The streets of the undercity stretched before them, bathed in the dim neon glow of flickering signs, their buzzing hum barely audible over the distant whirring of machinery. The air was thick with the familiar metallic scent of oil and rust, but for the first time in forever, Rad didn’t feel like he was suffocating.


    Kite walked beside him, hands casually tucked into his jacket pockets, his laughter bright against the dull backdrop of the city. “And then,” Kite said between chuckles, “my mom tripped over the picnic blanket and dropped her ice cream right onto my dad’s lap! You should’ve seen the look on his face, man. He just kinda… sat there, frozen, like he was contemplating his entire life.”


    Rad snorted, shaking his head. “Sounds like a nightmare.”


    “It was hilarious!” Kite grinned, his green pupils glinting under the streetlights as he laughed. “I tried not to laugh, but then my dad just sighed, picked up the ice cream with his bare hands and took a bite like it was no big deal. My mom was so grossed out!”


    Rad chuckled, a little softer this time, the warmth of Kite’s story settling in his chest. He listened as Kite continued, his voice animated as he reminisced about his parents.


    “You know,” Kite mused, “we used to build things together a lot. Just little projects here and there. Once, we made this like tiny solar-powered car for a neighborhood kid who’s toy broke. We worked on it for weeks, and when we finally gave it to him, man, the way his eyes lit up. It was so worth it.”


    Rad turned his head slightly, watching the way Kite’s expression softened as he spoke, the nostalgia clear in his eyes. There was something about it, about the ease in which Kite spoke of his family, the warmth in his voice, that felt… unfamiliar. Alien, almost.


    Rad had never known what that kind of love felt like. The idea of parents who actually cared, who laughed and built things with their kid, who stuck around, it was strange. He should’ve felt bitter, jealous even, but somehow, listening to Kite talk, he didn’t.


    Eventually, their path led them to a squat, run-down apartment, its walls lined with rusting pipes and faded graffiti. A few dim lights flickered along the stairwell leading up to Kite’s home, and the buzzing of an old neon sign hummed faintly above them.


    Kite jogged up the first few steps, but as he reached for the door, he paused. He turned back, his brows furrowing slightly as he noticed Rad still standing at the bottom of the staircase, his feet firmly planted on the cracked pavement.


    “You coming?” Kite asked, tilting his head.


    Rad hesitated, gripping the straps of his backpack tightly. His lips parted, but the words felt heavy in his throat. “…Are you sure about this?”


    Kite blinked, then gave him a reassuring smile. “Of course. Friends look out for each other, right?”


    Rad opened his mouth again, ready to argue, to say that this was the first time they talked so casually, that he barely even knew Kite, but before he could get the words out, Kite simply turned on his heel and disappeared inside. Rad stood there, frozen, his fingers curling around the worn fabric of his backpack straps.


    From the corner of his eye, he saw Ray hovering beside him, his small frame illuminated by the soft violet and green hue’s of his cybernetic eyes. There was something faintly amused in his expression, something almost… fond.


    Ray smirked slightly, crossing his arms. “No point in arguing,” he said, his voice quiet but tinged with something that almost sounded like pride. “My father is quite stubborn."


    And with that, Ray floated up the staircase, following Kite inside, leaving Rad standing at the bottom. For a long moment, Rad simply stood there, staring at the entrance. His mind raced with uncertainty, with hesitation, but deep down, something in him wanted to follow.


    The weight on his chest felt a little lighter. The crushing loneliness that had followed him for as long as he could remember wasn’t quite as suffocating. Rad let out a quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle as he shook his head. Then, slowly, he took a step forward.


    And then another. And then, with the faintest trace of a smile curling at his lips, Rad climbed the stairs.


    Rad stepped cautiously into the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him as he followed Kite through the dimly lit hallway. His hands instinctively gripped the straps of his backpack as his eyes drifted over the framed photos that lined the walls. Each one captured a moment frozen in time, a glimpse into a life so drastically different from his own.


    In one picture, a younger Kite sat on his dad’s shoulders, grinning ear to ear while Mira stood beside them, holding a melting ice cream cone with an exasperated yet amused smile. Another photo showed Kite and his parents standing in front of a half-built robotic contraption, their faces smeared with grease and dirt, their eyes alight with excitement and shared joy.


