Godhunter #1

Cain's gaze locked on the girl in the red hood, his heart jolting with a mixture of anger and something unspoken—something he refused to name. Her presence dredged up memories he had buried deep, memories of their last encounter, the fight that had left the jagged scar on his throat. He instinctively ran his fingers over the mark, his expression hardening.

She glared at him with unfiltered hatred, her weapon held in trembling hands. She was younger than he remembered, her defiance barely masking the fear she likely thought she was hiding. The look in her eyes, though—that hadn't changed. It was fierce and unyielding, like she'd burn the world down if it meant taking him with it.

«What's your name?» Cain asked, his voice calm, but it carried an edge that made the question feel like a command.

Her lips curled in disgust. «Like hell I'd tell you.»

Cain raised an eyebrow, suppressing the flicker of amusement that threatened to show. He tilted his head slightly, studying her. «We've met before, haven't we? You're the one who gave me this.» He gestured to the scar on his throat, his tone neutral, though the memory burned fresh in his mind.

Her glare intensified, and she took a defiant step forward. «I should've finished the job,» she spat, her voice shaking with fury.

Next to Cain, Abel crossed his arms, his calm and composed demeanor in stark contrast to the tension building between the two. He regarded the girl with mild interest, his sharp gaze flicking between her and the injured man she was protecting. «So this is the one who got the better of you, Cain?» he said, his tone almost teasing.

Cain didn't look at Abel, his attention fixed solely on the girl. «You didn't answer my question,» he said, his voice soft but firm. «What's your name?»

«Why?» she shot back, her knuckles white as she gripped her weapon. «So you can carve it into your list of victims?»

Something inside Cain twisted, but he kept his expression unreadable. «It's only fair,» he said evenly. «You know mine.»

The girl hesitated, her jaw tightening as she glanced at the soldiers flanking him. Her defiance wavered for a moment, but it returned just as quickly, burning brighter. «Cira,» she finally said, the name cutting through the air like a challenge. «Remember it, because it'll be the last thing you hear before I kill you.»

Cain's lips pressed into a thin line, his single eye narrowing. He ignored the tightening in his chest, shoving down the complicated emotions threatening to surface. Instead, he nodded slowly, his voice low. «Noted.»

Cain's grip tightened on the hilt of his weapon as he drew it, the sleek metal catching the cold light of the high-security chamber. The sound of the blade sliding free cut through the tense air, silencing even the distant hum of the alarms. His eye never left Cira's, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them.

Cira shifted her stance, her expression sharp with fury, but Cain noticed the faint twitch of her fingers on the hilt of her blade. She was nervous. Good.

«Enough,» Abel said, stepping forward and placing a hand on Cain's shoulder. His voice was calm but firm, an edge of authority laced in his tone. «This isn't the time or place for this. She's baiting you, and you're taking it.»

Cain didn't look at him, his focus locked on the girl in front of him. «Step back, Abel.»

«Cain,» Abel insisted, his hand tightening slightly. «Think. The alarms are blaring, and we have an entire facility to secure. A duel here is reckless, and you know it.»

«I don't care,» Cain replied coldly, shaking Abel's hand off his shoulder. He took a step forward, his weapon gleaming ominously. «This isn't about strategy. This is personal.»

Abel frowned, his composure cracking slightly as he moved to block Cain's path. «It's always personal with you. And look where that's gotten you. Think, Cain. You're better than this.»

Cain's jaw clenched, his body tense. He could feel the weight of Abel's disapproval pressing down on him, but it wasn't enough to stop the surge of emotion clawing its way to the surface. He didn't need Abel's lectures or restraint. Not now.

Abel's expression hardened, but he didn't step aside. «You're walking into a trap. And if you get yourself killed, who do you think is going to clean up the mess? Me. Again. Stand down, Cain. That's an order.»

The word order struck a nerve, and Cain's eye flicked to Abel's hand still partially blocking his path. A flash of anger coursed through him, but he reeled it back just enough. «Do what you need to, Abel,» he said, his voice icy. «I'll handle this my way.»

Before Abel could protest further, Cain sidestepped him, raising his weapon. His gaze snapped back to Cira, who hadn't moved, her knuckles white around her blade. «You and me,» he said to her, the words a challenge. «Right here. Right now.»

From the corner of his vision, he caught Abel shaking his head, muttering something under his breath. But Cain didn't care. This moment had been a long time coming, and nothing—not even his brother—was going to stop it.

