The pale light of dawn crept across the shattered horizon, casting long shadows across the battered ruins that surrounded the makeshift camp. The biting cold of the early morning was offset by the low murmur of voices. Most of the squads were quietly preparing their gear for the day ahead.
Except for two voices, which weren't quiet at all.
"For the last time, Drake, that's not what 'racist' means!" Maxwell's voice cut through the chill like a whip, strained with disbelief and frustration.
Drake, unfazed and ever confident, leaned lazily against a pile of gear with a smug grin. "Of course it is. Race car fans, right? Y'know, people who love racing cars. That's why they're called racists!"
Maxwell blinked. Twice. "No. No, that's not even remotely close. That's—where did you even hear something that—"
A low chuckle rumbled from a few feet away. John, leaning back casually against a half toppled steel beam, arms crossed, watched the chaos unfold with a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Drake jabbed a thumb in John's direction, grinning. "Ask him! John told me that this morning! Said it's what people who love race cars are called."
Maxwell's head snapped toward John, her expression darkening like a brewing storm. "You. You told her this?"
John's smirk widened, his voice laced with unrepentant amusement. "Hey, she asked. I just gave her an answer. Technically true if you don't think about it too hard."
Maxwell's hands twitched with restrained irritation. "Do you ever grow up?"
Drake scoffed, flipping a lock of her white hair out her face with dramatic flair. "A true villain is required to be villainous at all hours of the day, so they have to be grown as children need to be in bed by 9 at the latest!"
Maxwell's mouth opened, then closed. She stared at Drake for a solid three seconds, hands twitching like she wanted to shake the nonsense right out of her.
"You're not even a villain!" Maxwell finally snapped. "You're just... weirdly obsessed with pretending to be one!" She pointed a finger accusingly. "And for the last time, race car enthusiasts are called 'gearheads' or 'motorsport fans.' Not racists!"
Anis strolled into earshot just in time to catch the end of the argument, hands on her hips and a devilish grin already forming on her lips. "Racists, huh? That's gotta be the dumbest thing I've ever heard. And I hang out with Neon."
Neon, cleaning her shotgun nearby, looked up with a frown. "Hey! I resent that!"
John was nearly doubled over with suppressed laughter at this point. "You're all gold this morning. Keep it up, and I might die of amusement before the mission even starts."
The playful energy was infectious. Anis was snickering under her breath, Neon looked ready to egg Drake on even further, and even Rapi, who had been silently adjusting her gear, raised an eyebrow in mild disbelief.
But as the laughter subsided and the squads returned to their morning preparations, John's gaze shifted.
Near the far edge of the camp, almost hidden in the shadow of a collapsed metal tower, Marian sat alone, her posture rigid and withdrawn. She wasn't cleaning her gear or engaging in the banter like the others. Her crimson eyes were locked on something distant, somewhere far beyond the horizon, beyond the mission, beyond even the team gathered around her.
That same isolation again.
John's smirk faded as he watched her for a long moment, his arms falling to his sides. She had been distant since they left the outpost, always walking at the back of the group, always sitting apart when they made camp. The weight of Eunhwa's words from the night before seemed to linger over her like a shadow she couldn't shake.
Anis's voice snapped him back to the present. "Yo, Commander, what's the plan for the day?"
John blinked and forced his grin back into place. "First, we make sure Drake doesn't accidentally cancel herself. Then we hit the road."
The squad let out scattered chuckles, but John's attention drifted back to Marian. As the others began packing up the camp, John made a mental note: Yeah, this needs to stop.
The cold wind swept mercilessly across the surface, carrying dust and the faint metallic tang of decay. The group moved with silent efficiency through the wreckage, boots crunching against the cracked ground, weapons held steady and eyes sharp.
Absolute led the formation, Eunhwa at the front with her usual military precision, her posture radiating authority. Emma followed close behind, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon for any potential threats, while Vesti kept her gaze lowered, focused entirely on the trail ahead.
Behind them, Counters guarded the rear with practiced ease. Rapi walked near the back, cool and composed as always, while Anis and Neon flanked her sides—Anis humming a tune under her breath, Neon occasionally adjusting the grip on her shotgun, her eyes flicking across the terrain with lazy vigilance.
Matis was deliberately split throughout the formation.
Laplace was trying to strike up conversations with both squads, oblivious to the simmering tension around her. Maxwell moved near Absolute's flank, exchanging occasional quiet words with Emma while tinkering with a small device clipped to her belt. Drake, on the other hand, had somehow managed to wander toward the rear, trailing behind Anis with what she seemed to believe was an ominous villainous smirk, though it came off more like a mischievous child plotting a prank.
John, positioned near the center, surveyed the scene with a critical eye.
He still didn't fully trust Matis. The split formation wasn't just strategic; it was insurance. Keeping them scattered prevented any coordinated moves on their part, and it gave John control over every angle of the march.
But his focus wasn't entirely on them.
His gaze flicked toward the back of the formation.
Marian.
She was trailing several paces behind the rest of Counters, her head bowed slightly, crimson eyes fixed on the ground. She was with the team in body but not in spirit. An isolated figure wrapped in silence.
John let out a slow breath, then drifted toward Rapi's side. Without breaking stride, he tapped her shoulder lightly.
"I'm going to fall back for a bit," he murmured low enough for only her to hear. "Watch the formation."
Rapi's eyes didn't leave the horizon, but she gave a slight nod. "Understood."
