“You want Cain, don't you guys?" The smuggler asks after hours of silence.

  Their small propeller plane stayed cold and dry as they crossed state lines, ignoring all forms of regulation.

  The man continued, “There's a group down in Conas, that shitty town you wanted to go to. They’ll know something about Him.”

  A hungry grin grows on Abel’s face, dried blood cracking at the creases.

  He doesn't respond, but his message gets across to the smuggler.

  Despite having been shot, Sylvie was the only thing on his mind. This was possibly the worst time he could've fallen in love, but he did.

  Her radiant green eyes were all he thought about, but what good would it do when they were miles apart? Two days was really all he needed to trip and fall over her.

  What plagued his mind even more was magic. All kinds of it. He remembered comparing it to drugs, but he fell for his own trap.

  It was oddly calm; having sort of overcome his deep-rooted prejudice, he was fully aware of but not confident in.

  Using whatever type of magic he did was euphoric. In the moment he didn't realize his own outline distorting as he was lost in the—well, magic.

  Magic always comes from some type of trauma or the person's personality, so another question was, how and why did his magic do what it did?

  The feeling of power, or really the reversal of it, was like none other. It was the first time he'd smiled in the face of triumph over another.

  The sound of his chest caving was like music to his ears.

  He'd finally broken free from his shackles that never really existed in the first place.

  He laughed in his head thinking of how he used to be a victim; now he created them

  Maybe in the moment he felt like that, but now decisions weighed heavier. He'd either killed somebody or, much worse, disabled somebody for life.

  He doubted the existence of the bloodthirsty evil mercenary's family, but that was still the life of another.

  What's more, Elias witnessed something his teachers would've killed for.

  An awakening.

  There was no doubt in his mind that's what happened to Sylvie.

  From what he could remember from school, an awakening happened during intense moments in people's lives. During one, the user would be able to create new rules for their magic and shape it however. After one, their magic would follow those new rules.

  Sylvie definitely thought her life was over, and Elias blamed himself, but he got lucky.

  Elias' idea of Cain shifted as a whole. He turned from this evil incarnate of a chaos devil to somebody who maybe was trying to break free. Break all of them free.

  Abel's motives confused Elias even more now because what could have driven him to want to murder Cain? What could be so bad about magic?

  Traveling the world and seeing magic now seemed even more real instead of just a way to keep going.

  Days have passed since their second incident of their glorified road trip.

  Elias was forced to negotiate the payments with the smuggler and was left with just enough for a week's rent at the dustiest apartment in Conas. Abel worked more hard labor, Ezra worked more gigs, and Elias stayed home and managed the two grown men.

  Today was meant to be the day they had to pay rent, so today had to be the day they went to look for the group.

  Elias wished he had asked more about them because the only thing he got was a location and a “watch your back."

  Such inspiring words from a seasoned criminal.

  Elias thought that checking a map would be helpful only to realize that this wasn't even a new state. In fact, they were just at the border of Tennessee.

  This world was a bit too big to explore in a few days, but it was definitely too late.

  Conas was way different despite being within road trip distance. It was more city-like. Old pre-Cain buildings scattered across a myriad of staircases and alleyways. It looked like one of those old paintings of France.

  Though Conas wasn't as old-fashioned. It had its fair share of factories and extremely basic restaurants with the same three burgers. It wasn't that Elias was going to get tired of a whiskey bacon burger, but it was more like he wanted the option to choose. Although he wouldn't choose the other option, it would've been nice to have.

  Magic was also more prevalent here; it was in the cooking, the shops, the factories, and even the crosswalks.

  It also felt safer in this town. Despite technically being a criminal, the drones flying overhead felt soothing.

  The government only usually protected these bigger towns, and crime here was almost nonexistent, and when it did happen, it was always underground. Literally.

  Following the staircases was a network of interconnected tunnels, which acted as the Greyharbor of this place.

  A small bar called “Lucky’s Bar and Grill" was supposed to be the hideout of the mysterious group.

  Elias hoped Abel would come home before the bitchy landlord came for their rent again. Ezra was already situated, probably thinking about the same exact thing.

