COMMS — LIVE FIELD CHANNEL
“V-23 is K.I.A by the Red Beast.
V-29 Red Gale is now engaged in elimination of the Judicator threat.
V-29 Snow Leopard engaged with suspected Denten — Bloody Frost of the Devils Den.
V-25 units assist in termination of both Judicators.
Military and police will handle civilian control. All restrictions lifted.
Be alert for additional Judicators on sight.”
Static cut through the channel.
Then silence.
————
Maxwell smiled.
Wind and frost tore across the skyline ahead of them, red lightning carving violent strokes through the night like a painter losing control of the canvas. The town of Liddle looked less like a battlefield and more like a living mural — snow devouring ice, lightning splitting buildings into glowing fractures.
Maxwell was a decent-looking young man with blonde hair and blue eyes raised his gauntlets, his blue cape snapping behind him. “This,” he said, “is what I call a welcome party.”
He broke into a run.
Behind him, two figures kept pace.
“Ok, listen up!” Maxwell called, voice carrying over the chaos. “We don’t cluster. Red Gale’s already pushing collateral control — I’ll reinforce her angle and keep the Red Beast busy.”
“Cream!”
“Yes sir!” the girl chirped, almost too eager.
Cream moved like a streak of white light, her all-white caped outfit fluttering around her as she bounded across shattered pavement. The hood hid her face, gold eye slits glowing faintly behind the mask. She looked more like a ghost than a soldier.
Maxwell pointed toward the rising wall of snow battling a forest of blue ice. “That’s Snow Leopard’s fight. Assist, stabilize, and do not overextend.”
She gave him a quick salute that was more enthusiastic than professional. “Got it! I’ve never fought Judicators in a city before — this is awesome!”
Slinger exhaled beside her.
“Yeah,” he muttered dryly, adjusting the black rope wrapped around the hilt of his sword. “Awesome until the press turns it into a nightmare headline.”
His eyes tracked the helicopters circling overhead.
“This,” he added, “is going to be horrible PR.”
Maxwell laughed.
“Relax. We win fast enough, it becomes a success story.”
Slinger didn’t look convinced.
Maxwell’s expression shifted — focused now.
“Alright. Split.”
Cream shot toward the blizzard where Snow Leopard fought Bloody Frost, white cape vanishing into the storm.
Slinger moved the opposite direction, boots skidding across cracked asphalt as he angled toward collapsing civilian zones, ready to intercept anything that slipped past Savannah’s wind perimeter.
Maxwell leapt forward alone, cape flaring behind him as he launched toward the clash of red lightning and roaring gales.
Ahead of him, Savannah and Xila collided again — storm against judgment — the sky flashing crimson with every strike.
Maxwell grinned as he accelerated.
“Hang tight, Red Gale,” he said under his breath.
“Backup’s here.”
———
Savannah crashed through another abandoned building, splintered wood and concrete exploding around her as she skidded across the floor. She coughed, blood hitting the dust-streaked tiles before she could stop it.
A red flash—
Xila appeared beside her.
The kick came fast.
Savannah threw up a Wind Barrier on instinct, turbulent air cushioning the worst of the damage—but not the force. The impact launched her back through a cracked window, spinning into open air.
Shit…
She steadied herself mid-flight, wind gathering beneath her boots as she forced her breathing to slow. Xila wasn’t just relentless—she was getting stronger. Every exchange felt heavier, sharper, like the Judicator was adapting in real time.
Below, the street was becoming a nightmare.
Blood slithered between cracked pavement. Civilians screamed from broken buildings. Helicopters circled overhead, searchlights slicing through drifting dust.
Savannah landed hard and forced herself upright.
“This sucks…” she muttered.
Xila stood across from her, smiling like this was the greatest moment of her life.
Then—
A blur of blue landed beside Savannah.
“Blue Hero?!” she said, eyes widening.
