A day after, the air above Sector 9 hung heavy with smoke and static, the cracked skyline casting long shadows across the ruins of the inner city. Beneath it all, ten stood ready.
They were supposed to be the last line. The final hope. And right now, they were walking toward what might as well be death incarnate.
The squad pressed forward, footwears crunching broken glass and charred concrete as they navigated the skeletal remains of what used to be a thriving district. The goal was clear: reach the base of the portal—the center where the rift pulsed violently overhead. Where the Shadow Monarch waited.
Yet even in the gloom, the squad had not lost their spark.
"Yo, we still got that playlist on loop?" Zephyr asked, grinning.
"You already know it," Eiji replied, knocking his war hammer against a collapsed pillar like a bass drop.
It was Haru who broke the tone.
He straightened up, his voice calm but cutting through the banter like a drawn blade.
"We're not just some squad of rebels," he said. "We're the last wall between this world and absolute extinction."
Silence settled.
Aqua, walking just beside him, nodded faintly. "We only got a bit stronger. That training three days ago... it pushed us, broke us even. But it wasn't enough. We're still chasing shadows."
Raijin, electric sparks dancing across his skin, offered a dry chuckle.
"Doesn't matter. These so-called elemental monarchs? They're not even at their peak. Weak imitations of what they once were. But hey—10v1, right?"
"Or so we thought," Mika muttered under her breath.
Kaede, arms crossed, added, "We couldn't even lay a hand on it... on 'that'."
The memory rippled through them like a silent wave.
A flashback burned behind their eyes—
the moment three days ago, deep under the base, when they had first uncovered the weapon. Humanity's last card. A colossal, dormant structure of shifting alloy and unknown energy cores buried beneath their feet.
It had pulsed once.
Then twice.
Then, without warning, a violent tremor.
The weapon destabilized, reactivated even when not complete, due to the room it lied in, sensing kaivor. A failsafe that failed. Their last hope had almost been the city's executioner.
And so they locked it away again.
Forgot it. Never to be accessed again.
The memory faded.
Just in time for the sky to darken.
From the fog and warped ash, silhouettes emerged.
Shadow Revenants.
Twisted parodies of Kaijus and warriors, warped by the Shadow Monarch's will. Some radiated corrupted fire, others bled toxins or distorted gravity around them. Each was a nightmare concept made flesh.
And they had come for blood.
The squad split immediately. No time to strategize. No time to breathe.
Ren gritted his teeth as his twin daggers flashed to life, lightning arcing between them. Beside him, Raijin's aura surged, illuminating a corrupted version of himself from the mist.
It bore his stature. His face.
But its eyes were hollow.
Raijin froze.
Then his lightning roared, rejecting the doppelganger.
"You're not me."
With that, the battle began.
All across the broken district, combat erupted like synchronized storms. Daggers danced, flames collided, the air warped under pressure and force.
The ten fought not as Hosts and Kaijus.
But as one.
And above them all, high in the dark cathedral of swirling cloud and collapsing physics...
Xytheon watched.
Waiting.
The Monarch would not descend yet.
But it would soon.
The blackened skies above Sector 9 were split by the roar of corrupted thunder, not from Raijin—but from the Shadow Revenant of Lightning itself, a twisted mockery of the Kaiju's own element. The ground beneath crackled with unstable pulses, illuminating jagged silhouettes. Raijin and Eiji stood side by side, at the edge of the battle's opening.
"Don't slow me down, hammer boy," Raijin muttered, cracking his neck. Arcs of electricity crawled up his arms, his eyes gleaming with kinetic anticipation.
Eiji lifted his massive war hammer with one hand, the other adjusting his goggles—designed to enhance microsecond perception. "Just watch. I'll see through every attack it throws before it even thinks of moving."
The Shadow Revenant of Lightning surged forward like a living storm, its form flickering between material and plasma, jagged and untamed. Raijin shot ahead first—pure speed incarnate, closing the distance with a burst of crackling air pressure. Twin daggers gleamed in his grip, flipping backward into reverse stance.