  “What's up, y'all!” Abel comes through the door, the smell of smog instantly hitting them. “Are we going today or tomorrow?”

  “We have to go today; we don't have enough for rent, and it's due like today, like 2 hours from now today,” Elias said, putting down the bills he was counting.

  "Yeah, whatever, let's go," Abel said, already halfway out the door. Ezra followed close behind.

  Elias somehow ended up leading with Abel's phone in one hand with maps open and his staff in the other.

  It was kind of surprising how his staff wasn't completely broken yet.

  “What do y'all think of Conas?” Ezra asks to fill the void.

  “It's alright; the food here is perfect, though, that's for sure. We have to go eat after this.” Abel said, almost sarcastically but dead serious.

  “The fricking bacon burgers, dude,” Elias said, looking back just to laugh in his face. “They can't be that good.”

  Ezra began to laugh and laughed even more when he slapped Abel on the back of the head. Abel flinched at him, and Ezra just acted scared.

  “The security here is heavy, though," Ezra says while looking up at the fleets of drones flying overhead.

  "Yeah."

  "Really, isn't that like a good thing?” Elias asked the group of murderers and thieves.

  Ezra and Abel laughed before they answered.

  “Fucking zealot, didn't you like blow some guy's chest up?" Abel laughed through his words.

  “Whatever, man." Elias rolls his eyes and keeps walking.

  They turned into a deep set of staircases leading to who knows where. From what the map said, they had to go down and left, but Elias had to pause and force himself to go down.

  Tall men with tattoos spread across their bodies walked in and out of the wide stairwell. As they walked down, the sounds of the city mostly faded, and sounds of a new, darker one emerged.

  Here there was less industrial noise and more music and talking. At the bottom of the stairs was a wide intersection of hollowed-out tunnels. Every now and then you'd see a small dugout with either a club, a bar, or a gun shop.

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  An even smaller dugout with a sign reading “Lucky's Bar and Grill” stuck out at the end of the hallway.

  For such a strategic location, the bar was way too empty, with only a table of 5 sitting in it. They seemed to actually be customers, but they all stared as the three walked inside.

  A short old man sat at one of the stools with a glass of whiskey in hand at 4 pm.

  “What do you know about Cain?” Abel said, walking towards the man who he guessed knew something, "Where's the group that's supposed to be here?”

  Dumbass.

  The distant man takes another swig of whiskey, slamming it back down on the counter hard.

  “We just want to talk.” Elias's buds in his experience at negotiations kicking in.

  "Do you want a drink or whatever juice we have, if you’d like?” The old man scoffs as if he knew what would happen next.

  The three sat down next to the guy. Elias sat closest to Ezra, and on the other side sat Abel.

  “Eliana.” The old man's voice got soft, and he stared at the shot glass. "She came here by herself looking for Cain. Her family was torn apart by Him, and she came to me talking dreams of revenge.”

  He poured another shot and swigged it quickly. The man's bronze skin glimmering with warm light.

  “She’s completely lost her mind. She wanders now with no purpose. Like a spirit."

  “She didn’t want it bad enough—” Abel said, breaking all boundaries previously in place

  Shit.

  The man just laughed in his face. There wasn’t a harmful sound that came out.

  “Kids these days haven't a damn thought behind those eyes..." The old man stared directly into Abel's eyes like no one else could before.

  "We just want to know where to find him," Ezra said, getting to the real point.

  “Who knows. Ever since he left all that time ago, he just kept traveling. You'd see him on the news in France, and then tomorrow he’d be back here in Georgia."

  “You used to know him?” Elias asked

  The old man chuckled again.

  “He was a weird guy. Before it all, he talked about magic and gods as if they existed then.

  But then he went and did it," the old man says as if he were a legend from a storybook.

  “I get it, but where is he where he was last seen?" Abel demands paying no attention to his story.

  “You wouldn’t get far if I knew.”

  They all failed to notice the less hushed snickers from the table next to them. Before the man could continue telling Abel off, one from the table sat up and walked towards the three.

