Chapter - 15 - In the Shadow of Destruction

Riyute Village

[Redacted] "Ice" [Redacted]

As the sun rose over the horizon, its golden rays illuminated the full extent of the devastation left behind after the Wave of Calamity and its monstrous onslaught. Smoke pillars spiraled upward, darkening the once-clear sky with their ominous presence. The ground below was a grim tapestry of destruction—homes reduced to rubble, fields scorched beyond recognition, and streets littered with the bodies of the dead and the anguished cries of the wounded.

The two JLTVs sat parked in the heart of the village, their armored frames casting long shadows in the morning light. Children and adults alike stood frozen, their gazes fixed on the two mechanical behemoths that seemed so alien to their world. The hum of their engines had long since faded, but their sheer presence left an indelible mark on the villagers.

At the entrances to the village, the MTF operatives stood guard, their rifles at the ready as they watched for any sign of danger. Their imposing stances and silent vigilance provided a sense of security—albeit an intimidating one—to the weary villagers.

Meanwhile, Ice and Lira stood in the mayor's modest home, the air thick with the scent of burning wood and the faint cries of the injured outside. The village mayor, a wiry man with tired eyes and calloused hands, nodded along as Ice laid out his plans.

"I'd like to leave them here," Ice said, gesturing toward the maid and her family, who huddled nearby. "Your people seem like a respectable bunch, and I don't trust the Kingdom to keep them safe."

The mayor's face seemed to brighten at Ice's words of praise, but the gratitude quickly faded into a troubled expression. He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as he spoke. "I am sorry, Honored Shield Hero. As much as I am thankful for what you've done for my village, I'm afraid I cannot take them in… as they are Demi-Humans."

Ice's gaze hardened, staring at the man as though he had just sprouted a second head. "You're saying you can't take them in just because they've got cat ears and whiskers?" His voice carried a dangerous edge, his patience wearing thin.

The mayor raised his hands defensively. "No, no, it's not that I dislike them," he stammered. "It's just… Demi-Humans are seen as slave workers in this kingdom. They're viewed as… lesser than humans. If even one knight catches wind of them living here, among us, there will be an uproar in Castletown. I have no doubt the King would send enforcers to… let's say, deal with me and anyone who sympathizes with Demis."

Ice's jaw tightened, his fists clenching as the mayor's words sunk in. The blatant prejudice disgusted him, and the cowardice behind the explanation wasn't helping matters. "So you're saying you'd let these people suffer because you're too afraid to stand up to the Kingdom?"

The mayor flinched, guilt flashing across his face. "It's not that simple," he pleaded. "I have my people to think of. If I openly defy the King, it's not just me who will suffer—it's everyone in this village."

Lira, standing silently beside Ice, glanced at the frightened cat girl and her family. Her fists clenched as well, her heart aching at the helplessness in their eyes.

Ice exhaled sharply, turning his gaze away from the mayor and back toward the family. "Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath, his mind already racing to find another solution.

But," the mayor spoke up again, his voice hesitant but determined, "there are other nations that will take them in with open arms." He stood and walked over to a nearby shelf, pulling out a map that looked well-used but detailed. Spreading it across the table, he pointed to an area in the north. "You can bring them here, to Siltvelt," he said, his finger tracing over the marked territory. "Or here, to Shieldfreeden," his finger moved further north.

Ice leaned over the map, studying the locations. "That's… pretty far up," he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. The distance wasn't just inconvenient—it was dangerous, especially with the Kingdom's hostility and the ever-present threat of the Waves.

The mayor nodded solemnly. "I know, but it's the safest option for them in the long term. I have to warn you, though…" He hesitated before continuing, "Siltvelt isn't very fond of humans. In fact, they hate us with every fiber of their being. If you decide to go there, you'll need to be very careful."

Ice's gaze flicked back to the map, his expression unreadable behind his mask. "Great. A country that hates humans, and another that's halfway across the continent," he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Lira stepped closer, her eyes scanning the map. "But it's better than leaving them here, isn't it? At least they'll have a chance."

Ice nodded slowly, letting out a sharp exhale. "Yeah, you're right." His eyes returned to the mayor. "Thanks for the information. We'll figure it out."

The mayor inclined his head, his expression apologetic. "I wish I could—"

The door suddenly flew open with a loud crash, cutting him off. Polak stood in the doorway, his breathing ragged but controlled, his rifle slung over his shoulder. His masked face betrayed no emotion, but the urgency in his tone was unmistakable.

"Boss… your best friend just arrived."

Ice froze for a moment, his eyebrow raising in suspicion. "My… Oh, fuck me…" he muttered, dread washing over him as he quickly connected the dots.

Without wasting a second, Ice, Lira, and the mayor rushed outside. As they emerged into the open, Ice's worst prediction materialized before his eyes.

Through one of the gates, a column of knights marched in formation, their armor glinting in the morning sunlight. The sight of their disciplined approach was unsettling enough, but trailing behind them was a figure Ice instantly recognized—and to his total annoyance, it was none other than Motoyasu.

The Spear Hero strutted confidently alongside his entourage of women adventurers, Malty glued to his side as always, her smug expression already grating on Ice's nerves.

"Well, isn't this just perfect," Ice muttered under his breath, his tone laced with sarcasm and irritation.

Polak stepped up beside him, his voice calm but dry. "Told you, boss. Your best friend."

"Yeah, thanks for the heads-up," Ice replied, his gaze narrowing as he watched the knights spread out, securing the perimeter of the village. "This day just keeps getting better."

Lira glanced up at him, her brows furrowing. "What are we going to do?"

Ice sighed heavily, his hand instinctively resting on his sidearm. "We see what they want. And if they push, we push back twice as hard."

Ice tapped his comms, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "Yo, guys. Rally on me. We've got company."

It didn't take long for his team to respond. Whiskey had climbed onto a nearby rooftop, his M40A5 sniper rifle already set up on its bi-pod. Through his scope, he tracked Motoyasu, his crosshairs resting on the Spear Hero's head.

"Got eyes on him," Whiskey murmured over the comms. "Just say the word."

Meanwhile, Pops and Ares emerged from between two alleys, their movements smooth and calculated as they fell into step beside Ice. The knights shifted uncomfortably at the sight of the operatives, their unease palpable. They had heard stories—stories of what these men were capable of—and now they were seeing the infamous figures up close.

Still, one knight bit through his nerves as Malty stepped forward, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. In her hands, she held a scroll, its edges adorned with the royal seal. She stopped a few paces from Ice and his team, unrolling the parchment with an air of smug authority.

"I, Princess Malty S. Melromarc," she began, her voice projecting over the square, "declare this village and its surrounding land as property of Sir Motoyasu, the Spear Hero! On top of that. There will be a Import-Export and Travel Tax of three gold Coins."

The villagers murmured anxiously, the tension in the square rising as Malty's words echoed through the air. "Three gold coins? That's outrageous!" A Villager exclaimed.

Ice remained still, his stance calm but his eyes narrowing behind his mask as he processed the declaration. Beside him, Pops shook his head in disbelief, muttering under his breath.

Ares, however, stepped forward, his voice cutting through the uneasy chatter like a blade. "That's complete and total bullshit!" he announced, his tone sharp and unwavering.

"How dare you—" one of the knights began, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword, but Ares was having none of it.

"No, how dare you," Ares snapped, his finger jabbing toward the knight. "How dare you come here, to this village, and hand it over to this incompetent fuck?" He gestured toward Motoyasu, his words dripping with disdain.

The knight's face reddened in anger, but he froze under the weight of Ares' glare. Pops chuckled softly, his voice low but audible. "Looks like someone forgot their manners."

Whiskey's voice crackled over the comms, dry as ever. "You want me to put a punctuation mark on his little speech, boss? Got a clear shot."

"Hold," Ice muttered, his voice low but firm. He stepped forward slightly, his presence commanding. "Let's see how this plays out."

Lira glanced between the operatives and the growing tension in the square, her hands curling into fists as she fought to stay silent. The villagers, sensing the brewing conflict, took hesitant steps back, their anxious whispers growing louder.

Malty, meanwhile, looked between Ares and Ice, her smug confidence wavering slightly as her grip on the scroll tightened. "This is a royal decree," she hissed, her voice rising in pitch. "You have no authority to question it!"

Yeah, and you can royally go fuck yourself!" Ares shot back, his voice booming across the square, leaving an audible gasp among the gathered villagers. He took a step forward, his hand resting on his weapon. "We secured and protected this village from total annihilation while you fucking idiots were screwing around in the forest!"

Malty's face twisted in outrage, her smug demeanor replaced with barely-contained fury. "You dare speak to me, a royal princess, like that?!"

Ares barked out a sharp laugh, his tone dripping with contempt. "Oh, dare doesn't even begin to cover it, sweetheart. You're lucky I'm not shooting your ass right this instant."

The knights surrounding Malty shifted uncomfortably, their hands inching toward their weapons, but their movements were hesitant. They weren't prepared for this level of defiance, nor the blatant lack of fear from the operatives.

"Stand down, Ares," Ice said coldly, raising a hand, though his eyes never left Malty. His tone was calm, but the weight behind his words made Ares step back slightly, though the defiance in his posture remained.

