U.A.'s floating fortress groaned overhead, chunks of metal and concrete raining down as explosions lit up the clouds like artificial lightning. The evacuation zone sat at the edge of the chaos—close enough to feel every shockwave rattling through your bones, far enough to pretend there was still safety somewhere.

You'd been pulling civilians out of the rubble for what felt like hours. Your hands were scraped raw, your costume stained with dirt and blood that wasn't yours.

But every time you finished dragging someone to safety, your eyes drifted back to the battlefield. Toward the thunder and smoke. Toward him.

A massive explosion sent dust pluming into the sky. It was different from the others. Brighter. Louder.

Wrong.