Debris crunched underfoot as he burst out of his tent and loaded Abelle's chip in his arm. Her ability surged through him, forcing him to duck and roll away from Five's swinging arm. His periphery registered two more blades slashing one after another. Only his enhanced ability kept him alive as he leaped back, blocked, and swung his good leg towards Five's side.

She tensed and shoved his shin, disrupting his balance. Her left dagger slashed across, aiming for his throat. With a grunt, he pivoted his ankle to redistribute his weight. He sidestepped her knife and swung a closed fist to the side of her head. His thumb hit her temples, sending her a few steps back. He scrambled away before another dagger could take his head off.

Huffing, he ran the back of his hand down the side of his face. Sweat slathered his skin, smearing the streaks of dust and mud found on it. A few feet away, Five straightened and shook her head. No doubt to clear any haze his flimsy punch incurred.

She closed the distance between them, fingers hooked as they lunged for him. Even with enhanced agility, he dodged too late. Her nails scratched against the side of his face and his hairline. Weight pushed him backwards, straight into a pillar. A distinct crack echoed in the hollow chambers of his brain as his head hit concrete. Five leaped back as he slapped her hands off his face and threw a wide swing.

A grunt flitted off her lips, the sound sliding farther away. Maybe Five stepped back, or the ringing in his ears defeated every slither of background noise around. He braced the concrete, hands clutching his scalp. Through the bright haze stinging his eyes, he spied a red streak snaking down his right hand. A concussion? Perhaps.

He steadied his erratic breaths. He couldn't afford to fall unconscious now. Instead, he leveled his gaze at Five, standing a few steps away. With her here, it seemed as if Seven and Slate talked. Or Eight. But it was doubtful for the wind girl to work with Five. She wanted to win the Game on her own might, and the sentiment was valid because she totally could.

"What seems to be the reason for your visit?" Thirteen asked when his insides settled and he didn't feel like tumbling over anymore. Talking has been the most effective way of buying time as he tucked his hands behind him, fumbling to eject the current chip. "I'm flattered you thought of knocking. Proper."

Five smirked, understanding Thirteen's reference. "Hardly a proper knock, don't you think?" she said, angling her daggers and dropping into a stance. It was something he had seen time and again. To disable that, though...

"How I wish we met under different circumstances, Thirteen," she continued just as he fished Four's chip from his pocket and made the quick switch. The moisture in the air haunted his senses again. "But I'm not here to kill you as long as you agree to talk."

Thirteen smiled, relaxing his stance. Oh, so she came to talk. After destroying his tarp and sending a message with her knives. If she truly wanted to talk, she'd have thrown her weapons to the ground minutes ago. Or if she was concerned with his unpredictability, she wouldn't have risked his ire by trespassing.

The Game called for it, though. Making everyone kill each other and using the broadcast planted a kind of fear in their minds. It was kill or be killed. Whoever the Corrector was, they made everyone think they have to eliminate other people to win and that everyone thought the same.

Thirteen studied Five. She hasn't made a move in five seconds. That was longer than average. If this was a real fight, Thirteen should have been dead three seconds ago, standing around doing nothing. Instead, she talked when he did. Stopped when he did.

"What kind of talk?" Thirteen flexed his fingers. He'd slam her with glaciers if need be. "If you're not surrendering, we can cut to the chase."

Five scowled. "Confirm something for me," she said. "Did Fourteen really die in this building?"

His facial muscles relaxed. "Maybe. I don't know," he said. "Why should I care?"

She opened her mouth but a stringent ringing coming from inside him cut her off. The sensors. Someone tripped it again. He glared at her. Which of them was she working with? Was this a trap all along? Keep him occupied until they could corner him? Not a chance.

Realization dawned on Five's face. She showed him her palms in a placating gesture. "Thirteen, I can explain. I—"

Before Five could move, he turned his hands towards her feet and blasted them with hardened vapor, rooting her in place. Not good. The screen. He had to know who tripped the alarms. Where were they? Who were they? Five grunted and attempted to wrench her feet free. If not for the frostbite, it would be fractures if she twisted any harder. "Thirteen, listen to me—"

He stepped backwards. Not a chance. She led enemies into his doorstep. She might as well be one. No amount of wanting to talk could fix that. When she bent down and moved to hack at her restraints with her daggers, he encased her fingers in orbs of ice. The blades clattered to the ground, followed by her loud yelp. He turned and ran.

His boots slipped across dust and debris. The building's false protection was useless now that everyone knew the truth. He would never go back here. A new hideout—he needed that. His breaths clattered and echoed in his head, filling his brain with humid air. His legs pumped and ushered him across the Northern region's thickening forest. The undergrowth slapped and scratched him in odd places, but he kept running. Stopping would be his death.

He didn't dare look back, to check if Five, by some miracle, was able to get out of the bulbs of ice around her digits. Did she follow him all the way here? Why? She worked with someone. Or a couple of someones. Whichever route, he had his hands full.

