The alley was a wild scene of lights and energy. The soldiers' red energy bolts flew through the air, mixing with the blue crackle of Seraph's gun.
Draven was a shield in the center of the chaos. He did not move and his huge sword was a blur as it knocked away the enemy fire. Every shot he blocked sent a shower of bright sparks into the air. He was a strong defender holding back the enemy.
"They're trying to get around us!" Seraph yelled. She hid behind the dumpster as many red shots hit it hard, leaving glowing, melted holes.
"Let them try!" Draven shouted back, his voice loud inside his helmet.
But the Bureau soldiers weren't just trying to win the firefight. They were buying time. They were protecting their cargo.
In the middle of the noisy battle, a new sound was heard. It was a low hiss, like a machine letting out air.
For a second, everyone looked at the main truck that Draven had stopped. The reinforced doors at the back of the truck were sliding open. A cloud of freezing gas, the same kind from the stasis pod in the mountain lab, came out into the alley.
A figure stepped out of the fog.
And everything stopped.
He seemed to be around Jonah's age. A year or two older. He had dark hair like Jonah, but it was cut short and looked harsh. He was dressed in a simple suit. He was tall and lean, but he had a weird, creepy stillness to him.
His face was the most horrifying part. It was completely blank. There was no emotion in it. Not fear, anger, or curiosity. His expression was a chilling nothing. His eyes were just as bad. They were cold and lifeless, like the eyes of a doll.
This was Subject Beta.
Draven, who had been a powerful force just a moment ago, took a step back without meaning to. This was not the kind of monster he usually fought. This was something different. Something very, very wrong.
Seraph kept her pistol raised and stared at the newcomer. "Identify yourself!" she commanded, her voice sharp and calm, hiding the scary feeling that was starting to fill her.
The young man in did not respond. He didn't even seem to hear her. He just stood there in the moving fog.
Then, with a casual flick of his wrist, he summoned a Progeny.
A ripple of dark, corrupted energy flowed from his hand, and a creature appeared beside him.
Or rather, it was a twisted, nightmarish version of Shard. It was the same size and shape as Jonah's first creation. A six-legged, insect-like creature built for defense. But this one was wrong. Its shell, which should have been a smooth gray, was cracked and leaking a dark, oily energy that sizzled as it hit the ground. Its movements were jerky and weird. It was a broken, evil copy of Jonah's creation.
The horrifying truth of what they were seeing shocked all of them.
The Bureau hadn't just stolen Jonah's blood to create a mindless monster.
They had created another Weaver.
They had created an evil version of Jonah. A living weapon to be the guard for their terrible project.
Subject Beta tilted his head just a little. His empty eyes finally looked right at Draven. He raised a hand and pointed. It was a simple move. A command.
The corrupted Shard creature instantly started to move. It rushed forward, its broken shell making a loud noise on the street. It was very fast, a black blur of evil power.
Draven, snapping out of his shock, raised his massive sword to meet the charge. He brought the glowing, magical blade down in a powerful arc.
The sound was very loud. The sword hit the evil creature's shell, and for a second, nothing happened. Then, cracks like a spiderweb spread out from where the sword hit and a large amount of it's crystalline armor shattered and flew off into the rain.
The creature let out a psychic scream. The corrupted light inside it flashed a lot, and it shook all over before falling down onto the road in a shaking mess. It was broken, appearing to be done with the fight.
It was a direct hit. A clear victory.
But Draven felt no victory. Because as the creature twitched on the ground, Subject Beta just stood there, his blank expression completely unchanged. He had shown no surprise, no anger, no disappointment. It was as if he had just watched a tool break and was now ready to simply get another one from the toolbox.
The young man raised his hand again. This time, two ripples of dark energy flowed from it.
Two more corrupted Progeny appeared beside him. A twisted version of Nyx with tattered wings. And a weak-looking Maul that was not formed right, with cracked tusks and a body that was unnaturally skinny and weak. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ N0veI.Fiɾe.net
He was summoning them. Not creating them. Just pulling pre-made, broken puppets from his own dark beast space.
This wasn't a battle of creation. It was a battle against an army of broken creatures, all led by a boy who felt nothing.
In the safe house, Jonah felt like he was going to throw up. He had disconnected from Trace the moment Seraph had yelled at them to move, but he was still linked to the comms. He had heard everything.
"Vanessa, I have to go," he said, his voice a strained whisper.
"Jonah, no!" she protested, her hand reaching out to grab his arm. "It's too dangerous. We don't know what that thing is!"
"I know exactly what it is," Jonah replied, his voice full of confidence she had never heard from him before. "It's my responsibility."
He stood up and ran for the door.
He didn't know what he would do when he got there. He just knew that he couldn't let his own sacred power, his art, be used . He couldn't let his own creations be turned into monstrous, soulless puppets.
The duel was about to begin. And it would be a terrible, familiar fight.