The cool night air settled over Mt. Fake as the Imperial hunting party pressed forward through the thick, shadowed forest. Moonlight barely pierced through the canopy above, casting long, twisting shadows that seemed to dance around them. The crisp scent of damp earth and moss filled the air, mingling with the distant hoots of nocturnal creatures. Spy, still wearing the guise of Tatsumi, walked alongside Wave, his every step measured, every glance calculated. His face bore an easy, almost amused expression, the very picture of a young warrior engaged in casual conversation.
"Ah, Wave, my friend," Spy began smoothly, his voice carrying the practiced ease of familiarity. "You are strong, no? But tell me… where do you come from? What is it that a man like you does when not engaged in battle?"
Wave glanced at him, momentarily caught off guard by the question. "Huh? Well… I come from a small seaside village. Fishing town, really. Nothing like the capital." His voice held a hint of nostalgia. "I was a sailor before I joined the military. Spent years learning how to navigate rough waters, hauling in catches, keeping the boats in shape. It was honest work, but I always knew I could do more to protect people. That's why I enlisted."
Spy gave a knowing nod, filing away the information. "Ah, the sea… unpredictable, ever-changing. And yet, a man like you—steady, reliable—thrived there. Interesting." He tapped his gloved fingers together before continuing. "And now, instead of fighting the waves, you fight for the Empire. A soldier, a protector, someone who values strength and order. Tell me, how do you handle danger?"
Wave turned his head slightly, brow furrowing. "Danger? What kind of question is that? I face it head-on, obviously." His voice carried the certainty of a soldier who had never hesitated in battle. He flexed his arms slightly, the muscles beneath his uniform tensing with pride. "Grand Chariot gives me everything I need to take on any threat. It enhances my speed, my strength—every fiber of my being is pushed beyond its natural limits. With it, I can outmatch any opponent, withstand attacks that would cripple lesser warriors, and strike with enough force to shatter steel. It was modeled after Incursio, but perfected, built to be wielded by someone truly capable. As long as I have it, there's nothing I can't handle."
Spy let out a small chuckle, his concealed smirk deepening. "Ah, of course, of course. A man like you, full of strength and conviction. A soldier with unwavering confidence, forged through discipline and battle. But tell me… how do you handle the unexpected? The moments when brute strength alone is not enough? When the ground shifts beneath you, and the plan you so firmly trust crumbles away? When the rules you rely on suddenly change, and the enemy refuses to fight on your terms?"
He tilted his head ever so slightly, his piercing gaze locked onto Wave's. "Do you stand your ground, clinging to your strength, believing it will carry you through? Or do you adapt, twisting with the tide, bending but never breaking? Do you think power alone will see you through, or do you trust your mind to navigate the storm?"
Wave frowned, folding his arms as he considered the question. "I don't need tricks. Grand Chariot gives me the strength and speed to stand my ground. It was made to protect and to endure, and as long as I trust in it, I can face any challenge head-on."
Spy sighed, shaking his head ever so slightly. "Ah, mon ami, but what if the game is not yours to win? What if the pieces are already in motion, and you have yet to see the board?" He let his words hang in the air, watching as the smallest flicker of doubt crossed Wave's expression, the tiniest crack in his unwavering belief in raw strength alone.
Before Wave could properly consider the meaning behind those words, the sharp crack of a gunshot rang through the trees. The sudden sound shattered the eerie stillness of the forest. A single bullet, expertly placed, tore through a thick branch overhead, sending it crashing noisily to the ground. The disturbance did not go unnoticed.
Deep, guttural growls rose from the underbrush, low and primal. The silence of the night gave way to the rustling of shifting foliage, the snapping of twigs under something heavy. From the depths of the shadows emerged grotesque, tree-like Danger Beasts, their gnarled, root-like limbs stretching toward the intruders with malevolent intent. Their twisted forms blended almost seamlessly with the surrounding trees, but their unnatural movements betrayed them.
Wave's eyes widened as his instincts took over. Without hesitation, he activated Grand Chariot, and in an instant, his body was enveloped in its shimmering, metallic armor. "Damn it!" he hissed, stepping forward protectively, placing himself between Spy and the advancing creatures. "Stay back, Tatsumi! I've got this!"
Spy took a careful step backward, lifting his hands in feigned alarm. "Ah, mon dieu! Such a terrifying sight!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with just the right amount of believable panic. But beneath his false display, his mind worked swiftly. This was his moment. The chaos provided the perfect opportunity for him to slip away unnoticed.
