The team stood at the entrance of the research facility, the aftermath of their battle with the Land Eater still visible in the scorched ground and jagged debris scattered around them. The massive, reinforced iron door loomed ahead, an imposing barrier that seemed to mock their efforts. The faint hum of operational systems from within the facility was the only sound breaking the otherwise eerie silence.

John scanned the area, his sharp gaze lingering on the massive door. The faint chill of the air pressed against them, mingling with the tension as the team regrouped. Rapi stepped forward cautiously, her rifle raised and her posture alert as she motioned for the others to stay close. The weight of what lay behind the door was palpable.

"This is it," Ludmilla said, stepping forward to examine the door. Her voice, calm yet edged with frustration, carried through the quiet. "The heart of the facility. The data we need should be inside, but…" She gestured toward the door, the sharp lines of her face betraying her irritation. "This isn't going to be simple."

Neon cocked her shotgun, her grin wide and confident. "What's the problem? Let me blow it open! A little firepower never hurt anyone." She patted the barrel of her shotgun, already eyeing potential weak points.

"Don't bother," Ludmilla said sharply, shooting her a look of exasperation. She stepped closer to the door, running a gloved hand over its surface as if inspecting it. "This door is made of a goddesium-reinforced iron alloy, approximately forty centimeters thick. It's magnetically sealed and designed to withstand every form of conventional weaponry. Nothing you have is going to even scratch it, let alone breach it."

Neon blinked, her grin faltering. "Forty centimeters? Seriously? Who makes a door that thick?"

"People who don't want visitors," Ludmilla replied curtly. Her tone carried a bite, though her focus remained on the sealed barrier.

Anis groaned, slumping against her grenade launcher. "Great. So, what's the plan now? We're stuck outside because someone forgot the keys?"

Ludmilla let out a measured sigh, glancing at the blinking panel beside the door. "The security system is still operational. When the base fell, I didn't have time to grab a pass. We were running for our lives."

John cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "We might not be completely out of options," he said, pulling a sealed envelope from his coat pocket. The gesture was deliberate, his tone calm, though his subtle smirk hinted that he had been waiting for the right moment to intervene.

"What's that?" Rapi asked, her sharp eyes narrowing as they focused on the envelope.

John carefully tore it open, revealing a sleek metallic card bearing the emblem of Tetra Line. Alongside it was a folded piece of paper, which he opened and began to read aloud. His voice took on a slightly bemused tone as he deciphered the ornate script.

"Cher Commander,

It is with great regret that I cannot meet you personally. Malheureusement, I am currently assisting un autre promising commander with equally exciting ventures.

But fear not! Please accept this pass, the very pinnacle of Tetra Line innovation. It will grant you access to the most impénétrable facilities, ensuring your mission is as entertaining as possible.

Et bien sûr, my warmest regards to Anis. Should she ever wish to return to my side, my offer remains open—sans condition.

Yours in entertainment,

Mustang"

Anis groaned audibly, burying her face in her hands as John lowered the letter. "That's… that's definitely Mustang," she muttered, her voice muffled by her gloves. "Why is he like this?" John read the card over, his brow furrowing. "Well, at least we've got the pass. Let's activate it and move on."

"Not so fast," Rapi said, stepping closer to point at the card. "There's something written on the back."

John squinted at the fine print, his eyebrows lifting as he read it. Below the text was an illustrated diagram of a muscular, broad-shouldered man mid-dance, his movements outlined in a sequence of dramatic poses. The caption below the image read:

"Activate by performing the Danse de l'Activation. Grace and flair are key!"

John tilted his head, studying the diagram with mild curiosity. "You've got to admit," he said, his tone casual, "the guy's got an impressive build."

Anis groaned louder, as if the conversation couldn't get any worse. "That's him," she said, gesturing weakly to the illustration. "That's literally Mustang."

"Well," John said with a shrug, tucking the letter back into his coat, "guess I better get to it." Without hesitation, he began mimicking the dance from the diagram, his movements surprisingly fluid and precise despite the absurdity of the situation.

Anis buried her face in her hands again. "I'm dying. This is it. I'm actually dying of secondhand embarrassment."

Alice, however, was positively thrilled. She clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with delight. "A victory dance for the goddess! How wonderful! Allow me to join!" Without missing a beat, she began twirling beside John, adding her own dramatic flair to the routine.

"My queen!" Alice called out, spinning gracefully. "Join us my queen!"

Ludmilla hesitated for a moment, her sharp eyes flicking between the spectacle in front of her and the pass in John's hand. Finally, with a faint sigh, she stepped forward. "If you insist," she said, her voice calm as ever. Yet, as she moved, her steps were perfectly coordinated, her regal bearing unshaken even as she followed the ridiculous sequence.

As the trio completed the final pose, the pass began to glow faintly, a soft hum resonating as the massive door slid open with a hiss. The team fell silent, staring at the now-unlocked entrance.

Rapi crossed her arms, her expression unreadable as she turned to John. "Thank you for sacrificing your dignity for us, Commander."

John adjusted his gloves, his gaze lingering briefly on the glowing pass before turning to the open doorway. "Dancing and fighting aren't so different," he said with a faint smirk. "It's all about rhythm, precision, and knowing when to act. Metaphorically, I'm kind of like a flathead screwdriver—it might not be a tool made for a cross-slot screw, but it'll still get the job done. Now, let's move."

"This is the data hub," Ludmilla said, gesturing toward the terminal at the room's center. Her tone carried the usual regal authority. "Servant, check it. I'll guide you through the directories."

John raised an eyebrow but moved toward the console without comment. Anis, however, leaned her grenade launcher on her shoulder and shot Ludmilla a teasing smirk. "Anyone else notice she's been giving out a lot of orders? We're doing the heavy lifting while she's playing Queen."

Ludmilla arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Leadership requires delegation, Anis. Besides, would you prefer I do this myself?"

She strode forward and placed her hand on the terminal. The moment her fingers touched the surface, the machine sputtered and fizzled before powering down entirely, its screens going dark in an instant.

Anis blinked. "Okay… point taken."

Ludmilla pulled her hand back with a sigh. "And that is why I don't. Any machine I touch ceases to function—one of my many... peculiarities."

Rapi frowned, her sharp gaze flicking between Ludmilla and the now-dead terminal. "You could've mentioned that earlier."

Alice, ever the optimist, clapped her hands. "No worries! I'll handle it!" With a cheerful skip, she moved to another terminal and began typing away with practiced ease.

