Chapter - 14 - The calm after the Storm
Forest south of Riyute Village
Strike Force
[Redacted] "Ice" [Redacted]
Honored Heroes! The King is requesting an audience!" the knight called out, his voice strained and breaths labored, a clear sign of the battle they had just endured.
The Heroes of the Spear, Sword, and Bow approached the knight, their curiosity piqued. The heated argument about the "stolen" kill seemed to have been conveniently forgotten as they stepped forward.
"So, this is how you knights operate—showing up only when it's all over," Motoyasu quipped with a smug grin. The other two, Ren and Itsuki, nodded in agreement, their own grins matching his arrogance.
"N… No!" the knight stammered, shaking his head frantically. "We were fighting deeper in the forest! It was crawling with monsters! We barely made it out alive. And we're only here because you, the Honored Heroes of the Spear, Bow, and Sword, killed the final boss."
The trio froze, their smug expressions faltering for a moment as their faces paled. They exchanged uneasy glances before silently nodding to one another in agreement.
Meanwhile, Ice and his team stood by their JLTV, watching the exchange in stunned silence. Whiskey leaned over to Polak and muttered, "I bet ye ten bucks they're gonna take credit for the kill."
"Make it twenty," Pops chimed in, his tone deadpan. Without even looking, he stretched his fist out toward Whiskey, who bumped it with his own. The two leaned back against the JLTV, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold like spectators at a theater.
"Yep! We killed it!" the trio said in unison, their voices overly enthusiastic as they gave the knight a synchronized thumbs-up.
"Ah, kurva…" Polak muttered under his breath, already reaching for his pouch. He pulled out two ten-dollar bills and slapped them into Whiskey's outstretched hand. Whiskey accepted them with a wide, smug grin, tucking the money into his vest pocket without a word.
The knight blinked, clearly confused by the heroes' synchronized declaration, but chose not to press the issue. Instead, he bowed deeply, his voice filled with reverence. "Then the King must hear of your glorious victory immediately. Please, allow us to escort you back to the capital."
The MTFs exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of disbelief and amusement. Pops and Ares, standing atop their JLTV, both raised an eyebrow at the interaction, silently questioning the absurdity of it all. Near Ice, Lira's look was one of complete shock—not because of the Heroes' audacity, but because the MTFs did nothing to stop them from blatantly taking credit.
"Yo, Ice! Should we follow 'em?" Pops called down from the JLTV, his eyes still scanning the knights and heroes, his skepticism growing by the second.
Ice looked up at him, his expression calm, almost indifferent, as he shrugged. "I mean… could be fun. And hey, maybe they hand us some money for—" he gestured vaguely, "you know, hero-ing and saving that village."
His nonchalant tone made Ares snicker. "Yeah, 'cause clearly we're the ones they want to reward," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Lira turned to Ice, her shock quickly giving way to a sharp glare. "You're just going to let them take credit for this?" she asked, her tone incredulous.
Ice raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "You're free to go and try to argue with those mouth breathers," he said, gesturing toward the trio of Heroes, who were now basking in the knights' admiration. "But I'm not doing that. My nerves wouldn't survive another round of their nonsense."
Lira opened her mouth to argue but quickly shut it, realizing the futility.
Pops grinned from atop the JLTV, adjusting his gear as he leaned on the mounted machine gun. "Gotta admit, Boss has a point. Less talking, more payday."
Whiskey's voice crackled over the comms, dripping with amusement. "Oi, Pops! You think the King'll throw in a bonus if we let the 'Honored Heroes' keep their little fairytale?"
Pops let out a hearty chuckle. "Wouldn't surprise me. Let's roll."
Ice smirked, pulling himself into the driver's seat of the JLTV. "Exactly. Let's follow the circus and see where it goes."
The vehicles roared to life as the MTFs fell into formation behind the knights and Heroes, their engines rumbling like distant thunder as they set off toward the capital.
After some time, the group exited the forest, but the sluggish pace of the caravan began to grate on Ice and the others. The slow march was wasting time, and patience wasn't something the MTF operatives were known for. It didn't take long for them to unanimously agree to overtake the group and head to the capital on their own terms. After all, who could stop them?
Ice's JLTV roared as he accelerated, pulling up in front of the caravan. Whiskey, not one to miss an opportunity, pulled up alongside on the right, matching their pace. With a smirk, he flung his door open, his eyes locking with Motoyasu's bewildered expression.
"Yo, ye bloody cunts! We'll meet ye at the capital!" Whiskey shouted, his voice brimming with mockery. Without waiting for a reply, he slammed the heavy door shut and stepped on the gas.
The two JLTVs kicked up a massive cloud of dust and dirt as they sped off, leaving the knights and Heroes coughing uncontrollably in the wake of the vehicles' roar.
Motoyasu, his face red with fury and covered in dust, finally regained his breath. "Curse you, Shield Demon!" he shouted after them, shaking his fist in frustration. His voice cracked so slightly, but the operatives were already far out of earshot.
Pops chuckled from the passenger seat, leaning back in his chair. "Gotta love it when you can piss off a narcissist without even trying."
Ice smirked, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. "Best part of the job."
Midway to the capital, Whiskey, still at the wheel, suddenly keyed the vehicle radio. His voice crackled through the comms, carrying a tone of barely contained excitement. "Lads… do you want some entertainment?"
From the lead JLTV, Ice immediately groaned. "Oh no… nope. I am not doing that," he replied, though his teasing undertone betrayed him.
"Too late, bossman! I've already made up my mind! HAHA!" Whiskey shot back, his laughter ringing out over the comms. Groans and protests erupted from the team as they realized what was about to happen. Meanwhile, Lira, sitting quietly in the back of Ice's vehicle, glanced around, confused. She listened intently, having no idea what was going on.
Then, Whiskey's voice cut through the comms again, this time breaking into a familiar tune. "Almost Heaven, West Virginia," he began, his voice dripping with exaggerated drama, drawing out the words for effect.
Lira blinked, startled. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or question the sanity of these supposedly elite operatives. Before she could process it, another voice crackled over the radio.
"Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River," Polak chimed in, his tone surprisingly smooth and cool compared to his usually collected and serious demeanor.
Moments later, Ares joined in from atop Whiskey's JLTV, his voice raised to compete with the swirling wind. "Life is old there, older than the trees. Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze."
And then, with perfect timing, the entire team came together in a boisterous, slightly off-key chorus that startled Lira slightly:
"Country roads, take me home…
To the place I belong…
West Virginia, mountain mama…
Take me home, country roads!"
Lira, her eyes wide, leaned toward Ice. "Are you… are you serious?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief.
Ice glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his expression deadpan. "Completely."
Her eyebrows furrowed. "And you're just… letting this happen?"
Ice shrugged. "Why not? Builds morale."
"Morale?" Lira repeated, staring at him like he'd grown a second head. "This is insanity."
Ice smirked faintly, his hands steady on the wheel. "Welcome to the Foundation Lira."
The singing continued through the entire drive, the boisterous voices of the MTF operatives echoing across the open comms. The tune of Country Roads rang out, sometimes off-key but always enthusiastic, as if they were on a carefree road trip rather than heading toward a high-stakes political meeting.
