Arc 3, Chapter 1

Amara had been trailing the blue-haired boy for a significant period, adhering to her assigned task. However, his recent entry into the sewers forced her to halt her pursuit. The risk of exposure became too great.

A sense of intrigue gnawed at her thoughts. Memories of their initial encounter resurfaced, where he had appeared feeble and inconsequential in her eyes. Yet, recent events, particularly what she had witnessed at the decrepit house, had transformed him into an entirely new entity.

The question of his newfound strength lingered in her mind, intertwined with the puzzle of how he had managed to nullify her fire. *Could there be a connection between his abilities and his peculiar immunity to my flames?* she mused, her thoughts a whirlwind of curiosity and speculation. Sheltered in the concealment of an alleyway, Amara remained patient, biding her time to resume her pursuit of the blue-haired boy.

The sudden sound of a static voice jolted Amara's attention away from her contemplations. Before her stood an automaton belonging to the Ironhelm Guard, its presence indicated by the distinct greeting: "Good morning, citizen." *A Sentinel I think they call it? Better reply to it so it leaves me alone,* she thought.

"Good morning, officer," she responded with practiced composure, her voice devoid of any hint of unease. However, as her gaze scrutinized the automaton more closely, a subtle deviation from the norm caught her attention. While Sentinels typically adhered to a standardized design with a height of approximately six feet, composed of robust brass plating and fortified steel framework, this particular unit exuded an air of refinement and sleekness that deviated from the established norm.

The automaton looked at her, seemingly scanning her. As the automaton's gaze fixated on her, Amara sensed an eerie tension building in the air. Without any forewarning, the automaton's right arm extended towards her, unleashing a bolt of electricity in her direction. Her surprise was quickly overridden by instinct as she conjured her fire shield, the protective barrier materializing just in time to intercept the incoming electrical surge.

A burst of smoke and energy enveloped her shield as the bolt made contact, resulting in a minor explosion that dispersed as swiftly as it had formed. As the haze cleared, the automaton's expressionless visage remained unchanged, its single phrase cutting through the aftermath: "Target acquired."

Amara's focus sharpened as the automaton charged, its movements swift and relentless. She channeled her fire magic, flames igniting around her hands like a familiar companion. The bolts of electricity streaked toward her, crackling with energy as they arced through the air. Without hesitation, she summoned a wall of fire, using it as a shield to intercept the incoming attacks. The clash between electricity and flames created a volatile reaction, as the intense heat from the flames ionized the air, causing the electricity to follow the path of the superheated gases. The result was a dazzling display of light and power, with fiery tendrils of plasma momentarily enveloping the bolts of electricity.

As the automaton closed in, Amara's body moved with deliberate precision. She didn't possess the agility of a seasoned fighter, but her mastery over fire granted her a unique advantage. Flames swirled around her, forming a protective barrier that enveloped her figure. The automaton's relentless assault continued, bolts of electricity arcing toward her like streaks of lightning. Yet, Amara remained steadfast, her expression unyielding as the electricity crackled against the intense heat of her flames.

Summoning her fire magic once more, Amara unleashed a torrent of flames, engulfing the automaton in a wave of intense heat. The bolts of electricity crackled and fizzled as they met the searing flames. The intense heat caused the air molecules to vibrate rapidly, hindering the movement of the charged particles in the electricity and reducing its effectiveness. The automaton's circuits momentarily struggled to conduct the electricity through the superheated environment. Yet, the automaton's resilience was evident as it weathered the flames, its alloy framework glowing with heat.

The automaton adjusted its tactics, directing another surge of electricity toward Amara. She absorbed the scene before her with focused intensity. With an almost serene demeanor, Amara erected a dome of flames around herself, the bolts of electricity colliding with her protective shield. The intense heat caused the surrounding air to expand rapidly, creating a temporary barrier of lower pressure that disrupted the path of the electricity. The resulting explosion echoed through the air, flames rippling and crackling in response. The heat and force of the impact were tangible, but Amara remained composed, her fiery barrier standing firm.

Amara's focus remained unbroken as the automaton attempted to unleash another surge of electricity. However, the volatile mixture of the superheated air surrounding her and the residual ionization from the previous clashes disrupted the automaton's attempts. The charged particles in the electricity struggled to maintain a coherent path, their trajectory veering off course in the tumultuous environment.

Observing the automaton's futile attempt, Amara couldn't help but release a scoff of amusement. "This is the best you nulls could offer?" she quipped, her voice laced with mockery. Her words were directed at the automaton, but they carried an air of defiance that reverberated throughout the alleyway.

With a quick gesture, Amara summoned her fire magic once more, the flames dancing eagerly at her command. She extended her hand, fingers pointing toward the struggling automaton. In response, a superheated spike materialized in the air, its tip gleaming with intensity. With a swift and fluid motion, she propelled the spike forward, the scorching projectile hurtling toward the automaton with deadly precision.

The spike punctured the machine's head, its metal framework and circuitry yielding to the intense heat. The spike bored through the automaton, leaving behind a trail of molten metal and sparks. As the spike emerged from the other side, the automaton shuddered, its systems flickering and faltering under the assault. Smoke and steam billowed from the punctured area, mingling with the acrid scent of scorched metal.

The automaton's movements stuttered, its advanced neural processors struggling to compensate for the damage inflicted upon its core components. With a final sputter, the machine emitted a series of distorted sounds, a mixture of malfunctioning circuits and disrupted systems. Its energy projection system sputtered, failing to initiate its offensive capabilities once more.

Amara stood before the incapacitated automaton, her posture confident. The battle had reached its conclusion, and she had emerged victorious.

With a derisive smile, Amara directed her gaze at the defeated automaton. "It seems your fancy tricks couldn't save you from a bit of heat," she taunted. As her laughter echoed in the aftermath of the battle.

Amara's triumphant laughter was abruptly cut short by the distant sound of approaching vehicles. Her acute senses picked up on the approaching threat, reminding her that time was of the essence. With a resigned sigh, she muttered to herself, "Well, that was fun, but I can't waste my time here."

As the distant rumble of engines grew louder, Amara's flames enveloped her figure in a torrent of brilliant light. The fire swirled around her like a protective shroud, obscuring her from view. In an instant, she vanished from the alleyway, leaving behind only the fading scent of burnt metal and the memory of her fiery display.

The automaton's scorched remnants remained sprawled on the ground, a testament to the intensity of the battle that had just taken place. Its systems flickered with a final, feeble attempt to reactivate, but the damage was irreparable.

As the echoes of the confrontation faded, the alleyway regained a semblance of quietude. However, from the vantage point of the rooftops, a lone figure observed the aftermath of the battle with keen interest. The man's presence exuded an aura of calculated intent, his metallic mask and armor gleaming in the light.

But the tranquility of the moment was shattered by a sudden disturbance. A desperate hand grasped at the man's leg, fingers trembling as they clung to fabric. A voice, filled with agony and despair, begged, "Please don't..."

The Fiend, did not acknowledge the person who had fallen before him. In one swift motion, his serrated claws flashed with deadly precision. The cruel blades met flesh, severing the fragile connection between life and death. The agonized cry was silenced abruptly, the echoes swallowed by the weight of the surroundings.

With the same detached indifference, The Fiend redirected his gaze to the place where Amara had vanished. His metallic mask concealed his expressions, and his eyes, hidden behind it, held secrets that remained known only to him.