“Stay close and don’t do anything stupid,” Riya hissed as she rejoined Light and Mark, her dual laser guns now strapped to her thighs.

Mark, ever the opportunist, scanned the room with a grin. “This is perfect. Let’s grab what we came for and vanish before anyone even notices.”

Light, however, felt a deep unease clawing at him. The strange pull from earlier had grown stronger, almost unbearable. His teal eyes flicked around the room, trying to pinpoint the source.

“Aria,” he thought. “Where is it?”

“It’s nearby,” her telepathic voice answered, calm and certain. “Focus, Light. But don’t lose sight of your friends.”

He nodded subtly, forcing himself to stay grounded.

Their target was a locked, reinforced vault tucked behind the auction stage. Mark had pointed it out earlier, deducing that the most valuable items—likely including the mysterious key they were tasked to retrieve—would be stored there.

Reaching it, however, was a different challenge altogether.

As they edged closer to the stage, a group of armed guards appeared, clearly suspicious of the commotion. The largest among them, a towering man wielding a warhammer, barked orders. “Secure the area! No one leaves until we figure out what’s going on!”

“Great,” Riya muttered, already raising her guns. “Looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”

The first shot came from Riya, a quick burst of laser fire that took out one of the guards before he could react. The others immediately turned their attention to the trio, shouting and drawing their weapons.

“Mark!” Riya called, dodging behind a pillar for cover.

“On it!” Mark replied, charging forward with his twin batons spinning in his hands. His movements were fluid and precise, each strike aimed to disarm and incapacitate rather than kill. One guard swung a blade at him, but Mark sidestepped effortlessly, delivering a punishing kick that sent the man sprawling.

“Light, watch your left!” Riya shouted, firing at another guard who had slipped into Light’s blind spot.

Light barely managed to duck in time, the searing heat of the laser shot passing inches from his face. “Thanks,” he muttered, gripping his dagger tightly.

Another guard lunged at him, and Light reacted on instinct. His hand shot out, and a faint, golden shimmer surrounded his palm. The air seemed to ripple as an invisible force pushed the attacker back, sending him crashing into a stack of crates.

“What was that?” Mark asked, pausing mid-strike to glance at Light.

“I don’t know!” Light admitted, his voice strained. The effort had left him momentarily dazed, his head pounding.

“Figure it out later,” Riya snapped, taking down another guard with a well-placed shot. “We’ve got company!”

The leader of the guards—the man with the warhammer—stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the battlefield. He slammed the hammer against the ground, creating a shockwave that rippled through the floor and sent several auction attendees scrambling.

Mark leapt into action, darting toward the man with incredible speed. His batons moved like extensions of his arms, aiming for the man’s exposed sides. But the warhammer wielder was faster than he looked. He swung his massive weapon in a wide arc, forcing Mark to backflip out of range.

“Okay, that’s gonna be a problem,” Mark muttered, landing gracefully.

Riya joined him, firing rapid shots to keep the man distracted. But the warhammer wielder used his weapon as a makeshift shield, deflecting the lasers with a loud clang.

Light, meanwhile, felt the pull again—stronger than ever. He turned away from the fight, his instincts guiding him toward a small display case at the edge of the stage. Inside was a feather unlike anything he’d ever seen: deep crimson with golden edges that seemed to shimmer with an inner light.

“The Phoenix Feather,” Aria whispered. “Now’s your chance, Light.”

“I—” Light hesitated, glancing back at his friends.

“Go,” Aria urged. “They’ll be fine.”

With a reluctant nod, Light slipped away, his movements masked by the chaos.

Back at the stage, Mark and Riya worked in perfect sync. Mark’s agility and close-quarters combat kept the warhammer wielder occupied, while Riya’s precise shots targeted his weak points.

“Keep him busy,” Riya instructed, circling around to get a better angle.

“Easy for you to say!” Mark grunted, dodging another heavy swing. The floor cracked beneath the hammer’s impact, sending debris flying.

Mark seized the opening, darting in close and landing a series of rapid strikes to the man’s ribs. The warhammer wielder growled in pain but didn’t falter, grabbing Mark by the arm and tossing him across the room like a ragdoll.

“Mark!” Riya shouted, her voice laced with panic.

“I’m good!” Mark called back, wincing as he picked himself up.

Riya gritted her teeth, channeling her frustration into her aim. Her next shot hit the warhammer wielder square in the knee, forcing him to stagger.