    There was even a candid shot of Mira laughing, her hand on Dorian’s chest while Kite clung to his dad’s leg, his face scrunched up in mock protest. Rad stared at the images in silence, something unidentifiable twisting in his chest. The warmth, the love, it was so foreign to him, yet It was here, surrounding him in every frame.


    Before he could dwell on the feeling, Kite’s voice echoed from the other end of the hall. “Mom?” Kite called out as he stepped into the kitchen. “You’re home early!”


    From the kitchen, the sound of soft humming stopped, followed by the clatter of utensils. Mira Caulder, Kite’s mother, peeked out from behind the fridge, her long brown curls tied back loosely, a tired but warm expression crossing her face.


    “Yeah, there was an accident at the plant,” she said, rubbing her temple. “Nothing serious, but they sent a bunch of us home early. Your dad came to pick me up.”


    As she turned to grab something from the counter, her eyes suddenly landed on Rad, who had just stepped hesitantly into the kitchen. Ray hovered quietly beside him, his glowing cybernetic eyes gleaming faintly in the kitchen’s warm lighting.


    Mira’s brows furrowed slightly as she wiped her hands on a dish towel. “And who’s this?” she asked, her tone neutral but curious.


    Kite grinned and gestured toward Rad. “This is Rad! My new friend!” he said, brimming with enthusiasm.


    At the name, Mira’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of recognition flashing in her eyes. “Wait a second,” she said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t this the same kid who shoved you a few weeks ago?”


    Rad’s stomach dropped. His fingers twitched around the straps of his backpack as guilt settled heavily in his gut. His throat felt dry, and he forced himself to mumble, “Yeah… I, uh—I’m sorry about that.”


    Mira’s sharp gaze didn’t waver, her maternal instincts still on alert. But before she could say anything else, Kite quickly stepped forward, his hands raised in a reassuring gesture. “It’s okay, Mom. That’s in the past. We’re friends now.” His voice was confident, as if there was no room for argument.


    Mira studied Rad for a long moment, skepticism still lingering in her expression. But after a deep breath, she decided not to press further. She could see the nervous tension in Rad’s posture, the way he kept his gaze low, the subtle way his shoulders hunched like he was used to bracing for something. Whatever had happened between them, Kite had clearly forgiven him.


    She sighed. “Alright,” she relented, rubbing the back of her neck. “If you say so.”


    Kite beamed, but the moment was short-lived as he turned serious again. “Rad got kicked out,” he said bluntly. “By his mom. He doesn’t have anywhere to go.”


    Mira’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she was quiet, as if processing the weight of those words. Her arms folded as she glanced toward Rad, studying him more closely now. There was something in the way he held himself, hesitant, worn down, like a kid who had been through far too much in too little time.


    Before she could respond, footsteps echoed from the stairway, and moments later, Dorian stepped into the kitchen. His broad frame filled the doorway, his dark, slightly unkempt hair bouncing as he walked. His grey eyes, warm but observant, instantly focused on Kite, who wasted no time in rushing toward him.


    “Dad!” Kite grinned as he practically launched himself at his father, wrapping his arms tightly around Dorian’s waist.


    Dorian let out a soft chuckle as he ruffled Kite’s hair. “Hey, bud,” he said, his voice deep but gentle. His gaze then shifted over to Rad and Ray, who’s expressions were unreadable as Dorian held his son close.


    Mira gestured toward Rad, her voice softer now. “Kite brought a friend home,” she said simply, then exhaled. “And… he got kicked out.”


    Dorian’s body tensed slightly, his hand momentarily pausing on Kite’s back. He looked at Rad, his eyes flickering with something deeper, understanding.


    For a long moment, he was quiet. And then, slowly, he nodded. “He can stay,” Dorian said, his voice steady but firm.


    Rad’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened slightly in disbelief. It had been that easy? No hesitation? No questioning whether he was worth the trouble?


    Kite practically bounced on his heels with excitement. “Yes!” he cheered.


