At the Edge of Los Angeles — 6:45 p.m.

  Tires screamed against the gravel as Lanice burst from the tangled forest, headlights slicing through the dusk. The battered jeep skidded to a halt, dust swirling in the dying light. Two figures stood in the road ahead—Teleopeans, unmistakable in their golden hair that caught the last rays like molten metal.

  “Xiao! Xiao—go help Yan Qing, now!” Lanice’s voice cracked, ragged with panic and exhaustion. He was running on fear alone.

  Xiao’s usually impassive face tightened, alarm flickering in his eyes. “Where are Chen and Yan Qing?!” His voice was sharp, brittle as glass.

  Lanice pointed, breathless. “Three o’clock—twenty kilometers in. We were attacked. They’re still there!” His hand shook as he gestured to the back seat. “Lan’s hurt too—some kind of radioactive thing hit him!”

  Shi didn’t hesitate. He pulled a device from his subspace pouch and tossed it over Lan’s limp form. Instantly, a dark-blue light blossomed, a triangular frame spinning above the boy, casting a gauzy, luminous veil that wrapped him in a cocoon of safety.

  “You stay here and watch Lan!” Xiao’s wings snapped open, catching the wind with a metallic whisper. In a blur, he vanished into the black trees, Shi following close behind—two inhuman silhouettes swallowed by the forest’s shadow, moving with impossible speed.

  Lanice stood alone, the engine ticking as it cooled, the forest pressing in with its damp, earthy breath. He crossed himself, lips moving in a silent prayer. For the first time in his life, he felt utterly powerless.

  Los Angeles National Park — 7:14 p.m.

  A heavy, colorless gloom pressed down on the world, thick as sodden wool. Yan Qing’s eyelids fluttered, lashes sticky with grit. The air pressed into his lungs, damp and cold, carrying the sharp tang of wet earth and the faint, bitter smoke of something burning far away. He coughed, the taste of mud and blood on his tongue, and tried to move.

  Pain detonated in his right leg—a white-hot bolt that shot up his spine and left him gasping. His vision blurred, then sharpened. He looked down. His lower leg jutted at an impossible angle, skin split and raw, blood seeping into the dirt. The sight twisted his stomach; bile rose in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the image burned behind his lids.

  Chen.

  The name snapped through his mind, cutting through the haze. His heart hammered, a frantic drumbeat in his ears. He forced his gaze up, scanning the clearing. The world spun, shadows swimming at the edges of his sight. There—half-hidden behind a jagged rock, a body sprawled in the churned earth. Golden hair fanned across the ground, catching the last, dying threads of light. Still. Too still.

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  A cold sweat broke across Yan Qing’s skin. No. No, no, no—this can’t be real. This is the nightmare. The one that claws at him in the dark.

  He gritted his teeth, ignoring the agony in his leg, and dragged himself forward. Each inch scraped his palms raw against the gritty soil. His breath came in ragged bursts, loud in the hush. The world narrowed to the roughness beneath his hands, the sting of open wounds, the metallic taste of fear. He reached Chen and collapsed over him, arms wrapping tight around the limp body, clutching him as if he could anchor him to the world by force alone.

  “Chen. Wake up.” The words tore from his throat, thin and broken. His chest ached, every heartbeat a knife.

  Chen’s face was chalk-pale, lips tinged blue. Golden lashes cast delicate shadows over closed eyes. He looked carved from porcelain—beautiful, perfect, and utterly wrong. Yan Qing’s fingers trembled as he brushed a lock of hair away from Chen’s left eye. “No…” His voice cracked. Tears spilled, hot and stinging, sliding down his cheeks and dripping onto Chen’s skin. —Our fatal weak point is behind the left eye— The thought stabbed through him, sharp and merciless.

  “…Don’t…” The plea barely made a sound.

  A faint sigh—a ghost of breath—fluttered against Yan Qing’s cheek. He froze. Hope and terror tangled in his chest, squeezing his heart until it hurt.

  “You idiot… don’t scare me like that!” His voice broke, half a sob, half a laugh.

  Chen’s right eye fluttered open, unfocused and glassy. “Y-you… leave…” The words were barely a whisper, breath rattling in his chest.

  “What are you saying? How could I leave you here alone?” Yan Qing’s hands tightened on Chen’s shoulders. “Come on—we go. Once we’re out, Shi will fix you!” He tried to lift him, but Chen’s head rolled, the motion so slight it was almost invisible.

  “Leave… me… radioactive… fluid… dangerous… for you…” Chen’s blood, once a luminous gold, had turned a sick, smoky gray.

  Yan Qing stared, horror prickling along his spine.

  “Shut up! Right now you only think about staying alive!” Yan Qing’s voice was fierce, desperate. “Don’t worry about me!”

  He pressed his forehead to Chen’s, breath mingling with the other’s shallow, uneven gasps. If he could just get Chen out, everything would be fine. It had to be. This was just a dream. It wasn’t real.

  Chen’s lips moved, barely. “I… don’t… regret it.” His hand, cold and shaking, brushed Yan Qing’s cheek, thumb smearing away a tear. His mouth curved in a faint, broken smile, eyes searching Yan Qing’s face as if trying to memorize every line.

  Yan Qing gripped Chen’s hand against his skin, sobbing, the sound raw and unrestrained. “I still haven’t told you… I haven’t said that sentence to you yet. You can’t die now! You can’t—alien can’t just die like this!”

  “Yan Qing… you…?” Chen’s eyes widened, confusion and wonder flickering in their depths.

  “You win,” Yan Qing choked, clinging tighter. “I’m a complete lunatic. So you don’t get to leave me like this—don’t you dare make me realize it and then run away!”

  Chen’s breath shuddered out, a soft exhale. His eyelids fluttered, fighting to stay open, but the world was slipping away. His fingers twitched, reaching for Yan Qing’s face one last time.

  “…Love… you. I… want to… protect…” The words trembled in his chest, barely more than a breath.

  The light in his eyes faded, leaving only glassy, empty stillness.

  “…You. Yan Qing.”

  His hand slipped from Yan Qing’s cheek. The world went silent.

  A gentle thought, not his own, brushed through Yan Qing’s mind: Don’t be sad. Being able to do anything for you… makes me happy.

  Yan Qing stared at Chen’s faintly frozen smile, feeling the last warmth drain from his fingertips. The silence pressed in, thick and absolute.

  Nothing he could do.

  Nothing he could save.

  “NO—!!!”

  Somewhere, a voice echoed:

  [Voice recognition confirmed—]

  [Access code confirmed—]

  [Subspace opened—]

  [Release: The Ultimate Weapon—]