Green flames lit up the night like an eerie sunrise. People scattered across the street, screaming as a man stumbled between them, sickly fire pouring from his trembling hands. Above their heads, paper lanterns for the upcoming festival burst into emerald sparks, raining burning bits onto the crowd below. Cars screeched to a halt, horns blaring as drivers swerved to avoid the panicked mob.

  The man's chest heaved as he ran, cold sweat cutting clean lines through the dirt on his face. His wild eyes darted back and forth until they locked onto a gap between buildings – a maze of dark alleys that might let him escape whatever was hunting him. Without hesitation, he plunged into the shadows.

  He didn't see the figure moving smoothly across the rooftops above.

  Wrapped in soft orange light, Angelo tracked his prey like a cat stalking a mouse. Glowing ropes of energy – like streams of living smoke – shot from his body, acting as anchor and propellent, letting him swing from building to building. The cool night air rushed past his face as he closed the distance, staying just out of sight.

  The running man finally stopped in a narrow alley, doubled over and gasping. "Lost him," he wheezed, wiping his forehead with a shaking hand. "I actually lost him."

  A shadow dropped silently behind him.

  The man spun around with a strangled yelp, green flames exploding from his hands in wild arcs. The fire turned the narrow alley into a tunnel of emerald light, making the brick walls glow like something from a nightmare. Heat rippled the air, intense enough to make breathing difficult.

  But his hunter moved like dancer, twisting between the deadly flames with impossible grace. Though the fire passed close enough to make his coat flutter, not a single spark touched him.

  Two blurs struck without warning – one red, one blue – and the fire-wielding man found himself flat on his back, head spinning from hits he never saw coming.

  "Got you at last. Fire Auron." The voice above him was young but cold as winter midnight.

  The orange glow brightened, revealing Angelo's face. Though a short beard tried to hide his youth, he couldn't have been more than eighteen. He wasn't particularly tall, but his orange eyes burned like hot coals as they stared down at his fallen prey.

  The man's hands flickered with green fire again, heat distorting the air like waves over hot pavement. A thin beam of orange light cracked past his ear, leaving a smoking hole in the ground – a crystal clear warning – the next shot wouldn't miss.

  Recognition dawned in the man's eyes, turning them wide with terror. "No," he gasped, trying to scramble backward. "You're him – the Angel of Death!"

  A muscle twitched in Angelo's jaw at the nickname. He stepped forward, his glowing aura casting dancing shadows on the alley walls.

  "So you know who I am." His voice was steady, controlled. "Then you know what happens next. Your choices are simple – surrender and change your ways, or attack and prove yourself beyond saving."

  Inside Angelo's mind, Red's excited voice piped up: "Don't give away the ending! Come on, let him attack – I'm dying for some action here!"

  "You're missing the point entirely," Blue's calmer voice cut in. "As usual."

  The fallen man pushed himself to his knees, voice cracking. "This isn't right! You're supposed to arrest criminals, not execute them!"

  Angelo's aura flared brighter, making the man flinch. He spoke formally, like reciting words he'd said many times before: "You stand before death itself. If that sight doesn't change a man's heart, nothing will. Make your choice – surrender and live, or attack and seal your fate."

  "Spare us the speech," Red urged in Angelo's mind. "He's not worth saving. Just end it!"

  The man's hands clenched, pride warring with fear on his face. For a moment, it looked like he might actually attack. Angelo's muscles tensed, ready to move.

  For an instant, their gazes locked, and something in the man’s eyes broke. His shoulders slumped like a puppet with cut strings. "I... I surrender," he whispered. "Please. Just don't kill me."

  His green aura flickered out like a candle in the wind.

  Angelo approached carefully, letting his own aura fade until his eyes returned to their natural brown. With slow, deliberate movements, he secured the handcuffs.

  Another one saved, he thought. Another soul pulled back from the edge without bloodshed.

  As the tension eased, Novaria's nighttime sounds filtered back in – distant traffic, music from late-night clubs, the rustle of festival banners in the cool breeze. Modern skyscrapers towered overhead like glass giants, their windows blazing against the dark sky. They looked strange next to the old brick buildings that had stood for centuries, telling stories of the city's long history.

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  Paper lanterns swayed gently above the streets, getting ready for the New Light Festival – when all of Luminia would celebrate breaking free from Infernia's control. But here in Novaria, so close to the Infernian border, the festival brought mixed feelings. While most people buzzed with excitement about the upcoming celebrations, others felt the tension in the air, like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Some wounds, it seemed, took more than time to heal.

  Angelo trudged home after dropping his prisoner at the police station, his boots scuffing against the sidewalk. Most people had gone to bed, but with all them night owls – Novaria never truly slept, especially with the festival coming up.

  "I still can't believe you let this guy go. You're getting soft, Angie," Red's voice bounced around in Angelo's head, dripping with mockery.

  Blue's response came quick and sharp, like a teacher correcting a problem student: "In what universe does arresting a criminal count as 'letting him go'? Do enlighten us, Red."

  Angelo dragged his hand down his face, too exhausted to keep their argument in his head. "Would you two just drop it..." he muttered out loud, making a couple walking past give him odd looks.

  Red and Blue kept at it as Angelo climbed the creaky stairs to his apartment, his legs feeling heavier with each step.

