Chapter 3 - Deployment

Melromarc, Castletown

Castle

[Redacted] "Ice" [Redacted]

Ice tucked the radio into a hidden pouch, casting a quick glance around to ensure no one had noticed him talking to what would have looked like thin air. Satisfied that his transmission had gone unnoticed, he turned and walked back into the room where the other three heroes had gathered. Their voices had been a low hum as he approached the door, but the moment he stepped inside, the conversation between Ren, Itsuki, and Motoyasu died instantly.

Ice raised an eyebrow beneath his balaclava and tinted goggles, sensing the sudden tension in the room. He could feel their eyes on him, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

"What were you boys talking about?" Ice asked, his voice calm but carrying enough weight to make the three shift uncomfortably. He moved closer, each step heightening the tension between them, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

"N-Nothing!" Motoyasu blurted out far too quickly for Ice's liking. His voice wavered, and despite his confident demeanor, the 21-year-old's nervousness was painfully obvious. He glanced at Ren and Itsuki, hoping for backup.

Ren sighed, seeing right through the charade. He had already noticed how Ice moved, the way he took control of the room without even trying. Ice wasn't just some random person swept into this fantasy world. No, Ren had seen men like Ice before—his father had been ex-SOG, and Ice carried himself in the same way. Lying to someone like that was pointless.

"Are you some kind of cosplayer? Oh and By the way, we never got to know your name" Ren asked, his tone blunt and lacking curiosity.

Ice paused for a moment, then slowly reached up and removed his tinted goggles. His cold, squinting eyes locked onto Ren's, sharp and intense. "My name's none of your concern. Just call me Ice, all the others do too and why the hell would you think that?", he replied, his voice sharper than they had ever heard. The three heroes exchanged uneasy glances, clearly startled by Ice's first real conversation since they had all been summoned.

Motoyasu stammered, his earlier bravado slipping. "W-Well… I mean… l-look at your outfit. The insignia on your shoulder… and that… uh, the Foundation thing. The… what's it called again? Oh yeah! SCP Foundation!" He attempted to regain control of the conversation but faltered. "Yeah, the SCP Foundation is just a myth, so no reason to pretend you're with them."

Itsuki nodded, though he remained quiet, still processing how Ice had shattered the silence that usually surrounded him.

Ice exhaled slowly, unimpressed. He glanced at the SCP Foundation insignia on his shoulder—a small detail in a uniform that seemed far too advanced for this medieval setting. These three had no idea what they were talking about. To them, this was all a game. They had no clue about the real danger they were in.

"Look... how do I explain this now-", Ice began, his voice steady but commanding, "you three are all from different versions of Japan. You're not from the same place."

The three heroes blinked in confusion, leaving Ice dumbfounded. He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. How the hell did these guys survive in their world for so long?

"Alright", Ice said, bluntly cutting through their confusion. "Who won the World War?". He deliberetely didn't specify which world war, leading all of them into his trap.

Motoyasu blinked, trying to catch up.

"Uh… which one? One, two, or three?", Itsuki chimed in, as if it were the most natural question in the world.

Both Ren and Motoyasu turned to look at Itsuki, eyes wide, their confusion deepening.

"What do you mean…?", Motoyasu asked cautiously, his gaze darting between Ice and Itsuki. Ren, for his part, remained silent, watching as Ice observed the ensuing chaos with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"World War Three?" Ice muttered, half to himself. "You're telling me there was a third one in your world?"

Itsuki nodded. "Yeah. It happened about 20 years ago. It's why we had such a rapid tech advancement. The world was in chaos after that."

Motoyasu's mouth fell open slightly, his expression one of utter shock. "Wait, what?! In my world, the last war was World War Two! There wasn't a third!"

Ren frowned, his sharp eyes darting between the two. "In my world, there wasn't even a World War Two. Japan stayed neutral after World War One. Things didn't progress like that at all."

Ice stood there, arms crossed, slightly amused at the chaos he had unintentionally unleashed. He watched as the realization began to dawn on them.

"You see what I'm getting at now?", Ice asked, his voice cutting through their chatter. "You're all from different realities. Different versions of Japan. None of you came from the same world."

The three heroes stood in stunned silence, finally beginning to grasp what Ice was telling them.

"So… wait", Motoyasu began, rubbing his temples as if trying to process the information. "If we're all from different versions of Japan, then how are we all here? In the same place?".

Ice regarded him for a moment, letting the question hang in the air. His arms remained crossed, a slight shift in his posture signaling that he wasn't about to give an easy answer. "Whatever force pulled you here, it didn't care about the details. Different realities, same end result. You're here now, and that's all that matters."

Motoyasu's face scrunched up in frustration. "But that doesn't make any sense!"