“Now!” she yelled, signaling Mark to finish the job.

Mark charged forward, using the man’s momentary stumble to his advantage. He planted his foot on the hammer’s shaft, using it as a springboard to deliver a devastating kick to the man’s face. The impact sent the warhammer wielder crashing to the ground, unconscious.

“Nice teamwork,” Riya said, offering Mark a hand to help him up.

“Anytime,” Mark replied, grinning despite his bruises.

While his friends fought, Light reached the display case. His hands trembled as he lifted the glass cover, revealing the Phoenix Feather in all its radiant glory.

As soon as his fingers brushed against it, a surge of warmth coursed through his body. The feather pulsed with a soft, golden light, and for a brief moment, Light felt a connection to something far greater than himself.

“Light!” Aria’s voice snapped him back to reality. “You need to move. Now.”

He turned to see more guards flooding into the room, their weapons drawn.

“Crap,” Light muttered, clutching the feather tightly. He darted back toward the stage, where Riya and Mark were regrouping.

“What the hell took you so long?” Riya demanded, firing at the advancing guards.

“Long story,” Light replied, slipping the feather into his coat. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Just as the trio reached the edge of the underground chamber, a deafening explosion erupted from the entrance, blasting the reinforced doors off their hinges. Smoke and dust filled the room, and a wave of intense heat washed over them. Guards and bidders alike scrambled for cover, their shouts drowned out by the thundering sound of boots pounding against the floor.

“What now?!” Mark yelled, spinning around to face the chaos.

Through the haze, a battalion of heavily armed soldiers emerged, their sleek black uniforms emblazoned with the Solarian Astral Association insignia. Their presence was oppressive, each step precise and calculated as they flooded the chamber, weapons drawn and ready.

The trio froze, their earlier confidence fading into uncertainty.

“Everyone, on the ground!” a soldier barked, his voice amplified by a communicator.

Panic swept through the remaining bidders and guards as they dropped their weapons and fell to their knees. Chains clinked as soldiers swiftly detained them, moving through the room like a well-oiled machine.

Amidst the chaos, a figure stepped forward, her commanding presence silencing the room. Her long blue hair shimmered under the dim lights, and her piercing violet eyes scanned the crowd with cold precision. She wore a high-collared, dark purple cloak, and her calm demeanor was enough to make even the most hardened criminals tremble.

“Who the hell is she?” Light muttered, narrowing his eyes.

“That’s Lyra,” Riya whispered, her voice tense. “Vice President of the Solarian Astral Association.”

Before Light could respond, Lyra’s gaze landed on the trio. Her eyes sharpened, and her voice rang out, cutting through the noise.

“Detain them,” she commanded.

“Wait, what?!” Mark exclaimed, stepping forward. “We’re not with them!”

Two soldiers approached the trio, their rifles raised.

“Don’t move,” one of them warned.

Mark growled, clenching his fists. “Like hell I’m going down without a fight!” He lunged forward, but before he could land a blow, an invisible force slammed into him, sending him skidding across the floor.

“Mark!” Light shouted, rushing to his side, but another soldier grabbed him by the arm, yanking him back.

“Stop it, Mark!” Riya hissed, her voice urgent. “You’re only making it worse!”

Mark groaned, glaring at the soldiers. “This is bull—”

“Enough,” Lyra said, her tone icy. She stepped closer, her violet eyes locking onto Light. “You’ve caused enough trouble here tonight.”

Light’s heart raced as her presence seemed to weigh down on him. He felt the Phoenix Feather concealed beneath his coat, its warmth grounding him despite the tension.

“Who are you, and why are you here?” Lyra demanded.

Light hesitated, his mind racing for an answer, but before he could respond, a soldier intervened. “Vice President, we need to secure the detainees. The auction house is compromised.”

Lyra nodded. “Bring them to the jet. We’ll sort this out back at the base.”

The trio was ushered out of the smoldering warehouse and into the cool night air. A sleek, black jet waited on the outskirts, its engines humming with restrained power.

As they were forced aboard, Light cast a final glance at the chaos they were leaving behind. His fists clenched, determination burning in his eyes.

For now, they were prisoners. But he wasn’t planning to stay that way for long.

Author's Note: "Thank you for reading! If you’re enjoying the story, don’t forget to subscribe and leave a like. Your support means the world to me and keeps the chapters coming! Let me know your thoughts in the comments—I’d love to hear from you!"