Abel's voice rang out with the authority of someone accustomed to giving orders. «Stand down, all of you. This is between them.»

One of the soldiers, a young man with a nervous twitch in his stance, stepped forward hesitantly. «Sir, we can't just—»

Abel's gaze snapped to him, and the soldier immediately faltered. «I'll deal with Cain later,» Abel said, his voice firm and unwavering. «For now, you follow orders.»

The soldier gave a reluctant nod, glancing nervously at Cain, but he stepped back with the others. The tension in the air was palpable, the room now divided—those loyal to Abel standing off to the side, and Cain, with his unwavering focus on Cira.

Cain ignored him, stepping closer to Cira, his weapon raised. «You wanted my attention,» he said, his voice low and cold. «Now you have it.»

Cira didn't flinch. Instead, she squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze with unflinching defiance. «Good,» she replied, her voice laced with venom. «Because I've been waiting for this.»

The tension in the room coiled tighter, every breath drawn feeling heavier than the last. Cain tilted his head slightly, the hint of a smirk playing at his lips as he prepared to strike.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cira's heart pounded in her chest as Cain's smirk sent a shiver of rage through her. Her grip on her blade tightened, her nails digging into her palm. Everything else in the room—the soldiers, Abel the sterile hum of the high-security area—faded into the background. All she could see was Cain, his towering figure, and the scar she'd left on his throat.

«Cira, stop.» Sienna's voice cut through her haze, sharp and insistent.

Cira didn't look back, her attention locked on Cain. «Don't try to stop me,» she muttered.

«I am stopping you,» Sienna snapped, grabbing her arm. «This isn't the plan! You think you can take him on now, in this situation? He's got an army behind him!»

«They're standing down,» Cira said, her voice cold and resolute.

Sienna's grip tightened. «For now. But what happens when this goes sideways? You're putting all of us at risk, not just yourself!»

Static crackled in Cira's hearing aids as Sienna switched to the comm channel. «Liora, Aren—are you hearing this? She's about to fight Cain.»

Liora's voice came through, sharp and commanding. «Cira, stand down. That's an order.»

«I can't,» Cira replied, her voice breaking slightly. «Not after everything he's done. Not after Rian, Lina—»

«Cira, listen to me,» Liora said, her tone firm but pleading. «If you do this now, you're not just risking your life. You're risking the mission, Sienna, Riel—all of us. This isn't the time.»

Sienna nodded, echoing the sentiment aloud. «She's right. We need to get out of here. Focus on the mission. Cain isn't worth it.»

But Cira shook her head, wrenching her arm free from Sienna's grasp. Her chest heaved with fury and pain, her mind consumed by the memories of what Cain had taken from her.

«He's worth everything,» she said, stepping forward.

Cain's eye glinted with cold amusement as he raised his blade, watching the struggle between the two women with detached interest. «Are we doing this or not?» he asked, his voice a cruel taunt.

Sienna's voice came back through the comms, desperate now. «Liora, I can't stop her. What do we do?»

«Stall them,» Liora ordered. «We're on our way.»

Cira barely registered their words. All that mattered was the man standing in front of her—the one she'd sworn to destroy.

Cain and Cira locked eyes, their stances tense, weapons at the ready. The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken fury and pain. Cira's fingers twitched, gripping her blade tighter, every fiber of her being screaming at her to strike.

But before either could move, a faint thwip cut through the air. One of Cain's soldiers staggered, a thin, dark shaft embedded in his throat. He collapsed without a sound, his weapon clattering to the ground.

A heartbeat later, another soldier fell, a blade protruding from his back. Chaos erupted as the rest of the soldiers scrambled to identify the unseen attackers.

«What the—» Cain snarled, his attention momentarily diverted as more of his men dropped one by one.

From the shadows, Evran emerged, his signature smirk plastered across his face, a bloodied dagger in his hand. Bran followed close behind, a crossbow slung over his shoulder, already reloading.

Cira's breath caught. She had expected reinforcements, but not like this—not with the sheer audacity of taking out soldiers right in front of Cain.

«Cira!» Sienna's voice was sharp and urgent, dragging her focus back. «We need to move! Help me get Riel out of here!»

For a moment, Cira hesitated, her gaze flickering between Sienna and Cain. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to finish what she started, to make Cain pay for everything he'd done.

Cain's attention snapped back to Cira, his single eye narrowing as recognition flickered. His grip tightened on his blade, but he didn't advance, his soldiers falling one by one throwing him off balance.

