3:18 AM. Day 16.
No silence this time.
Jae-min felt it through the spatial awareness before he saw it. The compressed signatures inside Building C were moving. Not repositioning. Not clustering. Organizing.
The eighteen Enhanced inside had drawn together on the third floor. Not in a defensive formation—a staging formation. Tight group. Kinetic barriers interlocked. Four observation posts still active on the upper floors.
Outside, the two hundred followers were no longer standing in loose groups along the bayside corridor.
They'd formed ranks.
Jae-min raised the scope. The thermal overlay painted the picture. Three columns of twenty. Sixty followers in the first wave. Moving in step. Not running. Marching. Behind them, more columns forming. Second wave. Third. Fourth.
And among the sixty in the first wave—four Enhanced. Walking with them. Not leading. Embedded. Kinetic shields overlapping around the formation like armor.
"They're not testing anymore." Jae-min's voice was flat.
Yue moved to his shoulder. Closer than before. The blood on her neck had dried to a dark line. She didn't look at it.
"That's an assault formation."
"First wave. Sixty followers. Four Enhanced. They'll cross the courtyard in two minutes at that pace."
"Where's the Archbishop?"
"Inside Building C. Fifth floor. Watching."
Yue tracked the thermal signatures through the broken eastern face. The columns were moving toward the gap between Buildings B and C. The courtyard. Seventy meters of open ground that had been a killing field an hour ago.
The followers didn't hesitate. They stepped into the courtyard like they were walking through a door.
3:20 AM.
Jae-min fired.
First shot. Lead column. Third row. A follower dropped. The one behind him stumbled. Kept moving. They'd been told to expect this.
Second shot. Left column. Fifth row. Another follower dropped.
The formation didn't break. It compressed. Closed ranks around the fallen. Kept moving.
"Third row center. Left column." Yue's voice was tight. Fast. "Two Enhanced embedded. They're using kinetic shields to cover the formation."
Jae-min adjusted. The thermal overlay showed the four Enhanced walking inside the columns. Their kinetic barriers were overlapping domes of compressed air—transparent, refractive, bending the cold around them in faint heat shimmers.
Third shot. Right column. An Enhanced's shield flickered. The round passed through the gap between two overlapping barriers and caught a follower behind the Enhanced.
The Enhanced flinched. Adjusted his barrier. Closed the gap.
"They're learning the angles." Yue's voice was faster now. "They're watching where the rounds come from and adjusting shield geometry."
"They're adapting in real time."
"That's not normal kinetic manipulation."
"He's the Archbishop's men. They've been doing this for fifteen days."
Fourth shot. Jae-min aimed at an Enhanced in the left column. The round folded through space. The exit portal appeared inside the kinetic barrier.
It didn't penetrate.
The compressed air density was too high. The spatial fold destabilized on exit. The round tumbled. Missed by forty centimeters. Buried itself in the frozen ground.
"Miss."
The word again. Jae-min didn't miss twice in the same night.
"The shield density collapsed the exit portal." Yue was tracking. "Compressed air at that pressure interferes with spatial folding. Your rounds can't form inside kinetic barriers."
"They couldn't before either. The barriers are just bigger now."
The first wave was forty meters into the courtyard. Twenty meters from Building B's eastern face. The followers were moving fast now. Covering ground. The four Enhanced were shifting position—moving to the corners of the formation, extending their shields to cover the flanks.
Fifth shot. Lead column. An Enhanced dropped. Jae-min had waited for the shield geometry to shift and fired through the gap. The round caught him in the chest.
The formation paused. Two seconds. Then resumed.
Thirty meters from Building B.
3:23 AM.
The courtyard was no longer empty.
Bodies on the ice. Four followers and one Enhanced. The frozen pool was cracked beyond recognition—ice fragments scattered across the courtyard like broken teeth. The followers were using the debris for cover now. Concrete chunks from the impacts. Fallen rebar. A section of wall that had sheared off Building C's eastern face during the ranging.
And the Enhanced were firing back.
Not at Jae-min. Not at the balcony. At the building.