Wave wasted no time engaging the beasts, charging into battle with raw power. The first Danger Beast lunged at him, its jagged claws swinging through the air, only to be met with the full force of his armored fist. A sickening crunch echoed through the clearing as Wave sent the creature hurtling backward, its form slamming into a tree with enough force to splinter the bark. Another beast lunged from the side, but Wave was faster, twisting mid-air to drive his knee into its torso before following up with a rapid, crushing blow.
As the battle raged on, Spy inched backward, every movement fluid and precise. The sound of clashing blows and guttural roars masked his retreat as he slid into the deeper shadows of the forest. His disguise flickered ever so slightly as he allowed his illusion to waver, but he maintained the form just long enough to distance himself properly.
He turned his back to the fight, slipping into the darkness like a ghost, his smirk returning in full. The first part of his escape had begun, and as far as he was concerned, everything was going exactly according to plan.
The battle raged on, the air thick with the scent of disturbed earth and the guttural snarls of the monstrous tree-like Danger Beasts. Wave moved like a force of nature, his armored fists cracking against twisted bark and sinew, sending the creatures tumbling backward with each devastating strike. His every movement was a showcase of sheer power, Grand Chariot amplifying his strength to overwhelming levels. He was too preoccupied to notice the subtle shift in the battle's dynamic, the almost imperceptible ripple in the flow of combat.
Spy, ever the opportunist, weaved through the chaos with effortless grace. His movements were not driven by brute force but by precision—a carefully choreographed dance of deception. While Wave focused on obliterating the nearest beast, Spy let himself move with the shadows, his steps soundless, his presence slipping away like mist in the wind. He adjusted his gloves, brushing invisible dust from his suit with a practiced nonchalance. The battle was no longer his concern; his objective had been met. A gloved hand flicked his cigarette into the undergrowth, embers glowing briefly before being swallowed by the night.
"Bonne nuit, mon ami," Spy murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. A smirk ghosted across his lips before he fully vanished into the shrouded darkness of the trees.
Wave delivered a final crushing blow to the last of the beasts, feeling the force of impact reverberate through his arm. The creature let out one final, gurgling snarl before collapsing into a heap of twitching, broken limbs. Wave straightened, chest heaving slightly from exertion, and took a step back, finally allowing himself a moment to survey the aftermath. For a fleeting second, satisfaction curled in his chest—until an unsettling realization prickled at the edge of his awareness.
Something was wrong.
A whisper of unease ran down his spine. His instincts, sharpened through years of training, screamed at him to turn. He pivoted sharply, expecting to see Tatsumi standing nearby, but there was only the rustling of leaves, the distant creaking of tree branches shifting in the wind.
Nothing.
Wave's heart pounded as his eyes darted around the dimly lit forest. His mind worked quickly, piecing together the puzzle. There was no way Tatsumi should have disappeared in the span of mere seconds. He had been right there.
And now, he wasn't.
"He's gone?!" Wave's voice was a growl of disbelief, his fists clenching as the weight of the realization sank in. He had been tricked.
His jaw tightened, and a low, irritated breath hissed through his teeth. Grand Chariot pulsed around him, the armor shifting in tandem with his rising focus. This wasn't just some minor inconvenience—this was a direct insult. Wave prided himself on his integrity, on his ability to fight fair and face his opponents head-on. And yet, somehow, some way, Tatsumi had just vanished into the midday light, but not like a coward—no, this was something else. This was calculated, precise. A tactical retreat rather than an act of fear, and that was what truly unsettled Wave.
No. That didn't sit right with him. Something was off.
His fingers flexed before curling into tight fists. Grand Chariot hummed, its power responding as he adjusted his stance. He wasn't about to let this go. His honor wouldn't allow it.
Without hesitation, he activated Grand Chariot's full mobility, his body surging forward in a burst of energy. The enhanced speed turned him into a blur against the backdrop of the forest, leaves and twigs whipping past him as he charged after his vanished target. His sharp eyes caught the faintest disturbances—the almost imperceptible sway of branches, the displaced undergrowth disturbed by careful but rapid footsteps. Tatsumi—or whoever this was—was fast. But Wave was faster.
He knew he wasn't the smartest man in the Empire, nor the most cunning. But he had always trusted his instincts, and they were screaming at him now. This was no ordinary disappearance. This was calculated.