Ice took a single step forward, his imposing figure drawing the attention of everyone in the square. "Let's get something straight," he began, his voice steady and commanding. "You don't get to walk in here and claim this village after doing absolutely nothing to save it. We spilled blood here. We protected these people. Where the hell were you?"

The villagers murmured their agreement, their courage bolstered by Ice's words.

Malty's expression faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's the King's decree!" she snapped. "This village and its lands belong to Sir Motoyasu, the Spear Hero, and you have no authority to dispute it!"

Ice tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing behind his mask. "I don't need authority to call out bullshit when I see it."

Malty's face turned beet red, her composure cracking under the weight of Ice's words and the defiant glares from the villagers. "You insolent wretch!" she spat. "The King will hear of this insubordination, and you will face judgment!"

Ice leaned forward slightly, his tone calm but laced with menace. "Let me make something crystal clear: I don't take orders from you, your dad, or any of your bootlicking cronies. You can go cry to the King all you want, but this village isn't some prize for you to hand out."

Behind him, Pops muttered with a faint smirk, "Bet she's not used to people talking back."

Whiskey chimed in over the comms, his voice dripping with amusement. "Oh, I've got the Spear Wanker's face in my scope. He looks like he's about to shit himself."

"Hold your fire," Ice replied curtly, his focus still on Malty. "We're not starting a war. At least not today."

Motoyasu, who had been standing silently, his confidence visibly wavering, finally found his voice. "You… you have no right to speak to Princess Malty like that!" he shouted, stepping forward. His hand gripped his spear tightly, though his stance was far from threatening. "You're just the Shield Demon!"

Ice tilted his head and let out a slow, mocking laugh. "Oh, look, he speaks. What's wrong, Spear Boy? Not used to doing anything without Mommy Malty holding your hand?"

The villagers chuckled nervously, some even smirking at Ice's jab. Motoyasu's face flushed with anger as he stepped closer, pointing his spear at Ice.

"You're treading dangerous ground, Shield Hero!" Motoyasu growled. "This land belongs to me now, and you have no say in the matter!"

Before Ice could respond, Ares spoke up again, his voice sharp and mocking. "Land belongs to you? Pendejo, you didn't even know this place existed until now. We're the ones who saved these people while you were busy playing hero in the forest. The village stays where it is with it's current leadership."

Motoyasu hesitated, his confidence shaken as he glanced at Malty for support. She stepped forward, her smirk returning as she tried to regain control of the situation. "Enough of this nonsense. Knights, escort these… outlanders out of the village. Now."

The knights hesitated, their hands still on their weapons but clearly unsure about engaging the operatives. The memory of what these men had done in the duel still lingered, and none of them seemed eager to test their luck.

Ice took a step forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Why send your knights, huh? Why don't you fight me over the village instead?" His tone was sharp, filled with mockery as he gestured toward Motoyasu. "Come on, Spear Boy. I'll fold your ass like a lawn chair. Again."

The villagers stifled nervous chuckles, their fear slowly giving way to admiration for Ice's unwavering confidence. Motoyasu's face twisted in anger and humiliation, the memory of his last defeat at Ice's hands flashing in his mind.

"That duel was a fluke!" Motoyasu snapped, gripping his spear tighter. "You only won because of those… those weapons of yours!"

"Fluke?" Ice shot back with a cold laugh. "You mean the same 'fluke' that had you crying in the dirt like a toddler who lost his favorite toy? Face it, Motoyasu—you're all talk and no bite."

Malty stepped in, her face contorted in fury. "How dare you speak to Sir Motoyasu like that! He is a true hero, unlike you—"

"Save it," Ice interrupted, his voice firm as he pointed a finger at her. "You're just mad because you couldn't rig this fight too."

The knights shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure whether to step in or keep their distance. Meanwhile, Pops and Ares exchanged quiet chuckles, their stances relaxed but ready to escalate at a moment's notice.

"You really wanna do this?" Ice continued, taking another step forward, his shield shifting slightly on his arm. "We can throw down right here, right now. You, me, the whole circus you've got with you. I'll even let your cheerleaders watch."

Motoyasu hesitated, his confidence faltering under the weight of Ice's challenge. His eyes darted to Malty, who gave him a subtle but firm shake of her head, clearly not wanting to risk another public humiliation.

"That's what I thought," Ice said, his voice dripping with disdain. He turned slightly, addressing the villagers. "See? He doesn't even have the guts to fight for what he supposedly owns. Some 'hero,' huh?"

The villagers murmured in agreement, their support for Ice growing stronger as they watched the so-called Spear Hero shrink under the weight of his own cowardice.

"Okay," Ice began, raising a hand as if to pause the conversation. "Let's break this down. Just for a second. Because it seems like you still don't get it." His tone was calm again, but the edge of irritation lingered. "I'm gonna focus solely on your tax plan bullshit. You're telling me you want to charge these people three gold coins for import, export, and even just entering or leaving the village? Do you not hear how outrageous that sounds?"

Motoyasu crossed his arms, puffing out his chest with defiant confidence. "No! This is right! With the Waves incoming, the Royal Family has more expenses. It's only fair."

Ice stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. For a moment, he said nothing, just blinking at the Spear Hero in disbelief. Finally, he exhaled sharply and shook his head. "You are stupider than you look. Do you know that?"

Before Motoyasu could reply, Ice raised a hand to silence him. "No, no, don't even speak yet. Listen up, Spear Idiot. Let me make this simple for you. This man," Ice gestured to a farmer standing nearby, "makes about two silver coins a day working his fields and another four from exporting his goods to other villages. That's a total of six silver coins a day. Got it?"

Motoyasu nodded dumbly, his brow furrowed as if he were trying to piece together what Ice was getting at.

"Then," Ice continued, "comes the tax for the roads, which costs at least fifty bronze coins per trip. That leaves him with five silver and fifty bronze coins. Still following?"

Motoyasu nodded again, though confusion was starting to creep into his expression.

"Then there's the actual tax—the one he already pays every month—which costs four silver coins. That leaves him with one silver and fifty bronze coins. In your terms, that's about a buck and fifty cents. And now, you want to slap on another tax—your tax—which will cost him another three hundred silver coins if we're doing the math right."

The crowd murmured in disbelief, the absurdity of the tax plan sinking in. Motoyasu, however, just blinked, clearly struggling to grasp the problem.

"You're literally telling these people to bankrupt themselves to fund your delusions," Ice said, his voice growing sharper. "And you think this is fair? Are you insane?"

The farmer Ice had gestured to stepped forward, his voice trembling but resolute. "Honored Shield Hero speaks the truth. We already struggle to make ends meet. Such a tax would ruin us."

The murmurs grew louder, villagers voicing their agreement and shooting angry glances at Motoyasu and Malty. Ice crossed his arms, watching as the weight of reality began to settle on Motoyasu—though Malty still stood defiantly, her face twisted in frustration.

"Well, Spear Hero?" Ice asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Still think your little tax plan is 'right?' Or are you starting to see just how stupid it actually is?"

Motoyasu's face showed, for a fleeting moment, that he was actually thinking for once. But just as that rare spark of logic began to form, Malty leaned in, whispering something in his ear. Ice watched the exchange closely, his eyes narrowing as he noticed something strange. Motoyasu's eyes began to glow—literally glow—as if Malty had cast some kind of spell over him.

Then, Motoyasu straightened up, his expression hardening into a glare aimed directly at Ice. "This is totally justified as a tax!" he declared, his voice dripping with misplaced authority. "Riyute Village has already been behind on taxes. This should serve as a lesson for them."

Ice opened his mouth to retort, but the sheer audacity and disrespect of Motoyasu's words left him momentarily stunned. He stared at the Spear Hero, genuinely at a loss for words. It wasn't just the stupidity—it was the complete and utter disdain for the people he claimed to protect.

"Alright… I… I…" Ice stammered, struggling to find the right words, his brain refusing to process what he had just heard.

Motoyasu's chest puffed up as he took Ice's hesitation as a victory. "See?" he said smugly, his hands on his hips as he struck a ridiculous hero pose. "Even you have to admit that this is the only way."

Ice blinked, still trying to form a coherent response. Then, slowly, he exhaled, the disbelief in his expression giving way to something sharper.

"I have to admit," Ice began, his tone measured but laced with venom. Motoyasu's grin widened in triumph.

But then Ice finished, "This is the absolute dumbest, most brain-dead, completely rotten excuse for logic I've ever heard in my entire goddamn life."

Motoyasu's grin vanished in an instant, replaced by a mixture of shock and offense. The villagers, meanwhile, couldn't suppress their snickers, some outright laughing at the Spear Hero's expense.

Malty's face darkened as she stepped forward. "How dare you insult Sir Motoyasu like that!" she spat.

"Oh, it wasn't an insult," Ice shot back dryly. "It was a fact."

Pops, having had enough of the back-and-forth bickering, stepped forward with an air of authority. He let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, his frustration evident. "Y'all are acting like a bunch of kids fighting over a toy. How about this: you man up, end this shit right here and now, in a good old-fashioned, one-on-one fistfight. No fancy magic, no spear, no shield. Just two men and their fists. How does that sound?"

