Rian Cole shoved the carriage door open with a push, but before stepping out, he reached under the bench and grabbed a small leather pouch.
'Right, with this, I've got everything important,' Rian thought as he tucked it into the pocket of his grey rag and hopped down, his boots hitting the concrete with a dull thud.
Around him, people were running back, shouting and tripping over each other as they fled the explosion. The noisy machines sat abandoned, some with doors flung open, others crashed into one another.
But Rian didn't look back. His eyes were locked on what was happening ahead, where black smoke still billowed into the sky.
In the distance, a fight was underway. Ugly creatures, like oversized lizards with black scales and claws that tore at the ground, lunged at a girl.
They had long tails tipped with spikes and yellow eyes glinting with hunger.
The girl, with long white hair flowing like a flag, faced them alone. Her golden eyes shone as she raised her hands, and orange flames burst from them, scorching the air.
Each time the fire hit one of those lizards, a small explosion erupted, sending bits of scales flying everywhere.
'Impressive…' Rian thought as he walked forward, sidestepping a couple of blokes running the other way.
Rian wasn't scared—back in his clan, his brothers hunted monsters all the time, and he'd always ended up hauling the stinking carcasses or dodging swipes from wounded beasts, so this wasn't all that different.
He just knew he had to stay sharp; if those creatures noticed him, he figured running would do the trick.
Rian stopped a few metres away, crossing his arms, and watched the girl fight. The lizards circled her, hissing and baring their teeth, but she didn't flinch.
With a shout, she raised her hands again, and a massive flame shot out. The fire roared like a dragon, incinerating the creatures in an instant.
The stench of burnt flesh filled the air, and the lizards' remains crumbled to the ground like ash.
The girl gasped, dropping to her knees with her hands braced on the concrete. Her breathing was heavy, and sweat plastered her white hair to her forehead.
Rian tilted his head, impressed. "Not bad."
Suddenly, a slow clap broke the silence.
An older man with short white hair and a neatly trimmed beard stepped out from the smoke. He wore a worn brown jacket and boots that creaked with each step.
"Good work, Lena," he said, his voice deep but warm. He walked over to the girl and gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Those flames were strong, but you let them surround you again. You've got to move more, or those critters'll end up gobbling you alive."
Lena, still on the ground, looked up and scowled.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," she grumbled, flicking her hair off her face with a quick swipe. "Not my fault there were so many." Her tone was annoyed, but she nodded as she listened, like she was used to the pointers.
The old man turned his head and spotted Rian standing there, watching with his hands in his pockets. He narrowed his eyes for a second, then smiled and waved him over.
"Oi, you. Come here," he said, his voice firm but not quite a command.
Rian blinked, puzzled.
"Me?" he murmured, pointing at his chest. He shrugged and walked towards them.
When he got there, Lena sized him up and let out a dry chuckle, covering her mouth with a hand. She wore a snug black jacket and grey trousers that looked brand new—a total contrast to Rian's tattered, patched rag.
"What's with you?" she said, still laughing. "You look like you just crawled out of some shady mountain clan."
Rian frowned but didn't reply. The old man rapped Lena on the head with his knuckles, making her yelp an exaggerated "Ow!"
"Quit it, don't be rude," he said, then turned to Rian and crossed his arms. "Tell me, lad, why didn't you scarper to safety?"
Rian scratched his cheek, shrugging.
"Because the fight was interesting."
Lena clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes.
"Interesting, he says," she muttered, crossing her arms. She stood up, brushing ash off her knees. "You can see a thousand fights like this on the internet, you know? It's not that special."
Rian tilted his head, confused.
"What's the internet?" he asked, frowning. As he said it, he pointed a finger off to the side, where one of the lizards—half-burnt and with a broken leg—was trying to drag itself away unnoticed.
The old man followed Rian's gaze and reacted fast. He pulled a small knife from his belt and flung it with a flick of his wrist. The blade sank into the lizard's head, and it let out a feeble squeak before collapsing dead.
The man grinned and turned back to Rian.
"Good eyes, lad," he said, wiping his hands on his jacket. "Tell me, fancy coming along with us?"