Never in his wildest predictions for how the rest of this fight would go had he expected anything like this. He'd seen Paloma as one of the people he needed to protect. He still saw her that way. So to watch her manifest her power in the middle of a crisis, because she felt like she had to…

  It felt like a personal failing.

  Finn couldn't describe it any other way. He didn't make excuses for it. The refugees had been saved by a stroke of luck, one they might have been dead without. Due to his weakness.

  His heart clenched at the thought. The gravitation still hampered him. He couldn't with confidence say he would have made it in time to intervene; the answer would remain a mystery. And now he watched as the birds spawned into existence one after the other.

  Regarding the power itself, it was impressive. Ridiculously so. He didn't think he had ever witnessed a more far-reaching ability before. To change the climate in an instant? It would have been astounding even if that had been the only component, but it wasn't. There was more.

  Most notably, the slowing of time.

  Space, matter, life. All of it bent in reverence to the force Paloma had called forth.

  Finn had seen countless displays of power—forces that shattered landscapes, called on storms, and bent the laws of reality. But this? This was something else entirely. It wasn't destruction or control. It was a quiet, resounding declaration. The very air shimmered as if caught between two moments, the weight of time stretching and softening around her presence. The golden light that poured through the clouds didn’t just illuminate, it sanctified, turning the battlefield into something almost surreal, as though Finn had stepped into the threshold of a dream.

  The doves—pristine, weightless—moved with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible. They ignored gravity, ignored the howling winds, and most of all, ignored the war they had just flown into. Everywhere they passed, they left faint streaks of white-green in the air, fading almost as quickly as they appeared. Yet their presence remained, sinking into the battlefield itself. The rage, the killing intent, the raw momentum of the fight… dulled. Like the world had paused mid-breath, caught between the violence it had known and the impossible stillness that had arrived, then exhaled softly.

  Everything had resumed to its normal pace, and the house-sized ice beast sat idle. Its beak was closed, dark blue wings were folded. It was simply perched on the ruined rear end of the truck.

  Even in the aura, the shift was noticeable. It functioned similarly to a primebeast in that it had an independent range of emotions and was undoubtedly sentient. The murderous intent was there too, though it had been calmed. Where it differed was in the connection. Similar to nodes in a network, they connected back to their source as one.

  Finn’s blood ran cold.

  Would Seraphim notice the change?

  He dashed harder, then realized Pesante didn't have as much of a hold on the surroundings. Gravity had calmed a lot, even just from being on the periphery of Paloma’s domain. Finn felt it in himself as well, the dampened will to battle. To think he hadn't been the target, and it still affected him to such a degree.

  Unbelievable, that was what this was. Too good to be true. It wouldn’t last.

  And he was proven right.

  The flickers of irritation rippled around the bird, slow but persistent. Finn quickly spun and gathered the highest amount of force he could in his body. Creating a leather lasso from his suit, he threw it at the pursuer behind him. The coil trapped Pesante, squeezing tight around the general's damaged uniform.

  Using electric signals and reinforcement combined with kinetic energy to enhance himself, he spun Pesante around in a full circle like a rock in a sling. Then he swung. Weight be damned, the man went flying, and a good distance at that. Until there was a crash as his opponent cannonballed into the ground. Not out of sight.

  That wasn't an issue. He'd only needed to buy some time. First, he made use of the lack of resistance to make the last few steps in a burst of speed, kicking off the snow.

  Sailing through the air, he came face-to-face with the unnaturally docile frost monster before falling into the half-open roof. The refugees had crawled the way to the far wall, except Paloma, whose power was flickering out.

  So that was her limit, he observed. Then his eyes settled on the bleeding Ernesto, one arm short.

  The superpowered driver had fallen to his knees, vainly trying to staunch the bleeding. They didn't have any equipment left to get him treated in such a short time, the last medkit was on the lower level, buried under chunks of broken wood. And they needed to continue.