Kinetic bursts slammed into Building B's eastern face. Small. Controlled. Suppressive. Not trying to breach—trying to keep Jae-min's head down.
Compressed-air rounds hit the concrete below the fourteenth floor. Ninth floor. Tenth floor. The impacts were rhythmic. Deliberate. A drumbeat of force that made the building shudder.
"They're suppressing." Yue's voice was sharp. Professional. But faster than before. The words came quicker. Tighter. "They don't need to hit you. They just need to keep you from tracking."
Jae-min pulled back from the rail. The kinetic bursts were creating a screen of debris and dust between Building C and the balcony. The thermal overlay was getting noisy. Too much particulate. Too much movement.
"Left flank." Yue shifted beside him. Her shoulder was almost touching his. "Three followers breaking from the main formation. Moving north along Building C's eastern face. Trying to reach the service corridor."
"Can they?"
"The service corridor connects C and B on the third floor. If they reach it, they bypass the courtyard entirely."
Jae-min raised the scope. Three followers. Moving fast. Using the wall of Building C for cover. The Enhanced were suppressing from the courtyard, drawing Jae-min's attention while the three slipped around the flank.
Sixth shot. The first follower dropped. The exit portal appeared in the space between him and the wall. Clean kill.
The other two scattered. One dove behind a concrete chunk. The other ran.
Seventh shot. The runner dropped.
The third one was behind cover. Jae-min couldn't get a clean angle. The concrete chunk was dense. The thermal overlay couldn't penetrate it.
"Cover. Can't see."
"Then don't fire. Save the rounds."
Yue's voice was steady. But her breathing had changed. Jae-min noticed it. Not because he was watching her. Because he could feel her heartbeat through the spatial awareness. Eighty-nine. It had been eighty-four at the start of the night.
She was pushing.
3:26 AM.
The first wave hit Building B's eastern face.
Not a breach. A collision. Sixty followers pressing against the lower floors. The ground-level entrance. The service doors. The emergency exits on the first and second floors.
They couldn't get in. The doors were sealed. Polycarbonate on the lower levels. Steel plates on the stairwells.
But they could push.
And they did.
The kinetic bursts shifted from the upper floors to the lower. Three Enhanced now firing at the ground-level access points. Compressed air against steel. The sound was a continuous, low-frequency groan that traveled up through the building's core.
Inside Building B, the civilians on the unprotected floors felt it.
Fifth floor. A woman pressed against the wall of her unit. The vibration was in her teeth. Her bones.
Sixth floor. The teenager from 1502 stood in the stairwell, looking down at the darkness below. She could hear them. Voices. Shouting. The Archbishop's followers at the base of the building.
Seventh floor. A man in Unit 708 opened his window. Looked down. Saw the courtyard. Saw the bodies on the ice. Saw the formations moving.
He closed the window. Locked it. Sat on the floor.
His hands were shaking.
3:29 AM.
The corridor.
The forty-three people were on the floor. Most of them. Some were standing. Pressed against the walls. The polycarbonate flexed with every kinetic impact. The steel plates groaned. The bolts that hadn't sheared were straining.
Three bolts had sheared now. The south panel of the polycarbonate barrier was visibly loose. A two-centimeter gap at the bottom. Cold air was seeping through.
The nine-year-old from 1504 was silent. She'd gone somewhere past fear. Somewhere still.
The old man from 1508 was watching the gap. His radio was off. His eyes were on the two centimeters of space between the panel and the floor.
Alessia moved through the corridor. Checking pulses. Checking breathing. Her hands were steady but her jaw was tight.
"The temperature is dropping in here. The seal is compromised."
"How long?" Rico.
"Forty minutes before it gets critical. Maybe less if the impacts continue."
Jennifer was in the corner. Radio in both hands. Monitoring two channels. Victor's frequency and the building's public band.
Victor's voice. "Stairwell B. We're holding. Two men on the door. They can't breach the stairwell—too narrow. But they're trying the service corridor."
"The service corridor?"
"Third floor. Connects to Building C. Some of the Archbishop's men tried to flank through it. We blocked it with furniture."
"How many?"
"Three. We stopped three."
"They'll send more."
"I know."
