EPISODE SIX : BROKEN

The blast left nothing but silence. Heavy. Convincing. The kind of silence that swallows breath before you even realize it. Flames snapped low in the corners, and outside, JEO sirens wailed, faint but growing.

On the floor, Hibiki's horns lay split, dark blood streaking the tiles. No one moved. Not at first. The agents stood stiff, their faces washed pale, eyes locked on what sat before them—horns cut clean, power still humming from the broken edges.

Shimin looked away. Her gaze dropped to Jenna. Momoko had her wrapped tight, arms curled protectively around her like a shield. Jenna's hands pressed into her own face, shoulders shuddering. Even covered, grief bled out of her—something bigger than sorrow, something private and unspoken, heavy enough to drown her. Shimin clenched her jaw tight, not daring to step in.

And then Kagaro's voice cracked through. Not loud, but hard enough to slice the moment.

"Jenna."

Everyone's head turned. Everyone in the room. Jenna flinched. She pressed harder against her hands. Kagaro didn't stop.

"Why?" His voice steadied, though his throat carried rough edges. "Why did that happen? What even was that?"

Her shoulders froze. Shivers rolled through her as she lifted her head slowly. Eyes red-rimmed, wet, cracked wide like someone caught in a storm. She stared at Kagaro but seemed to look past him.

"I... it's complicated," she whispered. The words barely made sound. "I can't— not simple. It's... it just is."

Her lips quivered. For a moment nothing followed, just the silence pressing her inward. Kagaro exhaled through his nose, one slow nod. He didn't push. Not when her pain was written so plain.

Momoko finally stepped in. Her voice was firm, higher than Jenna's, but still low and steady enough to carry.

"Every part of Hibiki's body harms," she said, eyes darting across to the shredded horns. "One piece—it's like acid. Break it apart and it eats straight through everything."

The words sunk into the room, stretching the silence longer.

Kagaro's head turned sharply to Yone. His eyes hardened, lines carved deep. The weight of everything sat between them. He didn't speak it, but every agent read it—contain this or it will kill more.

Awara pressed his lips together, his glance tearing out through the walls torn open. From this height, he could feel the fall. Fifteen floors. He didn't need to check. He knew that down below, around the spiral stairwells, bodies were scattered, the sick sound of agents who never made it. His hands shook once before balling tight.

He straightened, chest heavy, voice iron. "Evacuate the building!"

Every apprentice still hovering near the smoke snapped their heads up. They gave swift bows mid-air, wordless, and shot down fast to the ground. Pistols at their sides, bodies sharp with purpose, they surged toward the entryway.

The halls were death. They ran in boots through smoke, dust clinging to every edge. Inside they saw it—the chaos stripped bare. Chunks of ceiling like boulders flattened the halls, shadows of agents pinned beneath, crying weakly or not at all. Screams hollowed through the cracks.

One apprentice stopped, jaw locking at the sight. Blood smeared stone. A hand twitched uselessly under debris. Entire sections looked caved, broken under stone like ruins.

Shibuyu moved first, cutting through the paralysis. Her voice hit sharp, firm enough to ground them all.

"Commence evacuation! Now! Everyone!"

She stabbed her finger forward. "Help whoever's breathing. Even if it's faint. Don't question it—move!"

Hecto broke from shock first, nodding hard. "Yes, ma'am!" He turned, shouting, "Units—spread! Go!"

Boots thundered. They split across corridors, scattered across every floor they could reach. Training slipped into instinct, eyes snapping left to right as they crawled through debris and smoke. Shouts echoed.

"Here! I've got one alive—broken ribs!"

"Clear this side, give me leverage!"

"Three trapped under beam—move slow!"

The apprentices pushed on instinct. Shoulders slammed into slabs, hands dug deep. Brick cut through gloves. Blood hit stone. No one stopped. Every groan, every flicker of movement in the rubble pulled them harder.

"Don't talk," one whispered fast to a trapped agent, voice gentle through the grind. "We've got you. Just breathe."

Another voice followed rough behind him, "Two pulls on three, ready? ...One, two, three—lift!"

The floors blurred together. Twenty-seven total, each a pit of struggle. Screams layered through the stairwells, curses ringing as bodies slipped.

Someone lived under each stone pulled up. Some walked out, bloodied and limping. Some brushed dust off their faces, stunned by survival. Some could not stand but clung to air as if it would never feel that sharp again.

Despite Awara's desperate push to haul survivors from the crumbling wreck, the scene was overwhelming. The building sagged into ruin, fire and dust curling through the cracks. Only a small number stumbled out alive, broken bodies collapsing into the open air around the debris. Each face was another reminder of how close the line between survival and death had been.