Maxwell grinned, cape snapping behind him. “Help’s arrived.”
“V-23 is dead,” he added quietly.
“I know, but—”
The ground detonated between them as a red bolt slammed down, forcing them apart.
Savannah shot him a sharp look. “You’re low A-rank. This isn’t your fight.”
Maxwell didn’t even hesitate. “Can’t let a comrade fight alone. You need help.”
Across the ruined street, Xila stared up at them, amused.
“So,” she said, spreading her arms wide, “der kleine Fuchs bringt ein Junges mit. Tsk tsk… du beleidigst mich. Ich bin so verletzt.”
Red lightning crawled across her hands.
Heart-Split Shock.
The air twisted—not just pressure, but something deeper, targeting the emotional core between people. A strike meant to fracture bonds, to unravel inner balance.
Maxwell stepped forward.
Hand signs.
Calm, precise chanting.
“Resolving Surge… Blooming Promise… Rock Foundation.”
A well of blue energy erupted beneath him, forming a layered shield around both of them — stone-like light blooming outward in overlapping rings.
The red strike slammed into it.
The barrier shuddered but held.
Inside the shield, Savannah moved immediately.
Wind blades formed along her arms — thin crescents of slicing air — launching forward in rapid succession toward Xila, forcing the Judicator to weave through the barrage even as she charged.
Lightning clashed with wind.
Several of Savannah’s blades detonated against Xila’s incoming attack, shockwaves rippling outward.
The barrier cracked.
Maxwell’s eyes widened as fissures raced across the glowing surface.
Then it exploded.
Glass, dust, and fragments of energy blasted outward, buildings around them collapsing from the force.
Savannah flashed a quick hand sign.
Maxwell caught it instantly.
He nodded.
They synced without speaking — wind and blue energy aligning, footing shifting into a coordinated stance.
Across from them, Xila sprinted forward through the debris, laughing, red lightning trailing behind her like wings of fire.
The shockwave from her approach flattened cars and tore open the street.
And for the first time since Maxwell arrived—
Savannah felt the fight shift.
———
Ice surged upward like a living mountain.
Snow answered.
The sky above Liddle twisted into a battlefield of white and blue — frozen spears tearing upward while swirling snow devoured them from the edges, grinding jagged peaks into glittering dust before they could reach the streets below.
Tila moved at the center of it all.
She flew in wide arcs, boots barely touching the air, a massive crystalline snowflake rotating behind her like a halo of controlled chaos. Every flick of her wrist sent flurries cascading downward — razor-edged snowstorms that slammed into Denten’s rising ice formations.
Below her, Denten rode a crest of frozen stone, surging forward on a wave of jagged ice. He ducked beneath one of her barrages, using a towering spike as cover before firing a volley of ice lances upward.
They split the air like missiles.
Tila twisted aside, snow cushioning her movement as another series of peaks erupted beneath her feet, trying to rip her from the sky.
“Okay…” she muttered, grin still tugging at her lips despite the pressure. “You’re a stubborn one.”
She knew this couldn’t drag on.
Every second they fought meant more destruction below.
Her hands moved into a tight sign.
The massive snowflake behind her shuddered.
Snow thickened — then changed shape.
Giant hands formed from whirling frost, fingers stretching outward as they grabbed the incoming ice spikes mid-flight, crushing them before they could pierce through.
“Gotcha.”
Stolen story; please report.
A blur of white landed beside her.
Cream.
“Hi! Snow Leopard, Blue Hero said—”
Tila didn’t even look at her. “Go help Red Gale.”
Cream blinked. “Huh?”
“If she’s fighting the Red Beast,” Tila added, finally glancing over, eyes sharp beneath the playful tone, “Blue Hero won’t be enough.”
Cream’s masked face tilted, gold eye slits gleaming. “OOOOOK!”
She vanished in a streak of white, cape snapping behind her as she dove toward the clash of red lightning and roaring wind across town.