Spy might have been a ghost in the night, but Wave was a warrior through and through. And he wasn't about to let someone get the better of him without a fight.
The midday sun bore down upon the treetops, its harsh golden rays casting flickering shadows across the dense forest below. Spy moved like a specter through the undergrowth, his every step calculated, his breath steady despite the urgency of his escape. The wind carried the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of birds, but another sound crept through the natural chorus—a sound that did not belong.
The faintest crunch of a branch. The rhythmic beat of heavy footsteps, closing in. A smirk tugged at Spy's lips as he pressed forward, knowing full well that he was being followed.
"Persistent little fish, aren't you?" he murmured under his breath, his tone carrying both amusement and a hint of challenge.
Wave was gaining. The young soldier's raw speed, enhanced by Grand Chariot, allowed him to tear through the forest like an unstoppable force. His eyes locked onto Spy's retreating form, determination burning hot in his chest. He had been fooled once, and he would not allow it to happen again.
His grip tightened instinctively, mind racing through potential counters. Was this guy really Tatsumi? Something felt off, but he had no time to think about that now. His pride as a soldier, as a protector, demanded he capture the target before things spiraled further out of control.
"Damn it, slow down already!" he growled to himself, pushing Grand Chariot to its limit. He refused to let some sneaky trickster outmaneuver him twice. Not again.
Just as he prepared to close the distance and take down his elusive prey, the air cracked.
A single gunshot rang out from the treetops.
Wave barely had time to react as the bullet whizzed past his head, close enough that he could feel the heat of its passage. He twisted instinctively, his eyes snapping toward the direction of the shot. A figure crouched within the thick branches, rifle still raised, the glint of a scope catching the sunlight.
Sniper.
Before Wave could fully process the threat, a deep, guttural laugh erupted from the clearing ahead.
"Run, little man, run!"
Heavy burst forth from the foliage, his massive frame moving with terrifying speed. His sheer presence was like a battering ram, forcing Wave to pivot sharply to avoid being flattened. The ground trembled beneath Heavy's charge, his fists clenched and ready to strike.
Wave leaped back, narrowly dodging a crushing blow that sent dirt and leaves flying into the air. His instincts screamed at him to retaliate, but the onslaught was far from over.
A loud pop-hiss echoed through the trees, followed by a mischievous cackle.
"Boom, lad!"
A series of explosions erupted along Wave's path, cutting off his movement and forcing him to retreat further into the chaos. The smoke curled thick in the humid air as Demoman's expertly placed grenades detonated, sending debris flying in all directions. The forest, once peaceful, had become a battlefield in an instant.
Wave's mind raced. It wasn't just Tatsumi—this was an ambush, an orchestrated attack meant to divide and conquer. He had been lured into a trap.
Sniper reloaded his rifle with practiced ease, lining up another shot. Wave barely had time to react before a second bullet forced him to roll out of the way, his armored boots skidding across the dirt. He threw his arms up in a defensive stance as Heavy barreled toward him again, fists slamming down where Wave had just been standing. The impact shattered a rock into jagged pieces, sending shrapnel flying. Wave twisted mid-air, landing on his feet with a sharp exhale.
"Damn it!" he cursed, scanning for an opening.
Demoman lobbed another grenade. Wave lunged sideways, narrowly avoiding the detonation, but the force of the explosion sent him sprawling. He dug his fingers into the dirt, gritting his teeth as he pushed himself up. His breathing was labored, his muscles tense. He needed to turn the tide, but the mercenaries fought with ruthless efficiency, their teamwork impeccable.
Spy, ever the opportunist, had already slipped into the shadows, using the momentary distraction to duck out of sight. As the smoke and chaos enveloped the battlefield, he let out a breath and, with a single smooth motion, deactivated his disguise.
Wave gritted his teeth, his muscles screaming with exertion as he deflected another of Heavy's bone-crushing blows. The sheer force behind each strike threatened to send him careening backward, but he held firm, his Grand Chariot armor absorbing most of the impact. Still, he could feel the vibrations rattling his bones with each hit, the relentless pressure wearing him down. His fingers trembled slightly, the repeated blows beginning to take their toll, and for the first time in a long while, he felt something creeping into his mind—doubt.
