Fire swallowed the forest.
The airstrike tore through the portal clearing in waves, each explosion rolling across the battlefield like thunder from the ground itself. Fireballs ripped through the trees, toppling them in showers of splinters and burning branches.
Roger dove aside as a massive tree came crashing down toward him.
He hit the dirt and rolled, shards of wood slicing through the air above his head.
For a second, all he could hear was ringing.
Then Ian moved through the smoke.
He lunged at Varnyx, grabbed the demon warlord by the armor, and drove him backward with raw force. Varnyx snarled, claws digging into the ground, but Ian did not stop.
With a shout, Ian hurled him directly into the next wave of bombing.
The explosion swallowed them both.
Flame.
Smoke.
Shattered earth.
Optimus grabbed Roger by the back of his armor and shoved him toward the portal's core.
"Move!"
Roger stumbled forward, heart hammering.
The portal pulsed violently, its crimson runes flashing faster and faster. The explosive charge was armed but not locked into the core.
Roger dropped to one knee.
His hands shook.
Not from fear.
From the force of the explosions tearing the world apart around him.
Optimus stood over him, blade raised, cutting down anything that got close.
"Roger!"
Roger snapped the final timer into place.
The device beeped.
Then armed.
Optimus grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him up.
"Run! It's gonna blow!"
Across the clearing, Varnyx staggered out of the flames.
His armor was cracked.
Molten metal dripped from his shoulder plates.
Black blood ran down his blades.
But he was still standing.
His glowing eyes locked onto Ian.
"My master…" Varnyx snarled, voice low and venomous. "Will come…"
Ian stepped through the smoke, katana ready.
Varnyx's lips curled.
"And destroy you all."
Blade appeared beside Ian, breathing hard.
The portal behind them glowed brighter.
Brighter.
Brighter.
Ian's eyes widened.
"Move!"
Ian and Blade broke into a sprint, vaulting over debris as the portal began to collapse inward. The crimson ring screamed like something alive. The sky above it twisted open, revealing flashes of something beyond the world — endless dark, burning red clouds, and shadows moving behind the light.
Then the portal detonated.
A titanic explosion ripped through the clearing.
The sky split.
The ground buckled.
A shockwave blasted outward, throwing demons, trees, rocks, and smoke in every direction.
Then the red glow vanished.
The portal was gone.
The House in the Forest
Far from the portal site, the old wooden house groaned beneath the weight of the robed demon's hunt.
The thing moved through the rooms slowly, tearing the house apart piece by piece.
Walls crumbled.
Furniture flew aside like paper.
Its heavy footsteps echoed through the floorboards as if the house itself was begging to collapse.
Billix crouched low in the kitchen, one hand pressed against his wounded side, the other gripping his rifle.
His breathing was sharp.
His vision blurred.
But his mind kept moving.
He looked toward the old stove.
A bad idea formed.
At this point, bad ideas were all he had left.
With trembling hands, Billix twisted the gas knobs to full.
A faint hiss filled the air.
He backed away carefully.
The demon stopped somewhere in the hallway.
Then its head turned.
It heard him.
Billix's blood went cold.
The robed demon stepped into the kitchen, its face hidden beneath the hood of its long, tattered robe. The bone mask beneath the shadows tilted slightly as it spotted him.
Then it began walking forward.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Unnerving.
Billix whispered, "Nope."
He bolted.
The demon lunged after him as Billix dove into a bedroom and slid beneath the bed. Dust filled his mouth. His armor scraped against the floorboards.
The room went quiet.
Billix held his breath.
The demon entered moments later.
Its feet dragged across the floor.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Silence.
Then massive hands gripped the bedframe.
With a roar, the demon lifted the entire bed like a toy.
Billix rolled out the other side just in time.
He sprinted for the hallway.
The gas was thick now, a toxic haze that stung his eyes and burned his throat.
The demon turned toward him.
Billix yanked a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin, and threw it into the kitchen.
Then he ran.
He crashed through the front door and sprinted toward the treeline.
The house exploded behind him.
A fiery blast tore through the clearing, sending wood, glass, and burning debris into the air. The shockwave nearly threw Billix to the ground. He stumbled, caught himself against a tree, and looked back.
The house was gone.
The robed demon was gone with it.
Reduced to burning ash.
Billix laughed once.
A tired, breathless laugh.
Then his smile died.
Through the smoke, a convoy of demons emerged from the woods.
Weapons raised.
Billix lifted his rifle.
"Of course."
The first volley ripped through the trees.
Billix dove behind a thick trunk as bullets tore bark from the wood around him. He leaned out and returned fire, dropping two demons at the front of the formation.
More circled around.
A sharp pain tore through his leg.
Billix shouted and dropped to one knee.
He had been hit.
Behind him, a demon charged from the trees, swinging its rifle like a club.
The stock smashed into Billix's face.
Pain exploded through his skull.
He hit the dirt hard, blood filling his mouth.
For one second, his body begged him to stay down.
Billix refused.
He forced himself up, lunged forward, grabbed the demon by the arm, and flipped it into the dirt with a brutal takedown.
The demon's rocket launcher clattered beside him.
Billix grabbed it.
He turned toward the oncoming wave.
"Back up."
He fired.
The rocket screamed across the clearing and exploded through the front line of demons, tearing them apart in a flash of fire and smoke.
But his body was done.
His leg buckled.
Billix collapsed, breathing raggedly as the remaining demons pushed through the smoke.
Their glowing eyes closed in.
He tried to lift the launcher again.
His arms barely moved.
Then gunfire tore through the clearing.
Demons dropped one after another.
A familiar voice cut through the chaos.
"Billix!"