Jennifer looked at the polycarbonate. At the gap. At the people on the other side.
She couldn't see them. But she could hear them.
3:31 AM.
Outside the corridor, the hallway was a pressure cooker.
The man from 1410 stood at the polycarbonate. Both palms flat. His wife behind him. His daughter—the four-year-old—was upstairs. Still. He'd carried her back after the last confrontation. She was asleep. She didn't know.
But he knew.
The building was being hit. The barrier was failing. And the people inside the corridor were the only ones with walls between them and whatever was coming.
More people had gathered. Fifteen. Twenty. The man from 1507 who'd tried to force entry earlier. The woman from 1505 with gray hair. The young man from 1414. The teenager from 1502.
They stood in the hallway. Looking at the flexing polycarbonate. Looking at the gap.
"They're not going to open it." The man from 1507's voice was hollow.
"They don't have to." The woman from 1505. "The barrier is failing on its own."
"Then we wait."
"For what? For it to fall?"
"For them to let us in."
No one answered that.
The teenager from 1502 looked at the gap. Two centimeters. Cold air whistling through. She knelt. Looked at it. Stood up.
"We could widen it."
The man from 1410 turned. "What?"
"The gap. Two centimeters. If we push from the bottom, the panel flexes more. The bolts are already sheared. We push hard enough, the panel comes loose."
"That's steel-reinforced polycarbonate."
"The bolts are the weak point. Three are already gone."
"We push on that panel and Rico puts a bullet in the wall next to our heads."
"Then we push when he's not looking."
The man from 1410 stared at her. She was nineteen. Maybe twenty. Thin. Sharp eyes. The kind of face that had survived fifteen days of minus seventy by being smarter than everyone around her.
"This isn't a plan. This is getting shot."
"This is getting warm." She looked at the gap again. "Two centimeters of cold air. You can feel it from here. Inside that corridor, it's sealed. Heated. They have blankets. Water. Medical supplies."
"My daughter—"
"Your daughter is upstairs. Alone. In a unit with one locked door between her and minus seventy-seven. If you get inside the corridor, you can bring her through the service entrance on the other side."
The man's hands tightened against the poly.
The teenager looked at him. At the others. At the gap.
"I'm not saying we rush it. I'm saying we test it. See how much the panel gives. When the next impact hits, the poly flexes. We push with the flex. The bolts give more. We do it again. Eventually—"
"Eventually you get us all killed." Rico's voice from behind the barrier.
He was standing on the other side. Looking through the polycarbonate. His face was hard. The M4 was in his hands. Not raised. Just there.
"Step back from the barrier."
"It's failing anyway." The teenager's voice was calm. "You can see it. The gap is getting wider."
"The gap is two centimeters. The panel is still sealed. Step back."
"Or what?"
Rico didn't answer.
The teenager held his gaze.
The hallway held its breath.
Then the next kinetic impact hit. Twelfth floor. The vibration traveled down. The polycarbonate flexed. The gap widened to three centimeters.
The teenager pushed.
Her hands went under the panel. Braced against the floor. Pushed up.
The panel lifted. One centimeter. The remaining bolts screamed.
"HEY!" Rico's voice was a command. "STEP BACK!"
The teenager pushed harder. Her arms were shaking. The panel was lifting. Two centimeters now. Three. Cold air flooded through. The gap was eight centimeters wide.
Rico moved.
He didn't raise the M4. He moved to the panel from the inside. Placed his weight on it. Pushed down.
The panel dropped. The gap sealed. The teenager's hands slipped out.
She fell backward. Hit the floor. Looked up at Rico through the polycarbonate.
His face was inches from hers. Separated by transparent polymer.
"You try that again," he said, voice low, "and I won't push the panel down."
He meant it. She could see it in his eyes.
She stood. Backed away. Wiped her hands on her jacket.
The hallway was silent.
3:34 AM.
Jae-min felt it.
The spatial awareness mapped the corridor in real time. The gap in the polycarbonate. The people pressing against it. The teenager who'd tried to pry it open. Rico's weight on the panel.
He also mapped the courtyard.