Suddenly, Liora and Aren appeared from the far side of the corridor, their weapons drawn. «Cira!» Liora shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. «Stand down! We need to regroup. Now!»

Cira's knuckles whitened around the hilt of her blade. She stared at Cain, her chest heaving with the weight of all her hatred, every nerve in her body poised to strike. But Sienna's desperate voice and Liora's commanding presence brought her back to the present.

With a growl of frustration, she sheathed her weapon and turned toward Sienna. «Fine,» she spat, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. «Let's get Riel out of here.»

As Cira helped Sienna steady Riel, she risked a glance back at Cain and his group. Her eyes flicked to the taller figure standing just behind Cain—the one who hadn't moved once during the chaos.

Cain called him Abel.

Unlike the frantic soldiers scrambling for cover or Cain's raw fury as he barked orders and cut down unseen assailants, Abel stood perfectly still. His posture was relaxed, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. It was as if the chaos around him didn't matter—like he was merely an observer watching a spectacle unfold.

Evran and Bran had cut a path through the disarray, slashing and stabbing with precision as they worked their way back to the group. Cira, Sienna, and Riel moved quickly through the gap, just as Liora and Aren took up the rear, their eyes scanning the corridors for threats.

«Go, go!» Evran barked, urging them forward as he covered their retreat.

With a final glance at Cain, Cira turned and ran, her breath ragged as the group pushed through the labyrinthine hallways of the tower. Her heart pounded in her chest, but it wasn't just the fear—it was the adrenaline. She could still hear Cain's footsteps, distant but gaining ground. He wouldn't be far behind.

As they ran, Cira's mind raced. How much time did they have? How many more soldiers were going to flood in?

«We've got to keep moving!» Bran shouted from the front, looking over his shoulder with a wild look in his eyes.

The corridor stretched endlessly, but it felt like they were getting nowhere. The familiar hum of machinery in the tower now felt oppressive, as if every wall was closing in on them.

Aren's voice came through the comms, sharp and efficient. «I've got the map. Stay with me, I'm guiding you through the next turn.»

«Move it, Cira!» Sienna urged, her grip tight on Riel as they ran side by side. The weight of him in her arms was a constant reminder that they couldn't afford to slow down.

Cira's eyes flicked to the rear again, where Liora was holding her position, cutting down any soldiers that came too close. They had to keep pushing forward.

Behind them, Cain's voice echoed through the hallway, cold and commanding. «Don't let them get away.»

The sound of pursuit quickened, and Cira's pulse raced. He was coming for them, and he wasn't going to stop until they were dead.

Sienna gritted her teeth. «We can't outrun him forever.»

«We don't need to outrun him,» Cira shot back, her mind calculating their options. «We need to survive long enough to get Riel out of here.»

Evran and Bran exchanged glances, their expressions hard. They had no intention of letting Cain close the gap.

The group rounded a corner, and Cira caught sight of more soldiers ahead. She braced herself, but Liora's voice rang out ahead of her. «I'll handle this.»

She darted ahead, disappearing into the chaos as more gunfire echoed from the distance.

«Go!» Aren yelled, motioning for them to follow. «Take the next left—straight ahead.»

They didn't slow, their feet pounding against the metal floors as they raced down another hallway. The door to a stairwell loomed ahead, a way out of the main tower. If they could just get there, they'd have a chance to properly regroup.

The sound of a scream echoed through the narrow corridor, sharp and filled with pain. Cira's heart lurched as her head whipped around to see Aren crumple to the ground, clutching her leg as blood began to pool beneath her.

The gunfire had come from behind them—fast and brutal. Aren hadn't even had time to react.

«Aren,» Liora yelled and dashed past Cira towards where Aren crumbled.

Her face was set in determination, but the panic in her eyes betrayed her urgency.

«No!» Cira yelled, instinctively starting toward her. She couldn't just leave Aren behind. But before she could take more than a few steps, Evran grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop.

«Let go of me!» Cira hissed, her chest heaving with frustration. «We can't leave her!»

«She's not your responsibility right now,» Evran snapped, his voice low and urgent. His grip tightened on her arm. «Liora is with her. She'll make sure Aren is fine. We're almost there, Cira. We get Riel out now, or this whole mission is for nothing.»

Cira's pulse was racing, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. She could hear Liora shouting instructions to Aren, her voice sharp and demanding, trying to stop the bleeding. The urge to help burned in Cira's chest, but Evran's words hit home. They couldn't waste any more time.

«We can't stay here,» Evran said, his voice hard. «We move now, or we all die.»