Without another word, John slowed his pace, letting the distance between himself and the others stretch until he was lock step Marian.
John cleared his throat. "So, uh… You planning on setting up a permanent spot back here, or what?"
Marian blinked, momentarily startled, and glanced over at him. "I didn't realize I needed permission to walk where I wanted."
John let out a short breath of a laugh. "Didn't say that. Just… y'know, it's starting to look like you're a teenager who is ashamed to be seen walking with their parents."
Marian shook her head but didn't stop walking. "I just don't want to distract anyone."
"Distract, huh?" John raised an eyebrow. "You're about as distracting as a shadow, Marian."
She kept her gaze forward.
The silence stretched, heavy and awkward. John stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets.
"You're doing that thing again," he said after a moment.
Marian frowned. "What thing?"
"Blaming yourself."
Her shoulders tensed. "I'm not—"
"Yeah, you are."
Another pause. Marian's fingers flexed by her side.
John exhaled, trying for something lighter. "You know, you're real bad at being subtle. Its not good to bottle things up."
She let out a soft, humorless huff. "Says the guy who bottles everything up like it's an Olympic sport."
John smirked. "Takes one to know one, huh?"
Marian stopped walking for a second and looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time since they left camp. There wasn't anger or frustration in her gaze, just a tired sort of exasperation.
"You're a hypocrite, you know that?"
His grin widened. "Been called worse."
For a beat, they walked in silence again, but the weight between them felt just a little lighter.
Then, after a pause, John's voice softened. "You don't have to carry this alone, Marian."
Marian's expression tightened. "I do, though. Don't you get it? What happened—what I did—"
"What Modernia did," John corrected, his tone firm but not harsh.
Marian shook her head, her voice lowering. "No, it was me too. Maybe I didn't have control, but the choices, the hurt, it still came from me. From somewhere inside. I can't just… pretend that part of me doesn't exist."
John was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. "I'm not telling you to forget it. Hell, I wouldn't expect you to forgive yourself overnight, either." He shrugged, eyes locked ahead now. "I just think maybe it's time you stop trying to punish yourself for surviving."
Marian's jaw tightened. "It's not that easy."
"Didn't say it was," John replied, his voice low. "But you're here now. You chose to come back. That's gotta mean something."
For a second, Marian looked like she might respond, maybe even argue. But the words never came.
Instead, the ground beneath them rumbled.
The sound was faint at first, like distant thunder rolling across the broken landscape. But then the vibrations sharpened, turning into something mechanical. A low, droning hum filled the air, and every instinct in John's body screamed at him.
"Get ready," he muttered, his hand already reaching for his comms device.
Marian's eyes snapped forward, her posture shifting into something instantly more focused. "Raptures."
A flicker of movement in the distance caught John's attention—metallic limbs skittering across the ruins, glinting in the gray light.
He tapped his comms immediately. "Counters, Absolute, Matis! we've got company. Rear flank."
The static crackled briefly before Rapi's voice came through, steady as ever. "Acknowledged. We're moving to intercept."
The rumble beneath the group intensified as the swarm of Raptures surged forward from the horizon with fast ground units leading the charge, their metallic limbs tearing through the cracked earth with brutal efficiency. Behind them, bulkier missile-launcher types lumbered forward, their arm-mounted racks glowing ominously as they prepped for bombardment. Intermittent flashes revealed the last threat: suicide drones, smaller, quicker forms, already beginning their arcing leaps toward the group.
John's boots crunched against the uneven ground as he stepped back, his voice steady through the comms.
"Form defensive positions. Counters take the left flank, Absolute on the right, Matis hold the center! Prioritize ranged suppression for those bombers. Neon, Drake, keep those suicide units away from the core squad!"
"Understood!" Rapi's calm voice crackled through, her tone sharp and professional as ever.
The squads snapped into action, moving like gears in a well-oiled machine.
Rapi was already moving forward, her assault rifle snapping up with practiced ease. Her shots were quick bursts, surgically precise, aiming for weak points in the advancing Raptures' joints.
Anis was next to her, locking a fresh drum into her rotary grenade launcher with a smirk. "Let's turn these junkers into scrap!" Her first burst fired, a volley of explosives tearing into a cluster of the mid-sized Raptures and blowing their legs apart in a shower of molten metal.
Besides them, Neon grinned wickedly, her shotgun pumping with a satisfying clack as she zeroed in on the nearest suicide unit.
"Master said no surprises today!" she shouted, firing point-blank into an oncoming drone. The explosion rattled the ground, but Neon was already spinning to deal with the next attacker.
Marian stood just behind them, her machine gun humming with a deadly rhythm as she laid down suppressive fire. The heavier Raptures, missile-launcher types, tried to push forward but were shredded under her relentless volleys
John watched from the rear, eyes sharp, reading the battlefield like a map of possibilities.
"Anis, redirect fire ten degrees left, the heavier bombers are grouping. Rapi, suppressing fire on their approach paths."
"On it, Commander!" Rapi responded, adjusting her aim without hesitation.
Anis smirked, launching another grenade burst toward the indicated position. "You better be right, Boss!"
The explosions rippled through the Rapture line, forcing the missile units to scatter.
Meanwhile, Eunhwa was a pillar of precision, her sniper rifle resting steadily against her shoulder. Every squeeze of the trigger was followed by the sharp crack of a supersonic round. Each shot found its mark—a weak point on a heavy Rapture's exposed power core, the delicate sensor array on a suicide unit's head.