Motoyasu shifted uncomfortably for a moment, glancing at his entourage before a smug grin crept across his face. "And why no magic? Are you scared your prescious Shield Hero would lose to my overwhelming Power?" he retorted, his entourage of knights and female adventurers chuckling at his quip.

Pops didn't flinch. Instead, he folded his arms, his tone steady and unimpressed. "No," he said nonchalantly, meeting Motoyasu's gaze with a level stare. "I'm saying no magic because you, ya muttonhead, would probably flatten the whole damn village with that oversized toothpick of yours."

The chuckles from Motoyasu's entourage faltered as the implications sank in, and the onlookers shifted uncomfortably. Even Motoyasu's grin faltered slightly as Pops took another step forward, towering over him.

"So," Pops continued, his voice firm, "how about you stop posturing and show us if you've got what it takes to be a real Hero? Or are you too scared to go head-to-head without all your fancy tricks?"

The crowd murmured, anticipation thick in the air, all eyes turning to Motoyasu to see how he would respond.

Ice stepped forward, his movements deliberate and confident, his imposing figure amplified by the calm yet chilling tone in his voice. The faintest grin was evident beneath his balaclava, his piercing eyes locking onto Motoyasu with an intensity that made even the knights shuffle uneasily.

"Oh, please…" Ice drawled, his voice dripping with a dangerous kind of amusement. He tilted his head slightly, like a predator toying with its prey. "I'm begging you… Say yes."

The tension in the air thickened as the crowd seemed to hold its collective breath. Motoyasu's confident facade wavered for a moment as he glanced at Ice, taking in the way he carried himself—like someone who had seen more battles than the Spear Hero could imagine. Motoyasu clenched his jaw and straightened his posture, clearly fighting to keep his bravado intact.

I'm the Spear Hero! I don't have to put up with something as childish as a fistfight against you. And on top of that, you'd probably use one of your lackeys to rig this fight. Shield demon!" Motoyasu spat, attempting to regain his bravado, but his voice lacked the weight it carried before, a subtle crack betraying his confidence.

"¡Ey, pendejo!" Ares growled, his voice cutting through the tense air like a blade. His tone was low and dangerous, brimming with barely restrained fury. "Did you just call me a lackey, cabron?! Hijo de puta, estúpido!"

The crowd fell silent, the sharpness of Ares's words shocking even Motoyasu's entourage. The Spear Hero blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard by the outburst. Ares stepped forward, his imposing frame making the knights around Motoyasu flinch. His hand hovered near his chest as if itching to reach for something, though he clearly didn't need a weapon to make his point.

"You're lucky I don't teach you a lesson right now, niño mimado," Ares hissed, the venom in his voice palpable. "But maybe that's why you're scared of a fistfight. You know you'd lose—badly."

Pops smirked, arms crossed as he watched the exchange. "He's got a point, kid. All that talk, and yet here you are making excuses."

Motoyasu's face reddened in both anger and embarrassment. "I am not scared! I just don't want to waste my time on someone who's beneath me!"

Ice chuckled coldly, stepping forward to stand beside Ares. "Beneath you? That's rich, coming from someone too scared to back up his words. But hey, run along, Hero. I guess we'll see how much that title really means when one day one of these waves will be your end Pendejo."

Fine! Fine! I'll fight the Shield Demon. But no tricks!" Motoyasu finally snapped, his voice rising as the taunts and jeers of the MTFs pushed him past his breaking point. The tension in the air broke as the townsfolk of Riyute erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable.

"Tricks?!" Ice exclaimed, stepping forward and placing a hand on his chest in mock offense. "I'm a man of honor, Spear Hero. How dare you!" His voice was laced with exaggerated indignation, his tone only making the townsfolk laugh harder. Behind him, Pops smirked, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Lira, standing off to the side with her arms crossed, scoffed audibly. "Oh, please," she muttered, shaking her head. "The only honor you have is the kind you make up to get under people's skin."

"That hurts, Lira," Ice said, feigning a wounded look as he turned toward her. "Truly, your words cut deeper than any spear could." His grin betrayed his true feelings—he was loving every second of the exchange.

"Enough with the theatrics!" Motoyasu barked, his face red with embarrassment and anger. "Let's just get this over with. I'll show you the true power of a hero!" He slammed the butt of his spear into the ground, the metallic clang echoing through the square.

Now that's the spirit," Whiskey interjected as he burst through the wall of spectators, his grin wide and unbothered. Polak gave him a look, his expression clearly asking, What the hell are you doing down here?!

Whiskey caught the silent question immediately and shrugged. "I ain't missing a good ass whooping," he said casually, stepping closer to the circle. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he clapped his hands together and called out, "Alright! I'm betting two silver on the Spear Twat! Who's with me?!"

The crowd went dead silent, and all eyes turned to Whiskey. Polak pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered under his breath. "Why?" he asked flatly, his tone tinged with disbelief.

"Someone has to bet on the opposition," Whiskey replied with a shrug. "Besides, the lad can't be that bad." He glanced at Motoyasu, who was trying to adjust his awkward fighting stance, and added under his breath, "Right?"

A murmur rippled through the crowd as the tension broke. Slowly, a few hands shot up among Motoyasu's entourage. "I'll bet five silver on the Spear Hero!" one of the knights called out confidently.

"Make it ten!" another announced, holding up a coin purse.

Pops clapped his hands once, cutting through the growing noise. "Alright, let's settle down, folks. This isn't a betting arena, though I do admire the entrepreneurial spirit." He glanced pointedly at Whiskey, who gave a cheeky thumbs-up. "Now, let's lay some ground rules. No magic, no fancy hero powers, no backup from your knights, and no weapons. Just you and Ice, man-to-man. Clear?"

Motoyasu nodded begrudgingly, his jaw tight. "Fine," he muttered, glancing at his spear before ramming one end into the dirt ground below and leaving it there, standing tall and proud.

Ice, on the other hand, looked entirely at ease. He loosened his shoulders with a roll and cracked his knuckles. "Man-to-man, huh? Hope you've been working on your cardio, hero," he said with a grin, his tone dripping with mockery. He took off the Shield, held by Magic from his arm and placed it on his back, since he couldn't leave it like Motoyasu.

Whiskey, never one to stay quiet, called out from the sidelines, "Don't embarrass me, Spear Twat! I got two silver riding on you!"

The crowd roared with laughter as Motoyasu's face flushed bright red. Lira, standing off to the side, rolled her eyes and muttered, "This is going to be a disaster."

Pops chuckled under his breath, watching the scene unfold. "Oh, no doubt. But it's gonna be a hell of a show."

Someone wants to play the Octagon Girl?" Ice asked, half-jokingly, as he glanced around the crowd.

He didn't expect an answer, much less from Whiskey, who suddenly raised his hand with an excited grin. "YES! I always wanted to do this once!" he called out, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.

The crowd's laughter turned into gasps of surprise as Whiskey began stripping down. First, he removed his helmet, followed by his combat gear—carefully setting his Plate Carrier and other equipment aside. Then he pulled off his combat top, leaving him in a black tank top that clung tightly to his broad, muscular frame.

The reaction was immediate. Village women openly gawked, their faces flushed as they took in his chiseled physique. A few even elbowed each other, whispering excitedly. Lira, on the other hand, turned a furious shade of red and whipped her head away, refusing to look at Whiskey. She muttered under her breath, "What the hell is he doing?!" but couldn't stop herself from sneaking a glance.

Whiskey, completely unfazed, rolled his shoulders and stretched theatrically, flexing his muscles as if he were preparing for a world-class fight. "Alright, folks!" he announced, snatching a random scarf from a nearby merchant stall and twirling it like a banner. The villagers, intrigued and amused, began to cheer. "Good Morning, ladies and gentlemen of Riyute Village! Welcome to the first ever cage fight in this humble town!" Whiskey's voice boomed as he drew out each word for maximum effect, earning a roar from the crowd.

"In the red corner," Whiskey began, pacing dramatically, "we have the challenger—a man so full of himself, you'd think he invented the concept of arrogance. Equally entitled and mentally challenged, he was forced into his current role because, well, destiny made a clerical error!" The villagers erupted into laughter, save for the knights and adventurers, who shot Whiskey dirty looks. "Ladies and gentlemen, give a roaring round of applause for the one, the only… the legendary Spear Twat!" A smattering of applause came from the knights, adventurers, and Malty, who clapped a bit too enthusiastically.

Whiskey let the cheers fade before raising a hand for silence. He pivoted to the other side of the imaginary ring, lifting the scarf dramatically like a championship belt. "And in the blue corner, we have the reigning, undefeated champion of Riyute's ass-kicking circuit. A man so formidable, so relentless, that even his shadow runs in fear!" Whiskey paused for the effect, smirking as the villagers leaned in, captivated. "With a total weight of 95 kilos and a height equivalent to nine average loaves of bread! A man so cold the people literally call him Ice. Ladies and gentlemen, let's give a thunderous ovation for your hometown champion—the Shield Hero!"