    Rad, still in mild shock, gave a small, hesitant smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks…” he murmured, unsure of what else to say.


    Mira exhaled through her nose before nodding. “Alright,” she said, relenting fully now. “Then I guess we should get dinner started.”


    Dorian nodded in agreement. “We’ll need a good meal for tonight.” He smiled at Kite. “How about you help out?”


    Kite perked up immediately. “Really?” His voice was brimming with excitement.


    Dorian chuckled, placing him down gently. “Yeah. But we’re gonna need some extra ingredients first.” He turned, grabbed a notepad from the fridge, and quickly scribbled down a list. Tearing off the page, he handed it to Kite along with a few tecabites from his pocket.


    Kite grinned as he pocketed the money and took the note. “I won’t let you down!” he declared before jogging toward Rad and Ray.


    Dorian smirked, watching them for a second before calling out playfully, “Try not to buy too much candy!” Kite waved him off as he and Rad disappeared around the corner, Ray hovering close behind.


    As their laughter faded into the distance, Mira leaned against the counter, arms folded, her gaze still lingering on the hallway. “…Are you sure about this?” she asked softly.


    Dorian was quiet for a moment before nodding. “They’ll be fine,” he assured her. Then, with a chuckle, he added, “Besides, Kite wouldn’t have let us say no anyway.”


    Mira huffed out a small, knowing laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah,” she murmured. “That kid is way too stubborn.”


    A fond smile played on Dorian’s lips as he turned toward the stove. “Just like his parents.”


    The garage door’s hinges groaned as it opened, revealing a dimly lit space cluttered with half-finished projects, rusted metal parts, and an array of tools strewn across workbenches and shelves. The air was thick with the scent of machine oil and scorched metal, mingled with the faint static hum of dormant electronics.


    Fluorescent lights flickered intermittently overhead, casting shifting shadows across the mess of innovation and chaos. Kite stepped inside with an easy familiarity, his shoes clicking against the concrete floor.


    Rad hesitated before following, his gaze sweeping over the countless gadgets, wires, and prototype devices scattered across the garage. His eyes widened in amazement, taking in the sheer volume of homemade tech, some pieces resembling drones, others mechanical limbs or tools in various stages of completion.


    “You made all of this?” Rad muttered in disbelief, his fingers ghosting over a half-built cybernetic arm resting atop a cluttered workbench.


    Kite grinned, setting his backpack down with a thud. “Yeah, most of them were me,” he said proudly, dusting off a small, rust-covered robot with a flick of his wrist. “Though sometimes my dad would help out, or he’d make some of his own stuff.”


    Kite removed his hover board from its clamp, gave it a casual toss into the air, and watched as it expanded, the compact frame unfolding into its full-sized form before stopping just inches above the ground. It hovered silently, waiting.


    Rad barely noticed, still overwhelmed by the sheer creativity surrounding him. His eyes finally locked onto something across the room, a sleek but rugged white exosuit resting on a reinforced stand. Its plating was uneven, clearly still a work in progress, with exposed circuits lining its joints. It looked as though it had been pieced together from scrap, but despite its unfinished state, it had an undeniable presence.


    “And that?” Rad asked after a long silence, pointing toward the exosuit.


    Kite glanced over before stepping onto his hover board, letting it lift him effortlessly across the room. “Oh, that?” He smirked, floating up beside the exosuit and patting its shoulder. “That’s my exosuit. Still a work in progress...” Kite said before his emerald green eyes glinted mischievously. “Until I add some firepower to it.”


    Rad took a step closer, eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Why…?” He hesitated, then let out a nervous chuckle. “Did something happen? Why the need for a suit of armor?”


    Kite’s face darkened slightly, but instead of answering right away, he spun toward Ray with an exaggerated glare, pointing an accusatory finger. “Because someone just had to be a possessed baby and scare the crap outta me!”


    Ray arched a single eyebrow, folding his arms as he hovered in the air, his violet and green cybernetic eyes gleaming in amusement. “It’s not my fault you kids got scared so easily,” he said, voice dripping with mock innocence. A taunting smirk tugged at the corners of his lips before he rolled his eyes playfully. “And here I thought my dad was supposed to be some fearless hero.”