As the two JLTVs rumbled through the city gates, they drew a flurry of curious and fearful glances from the citizens. People stopped in their tracks, their expressions a mix of awe and terror. Most had never seen vehicles of this kind before—self-propelled machines that seemed to roar like beasts as they passed. Children pointed, and some even hid behind their parents, unsure what to make of the armored vehicles and the soldiers riding within them.
But the team didn't let the stares bother them. They kept singing, their voices carrying over the rumble of the engines. The sight of two tactical vehicles rolling into the capital like a caravan from another world, accompanied by loud, unpolished singing, was a spectacle no one would forget anytime soon.
Inside the lead JLTV, Ice smirked as he glanced at Lira in the rearview mirror. Her expression was torn between mortification and disbelief.
"Is something wrong, Lira?" Ice asked with a grin, though he wasn't sure if she could see it beneath his balaclava.
"Yes! A lot, actually!" she shot back, her tone exasperated as she threw her hands up in disbelief. "We're about to walk into a room full of politicians—where one single wrong move could destabilize the entire country—and… and you're singing?!"
Ice glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his grin widening. "And your point is?"
"My point is that this is insane!" Lira exclaimed, gesturing wildly. "Do you not take anything seriously?"
Ice chuckled, steering the JLTV down a narrow street as curious onlookers continued to stare. "You'll know it when I start taking stuff seriously," he said with a wry grin.
"When? How?!" Lira shot back, her eyes narrowing as they bore into him.
"It's when the sun turns red and people start melting!" Polak chimed in from the passenger seat, turning fully to face Lira with a grin of his own.
The Shadow blinked, her confusion written all over her face. "What?"
Polak shrugged. "It's a saying in our world," he replied, his tone deadpan. "It means when shit hits the fan, and you hit the deck as bullets start whizzing over your head."
Ice cut in before Lira could press further, his tone light but calculated. "Basically, it's when everything goes to hell, and you've got no choice but to drop the Sun on your opponent... over and over again."
He was careful with his words, ensuring he didn't accidentally spill anything sensitive about other SCPs or their protocols. As far as the Foundation was concerned, Lira was an anomaly herself, and there were limits to what she could be told. Still, it didn't hurt to let her in on the operatives' unique sense of humor.
Lira sat back, still trying to make sense of it all. "Your world sounds… bizarre."
You don't know the half of it," Ice muttered, his grin fading slightly as he noticed their surroundings. They had arrived at the castle, the towering gates looming ahead. He eased off the gas, slowing the JLTV to a steady crawl.
Then, with a completely deadpan tone, he spoke into the comms, his voice taking on the cadence of an airline captain: "Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our destination, Castletown, and are now approaching the main Castle-Gate. Please remain seated until the vehicle has come to a complete stop to avoid accidents. In case of an emergency, please follow the instructions of the cabin crew. Thank you for flying with Foundation Air, and we hope to see you aboard again soon. Have a great evening."
Lira blinked, staring at him in utter bewildermentü. The rapid-fire delivery of his words made her mind spin, her thoughts unable to keep up with what he'd just said. She opened her mouth to question him, but before she could speak, Ares' voice crackled through the radio, dripping with mock frustration.
"This flight was terrible! I didn't get a single moment of shut-eye! Did you find your pilot's license on the god damn ground, or what?!"
The comms lit up with laughter, even Polak letting out a rare chuckle. Lira could only stare, her disbelief growing as she leaned back in her seat.
The vehicles finally came to a complete stop in front of the castle gates, their engines rumbling ominously as they idled. The guards stationed at the gate stood frozen in place, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion. They had never seen machines like this before, much less two massive armored monstrosities suddenly pulling up to their gate.
Their unease only grew as the JLTV doors suddenly flung open. Four heavily armed men, clad entirely in black and bristling with weapons, leapt out with swift, practiced movements. Their intimidating presence and the advanced gear they carried left the guards visibly unsettled.
Then, as if that wasn't enough, two more doors opened. The Shield Hero himself stepped out of the lead vehicle, his signature shield strapped to his arm, exuding an air of authority. Beside him was another figure, a woman they didn't recognize. Lira followed close behind him, her tactical gear and stern expression adding to the mysterious and overwhelming aura of the group.
The knights standing at the gate were completely taken aback, their eyes darting between the Shield Hero, his unknown companion, and the imposing black-clad operatives. For a moment, they simply stood there, blankly staring as their minds struggled to process what was unfolding in front of them.
One of the guards finally managed to stammer, "S-Shield Hero… who… who are these people?" He didn't dare use the term, Shield Demon.
Ice exchanged a glance with his team, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "My Party," he said simply, his tone sharp but casual, as if daring the guards to question it further.
The knights hesitated, their grip on their weapons tightening as they remained unsure how to respond. Meanwhile, the operatives casually fanned out, their presence exuding both confidence and readiness.
"So, the other three idiots and their circus caravan didn't arrive yet?" Whiskey muttered, his voice laced with sarcasm as he leaned out of the JLTV.
"Of course they didn't catch up. We were driving at eighty kilometers an hour. What do you expect when they're on horseback and foot?" Pops replied, leaning against the side of the vehicle, his tone dry.
"They could at least run, bloody hell… or walk fuckin' faster!" Whiskey shot back with an exaggerated eye roll.
Ice sighed and shook his head, ignoring the banter as he stepped away from the group and walked toward the main entrance of the castle. The massive wooden doors loomed ahead, firmly shut, and the knights guarding them shifted uncomfortably as Ice approached. His masked face betrayed no emotion, his movements steady and deliberate.
One of the knights, emboldened by the tension, suddenly stepped forward, spitting on the ground in front of Ice to make him stop. "Of course, the Demon of the Shield would be the first one to arrive," the knight sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "You were probably already running like a coward while the other three Honored Heroes killed the boss!"
Ice stopped in his tracks, his shield resting casually on his arm as he tilted his head slightly. The operatives tensed behind him, their movements subtle but deliberate as they waited to see how Ice would respond.
For a moment, there was silence, save for the faint hum of the JLTV engines behind them.
"You done?" Ice asked finally, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. His gaze, though hidden behind the mask, felt heavy, cutting straight through the knight's bravado.
The knight faltered, his confidence wavering as Ice's presence bore down on him. The silence stretched, and even the other guards began to shift uncomfortably.
Ice stepped closer to the knight, his movements deliberate, and placed a gloved hand on the man's shoulder. The knight visibly stiffened, sweat forming on his brow as Ice leaned in slightly. His voice, low and cold, sent a shiver down the spines of everyone present.
"You…" Ice began, his tone measured and unnerving.
Whiskey leaned toward Lira, a grin spreading across his face. "I love it when he does this," he whispered, his gaze fixed on Ice, who stood like a predator sizing up its prey.
The knight's breathing grew uneven as Ice's grip on his shoulder tightened ever so slightly. "You have courage," Ice continued, his words slow and deliberate. "I like that…"
The knight's eyes darted nervously, his earlier bravado crumbling under Ice's unrelenting presence. Ice leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, audible only to the knight. "You're lucky I don't have my pistol with me. Else I'd love to paint these beautiful marble pillars with your brains."
The knight's face turned pale, his knees threatening to buckle as the weight of Ice's words sank in.