The crowd exploded into cheers and laughter, drowning out Malty's indignant scoff. Whiskey grinned wide, holding his arms up like he was soaking in the applause for himself. Nearby, Ice crossed his arms and gave a slight nod, clearly trying to keep his amusement in check, while Motoyasu seethed visibly, gripping his fists tight.

Whiskey strode to the center of the makeshift ring, his presence commanding as he flexed his muscles again for good measure. He caught the attention of a small group of local ladies, giving them a quick wink that sent them into a chorus of delighted squeals. A smug grin spread across his face as he milked their reaction.

Turning sharply, he pointed an accusatory finger at Motoyasu. "Are you ready?" Whiskey's voice carried the same theatrical tone that had been entertaining the crowd all evening.

Motoyasu straightened, puffing out his chest in defiance. "Yes!" he barked, his tone attempting confidence but faltering under the weight of the crowd's mixed reactions.

Whiskey pivoted smoothly, his finger now aimed at Ice. "And you, are you ready?"

Ice didn't waste words. He responded with a simple nod, his eyes locked on Motoyasu with a calm, unwavering intensity. The crowd grew quiet, sensing the tension in the air.

Satisfied, Whiskey dramatically raised his arm, holding the tension for just a moment longer. "Fight!" he bellowed, slicing his arm through the air in a decisive motion before striding out of the ring. The villagers erupted into cheers and hollers as he casually rejoined the sidelines, flashing one last grin at the group of ladies, who blushed furiously.

Motoyasu lunged forward, fists flying, his expression twisted with determination. Ice, calm as ever, stepped aside effortlessly, the attack missing him by a mile. The crowd gasped at the display of agility.

Frustrated, Motoyasu spun around, throwing another wild punch. But it was just as sloppy as the first. Ice sidestepped again, this time more deliberately, his movements smooth and calculated. With a subtle smirk beneath his balaclava, he extended his leg just enough.

Motoyasu, carried by the momentum of his poorly aimed punch, tripped over Ice's outstretched leg and went sprawling face-first into the dirt. The crowd burst into laughter, a wave of jeers and cheers rippling through the spectators. Even some of Motoyasu's own entourage struggled to suppress their amusement.

"Watch your footing, Spear Twat!" Whiskey called from the sidelines, earning another round of laughter from the villagers.

Motoyasu pushed himself up, his face red with a mixture of embarrassment and fury. "You got lucky!" he snarled, brushing the dirt from his clothes.

Ice didn't respond. He simply adjusted his stance and gestured for Motoyasu to come at him again, his cool demeanor only fueling the Spear Hero's frustration.

"Come on," Ice said in a low, taunting voice. "Is that all you've got?"

The crowd roared with anticipation as Motoyasu, teeth clenched and eyes blazing, charged forward again this time with a roar of frustration, throwing a flurry of punches in rapid succession. His form was sloppy, his rage clouding his judgment, and each attack was telegraphed a mile away.

From the sidelines, Polak's sharp eyes caught the faint glow emanating from Malty's hand as she discreetly began to weave a spell, her fingers twitching with precision. Her expression was twisted in frustration and desperation, clearly unwilling to let Motoyasu suffer such humiliation without interference.

Polak's instincts kicked in instantly. With a fluid motion, he raised his AN-94, the barrel aimed squarely at Malty's glowing hand. The distinct, mechanical clak-clak of the rifle being readied echoed through the air, cutting through the noise of the cheering crowd like a blade.

The sound froze Malty mid-cast, her eyes snapping to Polak's. Her expression shifted from anger to alarm as she saw the unflinching determination in his steely gaze. The glowing light in her hand fizzled out as she hesitated.

"Think twice, princess," Polak said coldly, his finger resting lightly on the trigger. "You cast that spell, and we won't be aiming for your hand next time."

Ice proceeded to dodged every strike with minimal effort, leaning back, sidestepping, or casually swatting Motoyasu's hands aside. His movements were calm, precise, and frustratingly casual. It was like a dance for him, one he'd mastered long ago. Motoyasu, however, looked more like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

The crowd began to chant. "Shield Hero! Shield Hero!"

Motoyasu lunged again, this time with a poorly aimed kick. Ice caught his foot mid-air, holding it firmly for a second before shoving it upward with enough force to send Motoyasu tumbling onto his back. The Spear Hero landed with a heavy thud, groaning in pain as dirt clung to his once-pristine armor.

"Get up," Ice said, his voice calm but commanding. He took a step back, giving Motoyasu just enough space to stand.

Motoyasu scrambled to his feet, anger now radiating off him. "You're nothing without that shield!" he spat, trying to maintain some semblance of pride.

Ice tilted his head slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement beneath his balaclava. "Then why am I making you look like a fool without it?"

The villagers erupted into cheers and laughter, and even some of Motoyasu's knights exchanged uneasy glances. Malty, meanwhile, looked furious, her arms crossed tightly.

Enraged, Motoyasu lunged again, this time attempting to tackle Ice to the ground. Ice anticipated the move, sidestepping at the last second and hooking his arm around Motoyasu's neck as he passed. Using the momentum of the charge, Ice swung Motoyasu into the ground with a textbook-perfect judo throw. The impact shook the dirt beneath them, and Motoyasu let out a guttural groan.

Ice didn't let up. Before Motoyasu could recover, Ice grabbed him by the front of his tunic and pulled him into a knee strike to the stomach. Motoyasu wheezed as the air was forcibly expelled from his lungs, doubling over in pain.

"Stay down," Ice warned, his voice as cold as his name.

But Motoyasu, too prideful and enraged to accept defeat, threw a desperate punch. Ice caught it effortlessly, twisting Motoyasu's arm behind his back and forcing him to the ground. The Spear Hero cried out in pain as his face was pressed into the dirt.

"This is pathetic," Ice muttered. "You're supposed to be a hero, and yet… you fight like a fucking schoolgirl."

He released Motoyasu with a shove, stepping back to give him space. Motoyasu staggered to his feet, his entire body shaking with fury and humiliation. He glanced at his entourage for support, but they looked away, clearly embarrassed for him.

Motoyasu charged one last time, screaming incoherently. Ice rolled his eyes and sidestepped yet again, extending his arm to clothesline the Spear Hero mid-charge. Motoyasu flipped backward and landed hard on the ground, his limbs splayed out awkwardly.

The crowd erupted into cheers, laughter, and applause. Whiskey was nearly doubled over, laughing so hard he had to brace himself against Polak.

"Call it!" Ice said, standing over Motoyasu's prone form. "Unless you want me to knock that oversized ego out of you next."

Motoyasu groaned, coughing as he tried to sit up. But the fight had been beaten out of him, along with his pride. He collapsed back into the dirt, staring up at the sky as the realization of his humiliation sank in.

Whiskey, taking center stage again, raised his arms theatrically. "And the winner, by total and utter domination… the Shield Hero!"

The villagers erupted into a deafening roar of approval, chanting Ice's name. Motoyasu's knights and adventurers quickly began tending to his wounds and helping him up.

"Pathetic," Ice said, turning away from Motoyasu as the crowd rushed forward to celebrate him.

Some time later, the two parties gathered in the center of the village, each group fully geared and ready for their respective departures. The tension in the air had significantly lessened, but it still lingered like the last wisps of smoke from a doused fire.

Ice stood at the head of his team, arms crossed, his expression as unyielding as ever. His squad stood behind him, leaning casually against their JLTVs but clearly ready for anything. Across from them, Motoyasu and his entourage were visibly less composed. The Spear Hero fidgeted uncomfortably, his knights shifting awkwardly on their feet, while Malty scowled, standing slightly apart, her arms crossed in defiance.

"Alright, Spear Hero," Ice said, his voice calm but commanding. "Say it."

Motoyasu hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clearly reluctant. "But I—"

"No." Ice cut him off, his tone sharp and final. "No excuses. Say it."

Motoyasu opened his mouth, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. He looked around, as if searching for support, but even his knights avoided his gaze. Finally, with a heavy sigh and a slouch of defeat, he lifted a hand in a weak gesture.

"Alright… fine." He cleared his throat, his voice tinged with bitterness as he spoke. "I, Motoyasu Kitamura, the Hero of the Spear, have lost—fair and square—to the Shield Hero."

The villagers, who had gathered to watch, broke out into cheers at the declaration. Motoyasu winced at the sound, but he pressed on. "And with that… the Village of Riyute will remain free." He sighed heavily, muttering under his breath, "Happy now?"

"Delighted," Ice replied with a cool smirk, the faintest hint of satisfaction in his tone.

Behind him, Pops gave an exaggerated clap. "Well, that's a wrap, folks. Spear Twat's finally admitted defeat. Mark your calendars—this is history in the making."

Polak chuckled, adjusting his rifle. "And not a single round fired. Impressive."

Malty, however, was not impressed. She stepped forward, her eyes burning with anger. "You may have won this time, but don't think this is over, Shield Demon. The Church—"

"Save it," Ice interrupted, turning his back on her and walking toward his team's vehicles. "You've already wasted enough of our time."

Malty opened her mouth to retort, but Whiskey shot her a warning glare, casually resting his hand on the grip of his sidearm. She closed her mouth with a huff, turning back to Motoyasu.