  He was taller than all three of them, and his long hair swooped down as he bent down to speak. “Last I heard, old Cain was all the way in Maryland with his crew. Wrinkle over here wouldn’t tell you that.”

  The three turned to stare. The air is already turning rotten.

  “You guys seem like enough. What do you say about joining our crew and meeting Cain?"

  The rest of the table laughed at the request.

  “I didn’t think John would actually do it!” a voice mocks, but it seemed more targeted to the three than the long-haired guy.

  “We’ll be fine; thanks for the tip.” Elias said impulsively, trying to diffuse this situation before anything rash happened.

  "Oh, I'm not so sure about that.” His long hair swayed as he smiled.

  The old man’s glass cracked, spilling whisky, and then a dirt tendril cracked from the wall, nearly spilling John’s blood.

  Elias caught a glimpse of Ezra’s smile before he stood up.

  The table stands up, but not before Abel swings his arm back for a punch. Just before it connected, John moved out of the way. Abel missed even though he was on target for his jaw. He missed just enough to graze his peach fuzz.

  John didn’t need to lean back to punch Abel right in his gut.

  Before Elias could stand, one of the other groups rushed toward Ezra, already sensing he launched the first attack. Ezra launched a spike from the ground, but it stopped dead in the man’s leg.

  He pushed through the spear of stone, letting it pierce his leg. Blood dripped and stained the floor as he kept pushing. His leg tensed suddenly, and a shockwave went down and out from his leg.

  The spear completely crumbled before the energy, and the hole in his man's leg began to pull itself back together. Tentacles of bone and muscle grasped at each other in knots. Ezra struck again, sending a ball of wood from the table. It cracked and fell at the man’s head, followed by the same purple field.

  Elias’ attempt to escalate went to hell, so he reached for his staff to defend himself. He was ready for this. He was completely prepared.

  Before he even had a chance to think, his head was already halfway to the ground. Before he could even look around, another of their crew lifted his hand to Elias’ face.

  A shadow of the hand leaped and slapped Elias’ head back to the ground.

  Despite the darkness that held his face down, he could feel the man with his leg and his staff still in hand.

  As if he could still breathe, he held his breath and kicked the guy's shin, disturbing the magic and allowing him to gather his footing.

  He swings upward with his staff, but his advance is blocked by an arm. Not the enemy's arm but the living shadow of it. It permitted outwards and deflected the staff's approach.

  He swings again, and this time the shadow of his head blocks it. He swings and is blocked again. For the third time he’s blocked, and the guy hasn’t even broken a sweat.

  Elias steps back and charges in, his staff held like a spear. A shadow blocks it, but Elias doesn't stop. He charges at the hand as the man's face becomes more and more distressed.

  The shadow dissipates like it touched sunlight, but Elias missed his head by an inch. Only grazing his golden blonde hair.

  “Watch it, Oli!” John calls out, his hand extending at him.

  Elias' mouth gapes open as he plummets towards a table, knocking it over.

  Elias is able to put two and two together and realizes John’s magic. It’s either him distorting the possibility of a hit landing or a form of human telekinesis. He was able to dodge Abel's punch that had no reason to not hit him, and he made Elias miss his target.

  Elias' thinking was short-lived as Oli came at him this time without any magic. He had anger behind his attack. Violence.

  Elias reacted, getting out of the way fast enough so that the blood leaking from his nose flew.

  He’s again reminded of why he hated magic in the first place. Those with stronger abilities ruled others, and there was no changing that. Killing Cain probably wouldn’t fix the damage already done. Their lives have already ended.

  This mission wasn’t about saving; it was revenge. A path solely fueled by wrongful revenge.

  If Elias used magic again, wouldn’t he be no better than Oli? Wouldn’t he be no better than Cain? Elias raised his staff, and his purpose was clear. To kill.

  The man's back rose from matter into shadow, ready for whatever physical attack. Except it wasn’t physical this time. The second the staff struck the shadow, it flew back to its host. Oli bent the other way, flying right into the ground. Elias raised his staff again to slash his squirming body.