Ice released him with a sharp pat on the shoulder and stepped back, his posture casual but radiating an unmistakable menace. "But I don't," he said, his voice returning to a conversational tone as though the threat had never been made. "So, let's not test how far that luck stretches."
Behind him, Polak let out a quiet chuckle, while Pops adjusted his gear, clearly unfazed. Lira, however, stood frozen, her wide eyes darting between Ice and the knight.
The knight started to shiver, his armor rattling faintly as a puddle began to form at his feet. Ice's eyes flicked downward, and though his face was partially obscured by his balaclava, the smirk tugging at his lips was unmistakable.
"And there goes all the courage and dignity of a man," Ice said, his tone dripping with mock disappointment. He shook his head slowly, the smirk widening. "What a shame. I was just starting to like you."
The knight's face turned an even paler shade of white as he shook his head rapidly, his eyes wide with desperation, silently pleading for Ice to stop.
Behind Ice, Pops crossed his arms, muttering under his breath. "Always breaks 'em."
Whiskey let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the display. "Bet the poor bastard's wishin' he stayed home today."
Lira, watching the scene unfold, couldn't decide if she was more horrified or impressed. Ice stepped back, giving the knight just enough space to collapse to his knees, trembling as the rest of the guards stood frozen, too afraid to intervene.
"Next time," Ice said casually, turning away, "don't spit in someone's path unless you're ready to follow through."
With that, Ice motioned for his team to follow as he pushed open the massive doors, their weight creaking under his strength. He entered the castle without looking back, his team trailing closely behind him.
As they passed the still-trembling knight, Ares and Whiskey, ever the jokesters, couldn't resist a parting jab.
"First spittin' bars like that, and then pissin' yerself? Disappointing, mate," Whiskey said, mock disappointment dripping from his voice as he shook his head.
Ares snickered, his shoulders shaking as he threw a fist toward Whiskey. "Man couldn't even keep it together for two minutes," he said between laughs, their gloved fists meeting in a quick bump.
Ice didn't even glance back, his focus already on the grand hallway ahead. Pops followed silently, his lips twitching slightly as though fighting back a grin. Polak, ever the stoic, merely adjusted his gear and kept his eyes scanning the surroundings.
From what I can remember, the throne room is… there," Ice muttered, gesturing toward a pair of closed wooden doors. "That one I don't know," he added, pointing to another set of doors, "and over there… that's the mess hall," he finished confidently.
Polak nodded, falling into step beside him. "Let's get it done, then," he muttered, his voice low and steady.
The operatives and Lira moved with purpose, their boots echoing through the ornate corridors as they approached the massive double doors Ice had indicated. Without hesitation, Ice and Polak pushed them open, the heavy wood creaking slightly as they swung inward.
The sight that greeted them was nothing short of breathtaking.
The throne room was enormous, far larger than any of them had anticipated. Marble pillars adorned with intricate gold inlays and countless glittering gemstones lined the hall, stretching upward to a vaulted ceiling painted with depictions of heroic battles and celestial scenes. Light poured in from towering stained-glass windows, casting vibrant hues across the polished marble floor.
At the center of the room sat the throne itself, an elaborate masterpiece of gold, silver, and precious stones. King Aultcray sat upon it, his posture regal yet imposing, his eyes scanning the newcomers with faint curiosity. Around him, rows of ornate tables were filled with nobles, their fine garments shimmering in the dappled light as they conversed quietly amongst themselves.
In the far-left corner, a small orchestra played a soft melody, their music weaving through the air and adding a touch of elegance to the already opulent setting.
The operatives paused momentarily, their usual stoic expressions giving way to faint glimmers of awe at the sheer grandeur of the space. Even Lira, who had seen much of the royal castle before, couldn't help but marvel at the artistry and splendor before them.
"Now this," Whiskey muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible to the others, "is one hell of a conference room."
Ares smirked, leaning slightly toward him. "Fancy place to get yelled at."
Ice rolled his shoulders, his confidence unwavering. "Stay sharp. Let's make this quick."
With that, they strode into the room, their presence immediately drawing the attention of every noble in the hall.
"Shield Demon," someone in the crowd whispered, the words laced with disdain. Ice caught it, as he always did, but he didn't react. By now, he was used to their insults, and he wasn't about to let their petty words drag him down. Still, the thought of one of these pompous nobles pissing themselves like the knight at the gate brought a small, fleeting smirk to his face.
Taking a deep breath, Ice stepped forward, rolling his eyes before addressing the King. "My King!" he began, his tone exaggeratedly exasperated.
"I, the Shield Hero, have done what you ordered and defeated the first Wave with the help of my humble comrades," he continued, gesturing vaguely toward his team without looking back. His words were pompous, his delivery almost mocking, but he forced himself to power through it. "Now, I seek the reward you have promised us!"
Behind him, Ares and Whiskey struggled to keep their composure. The two snickered quietly, sounding like schoolchildren trying to stifle their laughter during class.
"'Humble comrades,'" Ares whispered to Whiskey, barely containing a grin. "That's rich coming from him."
"I know, right?" Whiskey muttered back, his shoulders shaking as he bit down on his knuckle to avoid bursting out laughing.
Ice, hearing their whispers but keeping his focus on the King, tightened his jaw ever so slightly. He'd deal with them later.
The nobles exchanged uneasy glances, their murmurs growing louder as they processed Ice's bold entrance. King Aultcray, meanwhile, leaned forward slightly on his throne, his expression unreadable as he scrutinized the Shield Hero.
Are you joking with me, Shield Demon?!" Aultcray's voice cut through the room, sharp and dripping with contempt. The murmurs of the nobles fell silent as all eyes turned to the Shield Hero.
Ice straightened up, meeting the King's glare with an unflinching gaze. His tone was calm, but his words were anything but. "Yes, I am, dipshit. Now give me that damned money so I can tell you to get bent and leave."
A collective gasp rippled through the hall, nobles whispering furiously to one another as they struggled to process what had just been said. Aultcray's expression twisted into one of barely contained rage, his grip tightening on the armrests of his throne.
Behind Ice, Whiskey couldn't hold it in any longer. He burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching his stomach. Ares leaned against a nearby pillar, snickering so hard he had to steady himself.
Polak sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Subtle as always," he muttered under his breath.
Lira's eyes widened, her head snapping toward Ice. "What are you doing?" she hissed in disbelief.
Ice glanced back at her briefly, his smirk visible even beneath his balaclava. "What? It's not like I'm wrong."
Aultcray leaned forward, his face red with anger. "You dare speak to me like this?! In my court?!"
"I dare because I earned it," Ice shot back, his voice steady and unwavering. His gaze never wavered from Aultcray's, and his tone carried a weight that silenced even the murmuring nobles. "Now, are you going to pay me, or do I have to start shooting people?"
The audacious threat was punctuated by the sharp clack-clack of Pops and Polak racking the charging handles of their rifles, their movements deliberate and intimidating. The sound echoed through the massive hall, cutting through the tension like a blade.
"You know what these things can do," Ice continued, his tone calm but menacing. "You saw it during my duel with that Spear Idiot not long ago. These aren't toys, and I'm not someone you want to test."