  Pesante was closing in. He only had less than a minute.

  “You need to get us moving,” he told Ernesto while putting a hand near the bleeding stump.

  No response. Glazed over eyes stared past him at the arm sized crystalline talon half a meter away from them.

  Shifting off his glove, his hand lit up, intensifying light concentrating in his palm. He needed to go for the most possible heat here. Pushing away Ernesto’s hand, he cauterized the wound. It elicited a scream, but it was nothing if not quick.

  Breathing heavily, Ernesto looked around, clearly remembering what was going on. “Que…”

  “I said you need to get us moving,” Finn repeated. “Straight ahead.” He helped the guy up and rushed onto the roof again.

  Two threats. Right in front of him, the summoned ice creature. Catching up, an incoming Pesante. First things first.

  His hands made contact with the sculpted frozen feathers. Finn pushed, channeling a half charge. It was roughly dislodged, except he didn’t stop there. He landed on top of it in the snow, holding fast when it began to thrash and peck. First he destroyed the wings, then the limbs, and finally he got started on the body. It was immobile, but he wanted to end it once and for all.

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  How to stop its regeneration… he didn't know. The one idea he had was a long shot, at best. Considering that it possessed a level of sentience, he couldn't alter it directly with his powers.

  He used intense light, burning through it. Glistening chunks of its torso exploded outward, yet he kept going. He sensed a core in the center, the part where it healed from. The connection, a sphere no bigger than his palms. He grabbed it with both hands and extracted it.

  The resistance was immediate, he tried to encompass it with reinforced heat, electricity, anything he could think of to find the connection between the bird and its master. No use. It wasn’t—

  Power.

  Close and remote.

  Overwhelming and graceful.

  Centered in his awareness, Finn had a sharp impression of a woman with auburn hair staring at him, intrigued.

  The link severed itself.

  Navy snow sank through his fingers, the core giving out of its own volition.

  What?

  He had no more time to contemplate what just happened as Pesante caught up to him then, forcing him to roll out of the way. The suit had built up a decent amount of resistance to the increased gravity, but it was plateauing. He couldn’t get it any higher. There would be no immunity, it seemed.

  Behind them, the broken carrier was now riding on a series of diagonally rising pillars, mending the exterior. They would need more time.

  Finn struck first. He had no choice. He surged forward, closing the distance in a blink, twisting mid-step to drive an elbow straight into Pesante’s ribs. The impact landed but the general barely moved. Instead, the gravity around Finn lurched, seizing him mid-motion, and he barely braced in time before he was slammed into the ground. Snow and ice burst upward from the sheer force, his suit straining as his body fought against the crushing weight.

  Somersaulting over a frontal kick, he countered with another shock, knowing it wouldn’t do anything to meaningfully turn the tables in this fight. A delaying action, nothing more. He lacked the raw power required to put down an Unbound like this who had such domineering physical prowess.

  He really needed a weapon.

  Since he lacked that at the moment, he had to turn this confrontation into a running fight. He was no longer focused on winning, that hadn’t been his objective to begin with. Stall, create distance, prevent battle conditions from changing too much. Just a bit longer.

  Mar Fracturado entered his range.

  A few more kilometers, and they would be there. Ernesto, drenched in sweat and bleeding profusely from his nose, pushed on despite his clear hesitation at Finn’s instructions to charge at the gigantic inferno.

  By this time, Pesante started to look visibly confused as to what Finn’s plan was. That was fine. Let the confusion run its course. He didn’t need more than a few seconds. Finn started running close to the truck, keeping Pesante at a distance, trading heavier blows to leave more time in between exchanges.

  Two hundred meters left. Alright, time to get to work.

  In the path of what had become little more than a glorified wooden box with people in it, Finn focused his power at max force in a way he hadn’t done for a long while. When he first discovered this usage of color manipulation, he’d used it in similar circumstances. For the safety of innocent people on the verge of being burned.