The first wave had reached Building B's eastern face. Forty followers pressed against the lower floors. The four Enhanced were providing suppressive fire—kinetic bursts against the ninth, tenth, and eleventh floors. Keeping Jae-min's attention split.
But behind the first wave, the second wave was forming.
Forty more followers. Six Enhanced.
And behind the second wave, Jae-min could see the Archbishop. Still on Building C's fifth floor. But moving. Descending toward the ground floor.
"He's mobilizing." Jae-min's voice was flat. "Second wave forming. Sixty more behind them."
"How many rounds?"
Jae-min checked. One in the magazine. Two spares left. Eleven total.
He'd fired seven in the first wave and reloaded once.
One in the rifle. Ten in the spares.
Eleven rounds.
"Eleven."
"Against how many?"
"Second wave has six Enhanced. First wave still active with three. Plus the Archbishop. Ten Enhanced total. Forty followers between them."
Yue didn't respond to the math. She was tracking.
"Second wave is forming wider. Not column formation—spread. They're going to hit the courtyard from multiple angles."
"They'll flank the kill zone."
"They'll make you choose which direction to fire."
Jae-min adjusted the scope. The thermal overlay was getting worse. Debris in the air. Kinetic interference. The cold was creating micro-crystals that scattered the thermal resolution.
He could see shapes. Not details.
"Third floor service corridor." Jennifer's voice in the earpiece. "Five more of the Archbishop's men trying to breach. Victor's team holding."
"How long?"
"Minutes. They're using debris to batter the door. Victor says the furniture won't hold more than two more impacts."
Jae-min closed his eyes. The spatial awareness mapped the full picture.
Outside. First wave at Building B's base. Second wave forming. Archbishop descending.
Inside. Forty-three protected. Three hundred and twenty-nine exposed. Barrier failing. People pushing.
Third floor. Service corridor under attack. Victor's men holding but not for long.
Too many fronts. Not enough rounds. Not enough sleep.
"Yue."
"Yes."
"Second wave. Left flank. Three followers breaking from the main group. Trying to reach the north service entrance."
"I see them."
"Can you track them while I handle the courtyard?"
"Yes."
"Then track."
He raised the rifle.
3:37 AM.
The second wave entered the courtyard.
Sixty followers. Six Enhanced. Spread across a wider front than the first wave. Not columns—a crescent. Curving around the debris field. Using the bodies of the fallen as reference points for where the kill zone started.
They moved slower than the first wave. More careful. The four surviving Enhanced from the first wave were providing overwatch—kinetic bursts creating a screen of debris and compressed air between the courtyard and the balcony.
Jae-min fired.
Eighth shot of the night. Right flank of the second wave. A follower dropped. The formation compressed. Closed the gap.
Ninth shot. Center. Another follower. The crescent shape held.
Tenth shot. Left flank. He aimed at an Enhanced walking with the formation. The round folded through space. The exit portal appeared—
The Enhanced raised a kinetic shield.
The round hit the shield. Compressed air density destabilized the exit portal again. The round tumbled. Missed by thirty centimeters.
"Eight rounds left. Ten Enhanced in the courtyard. The Archbishop hasn't even moved yet."
"I know."
The crescent kept moving. Forty meters. Thirty-five. Thirty. The followers were close enough now that Jae-min could see their faces through the scope. Cold. Determined. Some of them were carrying weapons—machetes, iron pipes, lengths of rebar.
Others were carrying nothing. Just their bodies. Filling space. Drawing fire.
The Archbishop was using them as ammunition.
Eleventh shot. Jae-min aimed at the densest cluster. The exit portal appeared in the center of the group. Two followers dropped. The round had passed through the first and into the second.
The crescent wavered.
Then held.
Twenty-five meters from Building B.
Inside the corridor, the impacts were getting worse.
The second wave's suppressive fire had shifted to the eleventh and twelfth floors. Closer. The vibration was constant now. A low hum that made the floorplates shudder and the walls flex.
The polycarbonate was moving with every impact. Not flexing—shifting. The three sheared bolts meant the south panel was no longer anchored. It was held in place by friction and Rico's weight.
The gap was back. Four centimeters now. Cold air pouring through.
