Iris and her team descended cautiously into the 12th floor of the cave, each step met with an atmosphere that pressed against their lungs. The air was thicker, darker, laced with something unseen — like the cave itself was watching.
The walls pulsed faintly with veins of crimson light, and the ground beneath their boots was slick, wet with a substance that was definitely not water.
Their gear showed the scars of war.
Suits torn. Armor cracked. Weapons smeared with dark, coagulated blood — remnants of the savage conflict on the 11th floor. Muscles ached. Breathing was sharp. But none dared complain.
Then—
SHING!
A sonic blur tore through the air.
Faster than sound. Sharper than death.
A monstrous blade sliced past Iriss neck, missing by mere inches. The air itself seemed to split.
Her body responded on instinct — eyes flashing gold from pink, spine bending backward with inhuman grace, as she twisted mid-air, the blade grazing her shoulder guard.
One breath slower, and her head would've hit the floor before her body.
"Ambush!" she roared, voice sharp as steel.
From the creeping dark, they emerged.
Grotesque beasts — limbs too long, too many joints, their skin like cracked obsidian, moving like liquid shadows.
Their eyes burned hell-red, and their snarls carried the stench of centuries. The kind of monsters that weren't born — they were forged in hate.
Then—
BOOM.
Cain was already in motion, sword drawn, lightning crackling down the blade like a summoned storm.
He blurred forward — a sonic shockwave ripping behind him — and in one clean arc, bisected the first beast.
Thunder echoed as the monster's upper body slid off its lower half, sizzling.
Tina, mid-air, twisted with the elegance of a dancer, both arms raised. Her gauntlets glowed, crystalline arrays forming and firing with precision.
Shard after shard tore through the air, pinning three creatures against the jagged cave walls.
The impact was brutal. The creatures shrieked—inhuman, guttural.
But they didn't stay dead.
One of them — impaled to the wall, eyes burning brighter — ripped itself free, chunks of its own body falling to the ground.
It snarled as its wounds began to close, flesh knitting together like reverse fire.
Iris vanished in a blinding white flash—a burst of light that cracked the air like thunder.
In an instant—BOOM!—she reappeared high above the horde, suspended mid-air, eyes glowing like twin novas.
Her hands moved in a sharp motion.
"Radiant Arsenal."
Above her, dozens of luminous swords formed from compressed light—a storm of holy energy, humming with power. Then they fell. All at once.
The cave trembled.
Impact after impact, divine blades tore through the enemy ranks like celestial retribution.
Screeches erupted as beasts were incinerated mid-snarl, shattered into ash, their bodies unable to contain the purity of her strike.
Some crawled, limbless, leaving trails of black ichor as the radiant energy seared through them slowly, cruelly.
Then it came.
A towering alpha-beast, nearly twice the size of the others, its chest heaving, molten breath leaking from a jagged mouth full of bones. Its eyes locked onto Iris — not in fear, but primal challenge.
She didn't flinch.
Floating calmly, she whispered, "Let's end this."
Her eyes flared—pure white with threads of gold—and in a streak of divine force, she launched.
Time seemed to pause.
Then—FLASH.
She pierced straight through the alpha-beast's core.
The monster's body didn't collapse — it disintegrated, exploding into drifting embers, carried away by the heat of her aura. Silence followed.
The dust finally settled.
The cave floor was littered with smoldering corpses, black blood
evaporating into steam, the air thick with the scent of burnt nightmares. Iris landed softly, her boots touching the stone like falling feathers.
Tina, catching her breath, wiped a smear of blood from her cheek.
"That... was rough."
Cain spun his blade once, flicking dark ichor from its edge before resting it on his shoulder.
He smirked, eyes scanning the wreckage.
"12th floor, huh? Feels like hell already."
The camera would pull back. A low hum. The battlefield glowing faintly behind them.
Next floor awaits.
The sun hung high, draping the Ranger HQ in soft golden light. The air was calm—unnaturally so—like the world itself had paused to catch its breath.
After days of bloodshed, battle, and blood-boiling tension, peace felt almost surreal.
The squad had just returned.
Armor scratched. Blades dulled. Bodies tired.
But their spirits? Unshaken.
At the front steps, leaning casually against a stone pillar, stood Jasmine.
Arms folded, gaze distant. The wind played with her long hair, sending silver strands dancing across her face.
She had clearly been waiting—quietly, patiently. But her expression was unreadable.
Then—
"Iris!"
A voice—familiar, warm, alive.
Iris turned. Still dusted with soot and demon ash, her fierce eyes instantly lit up.
In the blink of an eye, the battlefield commander, the fearless elite ranger who tore through monsters like wind through leaves—melted.
Her expression bloomed with genuine joy, unguarded.
She ran. Not with elegance, not with control—just honest, youthful excitement.
