Leon and Davor sat back to back, exhausted. The battle had just ended. They supported each other, breathing heavily, their muscles burning. A shuttle landed beside them. Dust swirled. The hatch hissed open, and a cyborg stepped out. His metal body gleamed in the light of the fires. It was Rex Marrow. He looked the two over, then grinned. "Do I have to save your ass again, Leon Virell?" Leon jumped up immediately. "You didn't need to come. We could've handled it without you." His gaze was challenging. "You weren't there either when we lost to Macos' team." The cyborg paused, his mechanical eyes flickering. "That was fifteen years ago. Still holding on to that?" Leon rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I hear about it every time I see him." Davor slowly stood up too. He looked at Rex and nodded. "Thanks for coming. But... why? Who even called you? The connection to HQ was down. How did you know we were here?" Rex crossed his arms, his expression serious. "You don't know yet? The whole world was attacked. Simultaneously. Portals opened everywhere. Rifts... like this one. The entire Alliance was mobilized." Leon blinked, clearly surprised. "You mean... all of them? The whole Alliance?" Rex nodded slowly. "Yes. All of them. Sorry we couldn't get here sooner." Davor looked down, his voice quieter. "Were there many casualties?" Rex hesitated. "I don't know. I was ordered to break through to you. Every unit had a designated zone. Every world did its part. We gave it everything."
Mika reached the camp first. She had transformed into an eagle to get there faster – but when she arrived, the battle was already over. With powerful wingbeats, she flew over the devastated area. Smoke rose, the air reeked of scorched earth and blood. Her eyes searched until she spotted Valea. The commander stood in the middle of the chaos, trying to restore order. Mika landed beside her, transformed back into her human form, and stepped forward. Valea was surrounded by soldiers, giving orders, speaking with medics, coordinating everything. The wounded were being treated, others carried on stretchers, and the dead – wrapped in tarps – taken to the edge of the camp. Mika looked around. Mages cast supporting spells while medics used advanced technology to treat the wounded. Magic and science worked side by side. It was a silent, organized madness. Mika stepped closer. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked. Before Valea could answer, she looked Mika over sharply. "What about the others? Keal, Torgul, Kiro, Nerion, Elandra?" Mika nodded quickly. "They're okay. They'll be here any moment." Relief washed over Valea's face. A weight lifted. But then she frowned. "You're bleeding. You're hurt." Mika glanced down. Scratches, small cuts – nothing serious. "We were attacked on the mountain. But we fought back. All enemies were defeated." As she spoke, Keal and the others arrived with Unutay in tow. They stopped – overwhelmed by what they saw. Tents in ruins, scorched and torn ground. Wounded and dead lay everywhere, equipment shattered. The camp was barely recognizable. Keal stepped forward, his gaze heavy. "If only I had been here... I could've helped." Nerion placed a hand on his shoulder. "Keal, if we hadn't been on the mountain, they would've moved on. They would've attacked the nearby villages. Killed civilians. You know that." Keal said nothing, but his eyes showed he understood. Not everything could be prevented – but sometimes, the right place wasn't where you expected it.
Davor, Leon, and Rex returned to the camp at a slow pace. Their armor was damaged, their movements sluggish – but they were still standing. Valea spotted them from afar and ran toward them. When she saw Rex, she didn't stop. She threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. "Thank you for coming, Rex." Leon scoffed quietly. "He probably didn't come willingly. Now that he's an R10 warrior, I bet he sent a cyborg proxy..." Rex's helmet opened with a soft hiss. He turned to Leon, a smirk on his face. "You think I'd miss the sight of you so beaten up? Leon laughed too, brushing dust from his shoulder. "Next time, bring something from your planet if you're going to show up. Maybe a dust robot."
Cleanup efforts in the camp continued. Debris was hauled away, the wounded relocated, damaged gear sorted. Mages stabilized outer defenses while technicians worked to restore full communications. Rex stood aside when his communicator lit up. A secured message fed directly into his interface. He stood motionless for a moment, then turned to Valea. "Alliance assembly. Immediately."