"It doesn't have to make sense, dipshit. Ninety percent of the anomalies the Foundation contains bend the laws of physics," Ice shot back, his voice colder than before. He didn't like how Motoyasu was starting to lose his grip. In a world like this, panic or denial could get you killed.

Motoyasu threw his hands up in frustration. "Can you please stop pretending that stupid foundation exists?! Just for one second?!"

The silence stretched between them, thick with tension, until finally, Itsuki, who had been quiet for most of the conversation, stepped forward, positioning himself between the towering MTF operative and the frustrated Motoyasu. His voice trembled slightly, but he made an effort to sound calm.

"Listen, guys," Itsuki stammered, holding his hands up in a placating gesture, "Why don't we just forget about this for now? We're in a world that looks like it's straight out of a fantasy RPG! I mean, this is crazy enough already. Let's focus on the big picture here."

Motoyasu, still fuming, huffed and crossed his arms, glaring at Ice. "Fine. But that doesn't mean I'm buying any of this 'Foundation' crap."

Ren, ever the rational one, sighed in resignation. "Itsuki's right. We've got bigger problems. The Waves are coming, and we need to be prepared. We can't afford to argue over things that might not even matter."

Ice remained silent, watching them carefully. He wasn't here to mediate their bickering, but he could see that Itsuki's attempt at peace was starting to calm things down—at least for the moment. Good. As long as they stayed focused on the real threats, he didn't care what they thought about the SCP Foundation or his true purpose.

Motoyasu glanced around, carefully inspecting the details of the castle, his mind racing through memories that tugged at something familiar. Then, like a bolt of lightning, it hit him. "Wait a minute… Now I get what Itsuki meant earlier. This place does look like that one VRMMO!"

Ren and Itsuki's eyes widened to almost comical proportions. "VRMMO?" Itsuki repeated cautiously, his voice tinged with confusion.

"Yeah! VRMMO!" Motoyasu said, nodding enthusiastically. "Don't tell me you guys don't have one in your world?"

"No!" Ren shot back, shaking his head firmly. "This definitely looks like that one popular console RPG. You know, the big one!"

"Wrong!" Itsuki chimed in, stepping forward. "Both of you are off. This world's layout is exactly like that console strategy game. The map design, the resource management—it's spot-on!"

A heated debate broke out between the three, their voices overlapping as they argued over which game their current reality most resembled. Each of them became more animated, passionately defending their positions as though the answer would somehow change their situation.

Ice, standing slightly off to the side, could only mentally facepalm. Why these three idiots? he thought to himself, the frustration almost palpable behind his mask. They were stuck in a world facing catastrophic danger, and here they were bickering about video games. He sighed internally, tuning out their increasingly absurd argument, his mind already thinking ahead to the real threats they'd soon be facing.

"Alright!" Ice's voice cut through the room like a whip, jolting them out of their argument. The three heroes turned, startled, their debate instantly silenced.

"Listen up," Ice growled, his tone brooking no nonsense. "Games and the Foundation aside, I've got something important to share with you boys." His words hung in the air, heavy with seriousness.

Ice began to lay out the situation, explaining the treacherous betrayal by the princess and the calculated framing of the Shield Hero. He detailed the manipulation, the orchestrated plot to destroy the Shield Hero's reputation, and how it all led to the brutal attempt on their lives by the priest, whose goal was to kill them all. The tension in the room thickened with each word, and for once, the three other heroes stayed silent, eyes wide as the gravity of Ice's story settled over them like a storm cloud.

Outside, just beyond the door, a certain red-haired woman pressed her ear tightly against the wood, listening intently to every word that passed between Ice and the other heroes. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as Ice recounted the betrayal, his voice calm but filled with the weight of truth.

He knows.

Her breath hitched for a moment, but she forced herself to stay still, listening for any more damning details. When Ice finally finished explaining the plot, the redhead bit her lip, her mind racing. She had heard enough.

Satisfied with what she'd gleaned, she pushed off from the door and quickly turned, slipping into the shadows of the hallway. Her footsteps were light but purposeful as she made her way through the darkened corridors, her pulse quickening. She needed to reach her father—the king—before the situation spiraled out of control. If Ice truly knew their plan, the entire charade could collapse sooner than expected.

As she disappeared into the darkness, her mind raced with the implications of Ice's knowledge. He wasn't just some naive outsider; he was a threat, and threats needed to be dealt with—swiftly and decisively.

"Doesn't matter," King Aultcray barked from his throne, his voice sharp and dismissive. The cold indifference in his tone left Malty momentarily stunned.

"What?! Our whole plan will collapse the moment he reveals it to the public!" Malty shot back, her voice rising with frustration, her carefully composed demeanor slipping. She couldn't believe how nonchalant he was being about this.