He barely had time to recover before another shot rang out, the sharp crack of a rifle splitting the humid air like a whip. His instincts screamed, raw and urgent, and he twisted his body mid-motion, barely evading a bullet that would have punctured his side. A faint scorch mark on his armor was all the evidence needed to remind him just how precise Sniper was. That was no warning shot. The next one wouldn't miss.
Perched in the dense canopy above, Sniper remained eerily still, his rifle already tracking Wave's next movement. The man was unnervingly patient, waiting for the exact moment to fire again, his finger lightly resting on the trigger. There was no bravado in his posture, no arrogance—just the cold efficiency of a killer who had spent years perfecting his craft.
Wave exhaled sharply, pushing the rising fatigue out of his mind. He was outnumbered, surrounded, and pinned down—but he wasn't beaten yet. He couldn't be. If he faltered here, if he let this mismatched group of mercenaries get the better of him, what would that say about him as a soldier? As a warrior? He was part of the Jaegers, handpicked by Esdeath herself. He couldn't afford to be weak.
With a sudden burst of energy, he lunged forward, closing the distance between himself and Heavy in an instant. He drove his fist into the larger man's gut with all the force he could muster. The giant mercenary grunted, the impact causing his boots to skid across the dirt, but he barely staggered. Heavy's sheer bulk absorbed the brunt of the attack like a living fortress. Wave's teeth clenched as frustration flared within him—how was this man so resilient? He had fought plenty of strong opponents before, but Heavy was an entirely different beast. It felt like punching through a mountain.
He quickly pivoted, using the momentum to leap backward, narrowly dodging another explosive projectile from Demoman. The grenades detonated behind him, the shockwave rattling his bones as he landed in a low crouch, dust and debris kicking up around him. His heart pounded in his ears as he took a steadying breath, his body screaming at him to slow down—but he couldn't. He wouldn't.
'Think, damn it,' he growled inwardly. He needed a way to shift the tide, to find an opening. But these mercs were seasoned, relentless. Every time he tried to create distance, Sniper would line up another shot. Every time he engaged, Heavy's sheer size and strength forced him on the defensive. Every second he wasted meant another attack, another close call. He had to adapt—and fast.
"Persistent little bugger, aren't ya?" Demoman called out, grinning as he casually tossed another grenade in his palm. His one good eye gleamed with mischief, the glint of a man who relished chaos. "Let's see how long that lasts."
Wave clenched his fists, his breaths coming in ragged bursts. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up. His muscles ached, fatigue creeping in with every movement. Still, he wasn't about to back down.
Then, the air shifted.
A sudden, biting chill cut through the midday heat, sending an unnatural shiver down his spine. The suffocating humidity that had once hung in the air dissipated in an instant, replaced by a creeping cold that sank deep into his bones. The temperature plummeted so quickly that the sudden contrast made his breath come out in visible puffs of mist. The scent of frost tinged the wind, a metallic sharpness that coiled around them like an unseen predator.
Every combatant froze, their instincts screaming a single warning.
She was coming.
From the depths of the forest, an overwhelming presence surged forward. The once-lush greenery groaned in protest as ice rapidly encased the tree trunks, spreading in jagged tendrils along the branches. Leaves crystallized into brittle white, shattering with the slightest movement. The rhythmic sound of boots crunching against the frozen ground echoed through the silence like a war drum, steady, inevitable.
Esdeath had arrived.
Beside her, Kurome moved with silent precision, her piercing gaze sweeping the battlefield. She was cold, calculating—an executioner evaluating the worth of her prey. Unlike Esdeath, who radiated an overwhelming aura of dominance, Kurome's presence was a quiet storm, dangerous in its unpredictability.
From the treetops, a hidden Spy Squad member raised a hand, flashing a series of quick signals toward the mercs below. The message was clear.
Time's up.
But before they could slip away, Kurome's sharp eyes caught the subtle movement. In an instant, she was on the attack, her blade flashing as she sprinted toward the trees. The Spy Squad member bolted, weaving through the branches with practiced agility, but Kurome was relentless, cutting through the dense foliage with frightening precision.
She was fast—too fast.
With a sharp twist, the squad member dove off a branch, landing in a roll and breaking into a full sprint. Kurome pursued without hesitation, closing the distance, her grip tightening on her blade. Just as she lunged, her sword struck true—only for the body to flicker and disappear in a burst of distorted light.
A second later, the real Spy Squad member emerged from behind a nearby tree, perfectly intact, smirking as the illusion dissolved.