  When he reached his floor, he stopped dead. Someone was leaning against his door – someone whose spiky yellowish-orange hair stuck straight up like it was reaching for the ceiling.

  The man's brown fur-lined vest and blue shirt looked exactly like Angelo remembered, right down to that weird pendant he'd started wearing after joining the army.

  "Sleeser?" Angelo blinked hard, like his old teacher might be a tired hallucination.

  He pushed off from the door, his confident smile as familiar as ever.

  "From the look on your face, it's as if you didn't want to see me," he said, grinning wider. "I'm hurt. Can't a guy visit his old student every now and then?" Though he was joking, concern flickered in his eyes like a candle flame.

  Angelo's mouth opened and closed a few times before words came out. "No, no, nothing like that... It's just, I thought you were still with the army in the eastern provinces."

  Sleeser's face almost seem to twitch "Things stabilized quicker than anticipated at the eastern border. And so, here I am!" His casual tone didn't match how carefully he was studying Angelo.

  "It's been so long, I barely recognized you with that beard. If I hadn't heard you talking out loud to your... companions, I might have mistaken you for a burglar."

  He winked, making Angelo look away like an embarrassed kid.

  "Though I must say, that beard makes you look like you're trying too hard to be intimidating. It's cute."

  "Ha ha," Red's voice echoed mockingly through their shared mind.

  "Ha. Ha." Angelo's dry laugh mimicked Red's as he pushed forward and unlocked the door "Hilarious." He finished as the two of them entered his apartment.

  The difference between Angelo's tiny apartment and the glittering city outside felt like stepping into another world. Just a worn-out couch, a basic kitchen setup, and some old posters of famous Aurons peeling off the walls.

  Sleeser sprawled across the couch like he owned it, but his relaxed pose couldn't hide how intensely he watched Angelo.

  "So, Angelo, you've been with the police for what? Two years now? In that... special program?" Sleeser asked, picking at a loose thread on the couch.

  Angelo leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. "Why are you asking? It was your idea in the first place."

  "Is that right? Must have slipped my mind," Sleeser chuckled, though his eyes said he hadn't forgotten anything. "And have you improved your skills since I last saw you?"

  Pride crept into Angelo's voice as he stood a little straighter. "Of course. I've been working hard on my combat skills, aura control, and energy techniques. I even mastered that energy tendril thing you once mentioned."

  Sleeser's eyebrows shot up so fast they nearly disappeared into his spiky hair. His smile could not hide his amusement "What? That thing? Really? No energy Auron bothers with that. It's too weak for battle, not to mention difficult to master."

  "Well... I did it nonetheless," Angelo said, looking away as his shoulders tensed defensively.

  "Okay, okay," Sleeser laughed, holding up his hands like he was surrendering. His eyes crinkled with genuine amusement. "It is a little impressive, I won't lie. I guess you can grab a beer from across the room now. Maybe I'll consider learning it myself." He settled back in his chair with an easy smile that didn't quite hide how closely he was watching Angelo's reactions.

  "I must disagree," Blue's voice cut through their shared mind like a teacher correcting a student. "The technique has proven invaluable for both utility and movement. You use it as naturally as breathing now. The fact that you would diminish its importance only serves to—"

  "Seriously Blue?" Angelo interrupted, mental voice heavy with exasperation. "You're actually doing this? Right now?"

  Blue's dignified mental huff felt like someone straightening an imaginary tie. The room fell into an awkward silence, broken only by the distant sounds of occasional traffic floating up through Angelo's apartment window.

  Sleeser leaned forward, his chair creaking beneath him as his expression grew more serious. "What about your physical training? You're keeping up with your stamina work, right?" He raised an eyebrow. "Should I remind you why that's so important?"

  "And now this guy wants to bore us to death with HIS lectures?" Red's voice bounced around their shared consciousness like an angry ping pong ball.

  Angelo let out a sigh that seemed to come from his toes. "No thanks, I'm good." He waved off the incoming lecture like swatting away a fly. "Unlimited energy for a limited time. I know." The words came out practiced, like a student reciting a lesson they'd heard too many times.

  Sleeser's easy smile cracked just a bit at the edges, like a mask starting to slip.

  Before anyone could say more, red smoke began leaking out of Angelo into the room like fog rolling under a door. It gathered and swirled until it took shape, solidifying into what looked like a grayer copy of Angelo standing there in the cramped apartment.

  Red planted himself in front of Sleeser, his face shifting into a trouble-maker's grin. "Well, well, well, if it isn't our old teacher. What, you missed boring us to death with your lectures?"

  Sleeser just kept smiling, like a parent used to dealing with a difficult child. "Ah, Red, I see you haven't lost your charm. I was wondering how long you could sit still. Waiting this much? Impressive."

  Red's grin got sharper "Yeah, yeah, let's cut to the chase, hm? What really brings you here?"

  The playful mood shattered as Sleeser paused before he pulled a crumpled newspaper from his pocket. His fingers smoothed out the wrinkles with calculated precision.

  "'The Angel of Death: Enforcer or Vigilante?'" he read, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Fascinating article. Tells of a young officer who gives criminals a choice – surrender and live, or resist and face execution. No trial, no mercy."

  His eyes locked onto Angelo. "Tell me this isn't you."