The woman from 1403 pulled her son away from the south wall. The boy was awake. He could feel the cold. His lips were blue.
The old man from 1508 watched the gap. He didn't speak.
The pregnant sister from 1422 was having contractions. Not real ones. Stress ones. Alessia was beside her. Hand on her wrist.
"Breathe. In through the nose. Out through the mouth."
"They're hitting the building."
"I know."
"The barrier is moving."
"I know. Stay calm."
"How am I supposed to stay calm?"
"You're not. You're supposed to breathe."
The sister breathed. Her pulse was a hundred and twelve. Too high. The contractions were coming every four minutes.
Alessia looked at Jae-min through the broken balcony door. He was at the rail. Rifle up. Firing into the dark.
She looked away.
3:41 AM.
The teenager from 1502 was back.
Not at the polycarbonate. At the service entrance on the north side of the corridor. The one that connected to the stairwell. It was sealed with a steel plate and two bolts.
She'd found a piece of rebar. Two feet long. Heavy enough to pry. She was standing at the edge of the hallway. Watching Rico.
Rico was at the south panel. His weight on the poly. He couldn't see the north entrance.
The teenager looked at the others. The man from 1410. The woman from 1505. The young man from 1414.
She held up the rebar.
No one moved.
She moved.
Three steps to the north entrance. The steel plate was bolted to the frame. Not polycarbonate—solid steel. Heavier. Harder to pry. But the bolts were the same grade as the ones on the poly.
She wedged the rebar under the plate. Braced. Pushed.
The bolt groaned.
The plate lifted. One centimeter.
She pushed again. Two centimeters.
From inside the corridor, Victor's man Dizon heard it. He was stationed at the north stairwell access point. His sister was on fifteen. He'd been thinking about her all night.
He turned.
Saw the rebar. Saw the plate lifting.
He moved. Fast. Not running. Three steps. His boot hit the rebar. Kicked it out.
The plate dropped.
The teenager looked up at him through the gap between the plate and the frame.
"My sister is on fifteen." Dizon's voice was low. Hard. Not loud enough for the others to hear.
"I know."
"Then you know why I can't let you do this."
"She's not in the corridor. She's in a unit with a locked door. Same as everyone else."
"Same as everyone else." Dizon's jaw tightened. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't hear her heartbeat every time I run the spatial check?"
The teenager held his gaze.
"The barrier is failing. You know it. The bolts are shearing. The cold is coming through. If the Archbishop breaches the lower floors, the corridor won't hold. Not because of the poly. Because of the temperature."
Dizon didn't move.
"Every person you keep out is a person who dies in the cold. You understand that?"
"I understand that if I open this door, the forty-three inside lose their seal. Their heat. Their protection. And then everyone dies."
"Everyone's already dying."
Dizon's hand found his weapon. Not raising it. Just touching it.
"Go back to your unit."
The teenager looked at the rebar on the floor. At the plate. At Dizon.
Then she turned and walked away.
Dizon watched her go. Then he picked up the rebar.
Carried it inside the corridor.
Locked it in the supply closet.
3:44 AM.
The second wave reached Building B.
Twenty meters from the eastern face. The followers pressed against the lower floors. Kinetic bursts slammed into the ninth and tenth floor walls. Concrete dust. Debris. The building was shaking.
And the Archbishop had reached the courtyard.
Jae-min felt him through the spatial awareness. A dense, compressed signature moving through the gap between Buildings B and C. Not with the second wave. Behind it. Walking slowly. Deliberately.
Flanked by six Enhanced.
He wasn't rushing. He was surveying.
The Archbishop stopped in the center of the courtyard. Stood among the bodies on the ice. Looked up at the fourteenth floor.
At the shattered balcony window.
At the darkness beyond it.
And raised his hand.
Not a kinetic burst this time. Something smaller. Controlled. A probe.
A compressed-air construct no larger than a fist. He released it upward. Not at the building—at the air above the building. At the space where the balcony met the sky.
The construct rose. Hit nothing. Dissipated.
But Jae-min felt it.
The compressed air had passed through a column of space less than three meters from the balcony. The kinetic density had been low—probe level. Not designed to damage. Designed to measure.