The group stood in tense silence as Alice worked, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. The screens flickered as directories opened one by one—until, suddenly, the interface vanished, replaced by the pixelated image of a cop shooting at blocky criminals. An upbeat 8-bit soundtrack began to play.

Alice giggled. "Oops! Wrong password. Let me try again."

Neon tilted her head, smirking. "I'm not complaining, but what's with the game? Don't tell me this place doubles as an arcade."

Alice stuck her tongue out playfully as she typed in another password: "SuperUltraNikke." The game disappeared, and the directories reappeared.

"Found it!" Alice announced, scrolling through files. Within moments, she brought up a detailed map of the northern region, dotted with markers denoting Pilgrim sightings. The team gathered around the screen as she enlarged the map.

Each sighting was marked with coordinates and dates, forming a clear pattern.

"They're on a patrol route," Rapi said, her eyes scanning the screen. "This isn't random movement—it's deliberate. They're covering ground systematically."

Ludmilla nodded. "Exactly. It's how we've managed to track them. If the pattern holds, our paths should cross soon."

"Let's hope so," Neon said, gripping her shotgun. "After all this, we'd better not be chasing ghosts."

Alice beamed at the team, her enthusiasm undimmed. "Don't worry! With this map, I'm sure we'll find them. It's just like in a fairy tale—the heroes always meet their allies when the time is right!"

John studied the map, his sharp eyes tracing the markers and paths. They weren't random; every route intersected with known sources of shelter or areas marked for resources. The timing of the sightings lined up, too. Each point was carefully chosen, likely after extensive reconnaissance.

They're efficient. Too efficient. His thoughts cut through the faint buzz of optimism from the others. This isn't a crusade; it's calculated survival. They aren't fighting to reclaim anything—they're retreating from something.

He leaned against the terminal, letting the others chatter while his mind pieced the pattern together. Pilgrims. Heroes of the surface. That's the image some people and Nikke cling to in the Ark, the myth that keeps the hope-starved masses from tipping into despair. But look at this. They're just like us—surviving day by day, clinging to whatever edge they can find.

A pang of guilt surfaced. It wasn't the Pilgrims' fault that they weren't what people wanted them to be. How could they be? No one can bear the weight of those expectations. His fists clenched, his voice silent as his inner thoughts spiraled deeper. And when they don't live up to the legend, people will crumble all over again. Hope isn't a shield—it's a sword with no handle.

Alice's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Isn't it incredible?" she asked, her voice brimming with genuine delight. "We're finally close. Real Pilgrims—they must be amazing, don't you think?"

He glanced at her, her wide, hopeful eyes lighting up her face. For a moment, John considered telling her the truth, his logical deductions stacking into cold certainty. But then he hesitated. Her optimism wasn't ignorance; it was a fire burning against the cold reality they faced.

You've lost the right to believe in things, he reminded himself, a heavy ache settling in his chest. But that doesn't mean you get to snuff out someone else's light. Just because I've failed doesn't mean she will.

He forced a faint smile, his voice measured and calm. "Let's hope they're everything the stories say," he said, deliberately leaning into her optimism, as much for her as for himself. "Sometimes, reputation alone can inspire. Maybe we all need that right now."

Alice beamed, her excitement reignited as she turned back to the screen. John watched her for a moment longer before exhaling quietly and refocusing on the map. He didn't believe the Pilgrims would be some sort of legendary heroes. But for now, he wouldn't be the one to take that hope away, and he still needed to talk to them, to hopefully get answers to Marian's corruption or at the very least, a lead on chatterbox's location.

Ludmilla continued guiding them through the base, until they arrived at a lab. The lab's dim, sterile light reflected off rows of capsules, each containing fragmented Nikkes suspended in a viscous, faintly glowing liquid. The hum of machinery was the only sound in the room, but it felt suffocating rather than comforting.

"These," Alice said with a cheerful clap of her hands, "are the sleeping princesses!" She moved forward with a graceful step, her pigtails bouncing as she gestured toward the nearest capsule. "Look! That's Princess Blue Hair! And over there—Princess Yellow Eye."

Anis's voice broke the silence, her tone wavering between shock and horror. "Alice… they're—" she hesitated, gripping her grenade launcher like a lifeline, "they're in pieces."

Rapi's sharp eyes scanned the capsules, her jaw tightening as she processed what she was seeing. One Nikke had the top of her skull removed, her exposed brain visible beneath the faint glow. Another's body was severed cleanly at the waist, her upper torso floating unnaturally in the liquid. "They're still alive," Rapi said quietly, the words carrying a strange mix of disbelief and anger. "How is that even possible?"

Alice turned back to them, completely unfazed. "Of course, they're alive!" she said brightly. "They're waiting to wake up. One day, we'll all go to Elysium together."

John stood motionless, his gaze lingering on the nearest capsule. His fists clenched as his mind churned, thoughts flashing back to memories he preferred buried. He exhaled sharply, forcing his darker thoughts into submission. When Alice's hopeful gaze turned to him, he managed a small nod and said, "They'll need someone like you to guide them when they do."

Alice's smile widened, a genuine warmth that seemed to cut through the oppressive air in the room. "Of course! I'll be their guide, and we'll all find happiness together."

Ludmilla, standing silently nearby, gave John a measured look. There was something unreadable in her expression—a faint hint of understanding, perhaps even approval.

"They removed their own brains," Rapi said, her voice breaking the moment with its steely edge. "Didn't they? To survive." Her words were less a question and more a grim realization.

Ludmilla's cold blue eyes softened slightly as she nodded. "Yes. When the body fails, the brain is all that can be saved. Most Nikkes who endure catastrophic damage have one last hope: to store their consciousness in safety, waiting for someone to find them and give them another chance." She gestured to the capsules. "This is where we keep them until that day."

Neon crossed her arms, her usual energy replaced with quiet contemplation. "And what if you can't find a body? What if it doesn't work?"

Ludmilla's gaze flicked to one of the capsules, her tone steady but heavy. "Then they stay here. Waiting. Hoping. But when it does work, when we bring them back, it's worth it. Every risk, every failure—it's worth it for the ones we can save."

"And when it doesn't work?" Anis asked, her voice soft for once.

Ludmilla's hands tightened slightly at her sides, but her composure held. "We keep trying. Because what choice do we have?"

John's gaze lingered on her, watching the way her shoulders held the weight of responsibility as though it were second nature. She's doing what I can't. Rebuilding lives while I tear down threats. But he refused to say something so self-pitying out loud. Instead, he straightened and said, "You're doing more than most ever will. Don't doubt that."

