Tobias' POV
The ground shook.
Pavement cracked under the stampede. The boars were closing fast—twenty meters and falling, their snarls slicing through the smoke like chainsaws made of meat.
Someone behind me screamed.
Group one scattered like marbles on tile.
No one gave orders. No one waited. Just pure, unfiltered panic.
One guy to my left tried to throw a burst of fire—missed. Another tripped over a street sign. The boars moved like a flood—muscle, tusks, foam-flecked mouths, eyes glowing with something wrong.
Then she stepped forward.
Tall, composed. Hair swaying behind her like a flag you didn't dare salute.
She didn't run. Didn't flinch. Just raised one hand—fingers curled like she was closing a grip on the air itself.
The biggest boar, mid-charge, slammed into the pavement like gravity had just doubled beneath it. No warning. No build-up, just an instant reversal of momentum and a crater where the beast had been.
Dust exploded outward in a shockwave.
She didn't even blink.
For a second, even the other boars hesitated. Like something in their mutant lizard-brains told them this one is death.
I didn't hesitate.
Because no matter how powerful she looked—this was still a kill-zone.
I moved, diving behind a shattered kiosk just as another boar tore through the remains of a delivery drone. I scanned the street. Just a stone throw away was a metro entrance—partially collapsed an old signage above it: Station Ségur – Ligne 10.
I sprinted for it.
Boots hitting cracked pavement. Breath steady. HUD flashing—
Objective: Civilian Rescue
Civilians detected: 7
Hazard rating: 3
Someone followed me. I didn't turn.
He fell into step like we'd trained together for years.
Red hair, quiet steps and controlled energy.
"You always run toward the chaos?" he asked, voice casual.
"Only when the other option's being trampled."
He gave a small grin. "Liam."
I glanced at him. "Tobias."
That was it. No handshakes, no backstories. Just names and the understanding that we both moved with purpose.
We reached the metro stairs. It was partially blocked, but navigable. Liam dropped in first—and that's when I saw it.
His hand shifted.
Not coated in fire. Not wrapped in energy.
It became ash.
Superheated, living ash that pulsed with internal glow, like the core of a dying star begging to be unleashed.
Not smoke. Not flair.
Transformation.
We hit the lower platform fast. Half-collapsed ceiling. Dim lights. Huddled figures behind an overturned vending unit.
Civilians.
Seven of them. Two kids, one man holding a bloodied towel to his leg and a woman shielding the others.
They weren't screaming. Just watching the tunnel behind them.
That's when I heard it.
Not just movement—pacing. Clicking claws on concrete. The boars weren't charging.
They were waiting.
Three of them emerged from the tunnel. Slow, deliberate, saliva dripping from their tusks.
I moved to the civilians, gesturing sharply. "Move. Fast and quiet. Up the stairs. Go!"
The woman hesitated.
"I said go!"
That got them moving.
The first boar lunged.
Liam stepped into its path—and swung.
Ash-hand met tusk, and the beast shrieked as the impact seared through it. The heat cauterizing its's skull.
I yanked a pipe from the wall and drove it into the eye of the second beast as it turned on me. It let out a shrill scream before falling limp.
Liam finished the third with a blast of that same ash-pulse—his entire forearm shedding into smoking particulate before reforming in an instant.
The civilians reached the stairs.
Civilians rescued: 7
Merit points: 500
We moved after them—fast. Minimal chatter. When we reached the street again, everything had changed.
Half of Group 1 was holding position behind a wrecked café. Applicant 001 stood in the center—elevated on a slab of warped asphalt like a damn monarch.
Three boars floated midair in front of her, limbs flailing. One slammed into the ground like a ragdoll the second her hand twitched.
Her expression didn't change.
She looked... invincible.
Not powerful. Not dangerous.
Untouchable.
But nothing's invincible. Not really.
The others were doing what they could—blasts of energy, fists like sledgehammers, shouts and gritted teeth. They were managing, barely.
But none of them were working together.
That was the problem.
We weren't a unit.
We were a collection of talents on the same sidewalk.
And when this simulation turned harder—because it would—that was going to get people hurt.
Maybe worse.