The nobles' pale faces grew even paler as the weight of the threat sank in. Many clutched at their seats or edged further back in their chairs, their eyes darting nervously between Ice and the King. A few of them even began to stammer softly, their voices pleading as they turned to Aultcray for guidance.
"My King," one noble finally blurted, his voice quivering. "Perhaps it would be… wise to honor his request."
Another nodded rapidly. "Yes, yes. Let's not provoke him further. For the good of the kingdom, of course."
Aultcray's jaw tightened, his face a storm of anger and humiliation as he realized his court was crumbling under the Shield Hero's audacious display. The orchestra in the corner had gone utterly silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
Ice crossed his arms, waiting patiently, his calm demeanor almost mocking. "So, what's it going to be, Your Majesty?"
Aultcray sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to will away the situation. "Curse you, Shield Demon," he muttered under his breath. After a moment, he straightened and lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Ice. Despite the King's anger, Ice's cold and unyielding stare didn't waver.
"Even though I hate you with every fiber of my being," Aultcray began, his voice strained, "I… I want you to stay for a bit longer. There are still people who believe in your innocence."
Ice opened his mouth, ready to fire back with a sharp retort, but the words caught in his throat. His gaze sharpened as he processed what the King had just said. For a moment, the mocking edge and lightness in his demeanor vanished, replaced by the icy firmness that had earned him his reputation.
"Who?" Ice asked, his tone low and devoid of humor, cutting through the silence like a blade.
The nobles, who had been nervously watching the exchange, grew still. Even Aultcray hesitated for a brief second, as if surprised by Ice's sudden shift. The weight of the question hung in the air, and the hall seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the King's response.
Before the King could utter another word, the massive double doors were thrown open with a resounding bang. The force of the impact echoed through the throne room, and all heads turned toward the entrance.
"Here I am, my King!" Motoyasu's voice rang out, filled with his usual theatrical bravado. He strode into the room as if he owned it, his spear resting casually over his shoulder. Behind him, his entourage of knights followed, along with Malty clinging to his arm, her smug grin firmly in place.
Ice turned slowly, his face obscured by his balaclava, but his irritation was palpable. His eyes narrowed as they locked onto the Spear Hero, and he crossed his arms, silently daring him to speak.
Motoyasu's gaze swept over the room, quickly landing on Ice and his team. His grin faltered slightly before returning in full force, though his voice carried a note of annoyance. "Of course, you're here first, Shield Demon. What lies have you spun for the King this time?"
Whiskey snorted from behind Ice, muttering just loud enough to be heard, "Bloody hell, here we go again."
Polak rolled his eyes, gripping his rifle a little tighter. "Didn't even have time for a breather…"
Ice ignored his team's commentary, stepping forward to face Motoyasu head-on. His voice was calm but carried an unmistakable edge. "Took you long enough. Did the caravan slow you down, or were you too busy practicing your dramatic entrance?"
The nobles murmured amongst themselves as the tension in the room began to rise again, the two Heroes squaring off in the middle of the grand hall.
Ice turned back to the King, his movements deliberate and his gaze hard as steel. This time, there was no sarcasm, no mockery—just cold, unwavering seriousness.
"Alright, King," he said, his voice calm but laced with a quiet menace. "I'll ask you one more time. Money, or I'll leave—but not empty-handed. I'll take something. And I don't care what it is, as long as it has value to you."
The room fell deathly silent, the weight of Ice's words settling heavily over everyone present. The nobles exchanged uneasy glances, whispering nervously among themselves. Even the ever-confident Motoyasu paused, his grin faltering as he caught the tension in the air.
Aultcray's face turned pale, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple as he met Ice's unrelenting gaze. The King swallowed hard, his usual bravado wavering under the Shield Hero's intensity. He shifted uncomfortably in his throne, gripping the armrests tightly as though trying to anchor himself.
"You wouldn't dare," Aultcray finally muttered, though his voice lacked the conviction he intended.
Ice tilted his head slightly, his tone icy as he replied, "Try me."
The operatives behind him stood motionless, their presence like a silent storm waiting to be unleashed. Pops casually adjusted his rifle, while Whiskey leaned against a pillar, his smirk daring someone to test Ice's patience. Polak's expression remained unreadable, though his fingers rested near his weapon, ready to act if needed.
Even Lira, standing at Ice's side, could feel the pressure in the room. She glanced at the King, her sharp eyes taking in his hesitation and unease. Whatever answer he gave next would define the rest of this encounter.
As the tension in the room reached a fever pitch, the massive doors flung open once more, slamming against the walls with a thunderous bang.
"Oh, fuck me!" Ice groaned loudly, throwing his hands in the air as his patience thinned to a thread. He turned around, his annoyance plain as day, his gaze ready to pierce through whoever dared to interrupt again. "Who the hell is it this time?!"
But instead of another unwanted face, Ice was met with the sight of the general from Riyute Village, flanked by his knights. The group marched in with determination, their armor scuffed and weapons still marked with signs of battle.
Ice blinked, his expression shifting from pure irritation to faint surprise. He hadn't expected them, least of all now.
Behind him, the King's voice broke the tense silence, quieter this time, almost reluctant. "He is the one who believes in your innocence," Aultcray muttered, his gaze fixed on the general.
Ice turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at the King. His cold, piercing eyes softened for a moment before he looked back at the general. The operatives behind him exchanged looks but kept their silence, waiting to see where this unexpected twist would lead.
The general stepped forward, removing his helmet as he met Ice's gaze. "Shield Hero," he began, his voice steady and resolute, "I saw firsthand what you did to save my village. I saw the strength, the courage, and the sacrifice you made. I am here to stand for your honor."
The room fell into a stunned hush, the nobles staring at the general as if he'd just declared war. Ice crossed his arms, his expression unreadable as he studied the man.
"Well," Whiskey muttered under his breath, breaking the silence behind Ice, "that's a bloody twist, innit?"
I would like for you to stay here," the general said, his voice steady as he stepped closer to Ice. "At least for a bit, to enjoy the party. After all, it's in honor of the Legendary Heroes."
He extended his hand toward Ice, his expression genuine and unwavering.
Ice glanced down at the outstretched hand, his guarded demeanor slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of hesitation. He wasn't used to gestures like this—especially not from people tied to the royal court. For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his response.
Behind him, Whiskey leaned in toward Polak, whispering with a smirk, "Think he'll shake it, or just tell the bloke to bugger off?"
Polak didn't respond, his stoic gaze fixed on Ice. Even Lira looked on in silence, her own expression a mix of curiosity and confusion.
Ice finally raised his eyes to meet the general's. "You sure about that?" he asked, his voice calm but carrying an edge of skepticism. "Most of the people in this room would rather see me out of it—or six feet under."
The general didn't flinch. "I'm sure," he said firmly. "You've earned your place here, Shield Hero. Let them see it."
Ice held his gaze for a moment longer before letting out a slow exhale. He reached out and clasped the general's hand, his grip firm. "Fine," he said, his voice steady. "But don't expect me to mingle. I'm not exactly the life of the party."
The general gave a small nod, releasing Ice's hand. "That's all I ask."
Behind Ice, Ares and Whiskey exchanged grins, clearly amused. "Well," Ares muttered, "looks like we're staying."
"Guess it's time to find the buffet," Whiskey added, his tone laced with humor.