Her focus was absolute, her voice low through the comms. "Missile units neutralized in my sector."
Emma, just behind her, spun up her minigun with a thunderous roar. "I'll handle crowd control!" she shouted, her weapon a wall of lead and fury that shredded through the thinner armor of the advancing swarm.
Vesti stayed just behind Emma, her rocket launcher primed and ready. She fired off a high-explosive shell into a cluster of fast-moving ground units trying to flank the squad.
"Direct hit!" Vesti called out, though her voice wavered with anxiety. She steadied herself and prepared another round.
"Don't hesitate," Emma encouraged, her voice calm despite the chaos. "You've got this, Vesti. Stay close."
At the core of the formation, Laplace was a blur of focused destruction. Her beam rifle hummed with raw power, firing precise, high-intensity shots across the battlefield.
"Fear not! Justice strikes true!" she declared dramatically, vaporizing a suicide unit mid-leap before shifting to cover the center-left approach.
Maxwell's beam weapon carved through the oncoming missile-launcher units with clinical precision, cutting off their support fire before they could overwhelm Absolute's position.
Drake, shotgun blazing, laughed with wild delight as she intercepted suicide drones trying to dive toward the core squad. "You fools thought you could out-villain me?!" she shouted, firing into another wave of attackers.
John's voice came sharp through the comms. "Laplace, shift your focus and support Absolute's right flank, they're getting overrun! Maxwell, hold the center line steady."
"As you command, mighty leader!" Laplace called out, already pivoting to unleash a searing beam into the mass of Raptures pressing Absolute.
Maxwell's tone was drier, but equally professional. "Acknowledged, Commander. Holding position."
John's eyes swept the battlefield, catching every shift, every weakness in the Rapture formation. His orders came quick, cutting through the chaos with precision.
"Neon, rotate back. Focus on clearing any stragglers breaching the perimeter."
"Yes, Master!" Neon replied enthusiastically, moving swiftly to the rear and gunning down the few Raptures trying to slip past the line.
"Anis, Marian, Rapi, angle your fire, we've got a new cluster coming in from the left ravine. I need suppressive fire now."
"Thought you'd never ask!" Anis whooped, launching another volley of grenades directly into the ravine's mouth.
Rapi's and Marian's stream of bullets cut down any units that survived the blast.
"Commander!" Eunhwa's voice was sharp in the comms. "Another wave—suicide units, fast movers, approaching from the rear!"
John's gaze snapped to the tactical map in his HUD. "Drake, Neon, intercept that rear flank now! Don't let them breach the formation."
Drake's shotgun fired off with devastating effect. "You got it, Commander! Let's ruin their day!"
Then, everything stopped.
A low mechanical growl reverberated through the ground. Emerging from the shadows of the ruins came a massive Rapture juggernaut, towering, heavily armored, with missile pods lining its back and twin drills for arms. It was the embodiment of destruction.
"New target inbound," John barked, eyes narrowing. "Priority kill. Focus all fire on that juggernaut before it can launch a barrage."
Rapi's assault rifle lit up, bullets slamming into the exposed joints of the monster's legs. "We'll try to slow it down."
Eunhwa's sniper rounds followed suit, punching through gaps in its armor and damaging critical systems with pinpoint precision.
Laplace charged a full-power blast. "Justice BEAM!" The shot carved through one of the missile pods, sending a shower of molten metal into the air.
The juggernaut staggered but didn't fall.
Its missile pods began to glow.
"Anis, Marian, disable those launchers NOW!" John's voice cracked like a whip.
"Got it, boss!" Anis launched a full salvo of grenades at the glowing pods whilst Marian unleashed a stream of lead at any pods and missiles that managed to get through the onslaught.
The resulting explosion was deafening, the shockwave rattling through the formation.
The ground was littered with smoking wreckage and broken metal. The once-relentless swarm of Raptures now lay still, their mechanical bodies shattered by the coordinated firepower of the squads.
John's voice came through the comms, steady but firm. "Status report. Now."
Rapi's voice was first. "Counters operational. Superficial injuries only."
Eunhwa followed. "Absolute, no casualties. All clear."
Maxwell chimed in last, her voice steady. "Matis holding. No losses."
John let out a slow breath, his body relaxing just a fraction. "Good. Regroup, resupply, and check your gear. Seems like we made it through the worst of it."
They weren't through the worst of it.
The battlefield stretched around them, a wasteland of smoldering wreckage and shattered Raptures. Twisted metal limbs jutted out of the cracked earth like grotesque sculptures, their fractured optics flickering dimly in the gray light of the overcast sky. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burning oil and scorched circuitry, a bitter perfume that clung to their lungs and lingered on their armor.
But the destruction wasn't the worst part.
It was the relentlessness.
For what felt like an eternity—though it had only been hours—the squads had been under near-constant attack. Every skirmish blended into the next without pause for breath, like a storm of metal and fury that never ceased. Ground units swarmed in unpredictable patterns, their claws scraping against rusted debris as they closed in with feral precision. Suicide drones rained from the sky, diving toward the squads with horrifying speed, their detonations echoing like war drums across the ruins. And looming in the distance, missile-launching behemoths pounded the ground with crushing force, each salvo a deafening reminder of the enemy's overwhelming numbers.