Air resistance. Wind pattern. Temperature gradient.
The Archbishop was reading the atmosphere above the balcony to calculate the exact elevation.
"He's ranging on the balcony again." Jae-min's voice was flat.
"Can you feel the probe?"
"It passed three meters to my left. Low density. Kinetic measurement construct."
"What did it measure?"
"Everything he needs to calculate a direct hit on this position."
The Archbishop released a second probe. Higher this time. Two meters above the first. Another air column sample.
Then a third.
Jae-min tracked them. Three data points. The Archbishop was building a three-dimensional model of the air above the balcony. Temperature. Pressure. Wind speed.
A firing solution.
"He'll have the solution in two more probes."
"Then shoot him."
Jae-min raised the rifle. The Archbishop was standing in the open. Two hundred meters away. A dense thermal signature surrounded by six Enhanced with overlapping kinetic shields.
Twelfth shot.
The muzzle flickered. The exit portal appeared beside the Archbishop. Close. The round passed his shoulder.
Two of the Enhanced reacted. Kinetic shields expanded. Compressed air burst outward in all directions. The shockwave hit the Archbishop's probe constructs and shattered them before they could complete their measurement.
The Archbishop didn't flinch.
He looked at the balcony.
Then he turned and walked back toward Building C. Slow. Unhurried.
He had enough data.
3:49 AM.
The third wave was forming.
Jae-min could see it through the scope. Another sixty followers. Eight Enhanced. Moving out of Building C's ground floor breach. Joining the first two waves in the courtyard.
The Archbishop's force was concentrating.
One hundred and sixty followers in the courtyard now. Nine Enhanced. Plus the Archbishop and his personal guard of six.
The courtyard was full.
And they weren't just standing there.
The Enhanced were advancing. Not the followers—the Enhanced. Nine of them moving forward in a loose formation. Kinetic barriers overlapping. Creating a wall of compressed air that moved with them.
They were heading for Building B's eastern face.
Direct approach. No flanking. No probing.
Assault.
"Jae-min." Yue's voice was low. Tight. "They're committing."
"I see them."
"Nine Enhanced. Overlapping barriers. Moving together."
"I see them."
"You have six rounds."
"I know."
The Enhanced were fifty meters from Building B. Moving at a walking pace. Kinetic shields interlocked into a single curved wall of compressed air. Behind them, the followers were spreading out. Covering the courtyard. Securing the ground they'd already taken.
The Archbishop stood behind them. Watching.
Yue's heartbeat was ninety-two. Jae-min felt it through the spatial awareness. Her breathing was tight. Controlled. But tight.
She was standing close enough that her arm touched his. She hadn't moved away since the glass broke.
"Call them."
"First Enhanced. Left of center. Shield gap at the bottom left. Six o'clock position."
Jae-min fired.
The round folded through space. The exit portal appeared at the shield gap. The Enhanced dropped.
The formation compressed. Closed the gap.
"Second. Right of center. Top of shield. They're not covering above."
Jae-min fired. The round appeared above the second Enhanced's barrier. Came down through the top. The Enhanced staggered. Didn't drop. The round had clipped his shoulder instead of his head.
He kept moving.
"Third. Center. Shield geometry is shifting. They're closing gaps faster now."
Jae-min adjusted. Waited for the gap. The shield geometry was fluid—constantly adapting. The Enhanced were communicating. Coordinating. One created a gap for half a second while another shifted. The gap closed before Jae-min could fire.
"They're too fast."
"They're learning your timing."
Jae-min pulled back from the scope. Looked at the courtyard with his naked eye.
Nine Enhanced. Forty meters from Building B. Moving in a wall of compressed air. The followers behind them were cheering. Low. Rhythmic. A sound that traveled across the frozen courtyard like a pulse.
And inside Building B, the building was shaking.
3:53 AM.
The corridor was cold.
The temperature had dropped eight degrees in the last twenty minutes. The gap in the south panel was now five centimeters. Cold air poured through like water through a crack in a dam.