Ice stepped back to his team, gathering them into a tight circle. "Alright, guys. PR time. You know the drill—rifles down and smiles high for the girls. Try to find out as much as you can. We need all the intel we can get," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
With a series of nods, the circle dissolved, and the MTFs fanned out into the hall. Each operative moved with purpose, blending into the gathering as well as heavily armed men could in a room full of nobles. The orchestra picked up its tune once again, and the tense atmosphere began to lighten, replaced with cautious murmurs and the clinking of glasses.
Lira hesitated for a moment before approaching Ice, her expression expectant. "What should I do?" she asked, standing at attention.
"You…" Ice began, pointing at her as he sat down at an unoccupied table and grabbed a golden goblet filled with water. "Stay with me."
"What? Why?" Lira protested, stepping closer. "I can go and gather information too! I was born into this role. I stay in the shadows and—"
Her protest was abruptly cut off by a smug, all-too-familiar voice. "Hello, Shield Hero," Motoyasu said, the title practically dripping with venom. He stepped toward the table, his spear resting lazily against his shoulder. "Is this seat free?"
Ice gestured to it with a dismissive shake of his hand, not even bothering to look up. Motoyasu rolled his eyes before pulling the chair back and sitting down with a theatrical huff. His party followed closely behind, with Malty practically gliding into the seat between Ice and Motoyasu.
Her presence was as calculated as her sharp grin. She leaned in ever so slightly toward Ice, her eyes glinting with false charm. "Shield Hero," she began sweetly, her voice masking whatever scheme she had in mind. "It's so rare to see you in polite company. I hope you're finding the festivities… pleasant."
Lira's expression darkened as she took a step closer to Ice, her posture tense. Ice took another sip of water, his movements deliberate and unhurried, before finally meeting Malty's gaze. "Pleasant..." he echoed, his tone flat. "Sure. Let's call it that."
So… who's your companion here?" Motoyasu suddenly jumped in, his voice cutting through the conversation as he leaned forward, clearly not liking being left out.
Ice glanced at Lira, noticing the dark expression clouding her face. "Lira. Sit down already," he said lightly, gesturing to the seat beside him. She hesitated for a moment before complying, settling into the chair without a word.
Turning back to Motoyasu, Ice's tone became flat and dismissive. "Just someone we picked up along the way."
Motoyasu's eyes flicked toward Lira, his curiosity immediately piqued. He took in her appearance—her striking purple hair, piercing blue eyes, and soft, unblemished skin. She seemed entirely out of place among Ice's battle-hardened operatives, her delicate features a stark contrast to their rugged demeanor. Her clothing, however, told a different story. The military-style camouflage she wore left no doubt that Ice and his team had outfitted her. The juxtaposition was strange, almost unsettling to Motoyasu, and a knot of unease began to form in his stomach.
In his mind, it didn't make sense that someone like Ice—a cold, distant Shield Hero—would have a woman like Lira in his company. If anything, Motoyasu thought he should have been the one with her by his side. He was the good-looking hero, the most popular one, the one women naturally gravitated toward. Yet here she was, sitting next to Ice, her loyalty apparently unshaken.
Motoyasu's pride flared, and he leaned forward, forcing a charming smile onto his face. "Why don't you come over to us, Lira?" he asked, his tone dripping with false warmth as he gestured toward the women gathered around him. "These guys seem so cold and distant. Someone as radiant and colorful as you can't possibly belong with this boring lot."
Lira's eyes flickered with confusion, her posture stiffening as she processed his words. For a moment, she looked like she might respond, but Ice spoke first, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
"She's fine where she is," Ice said flatly, not even bothering to look at Motoyasu as he sipped from his goblet.
Motoyasu's smile faltered, but only for an instant. "Come on, Lira," he pressed, ignoring Ice's dismissive tone. "You don't have to settle for these types. They're all business—no fun. I can guarantee you'd enjoy yourself far more with my party."
Lira turned her head to face him, her blue eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm fine," she said firmly, her voice carrying a quiet strength.
Motoyasu blinked, clearly not expecting rejection. His charm was usually irresistible—or so he believed. "You don't have to be polite," he said, his tone shifting to something almost pleading. "I mean, look at them. Do you really feel at home with these kinds of people?"
Then Lira had enough. She snapped her head toward Motoyasu, her eyes blazing with frustration and anger. "Listen here, you jackass! I said I am fine where I am! If you, Spear Twat, try to hit on me again, I swear on all the gods above, I'll snap your neck and feed you to the dogs!"
The outburst came so suddenly and with such venom that the entire table froze. Ice, completely caught off guard, choked mid-sip and sprayed the contents of his goblet across the table, coughing violently as he tried to recover. Lira's words hung in the air, sharp enough to cut through the growing silence.
Ice glanced at Lira through watering eyes, his coughing fit only barely subsiding. Did she just say that? he thought, still trying to process what had just happened. Her tone had been so fiery, so vicious, it would have made even a hardened sailor blush—and Whiskey proud, no doubt, if he'd been there to witness it.
Unbeknownst to Ice, Lira's microphone had been left open accidentally, broadcasting her entire outburst across the team's comms. The operatives, who had been quietly blending into the crowd and gathering intel, froze in their tracks as the tirade reached their ears.
"Did… did she just say that?" Whiskey's voice crackled over the radio, disbelief mixed with sheer delight.
"She did," Ares confirmed, his tone somewhere between amazement and amusement.
Motoyasu sat frozen in his seat, his eyes wide with shock, his mouth slightly agape. For a man used to charm and flattery, being dressed down like that—especially in front of his party and the nobles—was something entirely new. He couldn't even formulate a response, his brain scrambling to comprehend the verbal lashing he'd just received.
The nobles nearby, who had been covertly watching the interaction, began to murmur amongst themselves, clearly entertained by the unexpected turn of events.
You dare to speak to Sir Motoyasu like that?!" Malty suddenly cut in, her voice sharp and indignant as she leaned protectively toward the Spear Hero, her arms practically draped over him. Her tone was dripping with venom. "Who do you think you are, you lowly peasant?"
Lira didn't even flinch. Instead, she turned to Malty with a glare that could melt steel. "Oh, get bent, you stupid bitch," she shot back, her voice steady and brimming with disdain.
The table fell into stunned silence once more, save for Ice, who immediately began coughing again, having only just managed to recover from his previous fit. He doubled over slightly, slamming his fist on the table as he struggled to breathe, the sheer audacity of Lira's retort catching him off guard.
"Lira!" Ice managed to croak between coughs, though whether it was reprimand or admiration, even he wasn't sure.
Malty's face turned a furious shade of red, her perfect composure cracking as she sputtered, trying to come up with a response. "Y-you insolent—!"
Before Malty could finish her sentence, Lira leaned forward, her blue eyes blazing as she locked onto Malty like a predator cornering its prey. "What?! Come on, spill it!" Lira hissed, her tone razor-sharp and brimming with challenge. She dared Malty to finish whatever insult she had started, her voice cutting through the tension in the air like a blade.
Malty's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. For once, the princess seemed at a loss, her usual composure faltering under the weight of Lira's unrelenting glare. Her hands tightened on Motoyasu's arm, as if seeking some kind of support, but even the Spear Hero looked too stunned to respond.