With frantic fingers, he fished out the portable screen and tapped twice. The lights brightened, showing him the scaled map of the grounds. Five stayed where she was, but another chip appeared beside hers. He ran a quick check on the pinging signal. It was Seven. And if Thirteen's hunch was correct, Slate would be there too.

He tucked the screen away, not once breaking his run. Protruding branches and rustling bushes flitted across the edge of his vision. Where was he? How long has it been since he fled the hideout? A dull ache stabbed at his side. He ignored it and continued ripping a hazy trail forward. Where would he go next? East? Back to the Central region?

Moonlight has descended on him, the afternoon sun vanishing in a flash. His hair almost straightened, sweat plastering stray locks on his forehead. He swiped it away and leaned against the immediate trunk. His legs throbbed as he skidded to a halt. He gasped, lungs scrambling to get back all the air they didn't get. Black spots danced in his vision, blotting out the dark gray leaves and black branches of the forest.

Something snapped behind him. He whirled to catch another streak of silver rushing towards his eye. His arm snapped up, Four's ability tearing off him in a straight line. A sphere of ice knocked against a wrist. Metal chinked against the grass. Thirteen's gaze landed on a mop of orange hair sitting atop a small head.

"Two," he breathed, studying the boy from head to toe. Apart from the obvious streaks of plaster dust staining the clothes, he was otherwise fine. Where did he get a knife? Where did he come from?

Better yet, how did he find Thirteen?

"Let me go." Two squirmed against a trunk. The ice had seeped into the bark, pinning the boy in place. "Or I'm going to command you."

Thirteen doubted he mastered mind manipulation to that degree, but he had to play his chips right. He plucked the fallen knife and switched Karrel's chip in the reader. "You already know what I'm planning, don't you?" he asked, twirling the knife between his fingers. "You can't do anything to me with Karrel's chip on, and if you continue trying to kill me, I have every method to make you bleed. Maybe I'll take your chip for myself and spare you. Maybe I'll kill you first. Tell me—which option am I prone to make?"

He studied Two's guarded expression. Pursed at the lips and scrunched at the nose, he looked as if he was constipated more than pissed. Knowing him, he knew Thirteen thought that about him too. Including the new goal forming in Thirteen's head, concerning the Corrector, the Game, and their place inside it.

"You let Four be killed so you could have her ability. You gathered Slate and the other units, both to level Karrel's ranks and eliminate Caden and Ikerne. Their abilities were in your possession until Karrel destroyed most of them." Words poured from Two's mouth, running through every perceived crime Thirteen had done. None were lies. "Three died to save you, and you didn't do anything to save him even when you had his ability in your hands. You promised none of us would die, yet you traded your safety over ours. What makes you think I'd follow you? Never again."

Thirteen straightened his spine and stalked towards the kid. Two couldn't hurt a fly, much less squeeze someone's brains out through their nose. Although, he was perfectly capable of doing that if he tried harder with his ability. The gruesome images flashed in Thirteen's head, making Two flinch and wince. The price to pay for violating privacy, no matter how small.

"I did all those things, but I still haven't killed you, have I?" Thirteen inclined his head to one side. His curls tickled his ear as they went with the motion. "I won't ask you to forgive me. I believe you understand my reasons behind those actions. But there is a way out of this without us killing each other."

Two narrowed his eyes, pupils flitting here and there as he sifted through the thoughts rushing in front of Thirteen's mind. "The Corrector? You aim to go to them?" he mumbled under his breath. "Going to the root of the Game. A plan..."

His lids snapped up, meeting Thirteen's eyes again. "Is that your goal?"

"I don't see any reason in killing someone who isn't out to kill me," Thirteen said with a small nod. "My principle never changed. I save the maximum number of people, through whatever means. I aim to escape, and if they want to join me, they could. As long as they weren't actively trying to chop my head off."

"I won't," Two blurted. He blinked and cleared his throat. "Chop your head off, I mean."

Thirteen waved a hand over the ice on Two's hand. It melted in a steady trickle of water. "Then, off we go," he said, massaging his temples. Five knocking him in the head wasn't helpful. "We have our work cut out for us."

Two rubbed his wrist, all reddened from its time with the biting cold. The wonder of being with Two was that Thirteen didn't need to articulate most of his thoughts. It was a hassle, leashing his thoughts to avoid Two glimpsing something he shouldn't know, but if it would save them time in coming up with plans and communicating, he'd avail. If Two got a little better, maybe he could be the new comms following the tainted system of the current one.

A light kick flared behind Thirteen's leg. "You're not going to push me around like last time." Two pouted. "I have my cards to play too. Treat me well, or I spill your secrets."

Thirteen hummed. Both of them knew Two wouldn't blab about things he shouldn't and Thirteen would never let any information slip past him, even if he had to keep another for the sake of. But, even the esper needed verbal assurance, so Thirteen opened his mouth without turning to the boy. "Of course," was all he said.

Then, they walked. Towards their new and nonexistent hideout.