Dori crouched in the chaos, hands busy. He dragged what scraps he could from the mess—metal billets, shattered concrete, anything flat enough—and lined them across the sand-coated ground. "Here. Here. Lay them here," he called, voice tight, sweat beading against his forehead.

The wounded were carried out, laid down one after another in rows. Hecto and his team moved quickly beside him, guiding limp arms, torn uniforms, muttering quiet commands just loud enough to be heard. Medics, who were still standing, patched ripped skin with hurried stitching, pressed cloth against bleeding wounds, their eyes flicking up now and then toward Gaieren, who watched it all with grim focus.

Above, the air boiled with tension. Commander Kisuke broke through the clouds of dust, rising higher, his anger sharp, cutting through the noise like steel. "Awara!" His voice hit hard, anger biting in every syllable as he surged toward the levitating figure. "Do you see this!?"

Awara turned, shoulders heavy, his sigh loud under his breath. The lines on his face deepened as he looked at Kisuke.

"Look what they've started!" Kisuke snapped. His words spat out like venom, frustration written clear in the way his jaw tightened.

"I see it too, Commander Kisuke..." Awara said, voice weighed down, carrying none of the bite, only exhaustion. His tone dragged, like someone too tired to match fury with fury.

But that only stoked the commander. "No," Kisuke barked, swinging closer, eyes blazing. "Not see. Control! You control them, Awara. Do you understand?!" His voice nearly broke from the strain, halfway between rage and despair.

Awara said nothing, eyes narrowing, his silence carrying the weight of his own helplessness.

Before fists of words could clash harder, Jento forced himself forward, cutting sharply between them. "Enough," he said quickly, pushing his hand up as if he could hold both men back at once. His tone pressed straight through the noise. "Pardon the intrusion... but you need to hear me now."

The two commanders turned, their glare still simmering, but Jento pressed on anyway. "Listen to me well. We cannot force our spirits into sealing. If we try... it drains us. Not just power. Our actual life. You push, we die."

The words halted the air for a moment. Dust still fell, rubble still rumbled in the distance, but their faces froze against his explanation.

For the first few seconds, no one spoke. Kisuke's fists clenched at his side. Awara lowered his eyes, chest sinking with a long pull of breath.

"You must understand," Jento pressed again, calmer this time, as if their silence gave permission for the weight to land. "We can't win this way. Force is only going to tear us all down before the spirits ever do."

The words bit sharp.

Yone barked another command. His throat burned with the effort. Each word drained more out of him than the last. His chest heaved, sweat clinging to his skin. He forced the order out again—and pain shot through his leg.

A bolt ripped the air and seared across him. Flesh split. He dropped, one knee slamming into the wrecked floor. His teeth grit hard, jaw quivering under the weight. Satar had completely lost sense of target. Her only goal was to somehow hit Hibiki with her lightning, no matter who else it harmed in the way.

“Not now,” he rasped at himself, holding his frame up with one hand. His body shook. Exhaustion pressed down like steel.

With his last burst of defiance, Yone clawed at the knot on his brow and yanked the bandana from his head. He tore it loose, tossed it away. The strip of cloth landed in the dust, forgotten, as his eyes burned through the haze. The floor beneath him—once fresh, white tile—was wrecked now, gouged black with battle marks.

A storm circled around them. Dust, rubble, broken shards whipped into the air like a curse. Satar stood within it. Her arms trembled, her movements jammed as though fighting her own body. Pain twisted her face. She pushed back against the thing inside her, but everything she summoned only turned back, binding her down tighter.

Her fury swelled anyway. Her eyes narrowed, fixed on Yone down below. She saw him falter, saw him choke on his own strain.

“You can’t hold it, can you?” her eyes seemed to scream.

Before the words could form, Hibiki’s shadow slid through the smoke. He didn’t waste a heartbeat. His body cut air as he lunged, silent, precise. His arm flashed around hers, grappling tight, motion fluid. He spiraled, dragging her with him into a bruising whirl, spinning her body like she was weightless until he sent her flying.

The wall shattered in a scream of impact. Concrete coughed out dust and cracks widened around her body where she slammed. The blow quaked through the floor, rattling everything, forcing silence into the chaos for just that one second.

Two spirits glared through the haze. Breath against breath. Neither blinked.

Hibiki didn’t pause—he clutched at her, shoved forward, momentum carrying him. His body snapped into flight as he powered her straight out the ruins of the window. Her form vanished into the air, scattered glass marking the trail.