Ludmilla's lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. "You're a charmer, Commander. I always have hope in our mission."

Alice, seemingly unaffected by the heavy conversation, clapped her hands again. "Speaking of hope—would anyone like some milk and cookies? I always share with the princesses, and they love it."

Rapi raised an eyebrow. "They love it?"

"Of course!" Alice said, beaming. "It's part of the ritual! Every Queen should share her treasures with her kingdom."

Ludmilla sighed. "Alice, fetch the milk and cookies, but—" She paused as Alice bolted for the nearby storage unit. Moments later, she returned, juggling a tray piled with cookies and a carton of milk.

As Alice eagerly passed out the snacks, Ludmilla's eyes narrowed. "Alice," she said, her voice sharp, "why is there milk on your lips?"

Alice froze, her wide eyes darting guiltily to Ludmilla. "I… I had to make sure it wasn't spoiled!" she said brightly, a drop of milk still clinging to her lip. Ludmilla sighed, before signaling to the others to follow her.

Ludmilla led the group through the desolate corridors to a secure room, its reinforced walls offering shelter from the biting cold outside. The faint hum of old machinery provided a rare semblance of warmth, and the dim lighting softened the harsh, metallic space. She gestured to a corner where salvaged cushions were stacked. "Rest," she said firmly, her gaze fixed on John. "You're no use to anyone if you collapse."

John's instinct to argue faltered under the weight of exhaustion settling in his limbs. He exhaled sharply, nodding. "Fine. But just for a bit."

Before he could settle into the least uncomfortable spot, Alice darted over, her bright smile cutting through the tension. She patted the seat beside her. "Sit here! I'll keep you warm."

John blinked, his hesitation evident. "Alice, I don't—"

"Oh, don't argue," she interrupted, tugging gently at his arm. "My cooling suit makes me the perfect heater."

Reluctantly, he sat down. "A cooling suit?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep!" she said brightly. "My body temperature's naturally really high, so this keeps me from overheating. It also makes me great at keeping others warm." Her tone was so casual, as though this simple truth was the most normal thing in the world.

For a moment, John stayed stiff, the unfamiliarity of her warmth disarming. Kindness isn't something you expect, but it's hard to refuse when it's given so easily, he thought, glancing sideways at her earnest expression. He sighed, leaning back slightly, letting some of the tension leave his shoulders.

Alice adjusted beside him, leaning slightly closer as if to make sure the warmth she offered wasn't wasted. "See? Isn't this much better?" she said with a soft hum.

John didn't answer directly, instead muttering, "It's fine."

The quiet settled around them for a moment before John looked toward Ludmilla. "Unlimited's been tracking Pilgrims for a while, haven't they? Why?"

Ludmilla paused, her fingers brushing against the fur trim of her coat as her expression turned contemplative. "Two reasons," she said, her tone quieter. "The first… is personal." She met his gaze evenly, though the words carried a weight she didn't elaborate on. "The second is duty. If Pilgrims are out there, it's our responsibility to know. They might hold answers—or at least hope for someone out there."

Alice hummed a soft tune beside him, her head tilted slightly as she glanced at him. "You should really sleep, sir knight. You've been going nonstop since we got here."

John hesitated, his gaze lingering on her bright, unwavering optimism. "I'm fine."

Alice grinned, shaking her head. "You're not. But that's okay. I'll stay right here. You don't have to worry."

He didn't argue further. Instead, he allowed himself to lean back against the cold wall, her warmth contrasting sharply against it. Even the strongest tools need maintenance, he thought with a flicker of practicality. Alice's hum filled the room, easing some of the tension in his chest.

The team gathered near the edge of the research base, the icy winds carrying the faint hum of machinery from within. Unlimited had chosen to remain behind, their duty to the sleeping princesses pulling them away from the path ahead. The group was quiet, the weight of the departure settling over them like the ever-present frost.

Alice stood close to John, her usually bright and cheerful demeanor tinged with a rare melancholy. Her hands clasped together tightly, and she looked up at him with wide, earnest eyes. "You're really leaving?" she asked softly, her voice carrying over the faint whistle of the wind.

John paused, his sharp gaze scanning the horizon before turning to her. "We don't have a choice," he said simply. "The Pilgrims might have the answers we need. If we don't find them, everything we've done so far might be for nothing."

Alice nodded slowly, but the glimmer of hope in her expression didn't fade. "Then I'll wait for you, Sir Knight," she said with a small smile. "You'll come back, right?"

John hesitated, feeling the weight of her trust. He wanted to give her the reassurance she sought, but he knew better than to make promises he couldn't guarantee. Still, he couldn't bring himself to disappoint her. "We'll try," he said finally. "And until then, take care of the princesses. They'll need someone like you."

Her smile brightened, her confidence unwavering. "I will! I promise. The Queen and I will keep everything safe for when you return."

Behind them, Ludmilla watched the exchange with quiet intensity. As Alice turned away to join the others, Ludmilla approached John. "She believes in you," she said, her tone calm but pointed. "Don't make her wait too long."

John didn't respond immediately, his eyes lingering on Alice's retreating form. "I'll do what I can," he said finally, his voice low.

The group began to gather their gear, preparing for the journey ahead. Rapi walked over to John, her expression as unreadable as ever. "Do you think the Raptures might've accessed the data?" she asked quietly.

John exhaled through his nose, the thought already weighing heavily on him. "It's possible. If they did, it could compromise everything. We'll need to adjust."

Anis, overhearing, rolled her eyes. "Commander, you're being paranoid. Machines don't think like that. They're not out here plotting against us."

John stopped mid-step and turned to her, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Chatterbox," he said, the single word enough to drain the confidence from Anis's expression.

Her smirk faded, replaced by a furrowed brow. "Fine," she muttered, "but what are we supposed to do? We can't second-guess everything."

John glanced at the others, his expression unreadable. "I have a plan," he said after a moment, his tone steady. "But it's not something I'm sharing right now. We'll adjust as we go."

Anis frowned slightly, but Rapi placed a hand on her shoulder, signaling for silence. "We'll follow your lead, Commander," Rapi said, her voice even. "Just make sure we're not walking into something blind."

As they prepared to leave, Ludmilla approached them one last time, her coat trailing lightly over the snow. Her piercing gaze softened as she addressed the group. "Before you go," she began, her voice carrying the weight of her authority and experience, "remember this: Fear of the unknown leads to destruction. You must learn to see the value in others' worlds, even if it costs you part of your own. Never destroy someone's world—it's their home."