In that moment, she looked not like a war goddess, but a sixteen-year-old girl seeing the person who made everything feel okay again.
Jasmine grinned wide, eyes gleaming with teasing fire.
"Back already?"
"Y-Yeah... it wasn't that bad" Iris replied, rubbing the back of her neck. She tried to sound casual, but the light pink rising to her cheeks betrayed her.
Jasmine stepped closer, squinting with mock suspicion.
"Uhh... what's that smell?" she sniffed dramatically, barely holding in a laugh.
"Huh?" Iris blinked. "Smell?"
Jasmine leaned in with theatrical flair, sniffed exaggeratedly, then burst into laughter.
"You smell like a burnt demon!"
Iris's face flared red. "Wha—?! I-I fought one, okay?! It exploded!!"
They both locked eyes—one flustered, the other still giggling—and then, as if on cue, both burst into laughter. The sound was light, human, real. Not a sound of warriors, but of girls—just girls—finally breathing again.
The camera slowly panned upward, capturing the two figures in the courtyard bathed in sun, as their laughter echoed into the blue afternoon sky.
Chaos could wait.
Right now... this was peace.
The room glowed with a cool, ambient blue, shadows shifting subtly across the smooth walls lined with advanced tech—floating holographic maps, suspended weapon arrays, and humming crystalline cores that pulsed like silent hearts.
At the center table sat Jasmine, her eyes wide with quiet awe as she slowly scanned the surroundings. Every detail, every piece of tech—it all felt alien.
Because it was.
This wasn't Earth.
This was the Ranger Core—a place caught between worlds.
Then—hiss.
The door slid open softly.
Iris stepped in, no armor, no weapons, stripped of the war goddess persona. She wore a simple skirt and blouse, long silver hair loosely tied back, strands falling across her shoulder like soft silk.
In her hands: a tray with two steaming cups of coffee. She walked with grace, but her eyes... carried weight.
She placed the tray on the table, then sat quietly beside Jasmine.
"So," Iris said gently, offering a cup. "What's up?"
Jasmine took it with a quiet nod, sipped carefully, then paused—her voice barely above a whisper.
"I wanted to know more about Jack."
The room changed.
The hum of the tech seemed to fade. The soft blue light dimmed slightly. A subtle pressure entered the space—like the memory of a storm.
Iris's smile slowly slipped away.
She leaned back, eyes no longer focused on the room but on something far away—somewhere deep.
" don't know what he's become" she said softly. "But he's no longer the boy you knew."
Her voice darkened.
"He's... more. More powerful. More distant. More... dark."
Jasmine opened her mouth to speak—but Iris continued before she could.
"You escaped." Her tone was sharper now. "Because I wasn't in the mood."
Jasmine froze.
Her hand tightened around the cup.
"That's what he said..." she whispered.
Iris's gaze flickered—eyes glowing faintly for a split second.
"But his voice... it wasn't normal."
"It wasn't sound. It was like a frequency, deep... beneath hearing. So low only I could feel it."
She tapped her chest once, softly. "It vibrated through my bones."
A flicker. The room's lights blinked.
The energy cores gave a subtle pulse.
Silence wrapped around them.
Jasmine stared down at the coffee, the reflection of her uncertain eyes trembling on the surface.
"He's really not the same, huh..."
Iris nodded—just once. Slow. Heavy.
---
An eerie stillness blanketed the realm—no wind, no sound, only the slow hum of something ancient stirring.
At the center stood Jack.
Stripped of his usual shadow cloak, he appeared almost bare, clad only in sleek black fabric that clung to his form like living darkness. Snow-white hair cascaded flawlessly down his back, weightless, untouched by gravity.
Even his lashes and brows, white as frost, framed a face that was too perfect, too symmetrical—inhumanly human.
A beauty so refined it became unsettling, like a statue sculpted by forgotten gods.
He hovered inches above the ground, motionless.
Not floating. Not flying. Just defying reality.
Then—a breath. A shift.
He descended slowly, the motion graceful, almost reverent.
And as his boots touched the ground, his eyes snapped open.
Crystal purple-black.
Not glowing—piercing. Like galaxies compressed into pupils.
Eyes that didn't just see—they unraveled.
A slow distortion rippled through the air.
His expression twitched—just slightly—but it was enough.
Something dark coiled beneath the surface, behind that flawless mask. Something hungry.
And then—
From deep within his chest, came a low, guttural chuckle.
It wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
The sound was rich, slow, dripping with power, amusement, and a kind of cruel serenity—as if he knew the storm was coming, and welcomed it like an old friend.
The laughter slithered through the air, wrapping around the space like smoke, staining it with dread.
The very atmosphere trembled, as if the world recognized the shift.
And in that moment, with only a smile and a sound, Jack didn't need to fight.
He had already announced war.
Silently. Inevitably.
A beautiful god... with
monstrous intent.