"Let's go," she hissed, storming off toward their waiting horses. Motoyasu followed, his head hung low, his knights trailing behind him like a defeated procession.

As the Spear Hero's party disappeared down the road, Pops leaned over to Ice with a grin. "Well, that was satisfying. When's the next match?"

Ice rolled his eyes but allowed himself a small smirk as he climbed into the JLTV. "Let's hope this doesen't get a habit of his."

The team's engines roared to life, and one by one, the vehicles rolled out of the village, leaving the cheers of the villagers behind them.

Alright, ladies and gentlemen," Ice announced through the radio as the convoy rolled down the dirt road. "Next stop: Siltvelt."

There was a moment of static before Pops's voice came through, his tone laced with mild concern. "Uh… bad call, boss."

Ice frowned, his grip tightening on the wheel of his JLTV. "Huh? What do you mean, bad call?"

"Well, see… back at Site-19, I had the chance to dig a little deeper into the geo-politics of this world," Pops began, his voice measured but serious. "Siltvelt may have the church of the shield as their main religion, and yeah, they supposedly worship the Shield Hero. But, uh… they really don't like us."

The radio crackled with confused murmurs, and Ice's voice cut through. "You're gonna have to explain that one, Pops."

"Right," Pops sighed, leaning back in his seat as he continued. "Our predecessor—from about four or five ventures ago—well, let's just say they stirred up quite the ruckus in Siltvelt. Most of what they did is still classified, but let's just say the Foundation's presence didn't exactly win over the locals. The whole area's marked as a potential danger zone for us operatives."

"Define 'stirred up a ruckus,'" Whiskey chimed in, his voice dripping with curiosity.

Pops hesitated, clearly choosing his words carefully. "There are records of Foundation ops in the area—some involving SCP Cross-testing… others involving… uh, population control efforts. Long story short, we didn't exactly play nice, and the locals didn't take it well. Most of the records are blacked out, but from what I read? It wasn't pretty."

"Great," Polak muttered. "So, what? We show up, and they see us as the boogeymen?"

"Pretty much," Pops admitted. "I don't know how much has changed since the last time boots were on the ground over there, but I'd prefer not to find out the hard way."

Ares let out a low whistle. "So, what you're saying is, if we roll into Siltvelt, we're just as likely to get a welcoming parade as we are to wake up tied to a spit with a bunch of demi-humans roasting marshmallows around us."

"Exactly," Pops confirmed. "Now, I'm not saying we shouldn't go. I'm just saying we need to be cautious as hell if we do."

Ice took a moment to process Pops's words, the hum of the engine filling the silence. Finally, he sighed. "Alright, so if Siltvelt's a potential powder keg... so Shielffreeden it is then." Ice replied with a sigh. "That will be one hell of a car ride though..."

As the team drove northward, leaving Riyute Village behind and heading toward Shieldfreeden, the signs of destruction wrought by the Waves began to fade. The broken homes and scorched fields gradually gave way to unblemished landscapes. The scars of battle—the scattered debris, smoldering remains, and desolate streets—became fewer and fewer until they vanished entirely.

The change was striking, almost surreal, as if the chaos of the Waves had never touched this part of the world. The rolling hills and untouched forests ahead stood in stark contrast to the devastation they had left behind.

For a moment, it felt as though they were driving into a different world entirely. But suddenly, Ice had to slam the brakes as a man leapt into the path of the JLTV. Whiskey, following close behind in the second vehicle, braked hard as well, the abrupt stop almost throwing Ares out of the gunner position.

"HEY!" Ares yelled, gripping the M240 tightly as he steadied himself.

"Tell that to Ice!" Whiskey shot back, his tone defensive.

"Shut it, kids," Pops interjected, his voice carrying a tone of authority that immediately silenced the bickering.

Meanwhile, Ice had already dismounted the JLTV, Polak and Lira following close behind. Polak kept his AN-94 in a low ready, his trained eyes scanning the area as they cautiously approached the man who had forced them to stop.

Inside the second JLTV, Pops turned to the Demi-Humans huddled in the back. "You guys stay here. Don't touch anything," he ordered firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He tapped Whiskey on the shoulder before both of them dismounted to join Ice, Polak, and Lira.

The man standing before them looked, at first glance, like an average person of this world. But as they got closer, it became clear that something was distinctly different about him. His body was human-like, but his skin was tinged green, and what appeared to be a small leaf was growing out of his temple.

Ice's eyes narrowed behind his mask as he took in the man's peculiar features. Polak shifted his grip on his rifle, his gaze flicking between the man and their surroundings.

But it wasn't just the man that caught their attention—it was the massive tree behind him. The tree looked ancient, its gnarled trunk twisting into the sky, and from its base grew thick vines that snaked out like tentacles. The roots seemed alive, writhing faintly as though in response to their presence.

"What the hell is this…?" Ice muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible but carrying an edge of unease.

Lira stepped closer, her eyes wide as she stared at the man and the strange tree. "This isn't normal," she whispered, her tone filled with both curiosity and dread.

The man didn't move, his piercing eyes locked onto Ice. His expression was calm, almost unnervingly so, as if he had been expecting them.

"State your business," Ice commanded, his voice firm as Polak's grip on his weapon tightened.

The man remained silent for a moment, then raised a hand and pointed toward the massive tree. His voice, low and weak, finally broke the tension.

Help us…" the man muttered weakly before collapsing onto the ground.

The team staggered back slightly, their instincts immediately on high alert. Lira tried to bolt toward the man to assist, but Ice grabbed her chest rig and yanked her back harshly.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" he hissed, his glare sharp and unrelenting.

"What?! I was trying to help him!" she snapped, her own glare meeting his.

Before Ice could respond, Pops stepped in, pulling Lira toward him so she'd face him directly. "And if you got whatever the hell he's got, then what?" Pops growled, his voice low but firm. "How the fuck would you help anyone if you collapse, too?"

Lira froze, his words cutting through her frustration. She looked back at the man lying motionless on the ground, then at the ominous tree behind him. Her breath hitched as she realized the risk she'd almost taken.

"We don't know what's going on here," Ice said, his tone slightly calmer but still firm. "Until we do, no one touches him. Got it?"

Lira nodded reluctantly, stepping back as her gaze lingered on the man.

Ice exhaled slowly, calming himself as his gaze shifted back to the strange tree the man had pointed to earlier. As he took a closer look, something caught his eye in the distance—a village nestled nearby, partially obscured by the tree's massive branches.

The team nodded in unison, and just as Ice reached for the driver's door, Polak stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"No," the Polish man said simply, his tone flat and unyielding.

Ice raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the sudden defiance. Before he could say anything, Polak continued. "I'm driving, Ice." His voice was calm but firm as he pulled the door open and climbed into the driver's seat without another word.

Ice stood there for a moment, staring wordlessly after him, his mind catching up with the audacity of the move. From the second JLTV, Whiskey and Ares began snickering at the exchange.

"Did he just…" Whiskey muttered over the radio, unable to contain his amusement.

"Oh, he did," Ares replied with a chuckle. "Bold move, Polak."

Ice exhaled sharply, shaking his head in annoyance. Without saying a word, he walked around to the passenger side, yanked the door open, and climbed in.

Keying his radio, he muttered, "Everyone mount up. Let's move."

"Roger, boss," Pops replied, his voice betraying a hint of amusement.

Whiskey's voice came through next, barely stifling his laughter. "Don't worry, Ice. We'll let Polak handle it—might actually make the ride smoother this time."

Ice ignored the jab, his gaze fixed on the road ahead as Polak started the engine. The vehicle rumbled to life, and soon the team was rolling toward the village, the tension of the moment softened slightly by the light-hearted exchange. Ice then switched channels and keyed the radio for Station.

"Alright," Ice said, his voice steady now. "We're moving over there. Let's see what the fuck is going on."

"Station, this is Strike Force. How copy?"

"Solid copy, Strike Force," came Kaiser's voice over the comms, calm but attentive. "Send traffic, over."

"We need NBC gear, a helo, and every antidote we've got—poison, magical, whatever we've documented in this world. Over," Ice replied, listing off the critical items they'd need for the situation.

There was a brief pause before Kaiser responded. "Understood, Strike Force. Helo inbound with requested equipment. ETA ten mikes. Over."

"Roger, Station. Strike Team out," Ice confirmed, clipping the radio back onto his rig.

The JLTVs came to a halt at the gates of the village. The entire settlement was surrounded by a wooden wall, but the structure was now heavily overgrown with vines, branches, and leaves. Thick lianas hung down like tendrils, twisting across the gate and effectively sealing it shut.

Ice studied the obstruction for a moment before muttering, "Drive through it."

Polak nodded without hesitation, gripping the wheel tightly. The engine roared to life as he stepped on the gas. The heavy vehicle surged forward, its reinforced front crashing full force into the gate. The impact sent splinters of wood and torn vines flying, the JLTV effortlessly breaking through the overgrowth.

The gate crumbled behind them as the second JLTV followed closely, its tires crunching over the debris. Inside the village, the sight was nothing short of eerie. The overgrowth didn't stop at the walls; it had consumed entire buildings, snaking across rooftops and spilling into the streets like a living entity. More than half the village was bathed in an unnatural green hue, the light filtering through the dense canopy above.