Tila watched her go and laughed softly.
“That girl…” she shook her head, sending another wave of snow crashing into Denten’s advancing ice. “Way too easygoing for this mess.”
Below, Denten’s frozen wave surged higher, jagged peaks rising like teeth.
Tila’s grin faded just slightly.
“Alright,” she murmured, gathering the storm tighter around her. “Let’s wrap this up before your buddy blows up the rest of the town.”
———
Inside the section of the warehouse that still stood, the music had died—but the lights kept flickering over the carnage below.
Ice spikes punched through the walls and ceiling, frozen veins stretching outward into the town, but the main floor remained intact enough for chaos to breathe.
Recardo Lucio stood at the center of it.
Calm.
He finished ushering the last of the human Devil’s Den members out, guiding them with a steady hand on their shoulders. Phones were everywhere — pointed at broken glass, at the sky, at him. Some cried. Others kept recording like it was the only thing keeping them grounded.
“To think,” he murmured softly, teal eyes scanning the room, “the world learns our existence through a party.”
He should have been furious.
At Denten for escalating.
At Xila for turning the battlefield into a playground.
At Ashara… at Crimline…
But his trait didn’t allow rage to surface.
Only calm.
A blessing.
And a curse.
Right now, it was a blessing.
Because while the humans panicked, Chezzar worked.
Across the broken entrances, waves of warped pressure rippled outward.
Negative Swarm.
Clusters of invisible “values” crawled across the floor like shifting gravity. Military personnel outside slowed mid-step, movements turning sluggish. Police radios crackled with static. Even Veythari would hesitate at the threshold, senses would dull, Manifestation would stutter under the pressure-field.
It wasn’t just defense.
It was containment.
The civilians inside felt it too — not enough to harm them, just enough to keep them subdued, quiet, hesitant to rush into danger.
Recardo watched the influencers filming, whispering to their audiences, capturing every frozen spike and distant flash of lightning.
A slow smile curved his lips.
Before tonight, exposure would have been a disaster.
Now?
Now the E.R.O and A.A.A.P owned the blame.
“They wanted the spotlight,” he murmured. “Very well.”
He adjusted his sleeve, posture straightening.
Outside, Xila fought like a storm given flesh.
Denten clashed against the snow user in a war of ice and frost.
Perfect distractions.
The shadows around Recardo’s feet began to rise. The air cooled, light bending slightly as his ability responded to his intent.
Time to make his move.
He stepped forward slowly, eyes lifting toward the shattered roof where helicopter lights cut across drifting snow.
“If they wished for a show,” he said softly to himself, voice smooth as silk, “Xila will make it… unforgettable.”
———
Xila lunged again.
Red lightning spiraled around her fist like a living verdict as she tore across the street, boots barely touching the shattered pavement. Every step detonated cracks into the ground, sending dust and glass flying in her wake.
Savannah met her head-on.
Wind roared outward.
Maxwell moved at her flank, blue light igniting across his arms as his Manifestation — Blue Justice — formed like layered armor of luminous stone and flowing ribbons. Symbols burned faintly along his gauntlets, each movement leaving streaks of sapphire energy behind.
The town of Liddle had become a warzone painting.
Buildings half-frozen, half-collapsed.
Snow and ice still clashing in the distance where Tila and Denten battled.
Helicopter beams slicing through drifting debris while sirens wailed far below.
Savannah struck first.
A spinning heel kick wrapped in gale-force wind crashed toward Xila’s ribs.
Xila caught it on her forearm, lightning snapping outward—
Maxwell slid in low, fist glowing blue.
“Blue Justice — Resolving Break!”
His punch slammed into Xila’s side, blue energy bursting outward in a shockwave that shattered a nearby storefront.
Xila grinned wider.
She pivoted instantly, driving a knee toward Maxwell’s jaw.
Savannah intercepted — wind compressing around her arm as she blocked, then followed with a slicing backhand that forced Xila to twist away midair.