Alessia moved between the civilians. Checking. Wrapping. The children were the priority. The nine-year-old from 1504 was under three blankets. Her lips were blue. Her father was holding her. Not saying anything. Just holding.
The pregnant sister was worse. The contractions were every three minutes now. Her pulse was a hundred and eighteen. Stress-induced. Not labor. Not yet.
The old man from 1508 had pulled his blanket tighter. He wasn't watching the gap anymore. He was watching the people inside the corridor. The ones who were chosen. The ones with walls.
His radio was still off.
Outside the polycarbonate, the hallway was full. Twenty people. Maybe more. The teenager from 1502 was at the back. Watching. Not pushing. Waiting.
The man from 1410 was at the south panel. His palms flat against the poly. His wife beside him.
The four-year-old was upstairs. Still asleep. She didn't know that the building was shaking. That the barrier was failing. That her father was standing on the wrong side of a line that was getting thinner by the minute.
He looked through the polycarbonate at the people inside. The blankets. The warmth. The forty-three.
Then he looked at the gap. Five centimeters. Cold air whistling.
He didn't push.
He just stood there.
3:56 AM.
The Enhanced reached Building B.
Thirty meters. Twenty-five. Twenty.
They stopped.
Not retreating. Pausing. The overlapping kinetic barriers formed a wall of compressed air less than twenty meters from Building B's eastern face. The nine Enhanced stood behind it. Waiting.
The Archbishop moved forward. Stopped behind the wall. Looked up at the fourteenth floor.
Raised his hand.
Jae-min raised the rifle.
They stared at each other across twenty meters of frozen air.
Four rounds left.
Jae-min could feel the spatial awareness straining. Four days without sleep. The cost of maintaining the awareness and the guided bullets simultaneously was accumulating. His vision had a slight blur at the edges. Not fatigue. Something deeper. The spatial perception was starting to fragment at the periphery.
He blinked it away.
The Archbishop's hand was raised. Kinetic compression building. The air around his palm was folding. Denser. Hotter. Not a probe this time. Not a ranging shot.
A commitment.
Jae-min's finger rested on the trigger.
Yue was beside him. Her arm against his. Her breath steady. Her heartbeat ninety-two.
The Archbishop released.
The compressed-air round crossed the twenty meters in a fraction of a second. It hit the building below the fourteenth floor. Not the balcony. The thirteenth floor eastern face. The impact was significant. Concrete cracked. The vibration traveled up.
The corridor shuddered. The polycarbonate flexed. The south panel's remaining bolts screamed. One more sheared.
The gap widened to seven centimeters.
Inside the corridor, the forty-three felt the cold rush in. The temperature dropped another two degrees in seconds. The children started crying. The old man closed his eyes.
Outside the corridor, the man from 1410 watched the gap widen.
Seven centimeters.
His hands were still flat against the poly.
He didn't push.
But he didn't step back either.
The Archbishop lowered his hand. Raised it again.
Jae-min aimed.
The Enhanced wall was between them. He couldn't reach the Archbishop through the overlapping barriers. He'd need to shoot through the wall of compressed air, and the density would collapse the exit portal.
He couldn't shoot the Archbishop.
The Archbishop could shoot him.
Jae-min lowered the rifle.
"Jae-min." Yue's voice was barely a whisper. At his ear. Close enough that her lips almost touched his skin.
"He's not attacking to breach. He's attacking to exhaust."
"What?"
"Every kinetic impact weakens the building. Weakens the barrier. Weakens the seal. He doesn't need to reach us. He just needs to keep hitting until the cold does the work for him."
Jae-min looked at the courtyard. At the bodies on the ice. At the Enhanced wall twenty meters away. At the Archbishop's thermal signature behind it.
Then he looked at the corridor. At the gap. At the cold air pouring through. At the forty-three people huddled against the far wall.
Four rounds left.
Four days without sleep.
A building that was shaking apart. A barrier that was failing. An enemy that was adapting. And three hundred and twenty-nine people on the other side of a line that was cracking.
Yue's arm was still against his. She hadn't moved. He could feel her heartbeat. Ninety-two. Fast. But steady.
The line hadn't broken.
But it wasn't holding anymore.