The squads fought with discipline and cohesion, a single well-oiled machine of survival instinct and brutal efficiency. Absolute's precision strikes cut down the most dangerous threats before they could close the gap, while Matis's ranged weapons carved through enemy formations from a distance with terrifying ease. Counters filled the gaps, with Anis's explosives and Neon's firepower wreaking havoc on tightly packed groups of Raptures, while Rapi's steady, measured bursts from her assault rifle and Marian's unrelenting machine gun fire kept their flanks from collapsing.
But even machines wear down.
Ammo reserves were running low with every trigger pull bringing them closer to empty magazines and dwindling supplies. Each movement felt heavier than the last, their energy sapped by exhaustion and mounting injuries. The constant adrenaline surge, once vital for their survival, was now becoming poison, burning through their focus and leaving frayed nerves in its place.
John's voice cut through the oppressive haze of tension like a blade. "Shifty, come in."
The comms crackled with static, followed by Shifty's clipped, professional tone. "I read you, Commander. What's your status?"
John's jaw tightened as his eyes swept across the field of wreckage, taking in the scorched earth and battered squad members. "We've been under constant assault for hours. These attacks aren't random. They're coordinated, organized and relentless. Why weren't we warned about this level of activity?"
A brief pause followed before Shifty responded. "Negative, Commander. Pre-deployment scans showed minimal Rapture presence in the area."
John's expression darkened, his voice dropping to a low growl. "And now? Tell me you're picking something up."
Another pause. Longer this time.
"Still nothing," Shifty said finally, the hesitation in her voice clear even through the comms. "Scans are reading clear across all spectrums. There's no sign of any Rapture presence near your location."
"That's impossible," John muttered under his breath. His eyes scanned the ruins ahead, every shadow and jagged piece of wreckage suddenly feeling like a threat waiting to emerge. They're not just materializing out of thin air. Someone—or something—is directing this.
The squads pushed forward, the silence between attacks gnawing at their nerves more than the fighting ever had. The quiet was unnatural, a suffocating absence of sound that felt like it was waiting to snap back into chaos at any moment.
The barren landscape eventually led them to a crumbling ravine, an immense scar carved deep into the earth, its jagged edges stretching out in both directions like the gaping maw of a monster from an old legend. A rusted metal bridge spanned the chasm, its once-sturdy supports now sagging under decades of decay. The wind whispered through the hollow steel beams, carrying a haunting melody of creaks and groans that made the entire structure seem on the verge of collapse.
John stared at the bridge with a sinking feeling. "Shifty, what's the status of this crossing?"
Her response came after a moment's delay. "That bridge was constructed over twenty years ago. It wasn't built for heavy loads. Given its current state, I wouldn't risk sending all of you across at once."
Anis stepped forward, eyeing the structure with open disdain. "So, you're telling us this piece of junk is our only way across?"
"Afraid so," Shifty confirmed. "You'll need to cross in smaller groups. Ten Nikkes' worth of weight will collapse it for sure."
Maxwell's voice was sharp and immediate. "Absolute and Counters should cross first. We're better equipped for ranged coverage if something goes wrong."
Eunhwa's gaze turned cold. "I don't trust you at my back."
Maxwell smirked, her expression cool and condescending. "How predictable. You think us being in front makes you safer?"
Anis snorted, arms crossed as she leaned casually against a chunk of rubble. "Oh, I'm sorry, are the corporate lapdogs upset we don't trust them not to knife us while we're busy?"
Before the argument could escalate, John's voice cut through the tension like a razor. "Enough."
The bickering stopped instantly.
"We're splitting into mixed groups," John ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Nobody crosses alone, and nobody is left to cover the rear without backup. I don't care how much you trust—or don't trust—each other. You're going to watch each other's backs, and you're going to keep moving."
Eunhwa's jaw clenched, her expression like stone, but she didn't argue. The logic was undeniable, even if it meant enduring the presence of allies she barely tolerated.
"We're also running low on supplies," John added, glancing at Neon as she methodically reloaded her shotgun with a mechanical calm that didn't quite mask the fatigue in her eyes. "We're burning through ammo faster than planned. If these ambushes keep up, we're going to be running on fumes before we reach Area H."
The first group moved carefully across: Eunhwa led, flanked by Rapi and Laplace, their weapons raised and eyes scanning the shadows. Their steps were measured, each one accompanied by the low groan of ancient steel under their weight. Every creak of the structure felt like a warning, but they made steady progress.
John lingered near the rear as the second group preparing to move—Maxwell, Vesti, and Neon was assembling. His eyes drifted toward Marian, who stood quietly near the edge of the ravine, her crimson eyes locked on the horizon as though she were anywhere but here.
Just as the third group started their journey, he decided it was now or never to speak with Marian.
"You're doing that thing again," John said, voice low but cutting through the wind nonetheless.
Marian's eyes stayed locked on the squads ahead, before she exhaled through her nose. "Maybe I just prefer the quiet."
They walked a little farther towards the bridge before Marian spoke again, softer this time. "You ever wonder if survival's just inertia?"
John blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "Inertia?"
"Things in motion stay in motion unless something stops them." Her eyes were distant now, like she wasn't really seeing the squads ahead. "Maybe that's all we're doing. Moving forward because it's easier than stopping. Because stopping means dealing with… everything we've left behind."
For a second, John didn't answer. The wind bit at his skin as he thought.
"I don't think it's about inertia," he said finally. "I think it's like a river. You don't fight the current, you learn to swim with it. Life doesn't stop, but maybe it's about figuring out how not to drown in it."