Roger sprinted toward him, sliding to his knees at his side.
Behind him, Ian's strike team pushed into the clearing, firing into the swarm. Blade flashed through the trees, cutting down anything that tried to flank them. Optimus drove demons back with heavy strikes, while Ian fired controlled shots over Roger's shoulder.
Roger grabbed Billix and hauled him up.
"It's alright," Roger said, voice shaking with relief. "We won the fight."
Billix blinked at him.
"You look terrible."
Roger laughed once.
"You look worse."
Ian pointed toward the evac ship descending nearby.
"Get him to the medics!"
Roger nodded and pulled Billix's arm over his shoulder.
"Come on. You're not dying after all that."
Billix groaned.
"I wasn't planning on it."
The evac ship landed in the clearing, ramp dropping through the smoke.
Billix was rushed aboard as the rest of the army regrouped.
Within the hour, Galactic Empire forces pulled out.
The portal was destroyed.
The enemy was scattered.
And the planet faded beneath the transport ship as it rose into the stars.
The invasion was over.
But victory did not feel peaceful.
It felt like the beginning of something worse.
STF Barracks — The Next Morning
Roger woke up sore.
Everything hurt.
His shoulders.
His legs.
His back.
Parts of his body he was pretty sure had not existed before joining the STF.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed the stiffness from his neck.
For a moment, all he wanted was breakfast.
Then the barracks door opened.
Blade stepped inside.
Roger looked up.
Blade leaned against the doorframe with a smirk.
"Roger."
Roger blinked.
"Yeah?"
"Press and media want to interview you."
Roger froze mid-yawn.
"…Me?"
Blade's smirk widened.
"Yeah. Guess you made more headlines than you thought."
Roger stared at him.
"I fought for like five minutes."
Blade shrugged.
"You planted the final charge on the portal."
Roger slowly looked down at his hands.
"I did?"
Blade raised an eyebrow.
"You don't remember?"
Roger winced.
"I remember explosions."
"That counts."
Roger stood too fast and immediately regretted it.
His legs nearly gave out.
Blade laughed.
"Careful, hero. Media room's this way."
Roger stared at him.
"Oh no."
Blade turned toward the hall.
"Oh yes."
The Interview
Within the hour, Roger stood in front of a mirror, hastily brushing his hair and trying to look less like he had just rolled out of bed after surviving a war.
It did not really work.
Blade led him through a series of polished corridors toward the media room.
The closer they got, the louder it became.
Voices.
Camera drones.
Reporters.
When the doors opened, Roger stopped dead.
The media room was massive and brightly lit, already humming with energy. Hundreds of reporters filled the space. Cameras flashed from every direction.
At the center stood a podium crowded with twenty microphones, each bearing a different news network logo.
Roger swallowed hard.
"Oh…"
He looked at Blade.
"This is worse than the battle."
Blade gave him a pat on the back.
"Most soldiers agree."
Ian appeared beside Roger and placed a steady hand on his shoulder.
Roger looked up at him.
Ian's voice was calm.
"You'll be fine. I'm here."
Roger nodded, though his throat felt dry.
Ian leaned slightly closer.
"Just speak the truth. And don't let them twist it."
Roger stepped toward the microphones.
The questions came like gunfire.
"What was it like facing Varnyx?"
"Were you scared during the fight?"
"How did it feel to fight alongside the Greats?"
"Do you believe the STF made the right call in saving Devus?"
"Is the Empire hiding more portals from the public?"
Roger's heart pounded.
Every word felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.
He answered carefully.
He told them the truth.
That he was scared.
That the Greats fought harder than the cameras ever showed.
That Devus' family had been in danger.
That the portal mission had not been about glory.
It had been about stopping a war before civilians ever saw it reach their homes.
Every now and then, Ian gave him a small cue.
A nod.
A look.
A reminder to breathe before answering.
When the flashing lights finally faded and the reporters dispersed, Roger stepped into the quieter hallway with Ian.
His shoulders dropped.
"Did I… answer okay?"
Ian looked at him.
"Yeah."
Roger exhaled.
Ian continued.
"Just remember. Choose your words like you choose your targets."
Roger nodded slowly.
"Carefully."
"Exactly."
Ian left Roger in the common area and headed upstairs.
The public had gotten their story.
Now Ian needed the real one.
Ian's Office
Ian's office door was already open.
Inside, Blade and Optimus stood around the central table. A holographic display flickered between them, casting golden light across their faces.
Ian stepped inside and closed the door.
The projection showed a blinding golden anomaly in space.
It pulsed like a living star.
Bright.
Unstable.
Wrong.
Ian looked at it.
"Is that it?"
Optimus nodded, arms crossed.
"We're calling it The Light."
Ian stepped closer.
The golden shape shifted, expanding and shrinking in slow waves as if breathing.
Optimus continued.
"It's been showing up on long-range scans for weeks. Always just out of reach. Always moving."
Blade's voice was quieter than usual.
"The weird thing?"
Ian glanced at him.
Blade looked at the projection.
"Every time it appears, demon activity spikes."
The golden anomaly pulsed again.
Blade's expression tightened.
"It's like they're following it."
Ian stared into the shifting luminous shape.
The room felt colder.
For weeks, they had been chasing portals.
Varnyx.
Smugglers.
The Old World.
But maybe the demons were not moving randomly.
Maybe something was guiding them.
Ian's voice dropped.
"…Or it's leading them."
The projection brightened.
For a moment, the golden anomaly looked almost like an eye opening in the dark.
No one spoke.
The portal war had ended.
But The Light had appeared.
And whatever it was, the demons were not afraid of it.
They were answering it.