He did not stop. He followed, his body cutting light across the sky, speed too sharp to follow.

Wind surged the moment they vanished. The building trembled from the force. Agents lost their grip mid-air, bodies flung down. Devices of levitation broke as men struck the ground.

Commander Kisuke was among them. His body tumbled until stone stopped him. A billet split against his ribs, his eye pressed closed beneath swelling. He coughed, hacking hard, body curling at the shockwave’s aftermath.

Awara dragged himself through smoke, arms failing under weight, legs ragged with strain. Skin bruised, joints swelling at strange angles, refusing to set in their natural place—but he moved anyway. Crawling forward, palms sinking into dust. His eyes lifted to Kisuke.

For a moment in the ruin, neither needed words. Both knew the cost of what had just torn through them.

Behind, Dori staggered, his lids heavy like each blink pulled him closer to collapse. His legs shivered. He tried to steady himself—and pain answered. When he looked down, the leg of a broken bed jutted cruel into his side. The iron pierced deep, blood soaking his tunic, dripping down steady.

He dragged in one sharp breath. His hand hovered over the shard, fingers trembling.

“Damn it—” His hiss cut short as he gripped the metal. His knuckles whitened, body twitching with dread. With a wrenching pull, he tore it free.

The gush was instant. Blood ran hot across his hand, splattering the ground beneath him. His body folded forward. His teeth clenched until veins popped across his neck. The taste of iron filled his throat as he gasped and fought against the blur pouring into his eyes.

Agents had been dragged far from the JEO towers, all of them sprawled in the makeshift emergency site that the JEO founders had set up for moments of emeegency. No one had ever thought they’d be forced to use it. Awara least of all. He had spent years—years—praising his star bearers, taking pride in their flawless records against the Jenemes, claiming no fight could bring them down. And now? That pride felt hollow. The very people he bragged about had forced them here, to the patch of sand and brick and broken billets, to hide.

Inside the building, Shimin wrapped her arms around Jenna. Her voice stayed low, but her face was tight. “We don’t have time. We need to get out, Jenna. Right now.”

Her device clicked alive as she strapped it to her waist. She shot a look at the broken window, where Hibiki and Satar tore at each other like wild beasts. The walls shook. The ceiling groaned. Her only focus was launching them out of there before it all buried them alive.

She braced herself, waited for the lift—nothing. Her legs bent upward in anticipation, like she could feel flight coming, but her body refused to leave the ground.

“No, no, no…” She slammed her hand against the panel. Her heart hammered. “Why is this not working now of all times!” Her voice cracked, raw frustration spilling out.

Momoko turned her head, furrowing her brow. She tilted closer, pointing. “Shimin… smoke. It’s coming out of the device.”

“What?” Shimin crouched lower. The faint streaks of smoke slipping from the cracks burned her nose. Her throat tightened. “Damn it.”

Jenna’s face paled. “So we’re stuck?”

Some time back....

The walls rumbled louder. Lightning cut the air between Hibiki and Satar, and bricks began to rain onto the floor. In the confusion, one heavy piece slammed against Shimin’s device, tearing it loose completely. It dropped by her foot, sparks hissing erratically before dying altogether.

The roof started splitting. Dust choked the air. The walls groaned with imminent collapse.

“Shimin!” Kagaro’s voice rang through the storm of sound. He skidded into view through the smoke, pulling her away from where the debris would fall.

He moved closer, his tone low but firm. “That thing’s not getting you out. We don’t have much time.”

Shimin’s hands shook. “I can’t lift us. It won’t—”

His hand cut her complaint off. “I know.” He scanned the weight—the five of them, tight together. Too heavy for just one device. Even his wouldn’t carry them all at once. He looked past the crumbling walls, then down at Yone sprawled in the dust. Yone and Jenna didn't have their devices on them, as Momoko had come here from her house, which obviously didn't have the equipment JEO held. He spun his stare back at her and nodded once.

“We don’t wait anymore,” Kagaro growled.

He flicked his wrist. “Anisole!”

The shimmer burst above them, a fierce glare against the collapsing dark. Kagaro didn’t hesitate. “Whip, now.”

Metal roared into form, sleek and black, curling into a hungry coil. The whip gleamed as shards of concrete bounced off its length. Kagaro yanked it into his grip like it had always been there. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the window frame.

He snapped it outward. The whip flew, slithering into the sky, its tip latching instantly around the trunk of a tree metres away. Kagaro hauled back, muscles grinding to reel the slack in.

“Yone—on my back. Now!” He bent down and threw Yone’s limp form behind him, gripping his arms to steady him in place.