Marian blinked, genuinely surprised by the thoughtfulness of the analogy. "That's… surprisingly insightful."
"I have my moments," John replied with a smirk. "Besides, half of philosophy's just fancy ways of saying 'don't die yet.'"
A beat of silence stretched between them, more comfortable than before.
"You're not your past, Marian," John said eventually, his voice softer, more serious. "What happened back then—what Modernia did—it doesn't define who you are now."
Marian's eyes darkened, her steps slowing just a fraction. "Maybe not. But what if it's just… part of me now? What if that's all there is?"
John shook his head slowly. "Then maybe the trick isn't to erase it. Maybe it's about learning how to live with it. Without letting it pull you under."
For a long time, Marian didn't speak. But the tension in her shoulders eased just a little.
By the time they reached the other side of the bridge, she hadn't solved the knot twisting in her chest, but for the first time in a while, she didn't feel like she was carrying it alone.
The tension in the air had settled like an oppressive fog as the squads regrouped on the other side of the bridge. Water bottles, rations and spare ammo was distributed across the groups as they prepared to continue moving.
The brief respite was broken by the sharp crackle of the comms.
"Matis, we've got a situation," Shifty's voice came through, tight with mounting frustration. "I'm getting repeated contact requests from Elysion HQ. They're demanding an explanation for your involvement in this operation."
Maxwell, who had been running diagnostics on her rifle's energy core, straightened immediately. "Elysion? Already? That was fast."
Laplace waved a hand dismissively. "We're aiding the mission in the name of justice, obviously! Tell them that."
There was a pause, then Shifty's sigh came through with all the enthusiasm of a system error message. "They're not accepting that as a valid response. Apparently, 'We're helping!' doesn't hold much water with Elysion brass."
Laplace grinned, unfazed. "Practice makes perfect!"
Shifty's groan of exasperation was practically audible through the comms. "I'm an operator, not an answering machine, Laplace. Maybe try giving me something they'll actually believe."
Before Maxwell could intervene with something resembling diplomacy, the comm line crackled ominously and a new voice cut through, sharp and authoritative.
"Excuse me."
The chill that swept over the camp wasn't from the wind.
Ingrid.
Not just her voice, but the woman herself had stepped into Shifty's operator room, her imposing presence now physically occupying the space. The sheer audacity of her unannounced appearance left even Shifty visibly stunned as the Elysion CEO folded her arms and leveled a cold stare directly at the comm unit.
"You'll forgive me for bypassing formal channels, but it seems Missilis doesn't quite understand the definition of 'cooperation.'" Ingrid's voice was low and dark.
Maxwell stiffened, her composure wavering for the first time. "Director Ingrid, with all due respect—"
"Spare me the diplomacy, Maxwell." Ingrid's words were icy daggers. "I want to know why Matis is really here. Because from where I'm standing, this looks suspiciously like intentional sabotage—an attempt to secure the Heretic fragments for Missilis before Elysion can claim them."
The accusation hung in the air like a loaded gun.
"That's ridiculous," Maxwell shot back, though her usual confidence was cracking under Ingrid's glare. "Our orders were to assist the mission, nothing more."
"Assist?" Ingrid's lips curled into a thin, humorless smile. "Your squad has done nothing but delay operations and compromise our progress. If I didn't know any better, I'd say this was your company's first move in open hostilities."
Before Maxwell could form a response, the comms crackled again, this time with the arrival of yet another voice, all syrupy arrogance and thinly veiled malice.
"Oh, Ingrid, still so paranoid after all these years?"
Syuen.
Her voice dripped into the conversation like oil on water, smooth and toxic all at once. "You always did assume the worst. Honestly, it's exhausting."
John, already halfway done unscrewing his canteen, stopped mid-motion. His expression twisted into a mix of disbelief. "Of course. Just what we needed."
Ingrid's eyes narrowed, her tone razor-sharp. "Ah, the CEO of Missiles herself. I should've known you wouldn't be far behind."
The deliberate mispronunciation hit its mark—Syuen's voice sharpened with immediate irritation. ""It's Missilis, you frigid fossil!" Syuen's voice cracked like a whip, her bratty irritation barely contained. "I'd expect someone of your stature to at least get the name right."
"Oh, but you're such a blast to work with," Ingrid shot back, every syllable dripping with poison. "I figured 'Missiles' was more fitting, given how often your operations tend to explode in your face."
Shifty's exasperated sigh could be heard faintly in the background. "This room is made for one operator at a time. Just saying."
Syuen ignored the remark, her attention fully on Ingrid. "You're just upset that my squad's outperforming yours. Again. And let's be honest, Elysion's so-called 'elite' hasn't exactly been pulling their weight lately."
John, realizing this would spiral into yet another corporate slap fight, quickly unhooked his comms device and tossed it toward Rapi without ceremony. "Here. You take it. I need a break from this train wreck."
Before Rapi could even comment, the air changed.
A low mechanical whine filled the silence, sharp and sudden.
John's instincts flared like wildfire. His gaze snapped upward in time to see a glint of movement, a Rapture unit descending fast, its metallic form slicing through the sky like a blade.
"Laplace, don't—"
Too late.
"JUSTICE REIGNS SUPREME!" Laplace's voice echoed with unbridled enthusiasm as her cannon surged with energy.