John met her eyes, her words sinking deeper than he expected. After a pause, he gave a short nod. "I'll do my best to follow your advice," he said simply. Internally, though, his thoughts took a darker turn. If I ever had a home, it's long gone. All I can do now is ensure others don't lose theirs.

Alice returned with a hurried step, her pigtails bouncing as she rushed to stand beside Ludmilla. "We'll be waiting for you, Sir Knight," she said brightly, her optimism like a shield against the somber atmosphere. "And when you come back, we'll celebrate with the princesses!"

John's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Take care, Alice."

The team turned and began their trek into the vast, frozen wilderness. The snow crunched beneath their boots, the icy wind cutting at their exposed skin. John led the group, his steps deliberate and measured, his gaze fixed ahead. He didn't look back.

Rapi, walking just behind him, glanced at his rigid posture. "You're unusually quiet," she remarked.

"Just thinking," John replied, his tone neutral. He adjusted his scarf against the biting wind, his thoughts swirling with doubt and determination. I may not save the day, but I can still make the world a little less dark for the ones who can.

The horizon stretched endlessly before them, the unknown waiting like a predator in the shadows. Despite the weight of his own cynicism, John resolved to keep moving forward. It was the only thing he knew how to do.

The snowfield stretched out before the group, an expansive, desolate expanse broken only by jagged peaks looming in the distance. The icy wind cut across the terrain, carrying flurries of snow that obscured the horizon and added an oppressive stillness to the scene. The shroud of white gave little indication of life—or danger.

"This is it," Rapi said, her voice steady as her sharp eyes scanned the barren landscape. "If Ludmilla's map holds true, this is where the Pilgrims will pass. Perfect for interception."

"Perfect for an ambush, you mean," Anis muttered, her grenade launcher resting on her shoulder. Her skeptical gaze swept across the snow. "It's too open, too quiet. Something about this doesn't sit right."

Neon squinted through the swirling snow, then pointed sharply. "Wait! There—do you see that?" Her voice carried a mix of excitement and caution. "Master! There's something humanoid in the distance."

The group turned their attention to where she was gesturing. A dark figure stood motionless in the snow, partially obscured by the wind and haze. From this distance, it appeared humanoid, its stillness eerie against the shifting white backdrop.

"Humanoid," Anis repeated, narrowing her eyes. "That's suspicious. Don't tell me you think we're that lucky?"

Rapi frowned, her tone turning clipped. "There's no footprints leading to or from it. It doesn't make sense."

John stood a short distance away, his gaze fixed on the figure. When he spoke, his voice was calm but carried an unusual authority as if projecting from farther away. "Stay sharp. Observe first. No sudden moves. We'll know soon enough if it's what we're looking for."

The others exchanged glances, their unease evident. The figure felt too convenient—too perfectly placed to be real. John gave out several instructions using hand signs, having the counters subtly spread out, taking positions as if to keep watch on the area but really preparing for what was to come.

Keeping his movement hidden, John activated an almost imperceptible barrier. It was subtle, bending light and perception in a way that distorted the true positions of the group. To any observer, it appeared as if the team were standing together in a tight formation, an easy target. In reality, they were spread out at strategic points, their true positions masked by the distortion.

John remained where he appeared to be, standing seemingly exposed at the group's supposed focal point. His coat flapped lightly in the wind as he raised his voice again, loud enough to cut through the howling cold. "No sudden movements," he called. "Keep steady. If it's nothing, we move as one."

Before anyone could respond, a low rumble began to grow. The sound started faintly, a distant vibration that grew rapidly into an all-consuming roar. The ground beneath their feet trembled as snow began to cascade from the peaks above.

"Avalanche!" John shouted, his voice sharp and commanding. "Hold your positions! Anchor yourselves!"

The avalanche came barreling down with terrifying force, an unstoppable wave of snow and debris that consumed everything in its path. The team didn't panic. Each member used the terrain and their training to hold firm as the wave engulfed them, burying them under layers of snow.

"Everyone still in place?" John's voice called out, his tone strained but deliberate. The muffled quality of the sound hinted at his buried position, though his voice carried a distant quality, as if further than it should be.

"Still here, Master!" Neon's voice came through the snow, upbeat despite the circumstances. "A bit frosty, but I'll manage."

"Upside down," Anis grumbled, her irritation cutting through the muffling snow. "You owe me for this."

Rapi's response was calm and firm. "Resecuring position. Will be ready in ten seconds."

John nodded to himself, though no one could see it. "Good," he said, his voice carrying a deliberate authority. "Wait for my signal."

The landscape grew still again, blanketed in cold silence.

A jagged, mechanical laugh broke the quiet, its mocking echo sending a chill through the snow-covered battlefield.

"Oh, how delightful!" The voice was unmistakable. Chatterbox emerged from the swirling mist, his jagged frame cutting an imposing figure against the icy backdrop. His glowing red eyes scanned the apparent cluster of buried figures, his mechanical claws twitching eagerly.

"Look at this—little mice, frozen in place!" he sneered, his tone dripping with cruel glee. "You made this too easy for me."

The humanoid figure Neon had spotted earlier flickered and dissolved into static, revealing itself as a decoy projection. Chatterbox lept towards the apparent positions of the team. "Let's make this quick," he growled, flexing his claws.

As Chatterbox came closer, crossing what seemed like the edge of the buried team's positions, the air around him shimmered. The distortion of the barrier rippled, bending the snowy backdrop unnaturally. His glowing eyes narrowed in confusion as his targets seemed to dissolve before him.

"What... what is this?" he hissed, scanning the area frantically. The apparent positions of the group vanished, replaced by empty snow. "Where are they?!"

The truth was laid bare: the figures he had targeted were illusions created by the barrier. The real team was spread further back, freeing themselves from the snow, weapons being trained and ready.

"Got you," John's voice rang out, calm but cutting.

Chatterbox spun toward the sound, but it was too late. John erupted from the snow in a blur of motion, his body crackling with cursed energy. His fist connected with Chatterbox's jaw in a devastating uppercut, the impact reverberating through the snowfield. The sheer force sent Chatterbox hurtling backward, his jagged frame crashing into the snow with a thunderous thud.

The snowfield once again became eerily quiet as Chatterbox's frame lay partially buried in the snow, his jagged claws twitching and glowing eyes narrowing with mechanical precision. Sparks sputtered from his damaged jaw, but the mocking glint in his gaze remained undimmed as he pushed himself upright. The air was thick with tension, the surrounding team keeping their weapons trained on him.

