The fortress gates groaned open.
Ghost Corporation stepped through.
The interior was vast—a grand hall carved from dark stone, lit by flickering torches that cast jagged shadows across the walls. At the far end, three figures stood in perfect formation wearing red military dress uniforms, crisp and formal, each adorned with silver insignias that marked them as Vaelcrest's elite. The color was a statement—blood and authority.
The first was a man. Half-machine. His left arm was pure chrome, pistons and gears visible beneath synthetic skin. One eye glowed faintly blue, a mechanical lens that whirred as it focused. His red uniform was tailored to accommodate the bulk of his augmented body.
Sigma.
The second was a woman. Tall and sharp, with long black hair that fell past her shoulders like ink. Her eyes were red—not metaphorically, but literally crimson, as if blood ran through her irises. She stood with her arms crossed, her red uniform immaculate.
Aurora.
The third was a man. Lean and tall, with white hair that contrasted starkly against his purple eyes. His uniform fit him like a second skin, sharp and precise.The air around him shimmered faintly with heat.
Grem.
Elya walked forward with his hands in his pockets.
He didn't acknowledge them.Sigma's mechanical arm shifted. A panel slid open, revealing a cannon barrel. It charged with a high-pitched whine, blue energy gathering at the tip.
He fired the blast screamed through the air, a concentrated beam of plasma aimed directly at Elya's chest.
Ban moved and stepped in front of Elya, one hand raised.
The beam hit his palm and stopped. The energy crackled against his skin, dispersing into harmless sparks. Ban didn't flinch. His cigarette still burned between his lips.
He exhaled smoke.
"Mine," he said.
Aurora's eyes glowed brighter. She flicked her wrist, and the air shimmered. A crimson whip of liquid materialized—blood, drawn from somewhere unseen—and lashed toward Elya's throat.
Alexia was faster.
Her hand shot out, catching the whip mid-strike. The blood hissed against her palm, but she held it firm. Her dark eyes locked onto Aurora's.
"Mine," she said, her voice cold.
Grem raised a hand. Flames erupted from his palm, roaring toward Elya in a wave of searing heat.
Lin stepped forward, grinning.His own hand ignited. Red fire burst to life, colliding with Grem's flames in a violent explosion. The shockwave rattled the hall, but Lin didn't budge.
"Mine," he said, his grin widening.
Elya walked past them.
Behind him, the three Generals stood frozen for a heartbeat, staring at the trio who had intercepted them so effortlessly.
Then Sigma smiled—or something close to it. His mechanical jaw clicked.
"Interesting."
Aurora's crimson eyes narrowed. "They think they can stop us."
Grem's flames intensified. "Let's take this outside."
Ban rolled his shoulders. "Works for me."
He raised his arm.
"Release."Golden light flared.
A longsword materialized in his hand—sleek, elegant, with a blade that shimmered like molten gold. His Spada. He pointed it at Sigma.
"Come on."
Alexia's hand moved to her side.
"Release."
Twin daggers appeared, their blades curved and deadly, glowing faintly with silver light. Her Spada. She spun them once, then settled into a ready stance.
"Don't make me wait."
Lin cracked his knuckles.
"Release."
A massive greatsword erupted into existence, nearly as tall as he was, wreathed in crimson flames. His Spada. He hefted it onto his shoulder and laughed.
"Let's burn."
The hall exploded into motion.
Ban and Sigma clashed first. The cyborg's mechanical arm transformed mid-swing, sprouting a plasma blade that met Ban's Spada with a deafening CLANG. The impact sent sparks flying. They disengaged, circled, and struck again.
Aurora's blood whip lashed out in a dozen directions at once. Alexia moved like water, weaving between the strikes, her daggers flashing. She cut through one whip, then another, but more materialized instantly. Aurora smiled.
Grem's flames roared to life. Lin charged straight through them, his greatsword ablaze, and swung with enough force to crack the stone floor. Grem dodged, countering with a pillar of fire that erupted from the ground. Lin laughed and swung again.
The hall couldn't contain them.
Ban and Sigma crashed through a wall, tumbling into the streets beyond. Aurora and Alexia followed, their battle spilling into the abandoned town. Grem and Lin's flames set the hall ablaze, forcing them outside as well.
The three fights scattered across Fishman Island.
Elya walked deeper into the fortress.
The grand hall gave way to a long corridor.
Then he heard it footsteps. Dozens of them
Ahead, the corridor opened into a wider space. Soldiers poured out—fifty of them, maybe more. They wore the same red as the Generals, but theirs was combat gear, not dress uniforms. Rifles raised. Eyes wide.
One of them shouted.
"FIRE!"
The corridor erupted.
Gunfire roared, bullets tearing through the air in a storm of lead. They filled the space with noise and death, a wall of metal aimed at a single target.
Elya moved faster than thought.
He closed the distance to the nearest soldier in an instant, his hand snapping out. He grabbed the man's rifle mid-burst, yanking it—and the soldier—toward him. His other hand struck once, precise, to the throat.
The soldier's neck snapped.
Elya took the rifle.
He swung the corpse in front of him like a shield. Bullets thudded into the body, jerking it with each impact. Elya didn't flinch. He raised the rifle one-handed, aimed over the dead man's shoulder, and fired.
Headshot.
The soldier at the far left dropped.
Elya adjusted and fired again. Delivering another headshot.
He walked forward. Sloow and methodical. The corpse in his grip absorbed the storm, and with each step, he fired back.
Headshot. Headshot. Headshot.
The soldiers began to panic. Some tried to reload. Others tried to retreat. It didn't matter.
Elya's golden eyes were cold and didn't blink.
He dropped the corpse and rolled behind a stone pillar. Bullets chipped away at the stone. He leaned out, fired three times in rapid succession. Three bodies hit the ground.
He moved again and closed the distance. Grabbed another soldier, spun him into the line of fire. The man's screams were cut short as his own comrades' bullets tore through him.
Elya used him. Fired over his shoulder. Under his arm then between the gaps.
Ten down. Twenty. Thirty.
The corridor was a slaughterhouse.
Bullet casings clinked against stone. Blood pooled on the floor. Smoke hung thick in the air, lit by the flickering torches.
The last soldier turned to run.
Elya raised the rifle a delivered a headshot.
The man fell forward, lifeless.
Elya dropped the rifle. It clattered to the ground, the barrel still smoking.
He stepped over the bodies. Fifty corpses littered the corridor, sprawled in unnatural angles, eyes still wide with fear.
He slid his hands back into his pockets and kept walking.
Behind him, the distant sounds of battle echoed through the fortress. Explosions. Clashing steel. Flames roaring.
His team was handling the Generals.
Ahead, the corridor led deeper and darker.
Elya's golden eyes reflected the torchlight.
He didn't know what waited in the depths of the fortress.
But he would find out.