The atmosphere is still tense from the end of the last confrontation. The dust from crushed battalions hangs faintly over the battlefield. The shattered outskirts of Shambhala stretch around them—a flat ground scarred by AlphaDraid attacks. Three black banners stand firmly planted ahead… one for each general.
The battalions' corpses are behind them now. The true enemies are here.
Zade.
Hiro.
Cairo.
No fourth general. Just these three.
Each stands atop a broken segment of the outer wall, barely illuminated by the torches fixed into the cracked pillars.
Ash carried through the stale wind. Ahan adjusted his spectacles and finally stopped, exhaling.
Abhi rotated his shoulders as if shaking stiffness off.
Aryan loosened his stance, grounding his feet.
Below the generals, the trio stood in silence—waiting.
Hiro leaned forward, his voice amplified through an unseen medium.
"Troops failed, commanders failed, divisions failed… interesting. So it's true. You three are the ones."
A flicker of annoyance crosses Abhi.
Abhi: "If you knew that, why send those weaklings at all?"
Zade smirked—no madness yet, but a quiet sadism simmered behind his posture.
"Because hierarchy matters. When you topple the lower ranks, we have every right to come down personally."
Cairo didn't speak. He simply lowered his head once, acknowledging.
Ahan stepped forward, not raising volume, just clarity:
Ahan: "This ends today."
The torches extinguished themselves, not by wind, but by intention.
The three generals stepped down—one leap each.
When they landed, the ground cracked in three separate directions.
Cracks that drew lines, naturally forming a triangular grid—dividing the battlefield into three separate regions.
Without speaking, each general walks toward one hero, as if this was predetermined long before they arrived.
Zade vs Abhi
Hiro vs Aryan
Cairo vs Ahan
The matchups form seamlessly.
No debate.
No switching.
No strategizing.
It was fate. And all three of them felt it.
Abhi stepped forward first. Zade didn't even adopt a stance—he let Abhi strike first. Zade countered without effort. He wasn't fast, but his timing was surgical. Abhi's wrists were redirected, momentum turned against him.
Hiro was unreadable. Aryan expected explosive speed, but Hiro attacked without emotion. A precise kick landed against Aryan's ribs—not enough to injure, but enough to show intent.
No words spoken. Cairo simply advanced. Ahan used footwork learned from earlier wars, posting his weight properly—but Cairo kept dissolving angles like liquid motion.
Abhi (breathing sharply):
"These three aren't just high-rank rogues. They're trained. Years ahead of normal warriors."
Aryan clenched his fist:
"This is nothing like AlphaDraid soldiers."
Ahan's thoughts:
"Their rhythm, their spacing… these fights are designed to break us psychologically."
Zade went first.
He didn't lift a hand.
He simply inhaled.
Black fissures appeared along his forearm—like molten cracks radiating outward. A black mass swirled around him as though gravity bent toward his body.
Hiro's shard activation was silent—his eyes formed mirrored rings that rotated independently. The air around him straightened, tightening the pressure.
Cairo's activation happened through sound—a small, subtle harmonic pulse. When he stepped again, dust around his feet vibrated as though reality trembled with each stride.
The battlefield shifted tone.
Zade walked forward, slow and relaxed.
Zade: "Show me your metal."
Abhi exhaled and charged again—and this time, Zade didn't counter. He simply disappeared from Abhi's striking range, then appeared behind him with zero displacement sound.
Abhi stumbled.
Hiro didn't wait—he struck with his knee, elbow, and shoulder in consecutive bursts. Aryan blocked, but Hiro's movements compressed space. When Hiro stopped, Aryan's forearm hair rose—pressure differences cascading.
Aryan: "His attacks bend force vectors…"
Cairo attacked without hatred—just execution.
Ahan's bones rang from a single hit to his guard.
Cairo: "Your body is indexed wrong. You defend from instinct, not principle."
Ahan froze—not from fear, but recognition.
He was being analyzed.