He clashed with the Revenant mid-air, blades meeting tendrils of unstable lightning. Sparks flew wildly, lighting up the combatants in brief snapshots of brutal motion—parries, jabs, sweeps. Each blow Raijin landed felt like he was hitting glass made of voltage.
From the ground, Eiji didn't blink. The moment Raijin forced the Revenant into a spin, he timed a hammer throw precisely through the slipstream. The war hammer spiraled like a missile—Raijin twisted just in time to dodge it, smirking.
The hammer smashed into the Revenant's side, sending it barreling into a half-toppled skyscraper, arcs dancing across the steel skeleton.
"Nice shot," Raijin muttered.
"Calculated," Eiji replied, already rushing forward. His body moved with uncanny awareness—he wasn't fast, but efficient. He dodged falling debris with inches to spare.
The Revenant recovered, now clearly agitated.
Raijin froze for a split second. His own corrupted self. His movements.
It struck first. The corrupted Raijin moved with the same brutal flair: arcing slashes, breakneck flips, and whirling dagger rotations. The real Raijin blocked with instinct, but each move was already mirrored, predicted.
"It's copying you!" Eiji shouted, launching himself into the fray.
Raijin gritted his teeth. "Stop stating the obvious."
The shadow clone went in for a double-cross slash, but Eiji intercepted, hammer-first. The force clashed in midair—shockwaves split the ground like an earthquake.
"I've seen your patterns, Raijin," Eiji said. "It's fast—but not smarter. Let me read it."
Raijin scoffed. "You studying me now? I ain't some textbook."
"No, but you're predictable. And I'm adapting."
The two regrouped behind a destroyed transport truck. Raijin recharged, lightning spiraling up from his core, burning cracks into the pavement. Eiji closed his eyes, breathing slowly, visualizing the last dozen moves. In his mind, he simulated every feint, every step, every angle the clone had mimicked.
"It adjusts every two attacks," Eiji muttered. "Pattern resets when you go aerial."
Raijin nodded. "So I drag it up, you slam it down."
"Exactly."
They launched again, Raijin rocketing upward with an explosive burst. He danced around his doppelgänger in midair, dragging the corrupted version into a spiral—blades clashed again and again, forming a wheel of blue and violet sparks.
Below, Eiji timed his stance. He counted.
One. The shadow clone copied a spinning slash.
Two. It reset its arc.
Now.
Eiji leapt. A pulse from his goggles triggered a slow-time burst. He twisted midair, hammer arcing above him like a meteor. Raijin gave one final kick, launching his clone downward into Eiji's path.
The impact was nuclear.
Thunder cracked like a divine gavel. The corrupted Raijin slammed into the concrete, a crater rippling outward like a pebble dropped in still water. Its body writhed—glitching, destabilizing.
Raijin landed beside it, panting slightly. "Didn't think you had it in you."
Eiji wiped soot from his cheek. "I don't need to be flashy. Just deadly."
The Shadow Revenant twitched, fragments of its body breaking apart into lightning that returned to the storm clouds above. Raijin stared at the sky, jaw clenched.
"That wasn't the end of it."
"No," Eiji said. "That was just your shadow."
They turned. A deeper rumble echoed beneath the city. Something tougher was sensed up.
Across from them—two Constructs, forged from corrupted Hunter tech, brimming with dark energy. They hovered slightly off the ground, limbs morphing and remolding with every flicker.
Raijin didn't wait.
With a pulse of lightning under his soles, he blinked forward, a thunderclap trailing behind. His twin daggers—white-hot with raw energy—slashed diagonally, tracing twin arcs that cut through one Construct's guard.
The Construct **folded its body like liquid metal**, absorbing the blow but staggering backward.
Eiji didn't blink. Instead, he stepped to the side, calculating.
"Raijin overcommits. Draw them toward me."*
Raijin grunted. "I'm not your bait, genius."
But he complied.
He spun midair, delivering a whirlwind kick infused with lightning. Sparks scattered like thrown coins. The second Construct lunged toward him—but it was a fake-out. Eiji had already moved.
His warhammer came down like judgment.