The silence that followed was deafening. The nobles around them leaned in, clearly enthralled by the unfolding drama. A faint smirk crept onto Lira's face as she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a casual defiance that only added to Malty's humiliation.
Ice, having finally composed himself after another coughing fit, let out a low whistle. "Well," he said, his voice dry, "this just got interesting."
Behind him, Whiskey's voice crackled softly over the comms. "I think I'm in love with this girl."
Pops snorted. "You'd never survive her."
Lira's cheeks turned a faint shade of red at Whiskey's comment, but she quickly masked it, crossing her arms and locking her glare back onto Motoyasu. "Well, someone had to say it," she muttered, her tone defiant and unrepentant.
Motoyasu remained stunned, his face a mix of humiliation and outrage. Malty leaned closer to him, whispering something in his ear, but even she seemed rattled by Lira's fierce words.
Ice leaned back in his chair, still shaking his head, but now a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Remind me to keep Whiskey away from you," he muttered, his tone dry. "You're picking up his vocabulary way too fast."
"Hey!" Whiskey's voice crackled over the comms, full of mock offense. "I resent that, Boss! She's clearly a natural talent. Don't ruin her potential."
Ice rolled his eyes, tilting his head slightly as if addressing the distant Whiskey directly. "Yeah, well, your 'influence' is already wreaking havoc."
Whiskey's laugh rang out, followed by Ares chiming in. "Admit it, Ice. You're proud of her."
Ice snorted, taking another sip from his goblet. "Proud isn't the word I'd use."
Behind him, Pops added in his usual deadpan tone, "More like mildly terrified."
Motoyasu, completely and utterly taken apart by Lira's harsh words, sat frozen for a moment, his face a mix of disbelief and humiliation. Then, with a sharp huff, he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the marble floor.
Without a word, he turned on his heel, his head held high as if trying to salvage some shred of dignity. His posture screamed defiance, but the slight redness in his ears betrayed his true feelings. He marched away from the table, his party following in awkward silence, Malty trailing after him with a venomous glare directed at Lira.
"Yeah, walk it off, Spear Twat," Lira muttered under her breath, her arms crossed as she watched him retreat.
Ice stifled a laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. "Well," he said, smirking, "that went about as well as I expected."
Whiskey's voice crackled over the comms. "That was bloody brilliant! Someone better write that on a plaque."
Ares chuckled. "Man's ego just took a direct hit from a howitzer."
Lira turned to Ice, raising an eyebrow. "What's a Howitzer?"
"It's a big gun, firing a big round," Pops explained dryly from the other end of the hall, his voice crackling softly over the comms. Despite his response, he barely looked up, his focus still on a group of nobles nearby, who were deep in conversation about something that sounded suspiciously like secrets of the kingdom.
"A really big round," Ares chimed in, his tone more enthusiastic as he drifted past another cluster of nobles, casually eavesdropping.
Lira frowned slightly, still trying to process the concept. "And… you have one of these?"
"Unfortunately, no," Whiskey replied, his voice dripping with mock regret. "Would've been fun to roll one through these fancy wooden doors, though."
Ice shook his head with a smirk, sipping from his goblet. "Ignore them," he said to Lira. "Focus on the mission."
Her eyes flicked to Pops, then back to Ice. "I still don't see why I couldn't go gather intel."
Ice sighed and looked at Lira, his tone more matter-of-fact than dismissive. "Easy. Because I need you here as my personal security, for when shit hits the fan."
Lira raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.
"I mean, sure," Ice added, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his team scattered across the hall. "Pops, Polak, Ares, or Whiskey could take a shot from across the room if something happened. But knowing them, that shot would probably go straight through the attacker… and then into me."
He paused, leveling a flat look at her. "And I can tell you, being shot is not fun."
Lira blinked, processing his explanation before giving him a skeptical look. "You really think someone would try to kill you here? At a party?"
Hope for the best, plan for the worst," Ice muttered, his tone quiet but resolute as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the room.
Lira tilted her head slightly, her arms still crossed. "You really live by that, don't you?"
Ice nodded without hesitation. "Every damn day," he replied. "It's what's kept me and my team alive this long."
From across the hall, Whiskey's voice crackled over the comms. "And here I thought it was my charm and good looks keeping us alive."
Ice smirked faintly, shaking his head. "Sure, Whiskey. Keep telling yourself that."
Lira couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, though she quickly masked it, shifting her focus back to the room. The warmth of their camaraderie was undeniable, even in such an unfamiliar and high-stakes environment.
The sharp ting of a wine glass being struck echoed through the hall, bringing the room to a hush. All eyes turned toward the King, who stood at the head of the grand hall. In front of him, a small line of waitresses had assembled, each holding a silver tray with a sack perched neatly on top. The faint clinking sound of coins betrayed their contents—gold, or perhaps silver.
The King raised his voice, his tone filled with authority and pride. "Dear guests, Honored Heroes, and Companions of the Heroes! Tonight, I am proud to announce the successful end of the first Wave of Calamity! The Honored Heroes have triumphed, defeating the Wave enemies and the final boss in a righteous fight for our land and glory. And now, it is time to reward them… for their hard work!"
The hall erupted into applause and cheers, nobles clapping fervently in celebration. Motoyasu's voice boomed above the rest, his enthusiasm unmatched as he basked in the praise.
Ice, sitting at his table, muttered under his breath, his gaze locking onto the Spear Hero. "Self-centered asshole."
Through the comms, Whiskey's voice crackled with characteristic bluntness. "Hard work, my ass. These twats were probably jerking each other off in that forest until the boss showed up. We're the ones who defended that village."
Lira's cheeks flushed at Whiskey's vulgarity, though she quickly tried to compose herself.
Ice smirked faintly, adjusting his seat. "Keep it down, Whiskey. You'll get us noticed."
Whiskey scoffed, his tone unapologetic. "I wish they'd notice. Might knock some sense into those thick skulls."
As the cheers continued to ripple through the hall, Ice leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze locked on the King. Despite the noise and ceremony, his focus remained razor-sharp, watching and waiting for the next move.
His attention shifted when one of the waitresses began making her way toward his table. She stood out immediately—a black-haired cat girl, her feline ears twitching slightly as she approached. Her sharp, extended canines glinted faintly in the light, hinting at her nature.
When she reached the table, she performed a dramatic bow, her movements deliberate yet stiff. Her face betrayed her true feelings—fear and terror etched into her expression. It was clear she wasn't here by choice, and Ice could see why. The Kingdom's lies had likely poisoned her mind, feeding into the widespread distrust of him as the Shield Hero.
Ice's eyes narrowed slightly as he observed her demeanor, silent and calculating. He didn't speak, his calm but commanding presence filling the silence as he waited.
"This is the reward for defeating the Waves, given by the Kingdom… Shield Demon," she said, her final words barely a whisper, her voice quivering.
Lira, seated beside Ice, had finally had enough. She shot up from her chair, ready to confront the girl, but Ice extended an arm, stopping her in her tracks. "Sit," he muttered, his gaze never leaving the waitress. His sharp eyes saw through her façade—her fear wasn't of him but of the Kingdom. He noticed how her eyes darted nervously toward the knights stationed at the entrance, their silent watchfulness suffocating her.