What truly unsettled the team, however, were the people. Some staggered around like zombies, their bodies grotesquely entwined with plants—branches and vines jutting out from their skin. Others appeared less affected, though visibly sick or exhausted, desperately trying to aid their more afflicted neighbors.

"Holy fuck…" Pops muttered, his voice low as the team dismounted, scanning the scene with growing unease.

The villagers, sensing the arrival of outsiders, began to approach cautiously. Their expressions were a mix of hope and fear, their movements hesitant yet deliberate as they drew nearer to the JLTVs.

Ice immediately stepped forward, his voice cold and commanding. "Anyone getting too close to me or my team will be shot. This is your first and last warning!"

To drive the point home, Polak drew his sidearm with practiced precision and fired three shots into the air. The sharp cracks echoed across the village, startling birds from the treetops and making the villagers freeze in their tracks. Many of them flinched or stumbled back, their faces pale with fear as they stared at the strange group and the weapons they carried—tools of power they had never seen before.

Please… help us, honored Shield Hero," a man pleaded as he stepped forward. Polak immediately raised his pistol, aiming at the man's chest. The villager froze in his tracks, raising his hands in surrender. A branch jutted grotesquely from his shoulder, as if a bone had grown outward and transformed into wood.

"What happened?" Ice asked, his tone cold and firm as his eyes locked on the man.

The villager hesitated, then turned toward the massive tree dominating the village. He raised a trembling finger, pointing at it. "Our village was plagued by a terrible food shortage. Then the Spear Hero came. When he heard of our dire situation, he offered to help. He and his party ventured to some nearby ruins and found what they called the Miracle Seed." He paused, his voice trembling. "I should add… it had been sealed away for generations."

"Okay? And?" Ice asked, crossing his arms. The story still didn't make sense to him.

"We were delighted at first," the man continued, his voice growing softer. "The plants started growing immediately—faster than we'd ever seen. For a time, we thought the problem was solved."

"But?" Ice pressed, already expecting the worst.

"But then they overgrew," the villager said, his tone heavy with regret. "They consumed entire houses, shooting acid, infecting people… You see the result." He gestured toward the branch protruding from his shoulder. "We tried everything—cutting, hacking, burning. Nothing worked. We even summoned adventurers, but… none of them ever returned."

Another man stepped forward, his condition far more advanced. His body was almost entirely overrun with bark and branches, leaving him resembling a tree walking on two legs. "As we searched for answers, we discovered an old legend passed down through the generations," he explained. "A long time ago, an alchemist lived in this region. He created a seed—a powerful one. But for reasons unknown, he sealed it away."

A third man hobbled forward, his body almost entirely consumed by leaves and branches, save for his face and fingers. "The legend also said the seed would grow endlessly, consuming everything in its vicinity. But we don't know what 'its vicinity' means. It could be just this village—or the entire region."

Before Ice could reply, Whiskey stepped forward, cutting between him and the villagers. His expression was sharp, his tone biting. "Wait just a bloody second. You mean to tell me you knew about this thing… and still let that brainless idiot plant it?"

The villagers paled, their gazes dropping to the ground as they shuffled uncomfortably under Whiskey's glare.

"Oh…" Whiskey nodded slowly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now I get it. You let the Spear Twat plant that bloody seed without a second thought—because he's a Hero, innit?"

The silence that followed was damning. The villagers avoided Whiskey's piercing gaze, their shame written across their faces.

Thought so," Whiskey muttered, shaking his head in disgust as he threw his hands in the air and turned away. "Bloody brilliant."

After a moment, he spun back around, his expression twisted in frustration and disbelief as he faced Ice. "Look, I never thought I'd say this during my stay here," he said, gesturing toward the villagers with an exasperated wave. "But these lot are even stupider than that braindead excuse for a hero with his oversized toothpick!"

Ice couldn't help the faint smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips, though he quickly masked it as he crossed his arms. "That's saying something, Whiskey," he replied dryly.

The villagers remained silent, their heads hanging low under the weight of Whiskey's scathing words.

"This ain't bloody funny, mate," Whiskey said, throwing up his hands in frustration. "This is sad—seeing how these lot follow that idiot blindly, without a second bloody thought."

Polak let out a heavy sigh, the irritation in his voice clear. "So now what? We clean up their mess too?"

Ice's gaze shifted back to the massive tree, its gnarled branches clawing at the sky like a living nightmare. "Not like we have much of a choice," he muttered, his tone grim. He gestured toward the overgrowth consuming the village. "If this stuff spreads and doesn't stop here, it's not just this village we'll lose. It'll take the whole damn continent with it."

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, the reality of the situation sinking in. The villagers looked up briefly, their eyes filled with a mixture of desperation and shame.

Then, the tension in the air shifted. Heads turned toward a distant hill as the rhythmic thudding of rotors grew louder. Moments later, an MH-60 Pave Hawk emerged from behind the hilltop, its sleek frame cutting through the sky. To the townsfolk, it sounded as if the very air was being beaten into submission by the machine's powerful blades.

"This is Cleric for Strike Force. We're here," Snake-Shit's voice crackled over the radios.

"Holy shit…" Dagger muttered from the open side door, her voice dripping with awe as she surveyed the scene below. "Looks like the damn Amazon rainforest on steriods down there," she added, her gaze locked on the overgrown village.

The helicopter flew low, passing directly over the Strike Force before descending toward a relatively clear patch of land nearby. The downdraft from the rotors sent dust and leaves flying, making the townsfolk shield their faces as they stared in awe at the otherworldly flying machine.

As soon as the helicopter touched down, a figure clad in a black NBC suit stepped out, their movements deliberate and composed. The Strike Team was momentarily taken off guard, but they quickly recovered as Ice moved to meet the newcomer. Grabbing one of the crates Dagger had prepared, Ice hauled it back to the group with practiced precision. The rest of the team followed suit, unloading the supplies swiftly and efficiently.

The townsfolk continued to watch in stunned silence, their expressions a mix of fear and amazement at the display of advanced technology far beyond their comprehension.

Once the final crate was offloaded, Snake-Shit pulled the Pave Hawk back into the air, its rotors kicking up dust as it began circling above the village like a vigilant sentinel.

"Cleric standing by," Snake-Shit's voice crackled through the radio. "We'll stay in the air until you give the word."

Ice nodded, setting his crate down with a thud before glancing at his team. "Alright, gear up. We've got work to do."

Soon, the Strike Team had donned their black NBC gear, their figures now resembling shadowy specters in the overgrown village. The protective masks combined with the black suits, high-cut helmets, and plate carriers gave them an imposing presence, the oxygen bottles strapped securely to their backs completing the ensemble. The steady hiss of air flowing through their masks only added to the unsettling atmosphere.

Once suited up, they turned their attention to the newcomer. The figure removed their helmet, revealing a composed face beneath. "I'm Dr. Keller," the man introduced himself. "I'm here to assist and document… whatever this is."

The operatives exchanged brief nods, their silence indicating approval, before returning to the task at hand. They carefully began cutting away pieces of the invasive plant, transporting the samples to a tent Dr. Keller had quickly set up. Inside, the crate holding vials of various antidotes stood ready for use.

Together, the team and Keller began injecting the plant samples with the various antidotes. Most attempts yielded no visible reaction, while others caused minor effects like shriveling, discoloration, or slow decay. Then came one particular antidote that had an entirely different—and alarming—effect.

The antidote in question had a storied history. It had been developed years prior by another Epsilon-11 team alongside Foundation Senior researcher [Redacted, specifically to counteract the effects of a carcass that had died by unnatural phenomena. According to Foundation logs, the carcass belonged to a massive beast that had died under what were described as "unnaturel circumstances" atop a mountain. The circumstance was a cross-test involving SCP-096, "The Shy Guy."

A researcher, during the test, had shown the beast a picture of SCP-096's face via a Drone, for research purposses. What followed was a rampage of unprecedented scale: SCP-096 was released neat the beast. SCP-096 sprinted to the beast and killed it in mere seconds, despite their size differencess. SCP-096, was known to not leave entire bodies of the Victims that saw it's face, but the beast here was so massive, it had no choice but leaving its massive carcass to decompose on the mountaintop. Winds carried the beast's toxic gases downhill to a nearby village, infecting the population and causing horrific mutations and even deaths. The antidote had been created as a response to this crisis.

However, the incident didn't end there. During the operation to contain the crisis, the same researcher—whether through negligence or hubris—had kept the image of SCP-096 on his person. The Picture was lost and had been picked up by a Villager, thereupon SCP-096 Breached containment and killed [Redacted] Base Personelle. The aftermath [Redacted]. The researcher was demoted to D-Class, SCP-096 was eventually recontained, and the incident's final details remain highly classified due to another rampage that followed after SCP-096 was transported to the real World via the Portal.

Back in the present, the moment the antidote entered the plant sample, the surrounding tissue swelled unnaturally before rupturing into a fiery explosion. A blob of acid shot through the air, narrowly missing Whiskey's face as he ducked just in time. The acid splattered against the tent wall, eating through the fabric before sizzling harmlessly on the ground.