John took a step forward, his boots crunching in the snow. His hand was still flexing from the uppercut that had sent Chatterbox sprawling. He didn't let his guard down; his cursed energy still crackled faintly around him like a storm waiting to break. "Chatterbox," John called out, his voice cold and sharp, "Parley."

The word hung in the frigid air for a moment. Chatterbox tilted his head with a mechanical whir, his jagged teeth pulling into a twisted mockery of a smile. "Parley?" he repeated, his voice dripping with mockery. "What, are we pirates now, Commander? Or are you here to beg for your lives?"

John's expression remained impassive, but his tone was laced with dry amusement. "Not quite. Answer my questions, and I might make your death painless. Otherwise..." He rolled his shoulders, letting the implication hang in the air.

Chatterbox let out a stuttering laugh that echoed across the snowfield, sharp and grating like broken machinery. "Oh, I do love a good negotiation. Fine, Commander. You've piqued my interest. Ask away. But," his glowing eyes narrowed with malicious glee, "one question each. Fair's fair, after all. A back-and-forth game. You answer mine, I answer yours."

John inclined his head slightly, a calculated move to show he wasn't intimidated. "Deal."

The others exchanged tense glances, keeping their weapons trained. Rapi's rifle stayed steady, her eyes darting between John and Chatterbox. Anis muttered under her breath, "What the hell is he doing?" but held her position, trusting the Commander's plan.

John crossed his arms, his voice cutting through the frosty air. "First question. Is there a mole in the Ark feeding you information?"

Chatterbox's jagged grin widened. "Oh, Commander, straight for the throat, are we? I like that." He chuckled, his mechanical laugh filled with malice. "Yes. There is indeed a little rat running through the Ark's walls, whispering secrets into my ears."

The weight of his words hit the team like a blow. Rapi's grip on her rifle tightened imperceptibly, but she didn't speak. Anis visibly bristled, while Neon's expression darkened, her usual cheer absent.

Chatterbox's glowing eyes flickered. "My turn." He leaned forward, his tone dripping with mock curiosity. "Have any of your little imposters been... enhanced? Upgraded in some way, perhaps?" His gaze swept over the Nikkes, calculating and sharp. "I do wonder."

John's response was immediate and steady. "I have no idea."

Chatterbox's grin faltered slightly. "Really, Commander? You don't know?" He turned his gaze toward Rapi, Anis, and Neon, his voice twisting with amusement. "Let's ask them, shall we?"

John's voice snapped like a whip. "No. The deal was we ask each other questions, no one else. You play by the rules, or the parley ends here."

The tension crackled between them, a silent battle of wills. For a moment, Chatterbox's grin twitched, but then he threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, very well! I do admire a man who sticks to his word. Go on, Commander. Your turn."

John's eyes hardened. "Did you have something to do with Marian's corruption and death?"

Chatterbox's laugh faded, replaced by a quiet, eerie hum. He straightened slightly, his claws twitching. "Ah, Marian... Yes, I had a hand in that delightful little tragedy. Such... potential she has, wouldn't you agree?"

John's jaw tightened, but he kept his tone steady. "Has? Are you suggesting she's still alive?"

Chatterbox's grin returned, sharp and mocking. "Nice try, Commander. I've already answered your question. Now it's my turn again."

The implication struck John like a lightning bolt, freezing him in place. Marian might still be alive. The possibility sent his thoughts spiraling, colliding with memories he'd buried but never truly escaped. He had failed her once—failed to protect her, to save her—and the weight of that failure, compounded by all the others he hadn't been able to save, had become a relentless strain. But now, if there was even the faintest chance to find her, to right that wrong, could this be his moment? Could he become something more than the weapon he'd resigned himself to being—a hero, even, if only for her?

His heart pounded against his ribcage, but his expression remained a mask of cold, unyielding calm.

Chatterbox's amusement deepened, his glowing eyes narrowing as he prepared to ask his next question. "So, Commander, what—"

John cut him off with a bitter laugh, the sound raw and humorless. "No. Parley's over. I've heard enough" His tone was ice-cold, the sharp edge of his voice sending a shiver through even the hardened Nikkes. "I'll break you into pieces and drag the answers out of whatever's left."

The snowfield crackled with tension, its vast expanse now a battlefield of strategy and survival. Chatterbox's jagged frame loomed, his glowing red eyes scanning the group like a predator savoring its prey. The air, thick with frost and the echoes of earlier clashes, grew colder with each passing second.

Without warning, Chatterbox's missile pods erupted in a coordinated salvo. Explosions tore through the snow, forcing the team to scatter.

"Positions!" John shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. The Counters snapped into action, each moving according to their plan. Rapi held the mid-line, her rifle barking sharply as she fired controlled bursts. Neon darted low, her shotgun blasting at Chatterbox's legs, trying to slow his relentless advance. Anis, positioned further back, unleashed grenades to corral him into a kill zone.

Chatterbox moved like a phantom despite his monstrous size, his rapid dashes almost creating afterimages that disoriented their aim. One second he was there; the next, a shadow. Neon fired at where she thought he would be, only to curse as the shot went wide.

"He's toying with us!" Neon shouted, rolling to avoid a cluster of missiles that detonated near her.

"Focus!" Rapi barked, her voice steady. "Neon, keep his legs busy. Anis, tighten the perimeter."

Anis lobbed a grenade that exploded just behind Chatterbox, forcing him to swerve toward a snowbank. "I'm trying, but he's slipperier than a soap bar in a shower!" she snapped, her hands working quickly to reload.

John watched the battle unfold, his sharp eyes catching Chatterbox's patterns. The Rapture wasn't just fast; he was calculating, using his agility to probe their defenses while keeping them scattered. John gritted his teeth. He could feel the weight of his earlier injuries slowing him, but the sight of his team in danger overrode the pain.

Chatterbox veered toward Neon, his claws raised. "You're annoying," he sneered. "Let's fix that." His missile pods hummed, readying another barrage aimed directly at her.

John moved before he could think, his cursed energy flaring as he closed the distance. With a roar, he delivered a flying strike to Chatterbox's shoulder, the impact denting the metal and disabling one of the missile pods. The force sent Chatterbox skidding back, but it also threw John off balance.

"John, fall back!" Rapi yelled as Chatterbox recovered almost instantly. The Rapture lunged, his mechanical claw catching John in the chest and sending him sprawling into the snow.

Chatterbox laughed. "You're bold, human, I'll give you that. But boldness won't save you."

John coughed, the impact sending sharp pain through his ribs, but he forced himself to his feet. "It's not about saving me," he growled. "It's about ending you."