    Rad furrowed his brow. “Fearless hero?” His gaze darted between the two of them.


    Kite let out a confident laugh as he pressed a button on the exosuit’s wrist panel. With a deep mechanical hum, the garage door rumbled open, allowing the neon-lit undercity to spill in, casting an eerie glow across the scattered tools and unfinished projects.


    “Yeah, well, I’m not some helpless kid anymore!” Kite declared, puffing out his chest. “Just you wait and see!”


    Ray drifted past Rad, still smirking smugly. Rad blinked, still reeling from the bizarre conversation. “The hell’s going on?” he finally muttered, more to himself than anyone else.


    Kite’s laughter rang through the streets as he soared out of the garage, his hover board kicking up dust in his wake. Rad shook his head in bewilderment before following after him, the chaotic energy of their trio blending into the hum of the undercity as they disappeared into the neon glow.


    The rundown store bustled with activity, the hum of flickering neon lights overhead casting a sickly glow over cracked tile floors and dust-caked shelves. The aisles were narrow, packed tightly with mismatched products, some brand new, others clearly past their prime. The faint scent of stale bread, metal, and artificial preservatives lingered in the air, mixing with the occasional whiff of something burning from the back kitchen where an ancient stove sputtered to life.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The checkout line stretched toward the door, an impatient crowd of chimeras, humans, and automatons waiting with overstuffed baskets of canned goods, instant noodles, and cheap protein supplements. As Kite and Rad weaved through the crowded aisles, their shoes lightly scuffing against the grimy floor, their surroundings shifted from neatly stacked non-perishables to chaotic displays of snack foods, brightly colored bags half-toppled over one another, some torn open by previous customers, their contents spilled onto the lower shelves.


    A few dented cans rolled against Kite’s foot, kicked aside absentmindedly as he walked. Behind them, Ray hovered in silent observation, his cybernetic eyes flicking from shelf to shelf, scanning the store’s disarray.


    He wasn’t interested in the snacks themselves, his mechanical body didn’t require sustenance, but something else caught his attention. A box perched precariously on the top shelf, its faded logo still somewhat recognizable beneath the layers of dust and neglect.


    The packaging was adorned with the smug, chiseled face of an older man, his sharp features framed by a salt-and-pepper beard and slicked-back silver hair. He wore a tailored chef’s coat, pristine white with golden embroidery, his arms crossed confidently as he stared down at the potential buyers with an air of superiority.


    A small, cursive signature near the bottom of the box read Gilbert Escoffier, a name who currently, is spoken with reverence in the culinary world. Ray’s expression shifted into a bemused smirk as he hovered closer, brushing a finger over the box’s faded surface.


    Gilbert’s Flakes? he mused internally, the memory of a certain arrogant chef surfacing. His mind replayed countless moments of bickering, Gilbert berating him for his lack of “refined taste” while a younger Ray smugly reminded the man that he was once a professional taste tester for his aunt. “I remember when he went out of business.”


    Ray chuckled under his breath, a soft, almost nostalgic sound, before shaking his head and letting the box fall back into place with a gentle thud. Some legacies, no matter how grand, always end up abandoned.


    Meanwhile, a few steps ahead, Rad strolled beside Kite, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets as his eyes flicked between the store’s many questionable products. “So, what are all the ingredients?” Rad asked, breaking the brief silence as he turned to Kite.


    Kite glanced down at the slightly crumpled note in his hands, his green pupils scanning the scribbled list in his dad’s familiar handwriting. “Hm, let’s see… we need some fresh vegetables, peppers, onions, tomatoes. Some kinda protein, doesn’t have to be fancy, just something that won’t poison us.”


    Kite smirked at that before continuing. “Rice, eggs, cooking oil, spices, and… oh! Butter. Real butter, not that fake synth crap.”


    Rad raised an eyebrow. “Real butter? You guys rich or something?”


    Kite laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, Dad just says ‘if we’re gonna eat, we might as well eat right.’”


    Rad scoffed but couldn’t help a small smirk forming. “Guess that’s fair.”


