### Volume 2: Upper World

  **Chapter 12: No More Running**

  Sky kicked off the wall behind him—boots slamming into cracked brick, launching himself forward like a bullet. The rain stung his face, mixing with blood from the cut on his cheek. Mara was already swinging—Mist Sword slicing through the downpour in a gray arc that looked like it cut the air itself.

  Sky grabbed a broken metal pole from the rubble mid-stride—rebar, jagged at one end, heavy in his hand. He swung it up like a shield just as the sword came down. The blade met metal with a screech that sparked blue-white. The impact vibrated up Sky’s arms, numbing his elbows, but he held.

  He twisted the pole—pushed Mara’s sword off-line—and drove his fist straight into Mara’s face.

  The punch landed clean—cheekbone to jaw. Mara’s head snapped sideways, void eye flickering. He staggered half a step.

  Sky didn’t let up.

  Mara recovered fast—kicked out low and hard, boot slamming into Sky’s stomach. Sky flew back, air exploding from his lungs, but he twisted mid-air—spatial hum kicking in. Rift Step folded distance just enough. He caught himself on a lamppost, boots sliding across wet pavement, pole still gripped tight.

  He threw it.

  The rebar spun end over end—fast, heavy—cracking Mara square in the forehead. Blood bloomed dark across the old hunter’s brow. Mara grunted, staggering again.

  Sky was already moving.

  “Azure Pull.”

  The vacuum snapped—yanking Mara forward off-balance, coat flapping like broken wings.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Sky dashed—closing the gap in a heartbeat.

  “Frame Bind.”

  Time frames locked around Mara—his movements stretched, slowed, every action lagging like a bad video feed. Sky became untouchable inside the frames, a blur of blue-red energy.

  He unloaded.

  Echo Fist—full stack. One punch to the chest. Echo detonated. Another to the ribs. Echo cracked bone. Another to the jaw. Echo snapped teeth. Another to the gut. Echo folded Mara in half. Sky didn’t stop—four hundred punches in the span of seconds that felt like minutes inside the frames. Each hit landed with delayed explosions, Mara’s body jerking like a puppet with cut strings. Blood sprayed. Ribs gave. Mara’s sword slipped from numb fingers, clattering to the wet ground.

  Sky stepped back, breathing hard, knuckles raw and split.

  Mara slid down the wall again—chest heaving, blood bubbling at his lips, black veins pulsing frantic across his neck and arms.

  Sky crossed his fingers.

  “Realm—”

  But Yami was already there.

  Shadow-step—silent, instant. Sword flashed—Void Edge, a whip of pure darkness that sliced through the forming realm like paper. The fracture snapped shut before it could fully open. Sky staggered, spatial backlash ripping fresh cuts across his chest.

  Yami stood between them—sword low, shadows pooling at his feet like spilled ink.

  Sky backhanded Mara—open palm, full force, sending the old hunter’s head cracking against the wall again. Mara slumped, barely conscious.

  Max walked forward slow—shadows curling around him like smoke, Loyal Shade half-formed at his side, eyes glowing blue.

  Sky looked at him—relief, guilt, fear all at once.

  Mara pushed off the wall—slow, shaky—sword scraping concrete as he raised it again.

  Sky weaved—leaned just enough. Mist Sword whistled past his throat, close enough to cut a few strands of hair.

  Sky kicked—boot to Yami’s head, full force. Yami staggered sideways, shadows flaring to block the next hit.

  Max clapped.

  **Blood Pipe.**

  Red lines shot from every wound on his body—compressed blood-energy whips cracking through the rain, ricocheting off walls, mirrors, debris. They converged on Yami—hundreds of crimson harpoons.

  Yami dashed—shadow-step again—but the pipes followed, relentless, piercing his thigh, his shoulder, his side. Blood sprayed. Yami grunted, dropping to one knee.

  He looked up—void eyes meeting Max’s.

  Then he grabbed Max’s neck—fast, iron grip, shadows coiling around Max’s throat like living ropes.

  “If Sky doesn’t quit,” Yami said, voice low, calm, “you die.”

  Max choked—hands clawing at the shadows—but he was smiling. Blood on his teeth. Eyes wild.

  Sky froze.

  Another friend. Another death. Because of him.

  Max rasped through the chokehold, “Go… Sky. Run.”

  Sky’s eyes widened.

  Max coughed blood. “Don’t… let another one die… cus of you.”

  Sky’s hands shook.

  Then he moved.

  Frame Bind—snapped on Yami mid-grip. Time frames locked. Yami’s movements stretched slow.

  Sky dashed—fast, desperate—Echo Flash blurring his fist.

  The punch connected—Yami’s head snapped back, grip loosening just enough.

  Max dropped, gasping.

  Sky caught him—arm under Max’s shoulders, holding him upright.

  Yami staggered back—arm bleeding, shadows flickering.

  The rain kept falling.

  The chapter ended.

  To be continued…