Rapi used the distraction to reposition, her rifle's reticle locking onto Chatterbox's head. She fired a volley, the bullets pinging off his armored skull but forcing him to shift his focus. Neon took the opening to close in, her shotgun blasting at his legs. One shot landed true, hitting a joint and causing Chatterbox to stumble.

"Gotcha!" Neon grinned, only for Chatterbox to twist and slam the ground, sending a wave of snow and debris into her path. She shielded her face, her momentum breaking.

"Neon, pull back!" Anis yelled, hurling a grenade that detonated near Chatterbox's feet. The explosion sent shards of ice and metal flying, creating a temporary barrier between Neon and the Rapture.

"Stop babysitting me!" Neon retorted, darting to Anis's side and reloading.

Chatterbox's laugh echoed again, this time deeper, darker. "You think this will stop me? Pathetic human imposters." His remaining missile pod swiveled, launching a cluster that forced the team to dive for cover. Snow erupted into the air, obscuring their sightlines.

John, still catching his breath, clenched his fists. His cursed energy crackled faintly around him, a sharp contrast to the icy landscape. He could feel the anger bubbling beneath his calm exterior—anger at himself for the reckless charge, anger at Chatterbox's smugness, and anger at his own limitations.

"Enough games," he muttered under his breath. His voice rose, cutting through the storm of chaos. "Rapi, Neon, Anis! Hold him steady. I'll finish this."

Rapi's rifle barked again as she laid down suppressive fire, drawing Chatterbox's attention. "Neon, take the right flank!" she ordered.

"On it!" Neon sprinted low, her shotgun blasting at Chatterbox's exposed side.

Anis lobbed another grenade, timing the explosion perfectly to box Chatterbox into a tighter zone. "We're clearing a path for you, John!" she called out.

John took a deep breath, feeling his cursed energy surge. Ruinous Gambit activated, siphoning strength from his other senses to amplify his power and precision. His vision blurred slightly, and the cold bite of the snow faded as all his focus honed in on one thing: Chatterbox.

The Rapture turned toward him, his jagged grin widening. "Finally decided to stop hiding? Come on, then. Show me what you've got."

John moved like a streak of light, his energy propelling him forward. He dodged Chatterbox's claws, the world slowing as he anticipated the Rapture's movements. His fist collided with Chatterbox's chest, the impact creating a shockwave that rippled through the battlefield.

Chatterbox staggered, his frame dented and sparking. "You... you think this changes anything?" he snarled.

"It's a start," John replied coldly. He didn't give Chatterbox a chance to recover, his movements relentless as he drove the Rapture back.

"Now!" Rapi shouted, her missiles streaking through the air. The first two struck Chatterbox's legs, destabilizing his balance. Neon's shotgun followed, blasting his remaining missile pod. Anis's grenade sealed the deal, detonating at his feet and sending him crashing into the snow.

The battered snowfield bore witness to the relentless clash, steam rising from the heat of explosions and cursed energy clashing against the icy terrain. Chatterbox struggled to regain his footing, his jagged frame sparking and twitching as the team prepared their next move.

John's voice cut through the haze, calm but filled with commanding authority. "Switch tactics! Hit-and-run! Keep him guessing. Stay in motion, don't give him time to lock on!"

Rapi nodded sharply, her eyes narrowing as she reloaded. "You heard him! Let's move!"

Chatterbox growled, his glowing red eyes flickering erratically as he scanned for a target. "You think speed will save you? I'll crush you like the insects you are!"

John was already in motion, his cursed energy propelling him forward like a blur. He leapt, twisting mid-air to deliver a powerful kick directly to Chatterbox's face. The impact snapped the Rapture's head back, and John landed with a roll, already darting away before Chatterbox could retaliate.

The moment John moved, Neon emerged from the snow like a shadow. Her shotgun roared, the blast connecting with Chatterbox's exposed shoulder and sending sparks flying. She grinned, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Firepower saves the day!,"

Chatterbox swung wildly, but Neon had already darted away, her agile movements keeping her out of reach.

Before Chatterbox could regain his balance, a grenade arced through the air, landing at his feet with a resounding thump. The explosion ripped through the ground, sending the Rapture's massive frame skidding across the snow. Anis smirked from her position, already preparing another round. "How's that for a love tap?"

As Chatterbox tried to rise, Rapi descended like a hammer from above. Her heel slammed down onto his shoulder in a devastating axe kick. The force drove him deeper into the snow, his claws flailing as he tried to swipe at her. She landed gracefully, pivoting to deliver a series of precise rifle shots to his remaining damaged missile pod.

Chatterbox roared and leapt away, creating as much distance as he could. The battlefield trembled as Chatterbox's shattered frame emitted a sudden burst of sparks and mechanical groans. His jagged shoulder pods, which had been obliterated by the team's relentless assault, began to glow with a crimson hue. The ruined metal shifted and reformed, regenerating into fully functioning missile pods once again.

Chatterbox sneered. "Did you really think I was done?"

Before anyone could react, he unleashed a barrage of missiles, not directly at the team, but toward the jagged mountains surrounding them. The missiles struck with deafening explosions, dislodging massive chunks of snow and ice that tumbled down in an avalanche. The air filled with the roar of cascading snow, burying parts of the battlefield under a suffocating white blanket.

The Nikkes, weighed down by their mechanical bodies, struggled to move through the rising snowdrifts. Anis gritted her teeth, her grenade launcher dragging in the snow as she pushed forward. "Damn it, this snow's worse than quicksand!"

Neon stumbled, her shotgun barely held above the drifts. "Someone tell that oversized toaster we don't need more snow!"

Rapi remained composed but visibly slowed, her assault rifle raised as she scanned for threats. "He's trying to immobilize us. Stay alert!"

Chatterbox, undeterred by the terrain, hovered effortlessly above the snow using the levitation provided by his fist propulsion mechanisms. His jagged frame glinted ominously in the faint light as he landed further away, preparing his next move. His core pulsed with energy, his fist transforming to reveal the glowing barrel of his Heavy Particle Cannon.

The weapon began to charge, energy crackling and distorting the air around him. "Let's see you crawl out of this one," he snarled, his voice dripping with malice.

John's sharp gaze locked onto the charging cannon. The team, partially buried in snow, wouldn't have the speed to evade the blast in their current state. His mind raced, calculating distances and time. He realized grimly that he couldn't physically reach Chatterbox in time to stop the attack.

Think. You've got seconds, not minutes.

Breathing deeply, he activated Ruinous Gambit once again, shifting cursed energy into his lungs and respiratory system. The technique began to siphon strength from other parts of his body, dimming his senses and strength as he focused everything on enhancing his body's capacity for air.