    Ray, still hovering silently behind them, glanced at the list briefly, then back to the shelves. They’re gonna have a hard time finding real butter in this dump. He thought dryly.


    With their list in hand, the trio continued down the aisle, navigating the chaotic maze of stacked goods, broken displays, and impatient shoppers, one step closer to gathering the ingredients for their meal. Kite maneuvered through the narrow aisles, the rickety wheels of the shopping cart squeaking under the weight of their haul.


    Ray sat calmly inside, his small robotic frame barely taking up space amidst the stacked groceries. His cybernetic eyes flickered as he silently observed their surroundings, ever the watchful sentinel.


    Rad walked lazily beside them, his hands stuffed into his pockets, letting out a long yawn. The fluorescent lights above flickered slightly, bathing the rundown store in a cold, artificial glow. “I think we’ve got everything now,” Kite said, glancing over the collection of ingredients piled high in the cart.


    “About time,” Rad mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as they turned the corner of an aisle. But just as they stepped out, the air was shattered by a deafening crash.


    The entire store fell into momentary silence before a wave of murmurs and gasps filled the space. Kite and Rad immediately snapped their heads toward the source of the noise, their eyes widening at the scene unfolding ahead.


    Ray, however, remained unfazed. Without a word, he hovered upward, his glowing cybernetic eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the situation.


    “What was that!?” Kite exclaimed, gripping the cart as he took a hesitant step forward.


    The sight before them was pure bedlam. Several metal shelves lay toppled over, their contents strewn across the floor. Boxes of canned goods rolled aimlessly, bags of rice had burst open, and shattered jars leaked sauces and condiments into a messy pool of debris.


    At the heart of the destruction stood two figures, both brimming with tension. One was a thirteen-year-old boy, his stance wide, his entire body practically vibrating with pent-up energy. He wore a yellow and black varsity jacket with scuffed sleeves, a plain white shirt, and ripped black jeans that had seen better days.


    His white running shoes were smeared with grime, but the real standout feature was the ancient black bracelets on his wrists, both faintly glowing with their own yellow hue, pulsating with barely contained power. The boy’s Kenyan features were sharp with defiance, his jaw clenched tightly, his expression a blend of anger and determination.


    His buzz cut had stylish lines etched through the sides, adding to his bold appearance. But his most striking feature of all were his glowing yellow pupils, burning with intensity as they locked onto his opponent. Standing across from him was something far less human.


    The onyx-black automaton stood tall, its sleek, metallic frame both ancient and impossibly advanced. Its glowing blue cybernetic eyes pierced through the air like twin icy beacons, their depths revealing no emotion, only calculation, observation, and an unshakable resolve.


    Intricate ancient tattoos, formed from a network of glowing ethereal blue energy, pulsed across its body like the lifeblood of a forgotten civilization. The patterns stretched from its broad chest, down its arms, and coiled around its mechanical fingers like circuits woven by gods.


    It was dressed In monk-like attire, a flowing deep-blue sash draped over one shoulder, fastened with metallic clasps that shimmered under the store’s flickering lights. Loose black pants were bound at the ankles with silver metallic cuffs, and a series of floating metallic rings hovered gently behind its back in a perfect vertical alignment, a feigned symbol of balance, wisdom, and restraint.


    Despite the chaos, the automaton exuded an unshakable calm, an aura of stillness in stark contrast to the boiling rage of the boy before it. “I had that pack of meat first, you damn circuit freak!” The kid spat, pointing an accusing finger at the automaton. His cybernetic bracelets flared, reacting to his emotions, crackling with golden light, as if preparing for battle.


    “You should have kept a firmer grip on it,” the automaton responded, its voice cold and precise, like a sharpened blade cutting through ice. The kid’s expression darkened further, his glowing eyes flaring even brighter with raw energy. His muscles tensed, his breath steadying as he prepared himself for what was to come.


    And then, the words erupted from his throat like a war cry. “Tuko Pamoja!”


    The very air around him crackled with energy as his body was engulfed in a blazing yellow aura, radiating heat like a miniature sun. Then, in an instant, dozens of clones burst forth from his form, each identical, each brimming with the same pulsating power.


