The sky above Krael's Hollow churned with unnatural energy, streaks of green lightning clawing through the darkness. Below, the sprawling bazaar glowed faintly, illuminated by crude Aether-lamps and the shimmering remnants of discarded fragments. The air smelled of ozone and desperation, a fitting scent for a place where deals were as unstable as the ground they were built on.

Jasrik Thorn ducked into an alley, keeping his hood low as the throng of traders, scavengers, and mercenaries milled about the market. His heart pounded, not from exertion but from the familiar hum of his bionic arm, the Havok Fragment embedded deep within it pulsing faintly. Not enough to cause trouble. Yet.

With his free hand, Jas reached into the satchel slung over his shoulder, checking the small shard nestled inside. The Ignis Fragment glimmered faintly in the dim light, its energy swirling like a contained storm. Just holding the thing made his skin crawl. He hated fragments, hated what they did to people. But he needed this job, and this fragment was the ticket to freedom—if he lived long enough to spend the payout.

He stepped into the meeting point, a shadowed alcove where a crumbling shrine to some forgotten Sovereign loomed like a relic of guilt. A man waited there, leaning casually against the broken stone. His leather coat was patched and worn, but the blade at his hip and the faint glow of Aetherite dust around him screamed power. Slin, an enforcer for the Emberforge Syndicate, raised his head as Jas approached.

"You're late," Slin said, his voice a drawl that carried just enough menace to make it clear he wasn't joking.

Jas smirked, more out of habit than confidence. "Traffic in the Aetherstreams," he replied, letting the satchel swing lazily by his side. "But you're lucky—I've got exactly what you asked for."

"Show me," Slin demanded, stepping forward. His fingers twitched toward the fragment-powered blade at his side, a habit or a threat—Jas couldn't tell which.

Reaching into the satchel, Jas pulled out the Ignis Fragment, its glow casting sharp shadows across the shrine. It was no larger than a shard of glass, but the energy trapped inside radiated with enough heat to make Jas's skin prickle. "Pure Ignis," he said, holding it up for Slin to see. "Just like the Syndicate ordered."

Slin's eyes gleamed as he extended a hand toward the fragment, but Jas pulled it back at the last second. "Payment first," he said firmly, his voice losing its usual sarcasm.

With a grunt, Slin reached into his coat and pulled out a vial of shimmering Aetherite dust. The glow was faint but steady, promising enough fuel to power a skyship for weeks—or to line Jas's pockets for a long time. He held it up as if testing Jas's resolve. "Satisfied?"

Jas considered it for a moment, then nodded and tossed the Ignis Fragment toward Slin. The man caught it with practiced ease, inspecting it closely. For a brief second, Jas felt the tension in his chest ease. That was a mistake.

The faint clink of metal on stone made him stiffen. His instincts flared to life as two figures stepped out from the shadows, each armed with crude fragment-powered weapons. One had a jagged claw for an arm, its edges sparking faintly with Aether energy, while the other held a rifle that hummed with unstable power.

"You're a fool," Slin said, pocketing the fragment. His smirk was cold, a predator toying with its prey. "You think the Syndicate pays freelancers like you what you're worth? No. You're worth more dead than alive."

Jas's fingers flexed involuntarily, and the Havok Fragment embedded in his bionic arm stirred. He could feel the chaotic energy pulsing, begging to be unleashed. "Last I checked," Jas said, his voice steady, "freelancers don't usually deliver and fight off your competition."

"Competition?" Slin asked, feigning innocence. He gestured to the two enforcers. "Oh, these? They're not competition. They're your replacements."

Before Slin could give the order, Jas moved.

In one fluid motion, he activated his bionic arm. The Havok Fragment roared to life, sending a jolt of chaotic energy coursing through his body. Sparks of red and black light crackled around him as the arm surged with destructive power. The first enforcer barely had time to react before Jas slammed his bionic fist into his chest, sending him flying into the crumbling shrine with a sickening crack.

The second enforcer raised his rifle, and Jas reached for the blade at his hip. Steel met energy as he sliced through the weapon's barrel, rendering it useless, before slamming his knee into the enforcer's stomach. The man crumpled, groaning as sparks danced from the ruined weapon.

Slin, however, had already retreated into the shadows. "Coward," Jas hissed, debating whether to chase him. But the Havok Fragment was still surging, the chaotic energy coursing through his arm begging to be unleashed further. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe. If he pushed it too far, he'd lose control—and he couldn't afford that. Not yet.

He turned and grabbed the vial of Aetherite dust from the ground, his eyes darting toward the bazaar's edge. The shouts of alarm were already rising, and the heavy sound of boots on stone told him reinforcements were on the way. "Of course it couldn't be simple," he muttered, taking off at a sprint.

The twisting alleys of Krael's Hollow were a maze, but Jas knew them well. His boots pounded against the cobblestones as he ducked through narrow corridors and dodged makeshift stalls. The glow of the Havok Fragment faded slowly, leaving his bionic arm feeling heavier than usual. He flexed his fingers, trying to shake off the lingering ache.

Ahead, the faint silhouette of his skyship loomed at the edge of the island's dock. Merrik would be waiting—grumpy as ever, but dependable when it came to getting them out of tight spots.

As he neared the ship, a sharp crack echoed through the air. He dropped instinctively, rolling behind a stack of crates as something hissed past his shoulder. A fragment-powered sniper rifle. Great.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the shooter perched high on a crumbling tower. The rifle's faint glow was unmistakable, as was the figure's silhouette. Another bounty hunter. Jas cursed under his breath. He didn't have time for this.

The skyship's engine hummed faintly in the distance, and for a moment, Jas allowed himself to hope. If he could just make it aboard, he could leave this mess behind. The hope was fleeting, but it was enough.

He gripped the Aetherite dust tighter, took a deep breath, and sprinted for the ship.