⸻

The city groaned beneath me. Buildings stretched high, but not high enough to escape the smoke that curled from my machine below—my chaos engine. I built it to destroy what the world worshipped: stability, success, future. I didn’t want those things anymore.

I wanted the world to feel what I felt the day I lost you.

I stood on the rooftop of a flat skyscraper, the hum of destruction vibrating up through the steel. Another business down. Another reminder that nothing lasts.

Then I heard it—your landing. Soft. Graceful. So familiar, even in its silence.

“You’re too late,” I muttered, not turning around.

“This ends here, Blu.”

Your voice. Why does it always rattle me?

“You say that every time, yet here we are.”

I turned to face you, mask hiding the truth, your staff gripped like it held the last bit of your hope. You were light wrapped in silver and anger. You always were light. I used to bask in it.

“You built a machine that devours livelihoods,” you said, stepping closer. “That future you hate so much? You’re stealing it from everyone else.”

I laughed. Short. Bitter. “Futures didn’t care when mine was ripped away. They don’t deserve mercy.”

Your eyes… god, your eyes. I’ve seen them somewhere before. Not on a battlefield. Not like this. They used to smile at me. Back when the world felt… small, warm, real.

We collided fast. You charged, and I met you with my gauntlet, sparks flying into the twilight sky. It was war and rhythm. Pain and memory. You struck like you were trying to save me. I hit back like I was trying to forget you.

“What made you like this?” you shouted over the clash.

“Losing someone,” I growled, slamming your staff away. “Someone I loved more than anything. And never got the chance to tell her.”

I pinned you for a second, one hand pressing your shoulder to the concrete. Your breath caught—and you made that sound.

“She was my everything..”