The alarms blared relentlessly, each shrill wail cutting through the thick, smoke-filled air. The command room trembled violently, groaning under the stress of ruptured pipes and overloaded systems. Cyclonis stood amidst the chaos, her face contorted in rage—not just at the failing plan, but at the undeniable realization of who was responsible.
Aerrow.
He had always been there, always interfering, always ruining her meticulously crafted schemes. And now, even when she'd thought her plans were foolproof, he'd found a way to break them apart.
Suddenly, her sharp eyes caught sight of the pressure gauge spiraling far past its red zone. Her heart sank. The damage to the control panel had disabled the system's pressure limiters. The earlier sabotage to the pipes had only worsened the situation.
This ship is going to blow.
The walls trembled as bursts of scalding steam hissed through cracks. One pipe, thicker and heavier than the others, exploded with a deafening roar, sending shrapnel flying. Cyclonis barely had time to react before a section of it struck her side, knocking her to the ground.
Pain radiated through her body as she struggled to push herself up, her vision swimming. Steam hissed around her,She was disoriented, weakened, and unable to stand fully.
The door to the command room burst open, and through the swirling mist, the Dark Ace appeared. His form was imposing, his red armor gleaming even through the chaos.
He paused for a moment, assessing the situation. Cyclonis, his master, lay vulnerable on the ground amidst the chaos. Steam hissed dangerously close to her prone form.
For a brief second, something flickered in his expression—indecision.
He stepped forward, his hand twitching as though to help her. But then he hesitated, his gaze shifting to the thickening steam and rupturing pipes. The risk was too great.
Cyclonis, still dazed but conscious enough to comprehend what was happening, watched as he turned away.
He's leaving me, she realized, her chest tightening—not from fear but from sheer fury mixed with bitter disbelief.
The Dark Ace sprinted toward the exit without a backward glance, vanishing through the smoke.
Cyclonis coughed, blood staining her lips as she tried to move. Her body trembled with exhaustion. So this is it? she thought grimly. abandoned by my soldiers.
Through the haze of pain, a memory surfaced—Aerrow an idiot who somehow finds a solution even in the most hopeless cases.
She grinned faintly despite the agony. "What a joke," she whispered bitterly.
Meanwhile, Aerrow was navigating the ship's chaotic corridors, dodging scalding bursts of steam and collapsing beams. Soldiers raced past him, their faces pale with panic.
"What's going on?" one shouted.
"The whole place is gonna blow!" another yelled back.
Aerrow pressed on until he overheard a frantic conversation between two fleeing Cyclonian soldiers.
"What about Master Cyclonis? She's still trapped in the command room!"
"You go get her, then! I don't get paid enough for this!"
The words hit Aerrow like a bolt of lightning. Cyclonis?
He didn't think twice.
Ignoring the searing heat and the chaos around him, Aerrow turned and sprinted toward the heart of the danger—the command room engulfed in steam and destruction.
He wasn't sure why he was doing this. All he knew was that he couldn't leave her behind.