Aultcray barely spared her a glance. "No one will believe him," he said, his tone dripping with arrogance. "He's the Shield Hero, the weakest of the lot. He's already hated and distrusted. Anything he says will be seen as nothing more than desperate lies."

"But—" Malty began, her eyes narrowing.

"Go to sleep, Malty," Aultcray interrupted, his voice brooking no further argument. "I'll do what needs to be done. The Shield Hero will be dealt with, and no one will question it."

Malty clenched her fists, her teeth grinding in frustration, but she knew better than to push further. She bowed slightly, though anger still simmered beneath her skin. Turning on her heel, she stormed out of the room, the echo of her footsteps fading as she disappeared down the hall, leaving the king alone with his thoughts.

Aultcray leaned back in his throne, a dark smirk playing on his lips. He had survived far worse than a few accusations from a hero no one trusted. This was nothing. He would handle it—like he always did.

Turning toward one of his high-ranking generals, his voice was cold and calculated as he gave his next command. "Order the mages to spread the rumor about the Shield Demon."

The general gave a silent nod of acknowledgment before quickly making his way out of the room to carry out the order.

Aultcray watched him go, the smirk never leaving his face. Soon, the Shield Hero would be buried under the weight of lies and fear, and no one would dare question the royal family.

Outskirts of Melromarc

Just a few hundred meters from the edge of a small forest, the sharp hiss of suppressed shots echoed through the quiet air. A Balloon monster quivered, deflating rapidly before popping out of existence.

"Heh, bloody bastards," Whiskey muttered under his breath, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he smoothly re-chambered a round into his M40A5. The barrel still smoked faintly, heat shimmering in the cool air. Beside him, Ares lay with his binoculars, scanning the horizon for targets.

"Two more, slightly northeast. 700 meters," Ares whispered, his voice steady and composed, ever the professional.

Whiskey nodded, adjusting his aim. "Let's send 'em packing," he muttered, settling his nerves with a slow exhale. At the lowest point of his breath, he squeezed the trigger. The striker hit the primer, igniting the powder and sending the bullet on its lethal path. In an instant, another Balloon monster vanished, popping out of existence.

The remaining Balloon monster, startled and frantically looking around, caught the faint glint of Whiskey's scope. But it was too late. Whiskey calmly adjusted his aim, the crosshairs settling between the creature's eyes. A second later, a muffled crack filled the air, and the final Balloon monster deflated, disappearing like the others.

"Great shot," Ares remarked, a hint of satisfaction creeping into his voice.

Whiskey chuckled. "Yo, Pops! Let Ice know the place is clear. Tell Overlord they can send the support element," he called out to Pops and Polak, who were resting nearby against a tree, engaged in quiet conversation. Pops gave a nod in acknowledgment.

"Strike Force Lead, this is Strike Force-2, how copy?" Pops called into his radio and waited.

Meanwhile, in the Castle…

"Strike Force Lead, this is Strike Force-2, how copy?" The radio crackled to life, but Ice ignored it for the moment, still standing in the room with the other three heroes.

The air was heavy with silence. Ren, Itsuki, and Motoyasu were still digesting the information Ice had laid out for them. His story sounded absurd, almost impossible to believe—but the way he delivered it, with such clear detail, made it hard to dismiss entirely.

As the three continued to wrestle with their thoughts, Ice finally had enough. Breaking the silence, he said, "Alright, you guys. I'm out of here. Big day tomorrow and all. See y'all." With a quick nod, he turned, opened the door, and left the room.

Rounding the corner cautiously, Ice glanced around, ensuring the hallway was empty. Satisfied that no one was nearby, he pulled out his radio and responded in a low, firm whisper. "Strike Force-2, this is Strike Force Lead. I got you loud and clear. Send traffic."

Pops' gruff voice came through. "Roger, Mapgrid two-six-six-niner-one-five is clear of all hostiles. I say again, Mapgrid two-six-six-niner-one-five is clear. Tell Overlord to send over the support element. Over."

"Roger that, SF-2. Anything else?" Ice asked.

"Negative, SF-2 out."

Switching channels, Ice connected with Overlord. "Overlord, Overlord. This is Strike Force Lead. Mapgrid two-six-six-niner-one-five is clear. Over."

A few seconds passed before Overlord's steady, authoritative voice came through the radio. "SF-Lead, this is Overlord. We hear you. Support element is on its way. ETA one mike. Over."

"Solid copy, Overlord. SF-Lead out."

Ice lowered the radio, his eyes scanning the dimly lit hallway one last time. Everything was falling into place. The support element would be arriving soon, and the next phase was about to begin. Things were about to get a lot more interesting..