Dead Ringer.
By the time Kurome realized the deception, the squad member was already gone, vanishing into the shadows as the mercs prepared for their final escape. Her breath came in short, irritated bursts as she snapped her head from side to side, scanning for any trace of movement. But there was nothing. No footsteps, no shifting leaves, not even the telltale shimmer of a lingering presence. Just an empty forest mocking her failure.
Kurome's grip on her sword tightened until her knuckles turned white, her teeth grinding audibly. "Tch... Damn cowards," she spat, her voice low but seething with frustration. Her fingers flexed instinctively, resisting the urge to lash out at the nearest tree in sheer aggravation. The way the squad member had slipped from her grasp—it was infuriating. A perfect kill stolen from her at the last second by nothing more than a cheap trick.
She exhaled sharply, her breaths turning frosty in the air as she slowly straightened. Her frustration simmered beneath the surface, her gaze flickering toward the direction the mercs had retreated. "Next time, I'll carve you up before you get the chance to run..." she muttered, her voice laced with a dangerous promise.
Her fingers traced the edge of her blade, her thoughts already turning toward how she would handle them when their paths crossed again. She had no intention of letting this insult go unanswered. Not when her pride—no, her very purpose—demanded retribution.
The moment Esdeath stepped forward, the mercs knew their window was closing. The very ground beneath their feet seemed to recoil from her presence, frost creeping along the dirt and stone, the midday sun powerless against the creeping chill. Even the air felt heavier, charged with an unnatural cold. Wave, still catching his breath from the relentless battle, gritted his teeth and steadied himself, his grip tightening around his weapon. He wasn't about to let them escape so easily.
But Demoman? He just grinned, unfazed by the frost creeping toward them. The flickering light of a freshly lit fuse danced in his one good eye as he held up a bundle of explosives, his grin widening.
"Aye… Just in time for the grand finale."
With a wide, lopsided grin, he reached into his satchel and pulled out the last of his carefully placed charges. The mercs had been planning their exit from the moment the fight began. It was all about timing. One flick of his fingers, a spark against the fuse, and the mountainside roared in response.
The explosion shattered the air like a thunderclap, sending shockwaves rippling through the valley. The entire mountain pass trembled beneath them as cracks formed along the rocky walls. Jagged stones, dislodged by the blast, tumbled down in a violent cascade, each impact shaking the earth like the footfalls of a vengeful giant. Dust and debris surged into the air, forming a suffocating cloud that blanketed everything in its path.
Wave's eyes widened as he instinctively leapt back, barely avoiding being caught in the landslide. "Damn it!" he cursed, shielding himself from the flying debris. His mind raced—he needed a way around, fast. But as he scanned the chaos, he knew the mercs had played their hand well.
Esdeath, however, remained eerily still, her icy gaze locked onto the fleeing mercenaries. The falling debris reflected in her eyes, but she made no move to retreat. Instead, with a flick of her wrist, a thin sheet of ice formed at her feet, stabilizing her stance against the shifting ground. Small, razor-sharp icicles materialized in the air around her, but she made no move to attack. Even she knew there was no quick way through the chaos—not without a significant risk.
On the other side of the rockslide, the mercs wasted no time. The moment the last of the boulders crashed into place, sealing them off from their pursuers, Spy dusted himself off with a practiced ease, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve as if he had just stepped out of a ballroom rather than a battlefield. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he exhaled, his expression one of quiet triumph.
"Another successful operation," he mused, his voice smooth and satisfied, as if the chaos behind him was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Scout, still catching his breath, threw him an incredulous glare. "I still can't believe you got to seduce Esdeath."
Spy chuckled, brushing off an invisible speck of dust from his lapel. "What can I say, mon ami? Some of us are just naturals."
Scout groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Unbelievable."
Heavy let out a deep, rumbling laugh, slinging his massive weapon over his shoulder. "Tiny man has strange talents."
Sniper, still positioned at the rear, gave a small shake of his head. "I'd rather kiss a croc."
"Do not give him ideas," Medic muttered as he finished checking for any injuries among the team.
The rest of the mercs pushed forward, knowing better than to waste their victory. The mountain stood fractured, the dust still settling in thick, choking clouds, leaving their pursuers stranded on the other side. Though Esdeath remained a looming threat, though Wave was no doubt seething with frustration, the mercs had won this round. And for now, that was enough.