A deafening crack split the air, the beam slicing through the Rapture mid-dive. Its carcass spiraled downward, smoke trailing like ribbons in the sky.
John didn't even have time to move.
The mangled body slammed into the ground right beside him, detonating on impact.
BOOM.
The shockwave sent him flying back, slamming hard against the cold ground, dust and debris raining down around him.
The acrid smoke from the explosion curled into the air, mingling with the sharp scent of scorched metal and burnt circuitry. Shards of Rapture debris smoldered on the ground, tiny fires crackling faintly in the aftermath of the blast.
John blinked against the dust cloud settling around him, the faint buzz of cursed energy lingering beneath his skin. His body ached from the impact, but there was no real pain. His instincts had kicked in, his cursed energy absorbing the worst of the explosion's force.
"Commander!" Rapi's voice sliced through the ringing in his ears, firm but composed.
John sat up slowly, shaking the dust from his hair as his vision cleared. Rapi and Marian were already at his side with concern visible in their expressions.
"I'm fine," John grunted, waving off Marian's outstretched hand as he pushed himself upright. His voice was steady, though the weight of the explosion lingered in his muscles like a dull echo.
Marian's crimson eyes flickered with something close to relief, though her posture remained tense. "That was... too close."
"Yeah, well, still breathing." John muttered, brushing dust from his jacket.
Laplace sprinted over with the energy of someone who hadn't just nearly flattened their own commander. "Commander! Are you injured? I swear on my hero's honor, I'll make sure it never happens again!"
John shot her a flat look. "You nearly vaporized me, Laplace."
Laplace gave a proud thumbs-up. "But I didn't! Which means the forces of justice prevail once again!"
Before John could remind her how "justice" nearly turned him into a bloody smear, Maxwell was suddenly in front of him, analysing him with precise scrutiny. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, roamed across his frame. "You should be in pieces after that," she muttered, her voice low but filled with suspicion. "Not even a fracture?"
John offered her his most casual smirk. "Guess I'm just lucky like that."
Maxwell didn't look amused. "Luck doesn't explain a complete lack of injury from a direct Rapture explosion." Her gaze narrowed as she studied him more intently. "When we get back to the Ark, I'll be running a full diagnostic on you. Just to be sure your 'luck' isn't covering something... unusual."
"Can't wait," John deadpanned, brushing off her scrutiny.
"Damn, Commander. You sure know how to make a scene," Anis quipped, though her gaze swept over him for any signs of real injury.
"What can I say?" John muttered. "I aim to impress."
Neon jogged up beside her, the usual playful smirk on her lips. "Master's tougher than he looks. We've seen him walk off worse."
Maxwell's head snapped toward the pair, the suspicion deepening behind her glasses. "You're all taking this far too lightly for someone who should be incapacitated."
Before Maxwell could press further, the comms unit in Rapi's hand crackled violently to life.
"You absolute child! Ingrid's voice tore through the static like a whip. "Do you ever think before acting, Syuen? That could've jeopardized the entire operation!"
Syuen's voice, equally sharp and infinitely smug, fired back. "Oh, Ingrid, sweetie, maybe if your squad could actually dodge falling debris, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
John let out a long, exhausted sigh, scrubbing a hand down his face as Rapi handed him back the comms unit. "And the circus begins."
"You're one misstep away from causing a diplomatic crisis," Ingrid snapped, her voice dangerously low now. "Do you honestly think Command will side with Missilis after this disaster?"
"Why wouldn't they?" Syuen's voice practically dripped with smugness. "Missilis leads in both innovation and efficiency. Unlike your... what do you call them? 'Elite' squads?"
John, too tired to listen to corporate squabbling, sighed disappointedly.
The sky above was a storm of metal and fire.
A swarm of Raptures descended like a living plague, blotting out the already gray sky. Their wings cut through the air with a haunting screech, while beams of energy and missiles rained down on the squads pinned below.
"Shifty, we're under heavy aerial assault!" John's voice cut through the chaos as he pressed a hand to his comms unit, dodging behind the broken remains of a collapsed building for cover.
The line crackled, Shifty's voice sharp and clinical. "Acknowledged, Commander. Scans are showing a 321% increase in Rapture activity compared to the initial data."
John's jaw tightened as a massive explosion tore through the ground a few meters ahead. "You're telling me this wasn't in the forecast?"
"They weren't there in the earlier scans. This… this looks like they're being drawn to something."
"Great. Just what we needed."
Across the battlefield, the squads fought like cogs in a well-oiled machine, each unit holding their ground against the overwhelming force.
Neon and Drake were a blur of movement, shotguns roaring like thunder as they carved through the low-flying Raptures diving toward the ground team. Drake's laughter echoed as she blasted a drone clean out of the sky, her villainous facade in full swing. "Bow before the might of darkness! I am the villain you fear!"
"You're doing great, Drakey!" Neon cheered, flipping through the air with casual grace before shredding another Rapture mid-flight. "Firepower wins the day!"
Not far behind, Anis and Vesti worked together like a brutal, synchronized force of destruction. Anis's rotary grenade launcher pumped round after round into the sky, sending shrapnel tearing through the wings of anything foolish enough to dive too low.
"Eat metal, you flying tin cans!" Anis barked, her voice thick with adrenaline.
Vesti, her rocket launcher balanced expertly on her shoulder, provided covering fire with calm precision. "Target down. Another incoming from the west, Anis—three o'clock."
