Augment: 2370

Chapter 4

The neon haze of the lower city faded as Axel darted through the twisting alleyways. His mind still reeled from the encounter with Miria. Her cold eyes, that haunting smile—she had let him go. But why? If she was sent to kill him, why leave without a fight?

Axel didn’t have time to dwell on it. Not with the Darkfangs and Tempest closing in. He knew they wouldn’t give him the luxury of hesitation. His body was already pushed to the limit, the Kilronomia thrumming beneath his skin, urging him onward, but he felt the fatigue creeping in. Even with the augmentation, his stamina was still that of a human’s—mostly. For now.

He reached the outskirts of the marketplace district, the crowded heart of the slums where deals were made and lives were cheap. Here, every building was a patchwork of broken neon signs and rusted metal, crammed together like some living, breathing organism. The air smelled of oil, sweat, and desperation.

Axel ducked into a narrow alleyway, pressing himself against the shadows. He needed a moment to breathe, to think. His heightened reflexes were helping him evade the gangs, but he couldn’t keep running forever.

The Kilronomia was changing him, but the process was still incomplete. It had saved his life—given him a second chance—but now it felt like a ticking clock, its silent countdown warning him that something bigger was coming. And when it did, he had no idea what he’d become.

Axel looked down at his hands. The white glow of the techno tattoos shimmered faintly under the dim alley lights. They were beautiful in a way—an eerie, otherworldly beauty—but they were also a reminder. He was no longer just Axel Vain, the street rat. He was something more now. And with that came the weight of being hunted.

Footsteps echoed in the distance, and Axel’s heart lurched. The sound wasn’t random. Someone was tracking him. Maybe Tempest. Maybe Darkfangs. Or maybe someone worse.

He slipped deeper into the shadows, watching as two figures rounded the corner at the far end of the alley. Tempest, their black-and-blue armor unmistakable in the low light. They moved in formation, scanning their surroundings with practiced precision. These weren’t low-level thugs. They were enforcers—trained, deadly, and focused.

Axel’s pulse quickened. He couldn’t fight them head-on. Not yet.

His eyes darted around the alley, looking for an escape route. A fire escape ladder, half-rusted and clinging precariously to the side of a building, caught his eye. It wasn’t the best option, but it was better than nothing.

Carefully, Axel began to climb, his muscles straining as he pulled himself up, one rung at a time. The metal creaked under his weight, but the noise was drowned out by the rain and the distant hum of the marketplace.

He reached the roof just as the Tempest enforcers passed below, their weapons drawn and ready. Axel crouched low, barely daring to breathe as they scanned the alley, their visors glowing faintly with digital readouts.

“Sector’s clear,” one of them said into his comm.

The other nodded. “He couldn’t have gotten far. Let’s move.”

Axel watched as they continued down the alley, disappearing into the labyrinth of streets beyond. He let out a slow breath, his muscles aching with the effort of staying still. The Kilronomia was working, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

As the rain drizzled down on him, Axel’s mind raced. He needed to find some kind of advantage—something that would give him a fighting chance against the gangs and the corporations hunting him. He couldn’t keep running forever.

And then, almost as if fate was answering him, a familiar voice crackled through the rain.

“Running again, Axel?”