The process unfolded with clinical precision in his mind. His lung capacity expanded, the alveoli stretching to their limits to maximize intake. His diaphragm, reinforced with cursed energy thanks to his cursed technique, became a powerful piston, capable of generating immense pressure. His intercostal muscles, responsible for moving the rib cage during breathing, were fortified to sustain the force.

Diaphragm: strengthened. Rib expansion: maximized. Lung capacity: peak.

John inhaled sharply, the sound like a rushing wind as his enhanced lungs filled far beyond their normal capacity. His chest expanded painfully, his ribs creaking under the strain of the super pressurized air.

With a surge of power, he exhaled, releasing a concentrated wave of air that roared toward Chatterbox. The sheer force of the airwave tore through the snow-covered battlefield, kicking up a blinding storm of snow and debris. The makeshift whiteout enveloped Chatterbox's vision, obscuring the team's position just as his cannon discharged.

The heavy particle beam sliced through the air, striking the space where the team had been moments before, but finding only empty snowdrifts. The blast carved a molten scar into the ground, sending tremors rippling through the battlefield.

John staggered, clutching his chest as he fought to steady his breathing. Pain lanced through his ribs, a deep, throbbing ache that made him wince. "Ribs... strained. Likely bruised. I can still move."

Rapi's voice cut through the haze, sharp and focused. "He missed! Everyone, move now while we have the chance!"

The team scrambled out of their buried positions, using the cover of the snowstorm John had created to reposition. Anis, now free from the worst of the drifts, turned to John, concern etched on her face. "Commander, you okay?"

John gave her a tight nod, his voice firm despite the pain. "Keep moving. I've got more in me if we need it."

Neon grinned, brushing snow from her shotgun as she joined the regrouping team. "Nice lungs, Master! You should sing karaoke with power like that!"

"Focus, Neon," Rapi snapped

The battle had shifted from their favour. With the avalanche burying much of the battlefield, Chatterbox had gained an advantage, throwing up continuous clouds of snow with his missiles and mechanical thrusters. The thick veil obscured the team's vision, forcing them to huddle into a tighter, more defensible formation. The air was dense with tension, every sound amplified by the oppressive whiteout.

"Stay close!" Rapi ordered, her voice firm despite the chaos. She fired precise bursts into the air, her bullets intercepting the incoming missiles before they could reach their position. "Focus on defending the group. We can't afford to scatter!"

Neon crouched nearby, her shotgun ready as she scanned for movement. "Great plan, but how about we actually hit the guy? All this shooting snow is getting old!"

Anis huffed, gripping her grenade launcher as her sharp eyes darted through the swirling white. "He's turning this place into a snow globe, and we're the decorations! We need to find an opening."

Chatterbox's mocking laughter echoed faintly through the blizzard-like haze. His shape flickered like a ghost, appearing and disappearing with sudden bursts of speed. He attacked in quick, relentless melees, his jagged claws slicing through the air. Each time he lunged, John intercepted him, their clashes sending shockwaves that rattled through the dense snow.

John grunted, deflecting another blow with a cursed-energy-reinforced forearm, his body moving with precision but showing signs of fatigue. "We're pinned down," he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. "If we stay like this, he'll pick us off."

He turned to the others, his mind racing. "I've got a plan. It's risky, but it's our best shot."

Rapi wiped the frost from her visor, nodding sharply. "What do you need?"

John pulled a length of climbing rope from his belt, quickly tying one end around his waist. He handed the other end to Rapi. "Hold this. When I leap, slam the rope toward wherever I pinpoint his position. It'll give me the momentum to close in and take him down."

Anis's eyes widened as she grasped the idea. "We're slingshotting you into him? That's insane."

Neon grinned despite the tension. "Crazy enough to work, though. Let's do it!"

With a shared nod, the team braced themselves. John crouched, channeling cursed energy into his legs, reinforcing his muscles and tendons. His body tensed like a coiled spring before he launched into the air with a thunderous leap, snow exploding outward from the force. High above the battlefield, the swirling snow thinned, giving him a clear view of Chatterbox.

"There!" John shouted, his voice cutting through the storm. He extended an arm, pointing toward Chatterbox's position.

Rapi, Neon, and Anis acted in unison. Using their combined strength, they swung the rope in a wide arc, propelling John like a human projectile toward the target. The air whistled around him as he hurtled downward, his fist crackling with cursed energy, aimed directly at Chatterbox's core.

But just as he closed the distance, a strange, oppressive energy flooded the battlefield. Chatterbox's mechanical voice rang out, unnervingly calm and deliberate.

"Cursed Technique: Negatio Libri Philipp - Yuni."

John's body froze mid-air, his momentum abruptly dissipating. A pulse of unnatural energy rippled outward, and he felt his limbs lock up as if weighed down by invisible chains. His strike went wide, and he crashed into the snow, skidding to a halt with a groan.

"Commander!" Rapi called, her voice tinged with alarm. But as she and the others tried to move, they too found themselves immobilized. Their bodies refused to obey, frozen in their defensive stances as though they were puppets whose strings had been cut.

Chatterbox stepped through the haze of snow, his glowing red eyes fixed on the paralyzed team. "Surprised? You should be. Humans, Nikkes, sorcerers—you all rely so heavily on movement. It's almost poetic to take that away."

John gritted his teeth, his muscles straining against the unnatural hold. He could feel the cursed energy wrapping around his spine like iron bands, sapping his ability to fight back. His mind raced, searching for a way to counter the technique. It's not raw strength… it's precision. A suppression field, targeting the nerves in his spine.

Chatterbox's mocking tone cut through his thoughts. "Ah, Commander, was this part of your grand strategy? To fall flat on your face? I must admit, it's quite entertaining."

John forced out a ragged breath, his mind sharpening despite the pressure bearing down on him. He glanced toward his team, their faces etched with effort as they struggled to move. He growled low, focusing his cursed energy inward. "I'm not… done yet."

But then, something shifted. John's eyes narrowed, a sharp clarity breaking through the haze. He closed his eyes, his cursed energy pooling within him, steady and deliberate. The space around him shifted, the air growing unnaturally still. In an instant, a wave of energy rippled outward, its edges sharp and precise, carving out a space distinct from the chaotic snowstorm. The energy tore through the hold on his spine, creating a sphere of clarity where the bindings of Chatterbox's cursed technique unraveled like a frayed thread.

John flexed his fingers, feeling control return to his body as the limitations dissolved. He stood and took a slow step forward, his boots crunching against the snow, his gaze locked on Chatterbox.