"On it!" Anis adjusted her aim, sending another volley skyward with lethal efficiency.
Meanwhile, Rapi, Marian, and Emma formed a defensive perimeter, acting as a terrifying trio of anti-air turrets. Marian's machine gun barked controlled bursts of precision fire, taking down fast-moving targets before they could breach their line. Rapi stood by her side, each shot from her rifle clean and purposeful, eyes focused and steady.
Emma's minigun spun in a deafening roar, streams of rounds cutting through Raptures like a scythe through wheat. Her usual calm demeanor was replaced with battle-hardened focus. "Incoming left! Rapi, cover the gap!"
"Got it," Rapi responded, her shots striking true as she plugged a gap in their defenses.
Further up, Eunhwa's voice rang sharp through the comms. "Maxwell, Laplace—three targets at high altitude, southeast! Adjust your aim!"
"Acknowledged." Maxwell's voice was calm, almost detached, as she adjusted her long-range weapon. "Laplace, cover the right flank. We've got fliers breaching formation."
Laplace's cannon roared to life, her energy undeterred even in the chaos. "Fear not! Justice never misses its mark!" She fired a searing energy beam, cutting a larger Rapture in half mid-dive.
John remained behind cover, his focus pinned to the comms. "Shifty, why are they this coordinated? This doesn't feel random."
"I'm seeing it now," Shifty confirmed grimly. "All signs indicate they're converging on Area H's center… The Heretic fragments. They're after them, too."
John's gaze narrowed, watching the swarms tighten their pattern around the area ahead. "So it's a race now."
A familiar voice crackled in his ear, Maxwell, mid-reload, her tone unusually thoughtful. "Something valuable must be at the heart of that crater. I wouldn't be surprised if this is exactly what drew the Raptures out of hiding."
John snorted, adjusting his comms. "Yeah, and here I thought we were just unlucky."
Maxwell's next words were laced with a hint of morbid curiosity. "You know, statistically speaking, most commander fatalities occur during engagements of this scale. The odds aren't exactly in your favor, Commander."
John's lips curled into a dry smirk as a missile exploded in the sky overhead, showering him with sparks and debris. "Good thing I don't put much stock in odds."
"You're not afraid of death, then?" Maxwell's voice was more intrigued than concerned.
John let out a short breath, watching as Rapi shot down another drone from the sky with ruthless precision. "Afraid? No. We all die eventually. It's what you do before that matters."
There was a pause on the other end. "That's… surprisingly profound for someone about to be obliterated by airborne metal."
"Thanks. I try my best."
Suddenly, a piercing shriek echoed from above. A larger Rapture, nearly triple the size of the rest, descended from the clouds like a blade through silk, its body sleek and reinforced with jagged armor plating.
"We've got a big one incoming!" Eunhwa barked. "Emma, suppressive fire, now!"
Emma's minigun roared to life again, but even her firepower couldn't pierce the beast's reinforced shell.
"Rapi!" John shouted over the comms. "Get a bead on that thing's weak spot!"
"Already on it!" Rapi replied, her eyes scanning for an opening.
Marian stepped closer, her voice low but steady. "We'll need a distraction. I can draw its fire—"
"Negative," John cut her off. "You're not a target dummy. I've got a better idea."
His comms crackled back to life. "Laplace, time to play hero. Can you blind that thing for me?"
Laplace's voice rang with enthusiasm. "Justice never backs down from a challenge!"
A pulse of brilliant energy surged from her cannon, striking the massive Rapture dead in the center of its sensor unit. The beast shrieked in disorientation, veering off course just long enough for Rapi to line up her shot.
"Target locked," Rapi muttered. The sound of her rifle echoed like thunder across the battlefield as the bullet struck true right between the creature's reinforced plates.
The Rapture convulsed mid-flight, spiraling downward in a cascade of fire and smoke until it slammed into the ground, detonating on impact with a deafening boom.
The shockwave rippled across the field, silencing the air for just a moment.
John let out a slow breath. "Everyone, status report!"
"Counters operational, minimal damage," Rapi responded crisply.
"Absolute holding," Eunhwa followed.
"Matis, still alive, shockingly," Maxwell chimed in, though there was a trace of genuine relief in her voice.
John's grip tightened on the comms. "Good. We need to keep moving. They're not going to stop until those fragments are theirs."
The air was heavy with exhaustion, and yet the squads pushed forward, their boots crunching through broken debris and loose gravel as Area H loomed ever closer. The sky had begun to shift into a darker hue.
John made his way toward Marian and Neon, who were struggling with the weight of some of their supplies. Without a word, he reached down and took part of the load from Marian, offering her a small nod.
"You don't have to do that, Commander," Marian said quietly, though she didn't protest when he lifted some of the heavier equipment from her shoulders.
"You're already carrying enough," John replied simply. "Besides, we're supposed to be a team, aren't we?"
Neon's voice cut in, light and teasing despite the fatigue in her features. "Master's just showing off his muscles again. Trying to impress us with his strength."
John snorted, shaking his head. "Yeah, that's totally my plan. You caught me."
As they redistributed the ammo and supplies among the group, Laplace strode over, her posture as proud and stiff as ever, her cannon resting lazily over her shoulder. Her eyes fixed on John with a directness that bordered on confrontational.
"Commander John," she said bluntly, tilting her head in that exaggerated way. "Do you and your squad share a... special relationship?"
John blinked, caught slightly off-guard. "Special how?"