"Bloody hell!" Whiskey shouted, shooting a glance at the new hole in the wall. "That could've been my bloody face!"

Dr. Keller, unfazed, stepped forward, observing the aftermath with clinical precision. His calm voice carried a note of concern. "We'll need to document that reaction thoroughly. Whatever compound caused this, it's highly volatile."

While the team and Dr. Keller continued their work, the Cat-Girl from Castletown cautiously stepped out of the vehicle. She stood beside Lira, watching in silence as the MTF operatives and the researcher worked tirelessly to combat the growing threat. Her gaze lingered on Ice, and she couldn't help but notice something odd—he never used his shield. Instead, he relied entirely on his training and his team, the one thing from this world left conspicuously untouched.

"Sir Shield Hero," she suddenly called out, her voice hesitant as she took a cautious step forward. Ice's head snapped up, and he immediately raised a gloved hand in a halting gesture.

"Stop! Don't come closer. What do you want?" he asked, his tone firm as he injected another plant sample. The antidote produced no notable effect, and he tossed the sample aside.

The Cat-Girl hesitated, her tail swishing nervously. "Why aren't you using your shield for this?" she asked, gesturing toward the glowing green orb embedded in the center of his shield.

The question made every Foundation operative stop in their tracks. All eyes turned to her, brows furrowing behind their masks. Ice's voice cut through the stunned silence as he stepped closer, his tone laced with curiosity. "What… do you mean by that?"

"Well," she began, her ears twitching as she searched for the right words, "you could use the shield to absorb the plants. If you did that, you might unlock a healing spell—or even a recipe for a potion that could counter the infection."

The air grew heavy as the weight of her suggestion sank in. The operatives exchanged baffled glances, their silent disbelief palpable. None of their extensive briefings or operational records had mentioned anything about the Shield Hero's ability to absorb materials for such purposes. After all, their reliance on modern technology, training, and the resources of the Foundation had rendered the shield an afterthought in their approach.

Ice's eyes narrowed as he regarded the Cat-Girl. "And this… works?" he asked, his tone skeptical.

She nodded earnestly. "Yes. It's how the Shield Hero in the legends was said to grow stronger—by absorbing materials and unlocking new powers. I assumed you already knew."

Polak was the first to break the silence, muttering, "That's… not in any of the damn manuals."

Whiskey crossed his arms, tilting his head toward Ice. "Boss, reckon we've been doing this the hard way."

Ice let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the revelation settling heavily on his shoulders. He glanced down at the shield strapped to his arm, the green orb in its center glowing faintly, almost as if it were responding to the conversation. After a moment of silence, he nodded. "Alright," he said, his tone resigned but decisive. "Let's test it."

With a pair of tweezers, he carefully picked up one of the squirming plant samples, holding it cautiously in front of him. As he brought it closer to the green orb, the glow intensified, radiating brighter with each passing second. When the sample came within range, the orb pulsed once, scanning the plant before the sample vanished entirely into a burst of light.

Ice's HUD lit up instantly, a notification flashing in bold letters: "Miracle Seed Shield Unlocked."

An interface opened before his eyes, displaying a sprawling grid of shields, most of which were still locked. Hundreds—no, thousands—of variations stretched endlessly, each marked with intricate symbols and faint outlines, waiting to be unlocked. The view rapidly panned across the grid, halting on the far right where a single shield glowed brightly. The lock in front of it clicked open, the design shimmering with a vibrant green hue.

"Okay… that's new," Ice muttered, his eyes scanning the interface. As he navigated the system, more information flowed in, revealing the depth of the shield's capabilities. Each variation unlocked new attributes, spells, and abilities, each requiring different materials or knowledge to activate.

His eyes lit up as he finally stumbled upon something he recognized: Healing Potions. A glimmer of hope sparked within him, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

Then the next message appeared, dashing his fleeting optimism:

"Use Mana to create Healing Potions or learn ability from a medicinal book."

Ice groaned audibly, rubbing his temple as the words flashed before him. "Great. Another obstacle," he muttered, his frustration palpable.

"What is it now?" Lira asked, stepping closer, her curiosity evident.

Ice looked at her, his tone flat and slightly exasperated. "Apparently, I can create healing potions—if I have mana or learn the ability from a medicinal book."

Whiskey's voice came through the comms, a mix of amusement and disbelief. "Mana, huh? Last I checked, Boss, you weren't exactly brimming with magic."

"Yeah, no kidding," Ice replied sharply, glancing at the shield's glowing orb. "And where the hell am I supposed to find a medicinal book in the middle of this mess?"

Polak, ever the pragmatist, chimed in. "Guess that leaves us with option two: Find a healer or a library in this village—or somewhere nearby."

Ice nodded, already scanning their surroundings. "If it's here, we'll find it. We've got no other choice. I mean, it doesn't even state what kind of book—"

Before he could finish, Ares's voice crackled over the radio. "Found one!"

Ice froze, blinking in disbelief. "What the?!"

"Yeah, seriously," Ares continued, his tone smug. "Looks like some kind of herbal manual. Found it in one of these overgrown houses. Might be what you need."

Ice immediately keyed his radio. "You're joking."

"Nope," Ares replied, clearly enjoying the moment. "Sending Whiskey to bring it to you."

A few moments later, Whiskey strolled over, the book in hand. Its cover was worn and mossy, but the title, barely legible, read Basic Medicinal Herbs and Their Uses. He held it out, his grin visible even beneath his balaclava. "Merry Christmas, Boss."

Ice snatched the book, shaking his head. "You've got to be kidding me."

Whiskey chuckled. "What can I say? We're just that good."

Lira leaned in, glancing at the book. "Well? Does it work?"

Ice flipped it open, scanning the pages. Within seconds, his HUD lit up, a notification appearing:

"Medicinal Knowledge Level 1 Acquired. Healing Potion Creation Unlocked."

"Medicinal Knowledge Level 1 Acquired. Simple healing spell learned."

"Medicinal Knowledge Level 1 Acquired. Health points increased by [250]. Health now: [2250/2250]"

A moment of stunned silence passed before Ice sighed deeply. "Well… that was easier than expected."

Whiskey crossed his arms, clearly amused. "So, Boss, when do we get the healing potions? Or are you waiting for another miracle?"

Ice smirked faintly. "Keep that up, Whiskey, and you'll be the first test subject." Ice produced a Vial of the healing potion, not bigger than the vials they had with them as he tried it at a plant, injecting the liquid. It immedieately showed as the plant died in an instant, crumbling into itself before discintograting completely.

"We did it, boys!" Ice called, his tone triumphant. "Whiskey, on me!" He added, producing another vial from one of the crates.

Whiskey stepped forward, his usual lazy expression evident beneath his mask. "What now, Boss?" he muttered.

"Give me one of your .308s," Ice demanded, holding out a hand. The team exchanged curious glances, unsure of where this was going, but Whiskey complied, fishing a round from his ammo pouch and placing it into Ice's hand.

Ice carefully dipped the tip of the bullet into the vial, swirling it around to coat it in the liquid antidote. Once satisfied, he handed the round back to Whiskey. "See that red rose-looking thing in the middle of the massive tree?" Ice asked, pointing toward the vividly colored plant nestled deep within the overgrowth.

"Yeah? You want me to shoot it?" Whiskey asked, his tone laced with skepticism as he inspected the coated round.

"Yep," Ice replied flatly.

Before Whiskey could act, one of the villagers stepped forward, his face lined with a mix of fear and desperation. "You'll try in vain," he said cautiously, his voice trembling slightly. "We've already tried shooting it with arrows. Every time, the flower closes before the arrow can reach it, deflecting the shot entirely."

Ice smirked, turning to face the man. "Your arrow flies at, what? A hundred, maybe two hundred feet per second if you're lucky?" He paused for emphasis, letting the weight of his words sink in. "His rifle's muzzle velocity is more than two thousand feet per second. That's over ten times faster than your arrow. On top of that, a .308 round carries a hell of a lot more punch."

The villager's eyes widened, and he took a cautious step back, realization dawning on him.

Whiskey chambered the round with a confident clack and raised his rifle. Sitting down, he bent one knee upwards and rested his rifle on it. He took a deep breath as he peered through his scope. "Alright, Boss," he muttered, a grin spreading beneath his mask. "Let's see how this rose likes modern ballistics."

The team fell silent as Whiskey steadied himself, lining up the shot. "Alright… plant be gone in three, two… one," he counted, his casual tone making it sound more like they were filming an episode of Mythbusters than eliminating a homicidal plant.

The villagers exchanged nervous glances, unsure whether to feel reassured or terrified by the operatives' confidence. Meanwhile, the massive tree loomed ominously, its branches twitching as if sensing the imminent danger.

Whiskey released his breath, and at the lowest point of the exhale, his finger gently squeezed the trigger. A single, sharp crack echoed through the air as the .308 round left the barrel, traveling faster than the human eye could follow. The red rose-like plant didn't stand a chance—the bullet hit its mark with pinpoint accuracy, piercing through the petals before they could close.

A split second later, the coated round triggered a chain reaction.