Chatterbox's glowing eyes flickered in confusion before narrowing. "Do you really think that changes anything, Commander?"

John didn't respond. Instead, he moved. Faster than a flash of light, he closed the distance between them, his fist colliding with Chatterbox's arm, deflecting the jagged claws that swiped toward him. The sound of metal on flesh and energy cracked through the air as the two engaged in a ferocious melee.

Chatterbox lunged, his clawed arm a blur as it aimed for John's chest. John pivoted, narrowly dodging the strike, his body twisting like a coiled spring before he delivered a spinning kick to Chatterbox's midsection. The impact sent a ripple through the mechanical frame, forcing Chatterbox to stagger back.

"Is that all you've got?" Chatterbox sneered, his thrusters activating to push him forward. His clawed hands moved in rapid succession, each strike aimed to tear through flesh.

John's movements were fluid but deliberate, his cursed energy reinforcing his body as he blocked and countered. He ducked under a swipe, his fist slamming into Chatterbox's chassis with enough force to dent the metal. The exchange was relentless, both combatants pushing each other to the limit.

The mountain trembled beneath them, snow cascading in waves as the fight raged on. Chatterbox's thrusters flared again, propelling him upward before he came crashing down with a devastating punch aimed at John. John rolled to the side, barely dodging the blow that left a crater in the snow before rapidly backpedaling.

But John wasn't retreating. He was preparing.

He stood tall, inhaling deeply as his cursed energy shifted. The world seemed to dim around him as he activated Ruinous Gambit. His body trembled under the strain as the technique siphoned energy from every part of him. His sight dimmed, his reflexes dulled, even the strength in his legs wavered. But in return, two streams of cursed energy surged within him.

One was raw and wild, a torrent of destructive power that coalesced into his right fist, crackling with unrestrained energy. The other was razor-sharp, precise and focused, flowing like a thread through his arm, homing in on the exact point of impact.

He launched forward, his body a blur as he closed the distance in an instant. As Chatterbox raised his arms to defend, John's fist surged forward, the two streams of cursed energy converging at the exact moment of collision. He screamed, his vocal chords almost tearing themselves in his declaration "Technique reversal: FINAL GAMBIT!"

The impact was cataclysmic.

The raw energy met the focused precision, triggering a devastating release of reversed cursed energy. The explosion ripped through the air, sending Chatterbox flying like a ragdoll, his mechanical frame hurtling through the snow and slamming into the mountain with a deafening crash. The force of the blow left a massive crater in the mountainside, the rock and ice shattering under the sheer magnitude of the attack.

The snowstorm stilled for a moment, the battlefield falling eerily silent as the dust settled. John stood in the center of the chaos, his body trembling from the exertion. His ribs ached fiercely, the strain of Ruinous Gambit leaving him gasping for air as he fell to his knees.

In the distance, Chatterbox's battered frame twitched, his glowing eyes flickering weakly as he struggled to rise from the crater.

John's breathing was heavy, and he felt a warm stream of liquid run down his right arm. He looked at his right hand, seeing his blood flow over it. A blistering pain in his shoulder confirmed he had reopened one of his barely healed wounds.

John stood in the settling silence of the battlefield, his chest heaving as he scanned the snow-covered field for his team. His ribs and shoulder burned with every breath, a painful reminder of the toll Ruinous Gambit had taken on his body. Despite the ache, he forced himself to move, his boots crunching through the snow as he checked on his squad.

"Rapi, Neon, Anis!" he called, his voice sharp but hoarse.

A faint groan answered him, and he turned to see Neon brushing snow off her shoulder, her shotgun held loosely in one hand. "Still in one piece, Master," she called out, though her usual cheer was tempered by exhaustion. "But I'm gonna feel this one tomorrow."

Rapi stood a few feet away, her rifle steady as her sharp eyes darted across the battlefield, scanning for any lingering threats. "We're here," she confirmed, her tone clipped but calm. "Anis?"

A grumble came from behind a snowdrift as upside down Anis emerged, getting up and shaking off the frost, hefting her grenade launcher. "Alive, but if I end up upside down one more time, I'm demanding a raise."

John gave a nod of relief. "Good. Stay alert. This isn't over yet."

His gaze shifted to the crater in the mountainside, where Chatterbox's battered frame twitched weakly. His glowing eyes flickered like a dying ember as he struggled to pull himself upright. John's expression hardened as he stepped forward, each movement deliberate despite the pain coursing through his body.

Reaching the edge of the crater, John stared down at the mechanical monstrosity. "Marian," he said, his voice low but laced with steel. "Where is she? You're not leaving this place alive, Chatterbox, but how much you suffer before the end depends entirely on how useful you make yourself."

Chatterbox's head jerked up, his frame rattling as if from a shudder. His voice crackled, a mix of static and desperation. "Spare me... please, I beg you!"

John froze for a moment before a cold laugh escaped him, cutting through the frigid air. "You? Begging? That's rich. Don't bother wasting your breath. Start talking, or I'll tear the answers out of you one piece at a time."

But Chatterbox wasn't done pleading. "Not me... not me... My queen, I beg you! Have mercy!"

John's sharp gaze narrowed. "Your queen?" he repeated, his tone dark and biting. "Who are you talking about?"

The others exchanged uneasy glances as they approached, confusion etched across their faces. "What's he on about now?" Neon muttered, her grip tightening on her shotgun.

Before John could press further, his entire body tensed, his instincts screaming in warning. A searing wave of cursed energy surged through the air, oppressive and blisteringly hot. It felt like fire coursing through his veins, its sheer intensity leaving him momentarily breathless. But it wasn't just the fiery energy that rattled him.

Behind it, there was something else—an immense, terrifyingly familiar presence. It was vast, like staring into an endless abyss that pressed down on his soul. The fiery cursed energy was enough to make him flinch, but this second force... it was something far worse. It was like standing at the edge of a precipice, knowing that one misstep would mean annihilation.

"They're coming," John said, his voice barely above a whisper. His heart pounded as he tried to focus, his mind racing to make sense of the two approaching energies. "And fast."

"Commander?" Rapi asked, her voice steady but tense. "What is it?"

John didn't respond immediately, his sharp gaze fixed on the horizon. The two forces were closing in at impossible speeds, their combined pressure threatening to crush everything in their path. He clenched his fists, ignoring the ache in his ribs as he steadied his breathing.

"Whatever it is," he said finally, his voice grim, "it's more powerful than anything we've faced before. And it's headed straight for us."