Robi pressed against Ziya’s side, his small ribs shuddering beneath a thin shirt as he let out a choked sob. “Robi, stay behind me,” Ziya commanded, her voice low, a raw edge of panic she fought to suppress. Her qi, usually a vibrant current, felt muted, compressed by the cage’s oppressive field. This wasn’t just a prison; it was designed to stifle. Her eyes, trained for the dark, still struggled in the near-absolute gloom. Bato’s silhouette, immense and predatory, detached from the far wall. His voice, now chillingly calm, resonated only within their confined space. “Foolish child. Did you truly believe a mere Loxian traitor could defy her Chairman?” Ziya’s fists tightened. “You call me a traitor? You caged your own son, used him as a battery. You’re a monster.” A low chuckle, devoid of humor, rumbled from Bato. “Sentimental nonsense. Robi’s qi is a pure conduit. He serves the Syndicate, as all Loxians must. Just as your mother was meant to.” The air grew thick with acrid sulfur. Ice settled behind Ziya’s ribs. “What are you talking about?” Before she could react, a blur of motion. Bato moved with a terrifying speed, a specialized shadow-art Ziya had never encountered. He wasn't merely hiding behind the dim crimson strobe; he turned the gloom itself into armor. A crushing blow landed on her ribs, cracking against bone with enough force to knock the air from her throat. She gasped, stumbling back, pulling Robi closer. He whimpered. “Still protecting the weak, Ziya? Just like *her*,” Bato sneered, his form shifting, indistinct. Another blow, this time to her temple, made her vision swim. She lashed out with a blind Dax-Fist jab, striking only the stale air. Bato was a phantom, his attacks precise, brutal, and silent. “Your elder kin… she had such a naive sense of justice,” Bato continued, his voice bouncing between the steel plates to throw off her guard. “She thought she could hand the qi-siphoning ledgers to the authorities. She thought she could scrap the Syndicate's expansion for some soft-headed civic virtue.” Ziya tasted blood. Her head spun. “No… she died of illness…” Bato landed a vicious kick to her stomach, forcing the air from her lungs. She crumpled, shielding Robi with her body. The boy sobbed, his small hands bunching into the fabric of her coat. “Illness? Oh, Ziya. How convenient. No, she was a fool. A liability. She would have ruined everything.” His voice dropped, a chilling whisper in her ear. “So, I put her to sleep. Permanently. The Loxian Syndicate needed a strong hand, not a bleeding heart.” The words were a physical assault, worse than any blow. Ziya’s world tilted. Murdered. By her own father. The man who stood over her, casually delivering another sharp, calculated punch to her jaw. The pain in her body was nothing compared to the searing, infernal agony that ripped through her heart, tearing through every layer of sarcasm, every wall she had built around herself. Robi’s terrified cries were a hot brand on her soul. Her vision, blurred by tears and pain, sharpened. The crimson strobes, Bato’s taunting shadow, Robi’s small, shaking form—they ignited something primal within her. The shame, the injustice, the endless years of being blamed, dismissed, abused… it all coalesced into an unholy inferno. She had always masked her pain with barbs, with violence, with an icy detachment. But now, seeing her brother reduced to this, hearing the truth about her mother, that mask disintegrated into ash. There was no more pain, only pure, unadulterated, all-consuming fury. A guttural roar ripped from Ziya’s throat, a sound she didn’t know she possessed. Her body, battered and bruised, surged with a power that ignored the cage’s dampening field. Her qi, no longer just a current, became a raging sun. It burst forth, vibrant and blinding, illuminating the entire stadium, cutting through the darkness like a thousand suns. The qi-dampening fields overloaded, sputtering into black lines. Bato, caught off guard by the sudden, overwhelming light, recoiled, his shadow-arts dissolving. His pupils shrank to pinpricks against the sudden glare radiating from Ziya. She stood, radiating raw, untamed power, a celestial being of vengeance. Robi, shielded by her body, looked up, his terror momentarily forgotten in awe. With a single, devastating movement, Ziya executed the Dax-Fist’s legendary ‘Supernova Impact’. It wasn’t a punch or a kick; it was a pure, focused wave of destructive qi, a concentrated sunbeam of fury. The very air around her warped, then screamed. The steel cage, designed to be impenetrable, groaned under the impossible pressure, then buckled, melting at the impact points. It didn’t just break; it detonated, ripping apart in a shower of superheated metal and sparking shrapnel. A deafening roar filled the stadium as the remains of the cage flew outward, embedding themselves in the distant walls. When the reverberations faded, and the stadium’s main lights snapped back on, Ziya stood amidst the smoking wreckage, her qi still flaring like an angry nebula. Robi stood upright against her thigh, knuckles locked into her belt. Chairman Bato lay sprawled on the shattered floor, a pathetic heap of broken ambition. His body was twisted at an unnatural angle, blood blooming across his pristine uniform. A sickening crackle emanated from his chest; several ribs were visibly caved in. The millions watching the live broadcast suddenly saw every fractured beam and pool of blood. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Mina Loxian stood paralyzed in the commentary booth, mouth twisted and cheeks drained of color as she stared at the wreckage. She snatched the announcer’s microphone from its stand, her voice shrill, amplified to fill the arena. “She’s a terrorist! An enemy of the state! Guards! Execute her! Execute the traitor now!” From every entrance, hundreds of Loxian guards, armed with energy projectors, surged forward, their faces grim, their targets locked on Ziya.

Sins of the Father