    They sprang into action without hesitation, launching themselves through the air in a perfectly synchronized assault toward the automaton. The battle had begun.


    The automaton barely moved as its wrist flicked, a small but deliberate motion that sent the hovering circular disk behind its back hurtling forward like a razor-edged blur. The air whistled as the disk carved through space, an unstoppable force of destruction.


    The clones barely had a moment to react. One by one, they were severed in an instant, their bodies splitting apart mid-motion, releasing violent sprays of crimson that painted the store’s already ruined shelves in streaks of red. The thick scent of copper filled the air, mingling with the artificial sterility of the store’s lighting.


    Yet, the kid didn’t falter. Not even for a second.


    Instead, he darted forward, his feet pounding against the store’s ruined floor, weaving between the disk’s attacks with an almost inhuman level of agility. Each attempted slice of the automaton’s disk missed by mere inches, the razor-thin margin of survival leaving nothing but the sharp, ghostly whistle of steel cutting through empty air.


    With a wicked gleam in his glowing yellow eyes, the kid dropped low, his body a blur as he spun into a powerful sweep kick aimed directly at the automaton’s head.


    But the automaton was faster. With precision so sharp it bordered on supernatural, the automaton’s cybernetic fingers snapped up, catching the kid’s foot mid-air, stopping the attack dead in its tracks. A thunderous clank echoed through the ruined aisles, the strength behind the grip immovable, unyielding.


    Before the kid could react, the automaton’s disk came hurtling back through the air, aimed directly at his unguarded torso. And yet—he still wasn’t afraid.


    A psychotic grin curled across the kid''s lips as his free hand lashed out behind him, gripping the spinning disk in his bare fingers. Sparks erupted upon contact, the sheer momentum and power of the weapon threatening to tear through his flesh.


    But his grip held. With an effortless clench of his fist, the disk snapped into countless shards, the metallic debris raining down onto the store floor like shattered glass.


    The automaton’s cold, mechanical eyes widened just slightly, the only indication of its momentary shock. And that moment was all the opening the kid’s clone needed.


    A brutal kick from the side struck the automaton directly in the ribs, the sheer impact sending it flying sideways into a towering metal shelf. The entire structure groaned under the sudden force before collapsing like a house of cards, its contents spilling into a chaotic mess of crushed boxes and broken glass.


    But the automaton recovered quickly. From beneath the wreckage, its glowing blue cybernetic eyes pierced through the dust, its form rising without hesitation, without pain. And in a single fluid motion, it dug its hand into the fallen metal shelving, gripping the heavy structure like it was weightless.


    Then, with unrelenting power, the automaton swung the entire shelf like a makeshift weapon, bringing it crashing down with devastating force. A shockwave ripped through the store as the kid and his clones were sent flying, their bodies tumbling through the air like ragdolls.


    Yet, one clone managed to evade the attack, using the momentum to close the distance between them. With near inhuman speed, the clone launched itself forward, twisting mid-air before delivering a clean, crushing kick to the automaton’s head.


    A dull, metallic clang rang out as the automaton’s head snapped to the side. It grunted, more out of surprise than pain. But it didn’t falter.


    Instead, its own roar tore through the store, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through the shelves, shaking the very foundation beneath them. Its fist lashed out, generating a shockwave powerful enough to rattle the overhead lights.


    The clone weaved through the punch effortlessly, its movements sharp, fluid, and merciless, retaliating with a blinding flurry of blows. Each hit left a dent in the automaton’s once-pristine form, the impact of the strikes shaking its frame with every vicious connection.


    Yet, despite the merciless onslaught, the automaton never broke. It only grew angrier.


    With another thunderous roar, its cybernetic eyes erupted into blinding white light, an explosive wave of heat radiating outward with terrifying force. The clone barely had time to react before its entire body disintegrated into ash, erased in an instant.


    Then, something changed. Ray, who had remained passive until now, narrowed his bi-colored cybernetic eyes, his usual impassive expression faltering just slightly.


    His mind raced. An automaton… entering the Flow State? Here, of all places?