  Extinguishing the fire in those burning buildings had introduced him to the wonders of power strain. Thankfully, he’d never missed a day of training since that mission. He was incomparable to his past self.

  Likewise, the flames he was about to face were incomparable to those from back then. Because they belonged to the strongest Yama, the strongest hero in the world.

  The truth was, sometimes you didn’t have a choice. Sometimes the only way was through.

  Finn summoned his full power.

  Vantablack painted the wall of fire. Bottomless, so dark there was no end to the depth he saw in the darkened flames. Dark enough that there was no depth at all. Every flicker changed his perspective, every spark flew in a state halfway between the two.

  Failure.

  He needed more. He started removing the anchor of its existence in reality, determined to erase the flames.

  The fires wouldn’t disappear. He was merely suppressing them, and even that was a herculean task. They resisted, lashed out. They burned indiscriminately, seeking to reduce any fuel they got to nothing… but not beyond their designated territory. Yama was a professional, of course attacks like this wouldn’t be released carelessly.

  But that territorial framing of the fire also made them harder to remove. As if they held a claim to the location. Permanent removal was impossible for him. He wasn’t strong enough to overpower them, plain and simple.

  However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t temporarily push them out of reality long enough for them to pass. Using his will like a battering ram, he made the flames poof out of existence. Just for a few seconds.

  Throwing a backward kick meant to cause knockback, he sent the military veteran rolling in the snow and dashed. A combination of unrealizing himself to reduce air resistance, enhancing his muscles, and kinetic energy.

  The world blurred by, and then he was on top of the not-quite-truck, crossing one of the most dangerous disaster zones in the world.

  Already, Pesante had gotten up and was giving chase, hell-bent on stopping them. Finn let the outer flames loose, causing an upward roar of unnatural heat in their wake. The wooden pillars on the ice were atomized instantly, obliterating the ash faster than he could say “burn.”

  Grand Commander Pesante stopped dead in his tracks. The Unbound started to fly over, but stopped midway, unable to travel past the lethal sparks rising into the heavens. Try as he might, the dark red blaze was unaffected by his gravity too, defying curvatures of space.

  Exhaling, Finn relaxed slightly on the roof of the carrier. They’d done it. They had escaped.

  Granted, he couldn’t relax completely. He had to suppress the flames that would conflagrate their own position. The exercise remained intense. He didn’t know how long he could keep this up.

  Ernesto, on the other hand, had nothing left in the tank. The man fainted, which made the carrier stop moving over the wooden platform, a meter or so above the ice.

  From the frozen ocean, cold began to spread. Finn signaled Ernesto’s remaining crew members to get everyone out. They could walk the rest of the way.

  It wasn’t like they were far from the unfrozen waters. Shouldn’t be surprising, if one took into account that they’d been en route to meet up with the escape crew before the whole situation went sideways.

  Soon, the refugees were walking west with him, in clear disbelief that they were alive. Paloma suggested she use her power a second time, frustrated when Finn shut her down.

  Minutes later, they learned about the nature of the ice. It froze, growing increasingly colder the longer it was left unburned. He’d disrupted a perpetual balance, and now he had to reestablish it himself due to his interference. The additional suppressive color on the ice wasn’t as effective, but it staved off the worst of it. Enough for people to walk over.

  On the journey, he got confirmation from Ernesto’s people that they were on the right track and help was indeed coming. He didn’t let his relief show. He was uniquely capable of making this route survivable, and it wasn’t an opportunity he could afford to waste.

  Blasting his power at this intensity without stopping for hours… it wore him down. He made sure to keep walking, keep going in the right direction. But he led them, never stopping. The children got tired, the adults carried them.

  Eventually, upon reaching their destination, he was in a haze. He gestured with a hand, parting the last flames like a pair of dark curtains. On the other side, the evening sun shone, illuminating a quartet of transport aircrafts that awaited them.

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