I tense my whole body and push outward. Thinking of Jovie being hurt when she’s not even involved in this war, not really, gives me motivation. And slowly, the arrestor pulls apart.
Cables snap. Arrestors dim and blink. And finally, they switch off. But I am still magnetized to the ring in the floor.
Rolling myself over is a fight, but I get myself onto my stomach and push my body up with everything I have. The core of the arrestor pad spins with Storm light. I brace myself, knot a hand into a fist, eye the arrestor’s core, and punch the glass.
“What are you doing?” my father growls.
I punch it again and again, venting my built-up rage. A fracture shoots through the panel.
A bolt slams into my Arkus shield. I glare back at my father. “You do not deserve to be king.”
I rear my fist up again and put everything I have into the punch.
The unit crunches and fizzles. The arrestor dies. The invisible force weighing me down vanishes.
I get to my feet, turn around, and face the kings, Elders, and delegates who remain protected in their corner of the plaza by New Order Royal guards. When I step out of the circle, it earns me the attention of many. They shield up, and I soak in their fear for a moment as my Storm surges.
“Youdon’t deserve to be called Amphiran!” I let go of my training and allow the natural fury of my Storm to guide me. Kings stumble back from the arcs my body throws.
Guards launch defensive flares. Shields hold, knock together, burst, and reignite. I don’t care if I live or die, but I want them to feel my pain, my wrath, and know never to mess with Genesis again.
Commoners and Rogues scamper away. A Denarso gets in the way and vaporizes.
This is a new skill.
I throw another high-voltage surge and take out seven Royals.
Someone tackles me from behind. I stagger a step from their weight, reach over my back, and fling them off of me.
Pronkus crashes into me. He is the only male of those close by who has the weight to go toe-to-toe with me. We tumble into a flurry of electric fists. But he does not know my kind of rage. He has not had anything truly worth fighting for if his people mean so little to him.
I leverage myself free of him and pick him up by his tactical harness, arcing wildly as I fling him into the crowd of Royals. His body flattens many.
And suddenly, the mass of people isn’t as divided. Kings are hiding from Denarso behind their guards. Delegates and Elders are at war with Rogues.
“I’m so tired of you!” A bolt slams into my shield. “Why won’t you justdie?”
I turn toward my father and return his gesture. But I’m at a disadvantage, surrounded by so many Royals while shield dampeners are active. They start to team up, and their combined pressure and heat take me to my knees. But I am not letting them take me down this time.
Someone calls my name. I think it’s Fieri. I squint through the coalescing light of the New Order Royals and see him on the ground under a Denarso. He fires a gun and finds it empty. Eluni gets kicked in the back by another enemy soldier, shouting something about closing their portal. I can’t see the others.
Soon, the crackling is too loud for me to handle. I hang my head and just try to endure the Royal barrage as it closes in. My Storm sputters and threatens to give out from the heat, but I hold my ground. I will until I have nothing left.
Let them tax themselves. It will give Genesis time.
For what I don’t know. I know only that my Storm wants me right here, draining the Royals. Maybe it’s because I can take it.
Slowly, Royal guards, Elders, kings, and delegates pull back. Arcs die down. The light of their Storms disappears.
Someone speaks in the distance through the humming still in my head. “What is that?”
My body steams as cold air wraps around me again, and the Royals turn their attention to another priority.
The figure in white armor walks calmly into the chaotic battle, arcs flying off of her body like wild, untamed fury. I squint at the being, wondering if it’s Eluni.
Brown hair, not Amphiran black.
Soft brown skin. Not purple.