"Take the money," she hissed suddenly, her tone cracking under the strain. Her hands trembled, and tears threatened to spill as the stress of the situation overwhelmed her.
"Leave it on the table," Ice replied coldly, his voice firm and unyielding. The abruptness of his words caught her off guard.
"Just take the damn money a—" she started, but Ice cut her off, his tone hard and deliberate.
"Listen here," he began, leaning forward slightly, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. "I know what that idiot back there is planning." He nodded toward the King without breaking eye contact. "So no, I'm not reaching out for the tray. Because the moment I do, you'll drop it, fall to the ground, and throw a tantrum before accusing me of touching you—or worse. That's the game they want me to play."
The girl's lips parted, but no sound came as her wide, tear-filled eyes stared back at him.
Ice gestured subtly toward Polak, who flicked off the safety of his Russian AN-94 rifle and raised it to his shoulder, the motion deliberate and smooth. The faint click of the safety disengaging echoed faintly across the room, drawing a few curious glances.
"So, here's the deal," Ice continued, his voice dropping to an icy whisper. "You leave the money on the table, and walk away. Or, I'll have that guy"—he nodded toward Polak—"put two bullets in your skull. What's it going to be?"
The girl froze, her breathing shallow and rapid as she weighed her impossible choices. The tension in the room grew heavier, the moment hanging on her next move.
The King observed like a hawk, his piercing gaze locked on the waitress. His looming presence hung over her like a predator watching its prey, waiting for the exact moment she would falter. He had orchestrated this carefully, leaving her no choice. If she didn't follow through with his demand—fall to the ground, clutch her arm, and cry out in terror—her family would pay the price.
But nothing happened.
The Shield Hero still sat there, his posture relaxed but commanding, his face obscured by the black mask, rendering his expression unreadable. Aultcray's anticipation began to waver as his plan stagnated. Why wasn't she moving? Why wasn't he taking the bait?
Then, out of the corner of his vision, Aultcray noticed one of the Shield Hero's companions raising one of these loud magic staffs, its aim trained directly on the waitress. The calculated precision of the movement sent a ripple of unease through the King.
Aultcray's lips parted, ready to shout an order to halt, but he hesitated, his calculating mind racing. If one of his companions fires on the waitress, he thought, that would still be enough to turn the tide against him. The Shield Demon's reputation would be ruined.
He leaned back into his throne, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Either way," he muttered under his breath, "this ends tonight."
The King waited, eager for the chaos he was sure would follow. But again—nothing happened.
The waitress, her hands trembling, set the sack of coins down on the table with a soft thud before turning and walking off at a quick pace, her head low and her movements stiff. Ice's gaze followed her for a moment before he keyed his radio.
"Whiskey, Ares. Keep an eye on her," Ice muttered under his breath, his voice calm but laced with suspicion.
"Rog," came Whiskey's quiet reply as he turned on his heel from one side of the hall.
"On the way," Ares responded from the opposite side. The two operatives moved with practiced precision, converging on the massive double doors from both ends of the hall.
The knights stationed at the entrance opened the doors for the cat girl, their expressions neutral as she passed through without a word. The operatives observed closely as the knights stepped through after her, letting the doors swing shut behind them.
"Yo, Ares, you saw that?" Whiskey asked over comms, his tone sharp as he adjusted his posture to blend into the background.
Yeah," Ares replied, his voice low. "About five of them."
"We're outnumbered," Whiskey quipped with a faint smirk beneath his balaclava.
"But not outgunned," Ares countered, his own smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as they reached the double doors.
Together, they slipped through, their movements smooth and deliberate. The heavy doors creaked slightly before closing behind them, leaving the rest of the hall oblivious to what was unfolding beyond.
Aultcray's eyes narrowed as he watched the two operatives disappear. His plan had unraveled completely, the bold move failing to bait the Shield Hero. He cursed under his breath, the weight of his misstep sinking in.
He had thought—perhaps even hoped—that the Shield Demon would fall for the same trick as before. But Ice had outmaneuvered him, and now the consequences of his gamble loomed large. The failure of his plan wasn't just a missed opportunity; it was a dangerous exposure.
And then, the King felt it—a chill creeping down his spine. He looked up, meeting the unblinking, unyielding eyes of Ice from across the hall. The operatives may have left, but their leader remained, his gaze sharp and judging, cutting through the distance between them.
For a moment, Aultcray's defiant mask faltered. He knew then, in that icy stare, that Ice had seen through everything.
Then came the muffled crack of three gunshots. The sound was sharp but distant, cutting through the subdued chatter of the hall. A moment later, more shots followed—quick, precise, and suddenly escalating into the unmistakable roar of automatic gunfire.
The orchestra faltered, their music grinding to a halt as confusion and fear rippled through the nobles. Gasps and panicked whispers filled the room as they turned their heads, trying to locate the source of the ungodly sounds.
Aultcray's eyes snapped to Ice's table, his chest tightening. But Ice wasn't there.
Neither was the woman who had sat beside him.
Nor were the other two companions who had stayed near the Shield Hero moments ago.
Panic began to creep into the King's thoughts as he glanced around the room, searching for them. Then his eyes locked onto the grand double doors just as they softly clicked shut. His breath hitched as realization struck.
They were gone.
Ice's absence loomed like a shadow over the room, and Aultcray's composure slipped further as he realized the Shield Hero and his companions were no longer playing by his rules.
What the fuck happened?!" Ice demanded as he slipped through the door, his voice sharp and cutting. His eyes scanned the scene before him—the five knights lay sprawled on the ground, their lifeless bodies still, their drawn swords discarded beside them.
"They fucked around," Ares replied bluntly, standing with the cat girl held protectively against him. "We showed them, they found out."
"And her?" Pops asked, his tone steady but laced with curiosity as he gestured toward the girl.
"She's just another of that cruel bastard's pawns," Whiskey growled, his disdain for the King bleeding through every word.
The cat girl's eyes brimmed with tears as she clutched at Ares, her voice breaking. "They have my family!" she cried out, the desperation and pain in her tone cutting through the tense air like a knife.
Ice's gaze softened slightly, but his tone remained firm. "What do you mean, they have your family? Who does?"
"The King," she stammered, her words tumbling over each other in her panic. "He… he told me if I didn't follow his orders, he'd kill them. He forced me to act against you!"
Ice sighed heavily, the weight of the situation bearing down on his shoulders. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before fixing his gaze on the cat girl, his tone measured but firm.
"Where do they hold them?" he asked, his eyes locked onto hers.
"T-They're in the dungeons," she stammered, her voice cracking under the strain. "East side of Castle Town."
Ice nodded slowly, processing the information. He glanced at his team, his mind already working through the next steps.
Alright," Ice barked, his tone sharp and commanding. "Mount your Victors. We roll out."
He turned to Ares, pointing at him with a steady hand. "Ares, on the machine gun. Swat any dumbass out of the way who's stupid enough to stand in our path."
Ares grinned, already moving toward the JLTV. "With pleasure, boss."
Ice stepped toward the lead vehicle, glancing back at his team. "Let's go do some Seal Team 6 shit!" he called, his voice filled with a mix of determination and adrenaline.
Whiskey let out a short laugh over the comms as he climbed into the driver's seat of the second vehicle. "Bloody right! Let's show these bastards how it's done."