    The automaton’s form began to shift, its movements gaining a surreal fluidity, as if it had shed the mechanical rigidity of its existence entirely. The white aura surrounding its frame intensified, glowing with an ethereal purity that starkly contrasted the destruction around it.


    It was transcending. Becoming something more.


    And the kid? He only grinned wider.


    “Bout time you noticed!” he taunted as the Automaton turned to him, his own golden aura erupting like a blazing sun, arcs of golden lightning crackling wildly around his form.


    At his command, his clones formed a makeshift catapult, launching him high into the air like a human projectile. The automaton’s piercing gaze followed his ascent, its stance unwavering, its composure fully returned.


    It was no longer simply fighting. It was waiting. Calculating. Preparing.


    The two combatants locked eyes. Their auras burned brighter, clashing mid-air before their bodies had even met.


    Then, with a final war cry, the kid threw his fist forward, his entire form streaking toward the automaton like a yellow comet. At the same time, the automaton mirrored him, its ivory-white aura expanding outward, its fist meeting his head-on.


    For a brief, heart-stopping moment, time seemed to freeze. Then—Impact.


    A flash of white and gold consumed the entire store, the sheer collision of their raw strength generating an explosion of force so intense that the shelves buckled and collapsed inward. A blinding light engulfed everything.


    The kid’s body was a blur, flung through the air like a discarded ragdoll. The force of the final strike had sent him hurtling backwards, his limbs limp, his consciousness ripped away in the final, desperate clash. His remaining clones dissipated into swirling white mist, their fleeting forms dissolving into the air as if they had never existed at all.


    A sickening crash rang out as the kid’s body collided with a pile of fallen shelves, sending a fresh wave of debris scattering across the floor. Dust and shattered product displays settled around his still form.


    Kite and Rad stood frozen, their wide eyes reflecting the sheer destruction left in the wake of the battle. Amazement and horror warred within them as they turned their gaze to the being that emerged from the smoke.


    The automaton stood victorious. Its gleaming white aura slowly faded, retreating like dying embers, its form returning to its original, cold precision.


    There was no arrogance in its stance, no sign of reveling in its triumph, just calm detachment and an unwavering resolve. With an almost reverent slowness, the automaton gave a single, final nod of acknowledgment toward the fallen kid, an unspoken recognition of his efforts.


    Then, without another word, it bent down, retrieved the very pack of meat that had started this entire ordeal, and turned away. Its movements were methodical, deliberate, its presence fading into the store’s shadows like a ghost.


    Never to be seen here again. Kite stood there for a moment longer, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. Then, a nervous chuckle escaped his lips, shaking off the tension. “I’ve gotta get those bracelets!” he suddenly exclaimed, his voice snapping with excitement.


    Without hesitation, he abandoned the shopping cart and bolted forward, his shoes skidding against the store’s ruined floor as he raced toward the fallen kid. “Kite! Wait up!” Rad shouted, grabbing the cart and pushing after him in frustration.


    Ray, however, lingered. His cybernetic eyes remained locked on the automaton’s last position, the glow of his violet and green optics flickering faintly in thought.


    His expression was unreadable, but something in his stance, the stillness, the lingering tension in his tiny frame, suggested that this encounter had even him slightly shaken up. Then, with one last glance, Ray silently drifted forward, catching up to the two boys.


    The scene was a mess. Kite stumbled over broken packaging and crushed shelves, his breathing heavy from excitement as he closed the distance to where the boy had landed.


    The kid lay sprawled among the debris, his black and yellow varsity jacket torn at the sleeves, his white shirt dirtied, and the edges of his black jeans frayed from the impact.


    His chest rose and fell in uneven, shallow breaths, his body still but not lifeless. The yellow glow of his cybernetic bracelets had dimmed significantly, their once-bright radiance reduced to a faint, flickering hum, as if drained of power.


    Kite dropped to one knee beside the boy, his hands hovering slightly, unsure where to touch. But his eyes kept straying to the bracelets, his fingers twitching slightly.


    I could just… he swallowed hard, a quiet temptation stirring inside him.


    The power he had seen, Tuko Pamoja, it was unlike anything he had ever encountered that was from this universe. The way the kid commanded his clones, the speed, the raw strength… It was incredible. And those bracelets, they were the source of it, weren’t they?