He'd timed the Construct's dodge pattern—five steps, spin, feint. He struck exactly where its pivot would land.
BOOM.
The Construct's leg crumpled under the weight of his blow, collapsing sideways.
Raijin, eyes flaring: "That's what I'm talking about!"
They adjusted.
Raijin danced through the battlefield, leaving behind afterimages. He wasn't just fast—he was erratic, purposely baiting counters, drawing the enemies into jagged movement.
Eiji, the anchor, mapped everything. Perception Level Up: +4pts. His brain processed micro-movements, calculating frames between strikes.
He'd already memorized the frame delay on Construct blocks, optimal parry angle for Raijin's lightning weapons and weak energy flares along Construct arm joints.
Raijin was pushed back beside him, his legs digging into the concrete as he skidded to a stop.
"Back left joint. Raijin, go!"
No need for a full sentence. Raijin understood.
He vaulted off Eiji's warhammer, twisted in midair, and stabbed both daggers straight into the exposed joint, triggering an overload. The Construct convulsed.
Eiji slammed his hammer horizontally into the same unit, sending it flying across the rooftop.
Raijin flipped to land.
"I don't like working with you."
"Good," Eiji said, sweat running down his brow, "I don't like babysitting lightning rods."
The remaining Construct adapted.
It split its body into six smaller drones—buzzing like high-pitched cicadas, orbiting the two.
Multi-form. Proximity-triggered blades. EMP pulses.
Raijin growled. "Don't get in my damn way."
"No." Eiji lifted his hammer. "You stay centered. I'll orbit."
Raijin nodded. That was acceptable.
Eiji began circling outward, hammer dragging sparks along the ground. Raijin knelt slightly, daggers out like antennae.
The moment the drones lunged—
Raijin's Aura slash activated around himself, obliterating the first wave.
Eiji caught the rebound drone with a spinning mid-swing, crushing it into the floor.
A second drone slammed into his back.
He gritted his teeth.
"Pain later, I guess."
Eiji let the momentum roll him into a recovery stance and flung his warhammer like a discus, striking another drone out of the air before it could reform.
Raijin followed up, appearing midair, both daggers crossed in an X before he unleashed an aerial spiral slash, forming an electrical net that cleaved through three more.
Only one drone left.
They said nothing.
Raijin flicked one dagger toward Eiji. Eiji caught it mid-stride.
Together—they slashed from opposite ends of the battlefield, converging on the drone like fangs.
ZzzzzAKKKTTTTT!
Gone.
Silence.
Raijin stood, chest rising, a grin cracking across his face. "Not bad, warhammer."
Eiji tossed the borrowed dagger back. "Don't get used to it."
Lightning cracked faintly in the background.
From the smoking wreckage of Raijin's final lightning burst, two new figures vaulted into the shifting battlefield. The air was hot — literally.
Kaede landed in a low crouch, her eyes narrowed, breath steady. Every movement was efficient, honed. Her aura pulses faintly with Kaiju-enhanced precision. Beside her, Infernia didn't land so much as crash down — molten sparks scattered from the impact, her boots melting a crater into the already-warped floor.
"We're on the clock. Don't hold back." Kaede stated with cool-headed focus.
Infernia replied, "...wasn't planning to. Let's turn up the heat."
Across from them, the remaining two Shadow Knights descend from above — one with a massive broadsword wrapped in tar-black mist, the other a dual-saber wielder who phased in and out of visibility. Both distorted the space around them, as if reality was unsure how to hold them.
Kaede didn't charge. She analyzed. Every breath, every twitch from the enemy. She saw the phase-pattern of the dual-wielder, counting the frame delays between blinks. Infernia, meanwhile, barreled forward like a comet, launching heatwave shock bursts with each step. Her fists ignite with glowing brands.
The broadsword knight moved to intercept — and found himself overwhelmed in an instant. Infernia's first strike was a feint, her real hit landed with a spiraling uppercut that scorched through the Knight's chestplate. Black steam erupted from the wound. He retaliated with a swing, but she ducked, flipped over him, and slammed a double-kick into his spine, launching him into the air.
