black sky. This sight of the tribune, standing with his chest out and eyes blazing with determination, filled Shing with newfound resolve. One thing was clear: South Kowloon was ready for a fight. And the Kingmakers were ready to give them one.