    Kite exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he thought to himself. No. Not now.


    “Kite!” Rad’s voice cut through the moment as he and Ray finally caught up.


    Rad shot Kite an unimpressed glare, but Kite only grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, Rad,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head.


    Then, Kite’s gaze turned to Ray, his expression shifting to something more serious. “You can heal him, right?” he asked hopefully.


    Ray remained silent for a moment, his glowing eyes scanning the boy’s injuries. His expression remained unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line.


    “I could…” Ray’s voice was quiet, hesitant, as if he were reluctant to interfere in the kid’s fate.


    Kite clasped his hands together and pleaded, his wide eyes brimming with that stubborn, unwavering determination. “Come on, please?” he begged, his voice almost childlike in its desperation.


    Ray sighed heavily, rolling his cybernetic eyes before muttering, “Fine.”


    Rad and Kite watched in silent anticipation as Ray’s small, white cybernetic hand pressed lightly against the boy’s shoulder.


    A faint cosmic glow pulsed beneath his palm, violet and blue light radiating softly, like a nebula breathing to life. The boy’s wounds began to close, the bruises fading and the cuts sealing themselves.


    His ragged breathing evened out, his fingers twitching slightly as consciousness slowly returned to him. Then, his eyes fluttered open, blinking groggily.


    “W-what happened?” The kid’s voice was hoarse, his mind still foggy as he struggled to process his surroundings.


    “You lost,” Rad stated bluntly, crossing his arms and gesturing to the utter destruction around them.


    The kid groaned, his head dropping slightly as he exhaled in frustration. “Dammit… I thought I had him,” he muttered, disappointment evident in his tone.


    Kite saw his opportunity. “Hey uh…” He spoke up nervously, his tone suddenly casual, as if trying to mask his excitement.


    “Those bracelets…” he pointed, his grin sly. “Wouldn’t happen to be for sale, would they?”


    The boy raised an eyebrow, his yellow pupils flickering in curiosity. He lifted his wrist slightly, examining the sleek, black cybernetic bands.


    “No, I don’t have any reason to give them away,” he replied, suspicion creeping into his voice. “Why?”


    Kite smirked, unclamping his hover board from his backpack and tossing it into the air. The device expanded instantly, the sleek makeshift hover board hovering above the ground smoothly, humming with power.


    “Because,” Kite said with a dramatic pause, “I was willing to do a trade.” The kid’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze locking onto the hover board, his fingers twitching ever so slightly.


    “Whoa… Is that a hover board?” he asked in awe. “I’ve always wanted one of those.”


    Kite’s smirk widened. “Mhmm. And it can be all yours for those bracelets,” he said smoothly, pointing at the boy’s wrists.


    Rad raised an eyebrow from the sidelines, his suspicion clear, but he remained silent, watching the exchange unfold. The kid hesitated, his expression conflicted. His fingers brushed over the smooth surface of the bracelets, the faint glow barely pulsing.


    A part of him didn’t want to part with them. They had been his for years, his main source of power. But…


    “Will you keep them safe?” The boy’s voice was softer this time, quieter, as if he were letting go of something more than just a piece of tech.


    Kite’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the weight of the question. But then, his expression softened, and he nodded, sincerity clear in his voice. “Of course. It’s a promise.”


    The kid exhaled deeply, then offered a small, bittersweet smile. “It’s a deal.”


    With a slow, deliberate motion, he slid the bracelets off his wrists and placed them in Kite’s hands. The moment the cool metal touched Kite’s skin, his heart pounded, his breath hitching in anticipation.


    As the kid picked up the hover board, he spared one last glance at Ray. “Thanks,” he said simply, his expression unreadable. “Whoever you are.”


    Then, with that, he was gone. Ray watched him disappear, his expression still and unreadable, but something in the way his eyes flickered hinted at deeper thoughts.


    Kite, meanwhile, grinned like a kid on his birthday, eagerly sliding the bracelets onto his wrists. His pulse quickened as the newfound hum of power coiled around him, anticipation bubbling in his chest as he whispered the words.


    “Tuko Pamoja…”