They began to flow together.
Savannah launched upward, wind spiraling beneath her feet as she created a rising draft.
Maxwell used it like a ramp, leaping higher, cape flaring behind him as Blue Justice formed a glowing shield over his shoulder.
Xila spun between them.
Lightning met wind.
Wind met blue light.
She slipped between Savannah’s air blades, trading blows with Maxwell in rapid succession — his punches heavy and deliberate, hers sharp and brutal.
Savannah darted in and out, cutting angles, forcing Xila to split her attention.
For a moment—
They had her contained.
The ground below them cratered from the pressure waves.
Cars flipped.
Loose metal warped under the force of their collisions.
Maxwell grinned through the strain. “See? Told you backup helps.”
Savannah smirked, breath heavy. “Don’t get cocky.”
Xila’s laughter cut through the air.
She thrust her hand forward.
Red lightning gathered fast—too fast.
Savannah saw it a second too late.
A bolt fired straight toward Maxwell’s face.
He tried to raise Blue Justice—
Too slow.
A white blur dropped between them.
Cream.
Her cape flared as she swung her curved sickle in a smooth arc, the blade catching the bolt like it had weight. The red lightning bent around the metal edge, dragged along its curve—
—and she flicked it skyward.
The bolt tore into the clouds, exploding in a distant flash.
“Ooooh!” Cream chirped, landing lightly between them. “That looked like it would’ve hurt!”
Maxwell blinked, stunned.
Savannah exhaled slowly, relief flickering through her focus.
Across from them, Xila tilted her head, red eyes gleaming with delight.
“Mehr,” she whispered.
More.
The fight wasn’t slowing.
Savannah’s fingers moved through a quick sequence of hand signs.
Cream’s head tilted immediately.
“Ok!” she chirped, already bouncing on her heels like she’d been waiting for permission.
Wind gathered around Savannah in layered currents — not just a storm, but threads of motion bending around buildings, slipping through shattered windows, redirecting falling debris away from civilians still trapped nearby.
She didn’t just attack.
She guided the battlefield.
A collapsed bus began to slide sideways on a cushion of air, clearing a path for medics below. Broken glass spiraled upward and away from a cluster of civilians trying to crawl toward safety.
Maxwell saw it and reacted instantly.
Blue Justice flared bright.
“Resolving Formation!”
A wide shield blossomed outward from him, expanding far beyond combat range — not just protecting Savannah and Cream, but forming a glowing barrier over a group of trapped civilians pinned behind a crushed car. Red lightning slammed against the shield and shattered into harmless sparks.
“Move!” he shouted to the people behind him. “Stay inside the light!”
Cream laughed as she darted forward, cape snapping.
She spun her sickle overhead, slicing through stray bolts and riding Savannah’s wind drafts like a child playing in a storm. Every time Xila’s lightning struck, Cream intercepted with impossible timing, flinging the attacks upward or sideways like they were toys.
“This is SO cool!” she called out.
Xila’s grin widened.
“Oh, ich mag dich,” she murmured, eyes locked on Cream. “Du hast keine Angst.”
Savannah surged in.
Wind compressed into massive rotating blades that carved trenches through the street. Instead of firing them straight, she curved the air currents — bouncing attacks off building faces, redirecting pressure waves so the strikes boxed Xila in from multiple angles.
Xila burst through the first wave.
Red lightning exploded outward.
She closed the distance in a blink.
Her fist slammed into Savannah’s guard, wind bursting outward in a shockwave that sent Savannah skidding backward through a wall. Maxwell intercepted with a blue-laced punch — Xila slipped past it, driving an elbow into his chest that shattered his footing and launched him across the street.
Cream dove in laughing.
Xila caught her by the cloak and flung her upward — before kicking Savannah again, sending her crashing into Maxwell mid-recovery.
All three of them hit the ground hard.
Dust rolled through the ruined block.