The operatives moved with precision, loading into the vehicles in record time. The faint hum of engines filled the air, a stark contrast to the tense silence moments earlier. The cat girl hesitated before climbing into the passenger seat beside Ares, her eyes filled with a flicker of hope despite the fear lingering in her expression.
"We're about to make some noise," Ice muttered as he pulled the door shut, his tone cold and resolute.
The engines roared to life, and the JLTVs surged forward, tearing through the castle grounds with an air of unstoppable force. The streets were eerily quiet under the cover of darkness, with no civilians in sight. Their headlights cut through the gloom, illuminating the narrow roads ahead as they picked up speed.
Wooden carts and market stalls became little more than splinters and debris in their wake, scattered like leaves as Ice drove with reckless precision. Suddenly, he yanked the steering wheel hard to the right, sending the vehicle careening toward the eastern side of Castle Town, where the dungeons were located. The sudden maneuver threw Lira against the gunner stand and Polak into the middle console.
"Goddammit, Ice! I hate it when you drive!" Polak yelled over the chaos, bracing himself as the vehicle jolted and swerved.
"Better than walking, isn't it?" Ice shot back, his voice calm despite the violent rocking of the JLTV.
Behind them, Whiskey's vehicle followed closely, its tires skidding slightly as he mirrored Ice's sharp turn. "Bloody hell, boss! You trying to kill us before we even get there?" Whiskey called over the comms, though his tone carried a hint of amusement.
"Just keep up!" Ice replied curtly, gripping the wheel tighter as they sped toward their destination.
Suddenly, Ice slammed on the brakes, bringing the JLTV to a screeching halt. Everything not securely tied down flew forward with the momentum, eliciting groans and curses from the occupants.
"For god's sake, Ice!" Polak snapped, rubbing his shoulder as he tried to gather his bearings. "I'm driving from now on!"
But Ice wasn't listening. He was already out of the vehicle, his boots hitting the ground with a sense of urgency. Reaching up, he clipped a pair of quad nods onto his helmet, the advanced night vision goggles paired with a next-generation thermal imager. With a quick adjustment, his entire world transformed into an eerie shade of green, the faint heat signatures of nearby figures coming into sharp focus against the dark night sky.
Ice scanned the area, his movements calculated and precise. The faint outlines of distant guards and the dim glow of the dungeon entrance came into view, stark against the cool background of the night.
Behind him, the rest of the team began dismounting, their own equipment ready. Whiskey stepped down with a mutter. "Next time, boss, try not to give us bloody whiplash."
"Alright. Enough," Ice hissed, his voice low but urgent. The tension in his tone silenced the murmurs as the team snapped into focus. Each operative quickly equipped their NVGs, the eerie green glow of the night vision illuminating their faces. Nearby, Lira closed her eyes briefly, performing a quiet incantation. When she opened them again, her magic had enhanced her vision, allowing her to see the darkened world as if it were broad daylight.
"We go in, hard and fast," Ice continued, his tone sharp and decisive. "Free the family, secure the girl, and get out. No delays."
"R.O.E.?" Polak asked, his hands steady as he chambered a round in his AN-94, the soft click resonating in the still night.
Ice's voice dropped an octave, cold and resolute. "No mercy."
The metal door crashed open with a resounding clang, the force of Whiskey's kick sending it flying off its hinges. The noise reverberated through the dark corridor, followed by a chorus of terrified screams and confused shouts from inside the cells. The team moved in like shadows, their presence swift and commanding.
Whiskey led the charge, his silenced pistol snapping twice as he fired into a sleeping guard at the end of the hallway. The man slumped forward, lifeless, and the corridor filled with more panicked cries.
"Where are they?!" Ice barked, his voice cold and demanding as he turned to the cat girl still in her maid outfit.
Her wide, fearful eyes locked onto Ice's mask. The helmet he wore, with its four glowing green lenses, gave him an almost spectral appearance. Being part cat, her natural night vision allowed her to see clearly, but to the other prisoners locked in their cells, the operators looked like eerie, otherworldly creatures—four green-eyed entities prowling through the darkness.
"There," she whispered softly, pointing toward a cell at the far end of the hallway.
Ice nodded in acknowledgment, wasting no time. He strode toward the indicated cell, the faint hum of his night vision goggles adding to the tension. He peered inside, his imposing silhouette blocking out the faint light filtering through the bars.
Huddled in the far-right corner of the cell were four figures, their terrified eyes staring back at him. They clung to each other, shaking, their fear palpable as they tried to make sense of the masked figure before them.
"They're here," Ice muttered into his comms, his voice low but resolute. "Pops, Whiskey—get this door open. Lira, Polak, watch the exits."
"Yes, sir," Polak replied, already moving toward the cell with practiced efficiency as he pulled out his breaching tools.
Whiskey stood beside him, his Pistol at the ready. "You got it, boss. Let's get 'em out."
Without wasting any time, the metal cell door was kicked in again, the force echoing loudly in the narrow hallway. Pops and Whiskey rushed in, their movements swift and deliberate as they helped the four figures to their feet. The captives, still trembling, were quickly escorted out of the dungeon and toward the waiting vehicles.
Outside, Ares, manning the M240 on the JLTV, scanned the road they had come from. Through his night vision, he spotted movement—shadows quickly forming into the unmistakable outlines of knights running in formation down the dark street.
"Shit!" Ares growled, racking the charging handle of the machine gun. "Incoming!"
Ice, still at the dungeon entrance, turned sharply toward him. "Then let it rip!"
Without hesitation, Ares squeezed the trigger. The heavy M240 roared to life, the rhythmic tat-tat-tat cutting through the night like thunder. A storm of 7.62x51mm rounds ripped through the air, tearing into the formation of knights. Every fifth round was a tracer, glowing red as it streaked through the dark sky, illuminating the chaos below. Some tracer rounds embedded themselves into the charging knights, dropping them instantly, while others deflected off the ground and ricocheted into the air like fireflies gone rogue.
The knights scrambled, their formation collapsing under the relentless barrage. Cries of pain and confusion echoed through the street as bodies fell or were sent sprawling by the sheer force of the bullets.
"Keep them pinned!" Ice shouted as he hurried back toward the vehicles, helping load the last of the captives. "We're almost clear!"
"Copy that!" Ares called down, adjusting his aim to sweep the road, cutting off any chance of reinforcements. His grin was grim as he kept the trigger depressed, the M240 rattling as it spat death into the darkness.
Inside the lead vehicle, Whiskey slammed the door shut and keyed his radio. "Boss, everyone's loaded. Let's get the hell out of here!"
"Go! Go! Go!" Ice barked, climbing into the passenger seat as the engines roared to life.
The JLTVs kicked up dirt and debris as they peeled out, Ares continuing to lay down suppressive fire until the knights were nothing but distant shadows in the rearview mirror.
A/N:
Holy... 12k Words. That's officially the longest Chapter I've done, till now. But hey... the story's still young so maybe there will be longer chaps coming. Who knows.
And please don't shoot me. I have planned to include Ice finding out about the Shield absorbing stuff but I couldn't fit it in anywhere... sorry lads. But next cjapter. I promise!
Reviews:
triscythe59—You weren'r wrong with them trying something else... hehe.