Cira hesitated, her eyes flicking to the fallen Aren, then to the rest of the group. She wanted to argue, but Evran's resolve was unyielding.

«We almost have it, Cira,» he added, his voice softer now, but just as firm. «We're almost there. Trust me.»

For a long moment, Cira fought with herself, the words of her team echoing in her mind. Riel had to come first.

She nodded sharply, swallowing the anger and guilt rising in her throat. «Fine,» she bit out. «Let's move.»

As Cira turned to run, her eyes met Liora's for a fleeting moment. The world seemed to slow down, the chaos around them fading as the silence between them deepened. Liora's gaze was sharp, her face etched with disbelief and betrayal.

Cira's heart thudded painfully in her chest. She couldn't look away, but the weight of Liora's unspoken accusation was unbearable. She had made the choice—hadn't she?

But in Liora's eyes, it felt like a betrayal.

The moment shattered as a gunshot rang out in the distance, dragging Cira back to reality. She swallowed the lump in her throat, turning away from Liora's gaze, and forced her legs to move, following Evran's lead.

They had no more time for hesitation.

Cira's breath came in sharp gasps as she ran, the heavy weight of Riel still in her arms, his body limp but alive. Her mind screamed at her to go back—to help Liora, to fix the mistake she felt she was making. But the distance between them stretched like an insurmountable chasm, and with each step, it became harder to look back.

Behind her, the sound of pursuit grew louder. Cain, Abel, and the remaining soldiers were closing in, relentless. The roar of gunfire echoed down the hallways, but Cira didn't dare stop to check. Every part of her screamed to keep moving forward.

Ahead, Evran and Bran kept pace, their faces set, ready to fight if necessary. Aren's pain, Liora's anger—it all weighed on Cira's shoulders. But in this moment, there was only one thing she could do: get Riel out.

«Almost there,» Evran called, his voice sharp with urgency.

But Cira's heart was heavy, torn between the guilt of leaving her comrades behind and the desperate need to protect Riel. The sounds of gunfire and footsteps closing in sent a chill through her spine.

And then, without warning, a sharp crack split the air, followed by a deafening boom. A blast of force slammed into her, sending Cira sprawling against the cold metal walls. The world blurred for a moment, the ringing in her ears deafening as the dust settled.

She looked up, panic surging through her.

The others were still standing, but the tunnel ahead had collapsed, a massive chunk of the wall now blocking their path.

«Not good,» Bran muttered under his breath.

Behind them, Cain's voice echoed down the hall.

«You can't escape, Cira.»

Cira's heart raced as the echoes of Cain's words crashed over her. She saw Sienna's grip on Riel tighten, but the weight of the situation hung like a noose around her neck.

From the shadows, he emerged, the red glow of the alarm lights casting his figure in an almost demonic hue. His dark armor gleamed under the strobe-like flashes, and his single eye locked onto her with a predator's focus. Blood of His comrades splattered his chest and arms, but his steps were measured, his breathing calm. In one hand, he held a sleek pistol, its barrel still smoking faintly, and in the other, his activated Energy blade—a weapon she remembered all too well.

Cira froze, her memories betraying her. Their last fight had been chaos, marked by her desperation and Cain's relentless aggression. She'd won by sheer luck, the jagged wound on his throat still visible as a faint scar, now partially obscured by the shadow of his collar. Back then, she'd been weaker, untrained.

But she wasn't the same person anymore.

Or was she?

«Cira, don't,» Sienna pleaded, her voice a strained whisper over the comms. "Come with us. You don't have to do this."

Evran's voice followed. "She's right. We need you alive to get Riel out."

Cira clenched her fists, the ache in her muscles screaming at her to listen. But the fire inside her burned hotter. Her team would only be slowed down if she stayed with them. She turned, her gaze meeting Sienna's for a brief moment.

«Go,» she said, her voice steady despite the chaos around her. «I'll be right behind you.»

Bran hesitated, but Sienna grabbed his arm, forcing him to move. «We can't stay. She knows what she's doing,» she said, her voice cracking with uncertainty.

Cira watched as they disappeared down the corridor, her attention snapping back to Cain as he stepped closer.

You should've run with them," he said, his voice low, almost taunting.

Cira gritted her teeth, sliding her blade free from its sheath. «I don't run anymore.»

Cain tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. «Good. Maybe this time, you'll actually put up a fight.»