Savannah wiped blood from her lip.
Maxwell coughed, blue energy flickering unevenly.
Even Cream landed with a stumble this time — but she popped back up immediately, giggling.
“This is the best mission ever!”
Xila clapped slowly, red lightning crawling along her arms.
“Ja… jetzt macht es Spa?.”
She stepped forward again, pressure rolling off her like heat from a fire.
Savannah rose, wind tightening around her body.
Maxwell steadied his shield, blue light dimmer but still burning.
Cream spun her sickle excitedly.
All three faced Xila together — bleeding, bruised, but unbroken.
Cream flipped backward through the drifting dust, boots landing lightly as she threw up a peace sign.
“Time for sickle number two!” she sang.
White light spiraled around her hands — a second curved blade forming beside the first. She spun both experimentally, laughing as the wind from Savannah’s currents lifted her cape.
Across the ruined street, Xila watched.
Two extra mice.
Interesting ones.
Her red eye lingered on Cream for a second longer.
Supreme Skill, she thought. The white one’s core felt different — not brute force, something deeper. The man… she studied Maxwell’s aura as it flickered behind blue shields. Selfish Encasement. A Desire-driven core. Protective. Anchoring.
Her lightning attacked meaning.
If she overloaded his system—
She smiled wider.
Red lightning surged.
No hand signs.
Just intent.
Crimson Sentence fell first — a vertical strike that declared guilt before impact, the air tightening with judgment. Immediately behind it came Red Verdict, heavier, slower, a hammer descending toward the center of their formation.
Before either strike hit—
Guilty Arc leapt outward, lightning chaining between Savannah, Maxwell, and Cream, searching for shared connection.
Savannah’s eyes widened.
“She didn’t even—”
No signs.
No chants.
Xila hadn’t been trying before…
The town screamed around them as red lightning painted the sky.
Maxwell stepped forward.
Blue Justice erupted outward.
“Righteous Frontier!”
A massive barrier unfolded around them — layered plates of blue light forming a wide dome that stretched across the street and shielded a cluster of civilians still trapped behind wreckage. The barrier hummed like a living structure, more than a shield — almost a watered-down domain, reality bending slightly within its edges.
Crimson Sentence slammed into it.
The barrier groaned, cracks spreading like fractures in glass, but it held long enough to bleed off the punishment effect.
Red Verdict struck next — a crushing blow that forced Maxwell to one knee, boots digging trenches into the asphalt.
Savannah moved instantly beside him.
Wind Funnel.
A spiraling barrier of compressed air wrapped around the inner edge of Righteous Frontier, redirecting stray lightning arcs upward and away from the civilians.
Cream blinked, glancing between the two.
“…I don’t know barrier stuff,” she admitted.
Then she struck a ridiculously cute pose anyway, crossing her sickles in front of her like she was in a photo shoot.
Xila laughed.
Lightning wrapped around her body.
Bolt of Intent.
It coiled around her like armor — targeting the reason behind incoming attacks, ready to punish fear, rage, or hesitation.
She layered it with Conviction Crash, red energy gathering like a compressed bomb in her palm.
Then she vanished.
Savannah barely tracked the motion.
Xila crashed through the barriers and slammed straight into Maxwell.
The impact detonated the street beneath them, blue and red energy colliding in a blinding flash.
Conviction Crash didn’t just strike his body—
It struck his will.
Blue Justice flickered violently, symbols breaking apart as the bolt tested everything holding him together. The barrier shattered outward in ripples, fragments of blue light scattering like broken glass.
Maxwell gasped, eyes wide as the strike forced something deeper to the surface — fear, resolve, doubt — everything exposed at once.
Savannah surged forward immediately, wind roaring.
Cream darted in from the side, twin sickles flashing white.
Xila didn’t slow down.