Kaede was already moving.
With pinpoint accuracy, she darted between the flickering forms of the dual-wielder. He slashed — she redirected his wrist. Another blade blinked in — she backstepped just enough to let the blade slice air, then stepped in with a brutal elbow strike to the chin. Her motions were small, tight, efficient. No wasted movement.
Infernia yelled as she threw a molten discus — not a projectile, but a flaming ring she conjured mid-punch from sheer heat. It sailed toward Kaede.
Kaede doesn't flinch.
She ducked under a fresh swing and rolled forward, letting the disc strike the flickering Knight directly behind her — his form destabilised, exposed for a split-second.
Kaede ever graceful, without looking said, "Thanks."
Infernia's face bore a wide ear to ear grin, "Don't mention it. More where that came from."
Their teamwork wasn't practiced — it was reactive, adaptive. Kaede read the field. Infernia changed it.
The broadsword knight recovered and slammed his blade into the ground. Black spikes erupt in a wide radius. Kaede hopped back, flipping to safety. Infernia didn't dodge. She stomps the spike mid-eruption, melting it, using the force to springboard off it, flames trailed behind her like wings.
She crashed into him shoulder-first, then followed with a spinning crescent kick that detonated into a firestorm.
The dual-wielder phased behind her again — but Kaede's already turned.
One flashstep.
Palm to his chest. Pulse of Kaiju energy. She slammed him into the ground and stomped on his hand mid-swing, disarming one of his blades.
"You're predictable."
The broadsword Knight absorbed the shadows and began to morph. His blade widened, crackling with raw entropy. The other Knight retrieved his saber and began spinning both like gyros, forming a magnetic shadow shield.
Kaede stated. "They're syncing," panting.
Infernia replied, "Then we burn them down before they finish."
The two exchanged a look.
Kaede exhaled. Infernia ignited.
Then they launched forward.
Kaede struck low — disabling knees, wrists, soft points. Her perception enhanced to near precognition. Infernia went high — spinning, blazing, battering her target with a storm of overwhelming ferocity.
The Knights faltered.
Flames licked at their armor.
Kaede's glaive flashed — three clean strikes.
Infernia finished with a rising, flaming knee that shattered the broadsword Knight's helm.
The Knights were down, but not out. They were twitching, struggling to rise, flickering like broken data. Kaede stepped back, breath steady. Infernia landed beside her, arms crossed, chest heaving.
"They'll get back up."
"We'll be ready," Kaede replied confidently.
Then the knight screeched out, with tendrils of serrated black energy running down its arms—leapt from above, coming down with it's broadsword with such force meant to obliterate the ground beneath. Kaede stepped in front of Infernia without thinking, her glaives ready to intercept—too late.
But Infernia caught her by the shoulder and flung her sideways.
Then stepped in.
One hand raised.
And caught the Knight's broadsword by the tip.
The entire battlefield shuddered.
The impact cracked the floor beneath them. Infernia grunted, her heels sinking an inch into concrete. But she didn't falter. Her arms shook, flames bursting from her elbows. With a roar, she shoved upward—and launched the Knight into the air.
Kaede landed in a crouch, mouth open.
Infernia exhaled.
And then... ignited everything.
The Knight, still airborne, was met by a geyser of pure flame—a spiral eruption not from her hands, but her back, like wings flaring open. Heat pulsed outward in every direction. Fire turned white. The air distorted.
The Knight screamed—a shrill, psychic tear—as its body melted from the inside out, bones liquefying midair.
Then silence.
Only the sound of distant cinders fluttering to the ground.
Kaede stood slowly. "That was... overkill."
Infernia cracked her neck. "He had it coming."
The battlefield was scorched. The opponents they just faced. Gone.
No more waves came.
Just smoke.
And ash.
Kaede walked to Infernia's side and muttered, "Let's regroup before Ren gets any dumb ideas again."
Infernia nodded. Her flames dimmed to embers.
They stepped forward, into the haze—victors not of chance, but of fury sharpened by precision.
Behind them, the battlefield shifts again… and the next team steps into the breach.