  It was like he was underwater. A type of water where you could breathe clearly. Elias’ ears were clogged by the pressure, and it felt as if his eyes could pop right out of his sockets. He felt prouder in his stance, heavier. Again, before he could strike the man one last time, he was blocked.

  "Blocked" isn’t the right word to use; it was more like he was stopped in his tracks.

  “Aww you almost had him." A taunting voice calls out from his left, “Romy’s already laid out by that dreadhead. you too?”

  “Good luck, Naim; you're not that strong.” Oli responds, heading for the exit.

  Elias struggles and struggles, but he’s completely stuck in place. His eyes were still fixed on where Oli once was.

  He’s kicked in the side and knocked back onto the ground beneath him. This time he gets up faster, picking up his staff from the ground and getting ready to lunge.

  Naim’s magic, from what was clearly apparent, is the ability to stop things in their place. What’s difficult to deduce is the limit of this power.

  Elias lunges, accelerating in an instant, his motive now to just test the waters. Before he can slash upwards, he’s stopped in his tracks. Naim pulls his fist back and strikes Elias in the jaw, drawing tears from his eyes and blood from his mouth. Elias goes again, and the same outcome occurs.

  Naim can freeze his opponent, and they unfreeze when he touches them.

  What kind of fucked-up trauma does this guy have?

  After each punch, Elias swung and got hit again and again. A power like this would have to have some type of limit.

  He swung and stabbed until he couldn’t and until his throat was full of thick blood. He ignored whatever pain was there mostly because he couldn’t feel it. The freezing began to end before Naim touched him. That's when his hits began to land, and his hits didn’t stop landing.

  Naim stumbled back after the third hit, rubbing his hand against his forehead.

  Elias took what little time he had to rest. He could only breathe through his nose, or else he’d choke on the blood in his mouth.

  Ezra continued fighting the tank, though his movements were slowed and heavy. The guy seemed mostly unarmed even as the vines kept attacking. Abel abandoned his fist and now only fought with fire. For every three attacks Abel fired, only one would connect with John.

  His power was probability.

  And for the first time Naim attacked, but he was more worn out than Elias was. Elias simply moved to the side and raised his staff.

  He didn’t need magic to know Naim was down.

  Abel’s attacks hadn’t slowed a bit during Elias’ battle. In fact, his fire only got hotter and hotter. Despite this, John’s magic was steadfast, staying true to its ratio.

  The flames turned from a bright orange to an even brighter blue. He hit once, and this time it landed. His next two attacks missed by a literal hair. On the third, Abel paused for a second, waiting for John to attack him first. Once he lunged, Abel dodged and raised a single finger. The air turned rotten as red light pooled at his fingertip. It traveled instantaneously in a stream of red-white light.

  The attack had every right to hit him. But it didn’t. It wasn’t probable Abel made a mistake and missed his attack. That's what happens on every 3rd attack. Abel during the entire fight only landed 3 hits. That is the true power of possibility.

  In a desperate rage, Abel pounced at John, his hands aiming. Apparently his power didn’t account for whatever move Abel pulled next. He tackled John to the ground, keeping one hand enclosed on his neck and another centimeters away from his face. A ball of flame charged and exploded, once, twice, three times, and then 4. Abel kept on it until a hit finally landed.

  The right side of John’s skull was shattered, gushing blood faster than any of Abel's attacks. Pink splattered from his head, and a pool of dark red blood followed.

  Just as the final explosion went off, the man Ezra had been fighting slipped up. His magic wasn’t completely foolproof. It was being amplified by John’s probabilities to absorb and redirect every single attack. In reality only 1 in 5 of those attacks should’ve been absorbed.

  Ezra caught on fast when the rock he hurled cut the man's chin. He lifted a small hunk of wood from one of the tables and flew it towards the man's solar plexus and into a spike he lifted from the bar counter. He slid down the spike slowly, coating it in red blood and lighter bits of flesh.

  "Hm," the old man's low voice rumbled through the bloody, smoke-filled room. “Do you think that'll be enough?”