She carried Maxwell across the broken town like a comet of red lightning, dragging him through concrete and shattered buildings. Each impact carved a fresh crater into the street — armor plates tearing loose, fragments of blue light scattering like dying stars as his Manifestation struggled to hold together.
Savannah’s shout vanished beneath the roar of thunder.
Xila planted her foot.
Mani surged through her steel-toed boot, lightning coiling tight around the metal. For a heartbeat, time seemed to stretch — sparks hanging in the air, the world holding its breath.
She kicked.
A perfect arc of red exploded outward, a circular shockwave forming at the point of impact. Maxwell launched skyward, the clouds igniting crimson as the strike ripped a glowing path through the night.
Before gravity could claim him—
She was already above him.
Her hand opened.
Fingers closed around his face.
Meaning Strike.
Lightning that didn’t just burn — it burned through concepts.
Confidence.
Resolve.
Balance.
Manifestation control.
Each concept fractured under the pressure, the damage echoing through body and spirit at once.
She drove him downward.
The crash into Liddle was deafening.
A blinding wave tore through multiple blocks, buildings collapsing inward as shockwaves shattered glass miles away. Helicopters spun out of control, rotor blades shearing through smoke as they spiraled downward, crashing across rooftops and empty streets.
Sirens died under the ringing silence that followed.
The incident crossed a line.
What had been a battle became a disaster.
Xila stood at the center of it, lightning fading slowly from her skin. Beneath her lay the ruined remains of Maxwell, blue light flickering weakly as dust drifted into the air.
She exhaled, smiling.
That… felt great.
Her red eye lifted toward Savannah and Cream in the distance — the little fox and rabbit waiting for her next move.
Then—
Shadows moved.
They rose from the cracks in the street like liquid night, twisting into chains that wrapped around her arms and legs before she could react.
“Recardo!” she barked.
The shadows pulled.
The world folded inward.
And she vanished back into the warehouse.
————
Inside the dim interior, Recardo Lucio stood waiting, teal eyes calm as always.
Xila landed lightly in front of him, chains dissolving into mist.
“Ich hatte Spa?! Warum hast du eingegriffen?!”
(I was having fun! Why did you interfere?!)
Recardo’s expression didn’t change.
“Enough has happened,” he replied quietly.
“You caused far more damage than necessary. You’re wasting lives — and our cover.”
She shrugged, lightning flickering lazily along her fingers.
“Ich wollte im Kampf sterben,” she said with a grin.
(I wanted to die in battle.)
“Und da drau?en ist ein rothaariger Fuchs… mit dem will ich noch spielen.”
(And there’s a red-haired fox out there I still want to play with.)
Recardo stepped closer, voice softer.
“You can… later.”
She stared at him.
He sighed. “She will grow stronger. A shift is coming. And I didn’t want you to die today. I also doubt Abigail would be pleased to hear of your passing.”
Xila scoffed, but the edge of her smile returned.
“Und jetzt?”
(So what now?)
Recardo glanced toward the shattered exits where sirens echoed faintly.
“We leave,” he said simply. “We let the partygoers live so that they focus on them instead of chasing us.”
He turned, shadows already gathering around his feet.
Xila stretched her arms overhead, joints popping softly as the last threads of red lightning faded from her skin. Dust drifted through the dim warehouse air, distant sirens echoing through the broken walls. The people around them are in shambles.
She smiled, red eyes half-lidded with satisfaction.
“Der Abend war gar nicht so schlecht,” she murmured.
(Tonight… wasn’t bad after all.)
Recardo watched her for a long moment, then shook his head faintly.
“You’re really a piece of work.”
Xila’s grin widened.
She tilted her head at him, amused.
“Was denn? Du hast doch gesagt, ich soll die Party genie?en.”
(What? You told me to enjoy the party.)
Recardo turned his gaze toward the shattered skyline beyond the warehouse, teal eyes reflecting the fires and distant flashes of snow and wind still tearing through Liddle.
“I guess I did,” he said quietly.