He moved first, faster than she expected, the pistol in his hand firing a single, calculated shot. Cira twisted to the side, the bullet grazing her arm and sending a jolt of pain down her body. But she pressed forward, closing the gap between them. Her blade met his in a clash of steel, the sound reverberating through the empty hall.

Cain's strength was overwhelming. Every strike forced her back, her muscles straining to keep up. His movements were precise, practiced—each swing designed to exploit a weakness, to break her defenses.

Cira's breath came in short bursts as she fought to keep up. Her body screamed in protest, the injuries from earlier catching up with her. Cain's attacks were relentless, his blade moving like a viper, while his pistol forced her to keep moving, dodging, and deflecting.

Cira's mind raced, searching for an opening, a way to turn the fight in her favor. But Cain didn't give her the chance. He was faster, stronger—and despite the anger burning inside her, she felt the weight of exhaustion dragging her down.

He slammed his blade against hers, the force of it sending her staggering back. Her back hit the wall, the cold metal shocking her as Cain closed the distance between them, his blade pressed dangerously close to her neck.

Her breath quickened, but she gritted her teeth, trying to steady herself. The pounding in her chest was a drumbeat urging her to keep moving, keep fighting.

«You're still the same,» Cain muttered, his voice quiet but thick with disdain. «All that anger, all that hatred—it won't save you.»

Cira's eyes narrowed, her mind racing for a way to break free. The wall behind her offered little leverage, but she had one shot. She shifted her weight slightly, using the angle of his sword against her to twist her body. With a quick motion, she raised her own blade in a desperate arc.

Her strike was swift, her edge catching the side of Cain's armor with a sharp clang. It wasn't much—just a scratch, but it drew blood. Cain flinched, the crimson streak on his armor a stark reminder of her persistence.

A growl of frustration left him as he pulled back, his gaze darkening. His grip tightened on his weapon as he readied for another strike, but the cut, however small, stung his pride. Cain's gaze flickered to his side, the bleeding wound sending a pulse of rage through him.

«You think that's enough?» he snarled, and his next move was brutal—he swung his sword high, aiming to crush her guard with overwhelming force.

Cira barely managed to block the blow, her arm aching under the strain. Her entire body screamed with the effort, but she kept her stance. Cain's relentless strength, his precision—it was too much for her to handle. She needed space. She needed time.

But she wasn't going to get it. She knew that now.

Cain stepped forward again, his eyes cold, calculating. Cira knew there was no room for mercy in this fight.

Cira's chest heaved as she locked eyes with Cain, his towering presence bearing down on her. Her blade trembled in her grip, her exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her. She couldn't win this—not here, not like this. But she could survive.

Her gaze flickered to the gun at her hip, the weight of it a comforting reminder of her last option. The weapon was unique, combining old-world gunpowder with the destructive energy of plasma. It wasn't perfect, but it was powerful enough to give her what she needed—a way out.

Cain stepped closer, his blade poised for another strike. His normal eye burned with a mix of anger and anticipation, his confidence unshaken despite the wound she'd given him.

«You're finished,» he said, his voice low and calm, as if her struggle was nothing more than an inevitability.

Cira's fingers tightened around her weapon's grip. She needed him closer, just a little more. Her muscles coiled, ready to act.

«You talk too much,» she spat, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest.

Cain's smirk returned, but before he could retort, Cira moved. She dropped her blade, the clang of metal on the ground startling him for just a moment. In one fluid motion, she drew her gun and fired.

The first shot was gunpowder, the bullet slamming into Cain's shoulder and throwing him off balance. His expression twisted in pain and surprise. Before he could recover, she switched the weapon to plasma mode, the blue glow illuminating the narrow hall as she fired a second shot.

The blast wasn't lethal, but it was enough. The plasma struck Cain square in the chest, sending him stumbling back. His sword clattered to the ground as he hit the floor, the red light of the alarms casting eerie shadows over his fallen form.

Cira didn't wait to see if he'd get back up. She grabbed her sword and bolted, adrenaline surging through her veins as she sprinted down the corridor. Her boots pounded against the metal floor, the sound drowned out by the blaring alarms.

Behind her, she heard a growl of frustration, followed by the scrape of metal against metal. Cain was already recovering.

«Damn it,» she muttered under her breath, her lungs burning as she pushed herself to keep moving.

Ahead, she spotted the faint outlines of her team, their figures silhouetted against the flickering lights. They had stopped at the next junction, clearly waiting for her.

"Move!" she shouted, her voice hoarse but urgent. "He's right behind me!"

The team sprang into action, and Cira didn't look back. She couldn't afford to.