The helicopter lurched sharply to the right, buffeted by the shockwave of the collapsing building below.
"Hold on!!" Exter shouted from the cockpit, gripping the controls tightly. The rotor blades roared, the aircraft nearly tipping off balance.
Veyra let out a startled gasp, clinging to a support bar. Rhea gripped her seat, her face pale. Elior looked out the window, eyes wide. "Oh god… that building almost hit us!"
"Focus, Exter!!" Riven yelled from the back, half-kneeling as he latched Veyra's loose harness. "We can't go down now!"
Exter pulled steadily on the controls, bringing the chopper back under control. "Relax, I've got this! They're still moving down there!"
The helicopter stabilized, hovering above the wreckage. Through the back window, they could just make out Peterson's vehicle racing away from the collapsing zone.
Nyssa stared down and muttered, "Damn… that guy really knows what he's doing."
Exter exhaled, sweat dripping down his temple. "We need to find a clear path south. They'll need a safe place to land."
The helicopter pressed forward, flying low over the shattered city, trailing the car below like a shadow through the mist and debris.
Inside the speeding car—
Peterson glanced in the rearview mirror, making sure no one was chasing them, then pulled a small bag from beneath the seat.
"We don't know what's waiting up ahead," he said in a low but firm tone. He unzipped the bag, revealing two compact pistols and a few clips of ammo.
He turned and handed the first pistol to Taren.
"Take this. You need to be able to defend yourself."
Taren hesitated, furrowing his brow.
"Are you sure? I don't have much experience with this stuff."
Peterson gave a quick glance at Lirael sitting beside Taren. His gaze was sharp, but not cold—almost knowing.
"But she does."
Lirael touched the pendant around her neck for a moment, then nodded with quiet resolve.
"I'll cover the right side. I can shoot."
A small smirk tugged at the corner of Peterson's lips.
"I figured." He handed her the second pistol.
"Only shoot if you have to. We can't afford mistakes."
Lirael checked the ammo, cocked the gun smoothly, calm and focused. Taren looked at her with a flicker of awe.
"Since when did you know how to do that?" Taren muttered.
"Since the world started falling apart," Lirael replied flatly, eyes scanning the window.
Peterson returned his focus to the road. Outside, the scenery grew quieter—thicker trees, less movement. Above them, the helicopter still flew ahead as their escort.
But Peterson knew this calm wouldn't last.
"Get ready," he muttered.
"We're entering open terrain. Could be patrols... or drones."
Taren double-checked the safety on his weapon. Lirael narrowed her eyes, watching for any movement.
The road stretched ahead—silent, tense. Their journey south had only just begun, and danger loomed close.
As the car sped through the ruined streets of the city—
Wrrrrr... wrrrrr...
The distinct sound of drones filled the air. Their dark shadows flickered above the windshield.
"Recon drones. Two units," Kael said sharply, eyes glancing skyward.
Peterson narrowed his eyes and slammed the gas pedal. The car shot down a narrow alley to the right.
"Hold on!" he shouted.
Lirael and Taren leaned to the side as Serin hugged her bag tight. The tires screeched as Peterson turned sharply, steering them into a back street between tall, crumbling buildings.
Behind them, the drones began emitting a series of tracking beeps.
Peterson tapped his earpiece and activated the radio.
"Exter, do you copy? We've got incoming. Drones spotted us. I need coordinates to Tyson's route south—now."
Exter's voice came through the radio, faint under the roaring wind inside the helicopter.
"Channel clear. Listen carefully—head northwest, then drop down into the old station tunnel. There's a back route that cuts south, off the main roads. Coordinates: two-seven-six, alpha-kilo-four."
Peterson turned the wheel again, swerving into a fog-covered alley. The drones couldn't follow in such a narrow passage—they were momentarily safe.
"New route. Hold tight. It's gonna get rough."
Lirael scanned the old tablet Taren carried. "There's a slope just ahead—that must be the tunnel!"
"Right. Let's just hope it's not a dead end," Peterson muttered.
The car disappeared into the tunnel's darkness, heading south—toward their only chance: Tyson and the coastal hideout.
The car and helicopter finally arrived at the coastline. The sky was tinged with the golden hues of dusk, waves gently crashing—but the calm shattered by—
Bang!
A shot rang out from the trees near the cabin. The bullet grazed Peterson's arm.
"Argh!" Peterson winced, clutching his arm. Kael immediately crouched, Lirael pulled Serin behind the car. Taren readied his weapon to return fire, but Peterson raised his left hand.
"Wait! Don't shoot!"
Several armed men emerged from the bushes and trees. They wore worn but organized clothing, faces full of suspicion. One large man with a scar on his temple aimed his gun at the group.
"Who are you? Soldiers?! Don't think you can fool us!"
Veyra stepped forward quickly, hands raised.
"Hey! Stop! I'm Veyra! I'm Tyson's niece!"
The armed men glanced at each other. One stepped forward, voice firm but calmer.
"Prove it."
Veyra pulled a small medal from her bag—a lightning bolt and seagull emblem. The man looked at it, then loosened his stance.
"Follow us. But keep your weapons holstered."
Peterson was supported by Kael and Riven as they slowly followed the men toward a large cabin surrounded by wooden barricades and rusted barrels.
Behind them, Serin whispered to Lirael.
"Do you think this place is really safe? I... I'm not sure they fully trust us."
Lirael gripped her glowing pendant tightly and looked toward Tyson, who finally appeared at the cabin entrance. An older man with sharp eyes and a weathered face, wearing a thick sea coat.
"If this is our last place to stand," Lirael said softly, "then at least we have to try to trust... just this once."
Peterson met Tyson's gaze with heavy recognition—they had known each other before.