At the same time, live broadcasts started appearing on camp monitors. News channels resumed transmissions. Images flashed across the screens: burning cities, destroyed villages, columns of refugees, makeshift shelters. Everywhere on Earth, the same questions were being asked: Why did the Alliance come so late? Can they still be trusted? Who was the enemy? Why were we attacked – and why were we unprepared?
Uncertainty spread faster than any flame. Politicians, strategists, even civilians debated furiously. Between hope and fear, distrust and gratitude, Earth sank into a new crisis – one of doubt.
Rex boarded his shuttle and took off. The engines blazed trails through the sky as he pierced the atmosphere. Minutes later, he reached the mothership in orbit – a massive steel behemoth floating silently above the Earth. He entered and walked directly to the portal chamber. The doors opened. A shimmering circular energy field activated, vibrating faintly – and Rex stepped through.
Moments later, he stood at the heart of the Alliance: the Assembly Hall of the Thirteen Worlds. The portal closed behind him. Soon, other portals activated one by one. From each emerged a warrior, a representative, an envoy – each from one of the allied worlds. All had come to speak for their people. The room began to fill. At its center was a large round table – with thirteen seats, one for each world of the Alliance. They waited until all had arrived. Then they sat. Not a word was spoken. The expressions on their faces said it all: confusion, uncertainty. A silence heavier than any voice. Something had happened that even they did not understand.
The Earth's representative stood up. Behind him, a holographic world map lit up – showing the destruction that had swept across the planet. Ruins. Burnt landscapes. Lost territories. He took a step forward. His voice was calm but heavy. "A portal appeared northeast of Turkey. Our readings showed a Level 6 rift. Normally, such a portal needs seven days to fully open – unless enhanced by magic crystals or external energy." He looked around the room. "But this one opened in only five. And not just this – portals opened all over Earth. Simultaneously. Coordinated. From each emerged beings of various kinds, many we've never seen before." A murmur spread through the room. Even veterans of wars and cataclysms were visibly shaken. "Our labs are already investigating the events," the speaker continued. Rex raised his voice. "I also collected samples. So did the mages from Azura." Another representative nodded. "Me as well." The Earth speaker thanked them. "We need to combine our results. We need every detail."
The map shifted. More regions appeared – continents in ruin. "Egypt. Australia. Peru. Completely wiped out. We don't know if there are survivors – or how many. The West Coast of the United States has been obliterated. Europe was partially saved – by chance. Many R9 fighters were attending a wedding in Sweden at the time. Without them..." He paused, letting the thought hang. "Russia – largely destroyed." Then a new image appeared: a floating island, shattered. "The Sky School Arcanum... has also been destroyed." A chill ran down Rex's spine. He stared at the image. Then, quietly: "And... Meridion?" The Earth speaker looked at him. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, heavily: "All instructors... have fallen. Only the students survived." Rex lowered his head. His eyes grew glassy. He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to stay composed.
The speaker continued: "We lost seven R9 warriors. Countless R6 to R8. And – according to current estimates – about 1.8 billion people." Silence blanketed the room. Cold. Heavy. Hopeless. "The real number," the speaker added softly, "is likely much higher."
He raised his voice once more. "Therefore, I ask you: help us rebuild. Provide fighters – in case of aftershocks or future attacks." A dwarf representative stood. Small, but with a voice that echoed through the chamber. "The dwarves will help. Rebuilding. Defense. You can count on us." Murmurs of agreement spread. Others nodded, raised their hands, gave their assent. But the dwarf wasn't finished. "But... what do we do if they attack another world? What if we're not ready again?" A speaker from Drakthar slammed his fist on the table. "We must launch a counterattack! Immediately!" The Aqualor representative shot back, voice sharp: "And who will you attack? You don't even know where the attack came from! We have no coordinates, no target!" The atmosphere soured. Voices rose. The delegates began arguing – loud, emotional, angry. Everyone had an opinion. Everyone wanted to be heard. Some stood, talking over each other, others pointed fingers, hurling accusations. Only Rex remained silent. Still seated, his gaze empty. Lost in thoughts of Meridion. The pain was deep.
Then – a sound. Another portal opened. The room fell silent instantly. All heads turned to the glowing rift. Some representatives instinctively drew their weapons. Tense eyes, guarded stances.
A figure stepped through. Tall. Dignified. Surrounded by an aura that commanded immediate respect.