The train tunnel was overgrown and full of mold. Feral vines strangled old electric rails. Above, the city of Dunbar lay silent beneath a stormy sky—a city locked down, abandoned, quarantined from the world.
Anthony crouched beside a rusted breaker box, drawing a thin line of electricity between his fingers. It whispered to him now, like an old friend. Every wire and generator in this city had once been part of his life. Now, they bent to his will.
This place was home.
Or it had been—before the Empire, before the White Demon, before he died and crawled his way back through hell's teeth.
---
The tavern door creaked open. Anthony ducked under a bent support beam and stepped into the familiar ruin of The Tin Hammer—an old bar Zeke used to swear he'd rebuild after "just one more job."
It still stank of sweat and engine oil.
Zeke was behind the counter, of course—tinkering with a broken coffee machine and muttering curse words like they were punctuation.
He glanced up. Squinted.
"…No way. You're supposed to be dead."
Anthony raised a brow. "Says the guy still drinking expired beer."
Zeke laughed, wiping his hands. He was older now. Wider. But the same grin stayed.
"Figured you'd show up sooner or later. You always come home when you need something."
Anthony didn't deny it.
"I need into Delsin Tower."
That wiped the smile off Zeke's face.
"…The hell sphere's still up there. The whole district's sealed off, Ant. Military checkpoints. Drones. You're walking into a death sentence."
"I've already died once."
Zeke let out a low whistle, then popped the cap off a lukewarm bottle and slid it across the bar.
"You're insane."
Anthony sipped. "Probably."
Zeke nodded.
"…Then I'm coming with you."
---
Later.
Anthony leapt onto a rail and rode the current up a broken tramline. Every surge of electricity flowed through his boots into his bones—faster, stronger. He healed from minor wounds. Fell ten stories and landed running.
Zeke followed slower, planting EMP mines and signal scramblers. He was panting, but keeping up.
Soldiers were stationed around the base of the tower—Empire grunts, not locals.
Anthony crushed them fast. No hesitation. A blade of electric current to one. A bolt to the chest for another. They never saw him coming.
But the real threat waited above.
---
At the top of the tower…
The air was choked with smoke and scrap.
Floating in the mess like a mad god, Delsin hovered beside the Hell Sphere. His body was wrapped in cables and bits of armor bolted directly into his skin. He looked diseased—his face twisted by years of exposure to the Sphere's energy.
"I thought I smelled static," Delsin rasped.
Zeke raised a gun.
Anthony stepped forward. "You fused with the Sphere."
Delsin laughed—a choking, wet sound. His eyes glowed dimly. Shards of metal hovered around him, like knives ready to fling.
"You want it, huh?" he sneered. "Everyone does. But this city is mine. I built this tower with my mind. I hold it together. And I'll tear it down before I let it go."
The scrap exploded.
---
The fight began.
Metal tore through the air in bursts. Delsin hurled a wrecked car bumper like a discus—Anthony dodged and launched a lightning bolt, only for Delsin to deflect it with a slab of steel.
Zeke tried to get close, dropping tech grenades, but Delsin flung him aside with a flick of his wrist.
Anthony moved in.
He used the rails. Jumped. Blinked. Slammed into Delsin mid-air and forced him into the side of the tower. Sparks flew.
"You're just a conduit," Anthony hissed. "You're not a god."
Delsin growled and countered with a burst of steam pressure—blasting Anthony backward. Then fire—igniting the debris around them.
Anthony absorbed the fire's heat and redirected it through his veins—using it to charge a focused lightning strike.
It crackled above.
And he brought it down.
BOOM.
A bolt split the tower roof and slammed into Delsin. His metal armor turned red-hot. He screamed—his flesh cooking beneath it. His bones seared into black ash.
The light faded.
Delsin's husk collapsed—smoking, twitching, barely human.
---
Anthony stumbled, arms scorched. Zeke crawled from cover, limping toward the Hell Sphere as it pulsed with life.
He looked at it.
"…Power," he whispered. "Real power…"
Anthony turned. "Zeke. Don't."
Zeke smiled bitterly.
"…I'm tired of being useless."
He pressed his hand to it.
A flash.
Pain exploded through him. His body spasmed. The tower trembled—and then began to collapse.
---
Anthony barely had time to grab Zeke and dive off the side. Rails bent around them, guiding their fall as the entire top of the tower disintegrated in smoke and debris.
Zeke was bleeding, burned, barely alive. But breathing.
Anthony dropped to one knee beside him.
The sky above them darkened.
The Maelstrom was coming.
And he no longer had time to run.