Chapter 90: The Price of Thunder

The silence following the drone's annihilation was broken by the frantic crackle of the GAMA commander's comms unit. He stared at the empty space where the Pagoda's ultimate weapon had been, then at the lone figure on the cliff edge, his face a mask of disbelief and terror.

"All units," the commander's voice was strained, but years of training took over. "Target is a Class-Alpha threat. Unclassified Aetheric arts. Do not engage at close range. Subdue and capture. Lethal force is authorized if capture is unfeasible."

The three GAMA skiffs, which had been hovering in a terrified circle, now moved with purpose. Their weapon ports slid open, revealing Aether-infused cannons and repeater crossbows. They were no longer trying to arrest a rogue Apprentice. They were trying to contain a monster.

Ren's body ached. The final, massive Thunder's Needle had drained nearly eighty percent of his Aether reserves. He was standing on a knife's edge, his power immense but his fuel tank dangerously close to empty.

"You have shown them your might," Zephyrion's voice was a low hum, serious now. "But you have also shown them your position. A true Raijin knows when to be the storm and when to be the echo. The battle is won. Now, you must vanish."

Ren agreed. A protracted fight against three ships full of trained Spirit Masters while he was exhausted was not a battle of might; it was suicide.

He turned his back on the skiffs and ran, not away from the cliff, but along its edge.

"He's fleeing! Cut him off!" the commander roared.

The lead skiff surged forward, its repeater crossbow unleashing a volley of glowing Aetheric bolts. They shrieked through the air, aimed to cripple his legs.

Ren didn't look back. He poured the last of his accessible Aether not into an attack, but into his legs, pushing his physical speed to its limit. He weaved through the jagged rocks, the bolts exploding behind him, showering him with shards of stone.

He was fast, but the skiff was faster. It was gaining on him, its shadow falling over him.

He needed a diversion. He skidded to a halt at the edge of a section of the cliff that looked dangerously unstable, a massive overhang of red rock. He slammed his palm onto the ground. He didn't have the energy for a massive resonant pulse, but he didn't need one. He sent a single, sharp, precise "Integrity Sundering" whisper into the deepest stress fracture at the base of the overhang.

The GAMA skiff was almost on top of him when the cliff beneath it gave a deafening groan. With a sound like cracking thunder, thousands of tons of rock sheared away, collapsing into the raging sea below. The skiff, caught in the sudden downdraft and rockslide, was forced to peel away sharply to avoid being dragged down with it.

The maneuver bought Ren precious seconds. He sprinted onward, his lungs burning, his Aether reserves now screaming in protest.

Aboard the command skiff, Anya Volkov watched the chase on her data slate, her hands clenched. She was analyzing the terrain ahead of Ren, her mind calculating his probable paths.

"Commander," she said, her voice sharp and clear. "His trajectory. He is heading for the Labyrinth of Spires. If he gets in there, we will lose him. The magnetic interference and chaotic Aether will render our long-range sensors useless."

"Then we will not let him get there," the commander snarled, pointing. "Cut him off at the chasm!"

The second skiff broke formation, accelerating rapidly to intercept Ren before he could reach the maze of needle-like rock formations ahead. It positioned itself directly in his path, hovering over a deep, fifty-foot-wide chasm. The path to the Storm Beacon lay on the other side. His escape was cut off.

Ren skidded to a halt at the edge of the chasm, trapped. The skiff hovered before him, its cannons powering up. Behind him, the other two ships were closing in.

He was exhausted, his Aether nearly gone. There was no more power for lightning, no more strength for resonant tricks.

He looked at the fifty-foot gap. He looked at the approaching ships.

"It seems you have reached your limit, boy," Zephyrion noted calmly.

Not yet, Ren thought.

He took a deep breath, and with the last of his will, he focused on the air itself. Not to create a complex kinetic blast, but for a single, simple, desperate push.

He sprinted towards the edge of the chasm. As his foot left the rock, he unleashed the last vestiges of his power in a single, invisible, focused burst of kinetic force directly behind his feet. It was not a flight spell. It was a controlled explosion, a desperate second jump in mid-air.

He shot across the chasm, his body an unguided projectile. He cleared the gap, landing hard on the other side, his armor absorbing most of the impact as he rolled and skidded across the sharp rock. He was bruised, battered, and utterly spent, but he was across.

He scrambled to his feet and disappeared into the labyrinth of stone spires just as the first bolts from the skiffs exploded against the spot where he had landed.

The GAMA commander stared at the empty chasm edge, his face a mask of fury and disbelief. The boy was gone. He had escaped three enforcement skiffs and a Reaper drone, using nothing but his own power and a terrifying, relentless will to survive.

The hunt was not over. It had just been proven to be far more difficult than they could have ever imagined.