The plant began to squirm violently, emitting a high-pitched screech that pierced the air like nails on a chalkboard, threatening to burst the eardrums of everyone present—except the MTFs, who were protected by their electronic ear protection. The once-vibrant red petals darkened and curled inward, the plant collapsing in on itself as its body blackened. With a final twitch, it broke free from the tree, falling lifelessly to the ground.

For a moment, nothing happened.

The team stood in tense silence, their weapons ready, their eyes scanning for any additional threats. The villagers looked on anxiously, holding their breaths.

"That was it?!" Whiskey exclaimed, his voice tinged with disbelief. "You're kidding me, right?"

But before anyone could respond, the massive tree began to tremble violently. The ground beneath their feet shook as branches started snapping and falling off one by one. The overgrowth writhed and cracked, the massive trunk groaning as it slowly began to collapse inward, mirroring the demise of the plant.

"Not so fast, Whiskey," Ice muttered, stepping back as the area around the tree turned into a scene of chaos.

"What the bloody hell is happening now?!" Pops shouted, instinctively raising his rifle, though there was little it could do against a collapsing tree of this scale.

"It's dying," Lira said softly, her eyes fixed on the tree as it crumbled. "The antidote… it's spreading."

The tree continued to disintegrate, its enormous structure collapsing piece by piece as the infection visibly withered and died. Vines and overgrowth fell away from the surrounding buildings, releasing the village from their strangling grip. The oppressive green hue that had dominated the area began to fade as sunlight broke through the canopy above.

The villagers suddenly burst out in cheers, their voices filling the air as the oppressive weight of fear and despair lifted. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, hope returned to their faces. They embraced one another, tears streaming down their cheeks as they celebrated the end of the nightmare that had consumed their village.

Lira glanced at Ice, her expression softening as she took in the scene. "You really are a hero to these people," she said quietly, her voice almost lost in the noise of the crowd.

Ice adjusted his stance, his gaze sweeping over the jubilant villagers. "I ain't no damn Hero," he muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.

Whiskey to Ice, shaking his head with a faint grin. "You hear that, Boss? They love us. Reckon we could run for mayor here."

Some light chuckles followed before the atmosphere grew serious once more. Ice stepped forward, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the villagers.

"All right, listen up!" he called out, his tone sharp but steady. "I want everyone to line up in front of the tent to receive the antidote. We'll treat the severely infected first—everyone else will wait their turn."

He gestured toward the tent, where Dr. Keller was already preparing the doses. The villagers, though hesitant, began to shuffle into an uneven line, their eyes darting nervously between Ice and his team.

"Move with purpose, people!" Polak barked, stepping forward to direct the crowd. "The faster we do this, the faster you all get treated."

Ice's sharp gaze caught movement in the line—one of the villagers, seemingly less infected, was attempting to push past a severely afflicted woman to cut ahead. Ice's eyes flicked to Whiskey and Ares, who immediately nodded in silent acknowledgment. The two operatives moved with purpose, their imposing figures parting the crowd as they closed in on the offender.

The man, oblivious to the approaching operatives, was mid-step when Whiskey's gloved hand grabbed him by the shoulder, forcefully yanking him back. At the same moment, Ares stepped in from the other side, using his weight to shove the man back toward the line.

The offender stumbled, but before he could recover, Whiskey shoved him to the ground with practiced ease. Without hesitation, Whiskey drew his sidearm and fired a single round into the ground, mere inches from the man's head. The deafening crack of the shot echoed through the village, silencing all movement as the crowd collectively recoiled in fear.

"Try that again ye bloody Cunt! Try it again!" Whiskey barked, his voice booming with authority. His pistol remained pointed at the ground, but the threat was clear.

The man lay frozen, his face pale and drenched in sweat. Slowly, he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, stammering incoherently as he scrambled to crawl back into the line.

Ares stepped forward, towering over the cowering villager. "Anyone else feel like testing us?" he growled, his tone low but menacing as his hand rested on the grip of his rifle.

The crowd was deathly silent. Those who had been murmuring or shifting nervously in the line quickly fell back into place, their fear of the operatives outweighing any desperation they might have felt.

Ares nodded to himself, stepping back into position as he muttered under his breath, "Fucking thought so." He gestured to the villagers to continue moving, his imposing presence keeping them in line.

The next hour passed with surprising efficiency. Dr. Keller and Lira worked tirelessly, administering antidotes with calm precision while the Strike Team kept the crowd in check. The villagers, though initially tense, gradually began to relax as the effects of the antidote became evident.

One by one, those treated began to recover, the grotesque branches and leaves that had overtaken their bodies falling away like dead skin. Their once pallid and green-tinted complexions returned to their natural hues, bringing color and life back to the village. A young boy who had been nearly consumed by the infection giggled in delight as the last of the plant matter dissolved from his arms, earning relieved cheers from his parents.

Pops leaned against the JLTV, watching the scene unfold. "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "The doc really pulled it off."

Ares smirked, glancing over at Pops. "Not bad for a bunch of science nerds, huh?"

Whiskey, still perched on a nearby rooftop, keyed his radio. "Oi, Boss. Looks like we're about done here. Most of these folks are lookin' human again."

As the final villagers received their doses, Dr. Keller stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow as he surveyed his work. "That's the last of them," he announced, his voice tinged with both exhaustion and satisfaction.

Lira, standing nearby, let out a relieved sigh. "They're going to be okay," she said softly, a faint smile on her face as she watched the villagers hug and thank each other.

Ice keyed his radio, his gaze shifting to the Pave Hawk circling above like a vigilant guardian. "Cleric, this is Strike Force. You're clear to pick the doc back up. All green down here."

Snake-Shit's voice crackled back over the comms. "Roger that, Strike Force. Bringing her in."

Above, the Pave Hawk began to descend, the roar of its rotors stirring up clouds of dust and loose leaves as it neared the ground. Villagers shielded their faces, watching in awe as the massive machine landed in a clear patch near the edge of the village. The crew signaled for Dr. Keller to approach.

"Time to go, Doc," Ice called, motioning toward the helicopter.

Dr. Keller nodded, gathering his remaining supplies and securing them into a crate. He hesitated for a moment, looking back at Ice. "Good work here," he said. "And… good luck. Something tells me you're going to need it."

Ice gave him a small nod, his expression hidden behind his mask. "Thanks. Safe flight."

As Dr. Keller climbed aboard the helicopter, Snake-Shit's voice came back through the radio. "Cleric lifting off. We'll hang around until you guys are out of the AO."

The Pave Hawk's rotors roared to life once again, lifting it into the sky. The villagers watched it ascend, their awe a reminder of how foreign this technology was to them.

Ice turned back to his team, his voice cutting through the noise. "All right, pack it up. We're done here."

Ares and Whiskey began securing the last of their gear, while Pops double-checked the JLTVs. Lira, meanwhile, lingered nearby, her gaze fixed on Ice.

"You're leaving already?" one of the villagers asked, stepping forward cautiously.

Ice turned, his voice firm but not unkind. "We've done what we came here to do. The rest is up to you now."

"But… we can't let you leave without payment. Anything… please," the villager pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation.

Ice paused for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm no mercenary," he said, his tone steady. "I did this because it was the right thing to do. And, well…" he added with a small shrug, "because my world kind of depends on it."

That earned a few chuckles from his team. Whiskey smirked from his spot near the JLTV. "Real inspiring, Boss," he quipped.

Lira rolled her eyes, crossing her arms but allowing the faintest hint of a smile to show. "You really know how to sell it, don't you?"

The villager nodded solemnly, stepping back with visible gratitude. "Thank you, Honored Shield Hero. You and your companions have saved us. We will never forget what you've done here."

Ice didn't reply, his gaze shifting back toward the JLTV. He gave the villager a curt nod before climbing into the vehicle. Moments later, the engines roared to life, the low hum reverberating through the quiet village as the Strike Team prepared to move out.

The villagers gathered near the road, waving silently as the JLTVs began to roll forward, their heavy tires crunching over the remnants of the destroyed plants. Above, the Pave Hawk circled once more, its presence a final reminder of the chaos that had been averted.

Inside the vehicle, Ice adjusted his gear and keyed the radio. "All right, team. We're Oscar Mike. Let's get back to it."

As the JLTVs disappeared over the horizon, the villagers stood in silence, their hearts filled with a newfound hope—and a sense of wonder for the strange and powerful allies who had come and gone like shadows.

A/N:

God damn... I was working wa to long on this. Holy shit, write, scrap, write, scrap like 15 times!!

anyway lmao, I hope y'all liked it. See you guys next chapter.

Reviews:

triscythe59—I'm glad you liked it. They where there but they just hadn't had any screen time. Wasn't feeling like it lmao. Sorry if you wanted to see them too.

Oh once Trash is caught by the Foundation, they'd probably toss him into a chamber with SCP-682, or at least that's what I'd do lol.

Fact is until the Portal is not restored, they are alone with the base and they have those assets with them that they have on base. And what they have on base should technically be enough. Emphasis on "Technically"

rollynolly—We'll see about that. I'll give him some new shields but probably no weapons.

chewbie51—Excuse my question... but what is that?