"You treat them like equals. Comrades-in-arms," Laplace clarified, folding her arms across her chest. "I went over your mission records. This isn't the first time you've stepped in to help them directly, even in situations where a human should stay out of harm's way."
John's gaze didn't waver. "I do see Rapi and the others as my comrades. We fight together, we survive together."
Laplace's lips curled into a faint smirk, though there was no humor in her eyes. "That's laughable."
"Nikkes are supposed to stand above humanity," she continued, her voice carrying the same righteous zeal she always wielded in battle. "We were created to protect humans, to be their vanguard, to be heroes. For a Nikke to be so weak that a human sees them as equals—or worse, needs to assist them—undermines the entire purpose of our existence."
John's jaw tightened, but before he could respond, Rapi spoke, her voice even and composed as always. "You're wrong."
Laplace's head snapped toward her, surprise flashing in her eyes.
"It's not a weakness to accept help from those we trust," Rapi continued. "It's strength to know your limits. If we're just weapons, then what's the point of protecting anyone? We're not tools; we're people, just like the humans we fight for."
Marian's voice followed quietly, but with a quiet conviction. "And if humans see us as equals, maybe that means we're doing something right."
Laplace's expression darkened with frustration, but before she could retort, Maxwell cut in, her voice calm but firm. "Enough, Laplace."
The sharpness in Maxwell's words was enough to make Laplace pause.
"This isn't the time for a debate," Maxwell continued, her eyes narrowing as she gestured toward the looming horizon. "Focus on the mission. We can argue about philosophy when we're not being hunted by Raptures."
Laplace clenched her jaw but ultimately relented, falling back in step with the others.
As the group began moving again, Rapi's gaze lingered on the ground, her earlier words weighing heavy in the silence.
"Maybe she has a point," Rapi muttered quietly to John, walking just close enough for him to hear. "We were created to protect humans. Maybe it's foolish to think we could ever stand on equal ground."
John shot her a sidelong glance. "That's not foolish. It's the least you deserve"
The wind howled through the desolate expanse of Area H, carrying with it the scent of scorched metal and dust. The squads moved forward in silence, their boots crunching against the barren ground, every step echoing eerily in the oppressive quiet.
It wasn't natural. The earth was too smooth, too clean, as if the land itself had been scrubbed of its violent history. This place was supposed to be the site of one of the most catastrophic battles in Ark history, a clash between the ark's strongest Nikkes and a Heretic so powerful it had left a permanent scar on the landscape from the fires raging for months. But now, that scar was gone.
Too smooth. Too quiet.
John's eyes narrowed. "This feels wrong," he muttered, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade.
Rapi came to a halt beside him, her gaze sweeping over the ground, ever-calculating. "No impact craters. No residual energy spikes. No debris." Her voice was as steady as ever, but the tension in her posture said enough.
"We're standing in the middle of a battlefield with no evidence of a battle," Eunhwa added, her eyes scanning the horizon. "Shifty, confirm our position."
The comms crackled in response, Shifty's voice cool but hesitant. "You're exactly where you're supposed to be. This is the center of Area H. The Heretic fragments should be directly beneath your feet."
John's jaw tightened. "Cross-check the topography scans. Something isn't adding up."
There was a long pause—too long.
"Commander…" Shifty's voice returned, tight with disbelief. "The ground beneath you doesn't match historical records. The readings show... artificial composition. The terrain's been altered."
The air shifted.
The stillness broke.
A low vibration hummed beneath their boots.
"Move!" John's voice cut through the squad, raw instinct driving him forward.
But it was already too late.
The ground exploded in a violent eruption of jagged black tendrils, lancing upward with terrifying speed.
John's instincts kicked in faster than thought. He threw himself toward Rapi and Vesti as the tendrils lunged toward them. His left hand shot out to intercept one of the spiked appendages aimed at Vesti.
The impact was brutal.
Pain exploded through his body as two fingers—his ring and middle—were torn clean off by the sheer force of the strike. Blood sprayed across the air as the tendril's jagged edge sliced through flesh like it was nothing.
Another shot toward Rapi.
No time to think.
John shifted his weight and rammed his right shoulder into the oncoming strike, the sharpened tendril burying itself deep into his muscle with a sickening crack of bone and tearing flesh. He gritted his teeth, biting back the scream as his body was slammed into the dirt, shielding Rapi and Vesti from the brunt of the assault.
"Commander!" Rapi's voice was sharp with alarm, but there was no time to react.
All hell broke loose.
Across the battlefield, more tendrils erupted with savage speed.
Maxwell let out a sharp gasp as a tendril punched clean through her side, lifting her off her feet and throwing her back like a ragdoll. Sparks and shrapnel erupted from her armor as she hit the ground, sliding several meters before going still.
Laplace barely managed to turn her weapon before a tendril lanced straight through her chest, pinning her into the cracked earth, collapsing in a heap.
Drake screamed, a guttural, terrified sound, as a tendril wrapped around her waist, lifting her violently off the ground and snapping her backward like a broken marionette.
Eunhwa's precision failed her as the tendrils struck with speed too fast for her sniper's scope to follow, stabbing her through her midsection, driving her to the ground with brutal efficiency.
And then Marian.
Her crimson eyes widened in shock as a jagged black spike shot through her torso, piercing clean through with a wet, tearing sound. The force of the blow sent her staggering back, blood spilling from her lips as she struggled to stay upright.