“Grab me, all of you. Don’t let go.”

Momoko didn’t waste a breath, she locked onto him, dragging Jenna against her chest in the same motion. Shimin pressed in too, teeth grit as she hooked her arm around Kagaro’s waist.

“Hold!” Kagaro barked.

The whip tightened, metal hissing as Anisole contracted the length. The force launched them forward. Their bodies hurtled across the open air as the room behind them tore down. The tower screamed and fell apart in a rising cloud of gray.

They slammed against the tree, knees buckling, but alive. Kagaro ripped the whip’s tie free with a jerk, pulling his spirit back into his wristband. The glow vanished, leaving only ragged breathing in its place.

But before anyone could catch breath, another explosion cracked out from the second tower.

Heat washed across them. The twenty-seven-floor construction shook, blue and green lights from it staining the sky around. At the top of a building adjacent to the one collapsed, Hibiki and Satar were silhouettes slamming into stone and steel. Each attack rattled the air. Each strike sounded like thunder.

Hibiki’s fists drove her back again and again, pounding Satar into walls, against beams, across every surface he could throw her. He was relentless.

Momoko shielded her eyes with her arm. “They’re not going to stop.” Her voice was flat, impatient.

Yone crouched low, leaning against the tree trunk. His breaths rasped out. His eyes stayed locked on the chaos above. “Jenna-san… stop your star.”

Jenna met his gaze. Her voice was calm. “Hibiki didn’t start this, Yone-kun.”

Yone frowned, frustration creasing his face. “You’re saying—”

“Satar started it.” Jenna’s reply carried calm but heavy weight. “Hibiki saved me.”

He looked at her and faltered, his expression softening just slightly. Then he turned his face back skyward, his eyes burning.

“Fine. She doesn’t listen to me. Then call him, Jenna-san. Please. He’ll stop if it’s you.” His voice cracked on it, desperation breaking through his usual armor.

Shimin’s throat tightened at the sight, her eyes glassing. Seeing Yone—the one everyone looked up to, the weapon they all feared—brought down to pleading terrified her in a way Satar never could.

“Jenna, please,” Kagaro urged. His tone pressed heavy with urgency. “Just call him back.”

Jenna shook her head, grip tight on her bag. “I told you already. If I don’t uphold my side of the contract, it disappears. Hibiki disappears. I disappear.”

“Then answer me,” Shimin pulled closer, her voice firm. “Can you call him back at all?”

“Yes. He’s mine. I can.” Jenna hesitated, eyes lowering. “But…”

“But what?” Shimin pressed immediately.

“If I pull him here—Satar comes too.”

Shimin blinked. “What? Hibiki’s the one on a rampage right now—”

“No.” Jenna cut her short, her head shaking violently. “He’s not. Hibiki is pulling her away. He’s saving me. Saving us.”

Her words cut the noise harder than the explosions.

Yone pressed his back into the bark, shadows cutting over his face. “She’s right. It’s not him.” His voice was low, jagged with fatigue. “It’s Satar. Always Satar. She ripped his horns off. She killed without hesitation. And I don’t even know why anymore.” His voice shuddered at the edges, cracking with confusion.

“Yone—you’ve tried enough. Let it go, start healing—” Kagaro stepped in.

“Healing for what?” Yone spat, fury ripping through the calm. “For what, Captain?!” His fists slammed against the trunk.

The second building shook, explosions rolling through its frame. Fire licked up the windows. The hollow voices of agents screamed through the collapsing steel. In moments, two more towers would fall, turning twelve tall JEO towers into ten. More lives buried, gone instantly.

Jenna grabbed Kagaro's device and tied strap tight, securing the bag against her waist. Her jaw was set.

“Jenna! What are you doing taking my device like that?!” Kagaro asked in panic.

“Jenna—what are you doing?” Momoko whispered, eyes flooding fearfully.

“Stop!” Shimin hissed.

Jenna lifted herself just slightly, weight shifting into air. Her frame rose clean from the dirt. Her body hovered, light carrying her upward. She didn’t look back.

“Jenna, wait!” Momoko cried out, voice trembling, chasing her with her words. Moving a tree trunk with so many people who definitely kill

Jenna glanced back just enough, just enough to give one sentence. “I’ll fix it. And. Stay here.”

Then she was gone, flying straight into the painted sky, cutting across smoke and light toward the storm of Satar and Hibiki.

“JENNA!” Momoko screamed. Her voice cracked on the last syllable. But it was too late. Jenna was already halfway to the fire and ruin, every piece of her being fixed toward it.