For ten seconds, Sanctuary Isle held its breath.
The countdown echoed in Kane's mind like the toll of a funeral bell. Ten. Nine. Eight. The entire island was shrouded in silence. Children huddled inside their homes. The elders pressed trembling hands together in prayer. Livestock shifted uneasily in their pens as the shimmer of the mini-shields wrapped their stalls.
Seven. Six. Five.
Kane stood in the command nexus, sweat slicking his palms despite the chill that spread through his veins. He could feel it—the weight of annihilation bearing down upon them. His eyes darted between the Crimson Ward's readings and the tactical displays of Stormbreaker and Vanguard.
Four.
"Hold." His voice was iron. Yet behind it, his heart hammered like a war drum. "Every drone, every turret, lock into fail-safe. If this doesn't work, we'll go down fighting."
Three. Two. One—
Nothing.
The world stood still.
For an instant, it seemed as if the warhead had vanished. The Greywatch delegation gasped, their leader frozen between dread and disbelief. Kane clenched his fists, uncertain whether to trust the silence. Then came the sound—a shriek, a keening whistle of descent, tearing through the air above the main hall.
The nuke arrived.
The night lit up with a star's fury. A blazing orb of destruction erupted in the sky—yet it did not reach them. The Crimson Ward flared to life, an enormous dome of crimson light enveloping the island, runes racing across its surface like veins of molten fire.
The shockwave hit like a hammer.
The warhead's detonation splintered the heavens. Clouds ripped apart, the sea below convulsing in towering waves. But the Crimson Ward held. Energy cascaded in crimson arcs, grinding against the nuclear firestorm, muffling its roar to a distant thunder.
Inside the barrier, the ground trembled, windows rattled, dust shook loose from rafters—but no one burned. No one was vaporized. The nightmare had been stopped at the edge of Sanctuary Isle's heart.
"Status!" Kane barked.
"Stormbreaker and Vanguard fully operational!" one operator cried, eyes wide as the console glowed with surviving power readouts. "Crimson Ward integrity at… seventy-one percent and holding!"
The sea boiled beyond the barrier as the mushroom cloud rose into the night like a phantom hand reaching for heaven.
Greywatch's leader fell to his knees, voice trembling. "Impossible… no fortress, no city—no nation could've withstood that."
Kane turned his gaze to him, eyes cold as steel. "You came here to negotiate. But understand this—Sanctuary Isle does not bend. We endure."
Yet even as he spoke, his gut twisted. The Crimson Ward had saved them… but for how long? The strike was no random act. Someone powerful had just declared war.
And this was only the beginning.
The red glow of the ward slowly dimmed, but the echoes of the explosion still rolled across the horizon. Smoke smeared the skies beyond the barrier, a bruised mix of black and burning orange. The sea outside churned in violent spirals, still thrashing from the shock.
Inside the main hall, the air was heavy, thick with the silence of awe and fear.
The Greywatch delegation hadn't moved—most of them were pale, wide-eyed, as if they had just stared death in the face. Their leader remained kneeling, gripping the floor like it was the only thing keeping him anchored to this world.
The heavy doors slammed open.
Reina's summons dragged in the two captured pilots, hands bound behind their backs, uniforms scorched from ejecting mid-strike. Soldiers shoved them forward, forcing them onto their knees before Kane. The pilots' faces were hard masks of discipline, but beneath the bravado was the unmistakable glimmer of fear.
Kane stepped down from the dais, boots striking against the stone with deliberate weight. His gaze was razor-sharp as it locked onto the prisoners.
"Who gave the order?" His voice was low, each word cold enough to draw shivers.
One of the pilots spat to the side, smirking through cracked lips. "You'll find out soon enough. You think your shield will save you again? That was just a test."
The other remained silent, eyes darting between Kane and the Greywatch delegates. He swallowed hard, lips trembling.
Kane crouched before him, meeting his gaze directly. "Look outside. Do you see that?" He pointed toward the horizon where the mushroom cloud still rose like a scar against the night sky. "That was meant to erase you as much as it was meant to erase me. Whoever sent you doesn't care about your survival—or your loyalty."
The second pilot broke first. His voice cracked. "It was… it was an order from higher command. A private benefactor, someone with deep ties in the underground. He's been buying bases, men, weapons. Said Sanctuary Isle was a threat to stability—that you would upset the balance of power."
Kane's eyes narrowed. "Name."
The pilot shook his head violently. "I don't know! I swear, I don't know his name. They only called him the Patron. He paid in resources and tech. More than most nations could afford."
Kane studied him a moment longer before standing. He gave a curt nod to Lena, who immediately motioned two guards to drag the pilots away. "Secure them. Keep them alive. Their tongues will loosen further."
He turned back toward the tactical display. Smoke outside continued to rise. The Crimson Ward still shimmered faintly, humming with energy. But his mind wasn't on the shield anymore.
It was on the poison left behind.
Radioactive fallout.
Already, his system's interface buzzed with alerts, hazard markers appearing across the map of Sanctuary's perimeter. Radiation levels were spiking outside the barrier. Every gust of wind carried death with it.
He called his researchers through comms. "Lockdown remains in effect. Nobody leaves their sector. Seal all airways and filters. We don't know the spread of the fallout yet."
"Yes, Commander," came the tense reply from the lead researcher. "We'll begin immediate containment protocols, but… prolonged exposure, even shielded, could destabilize the ecosystem."
Kane opened the system's Store panel with a flick of thought. His eyes scrolled past weapons, defenses, expansions. He wasn't looking for power this time. He was looking for survival. For purification.
[ Store – Search: Anti-Radiation ]
Options flickered into view: Rad-Purification Towers, Nano-filter Nodes, Atmospheric Cleanser Array (Experimental). Each cost a staggering amount of resources, but Kane didn't hesitate.
"Researchers," he barked, "divert focus to shielding against radioactive particulates. I'll acquire what we need from the Store. No one leaves the barrier until we scrub the skies clean."
"Yes, Commander."
The hall was still filled with silence when he turned back to the Greywatch delegation. They had watched everything—the nuke, the barrier, the interrogation, the cold precision of his leadership. Some looked terrified, others awestruck, but one thing was clear: none of them underestimated him anymore.
Kane met the eyes of their leader, voice flat but commanding. "Negotiations continue. But understand—this is what happens when you make Sanctuary Isle your enemy. You will decide tonight if you stand with us… or against us."
Beyond the barrier, the poisoned sky burned. And every second that passed, the fallout crept closer to the shield, hungering for life.
The main hall felt like a sealed tomb. Negotiations with Greywatch's leader had finally ended in uneasy terms—trade routes, dungeon participation, resource exchanges—all signed and sealed under Kane's authority. But none of them could leave.
Not yet.
Outside, the sky was a suffocating haze. Blackened smoke and radioactive clouds swirled around the barrier like vultures circling prey. The once-proud Sanctuary Isle was invisible from the outside world, shrouded in a toxic storm. Only the faint red glow of the Crimson Ward kept the poison from seeping through.
At all four corners of the island, massive skeletal frameworks of steel and mana conduits were rising—Rad-Purification Towers, built simultaneously by Kane's drones, engineers, and summoned skeletons. Each tower hummed with gathering energy, siphoning in the corrupted air and breaking it down into harmless vapor. But the process would not be instant.
"Two days," Kane muttered, staring at the timer flashing across the holographic display. "Two days before the air clears. Until then, no one steps outside the barrier."
Reina, Lena, and Maya exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing. They knew Kane's voice carried no room for argument.
The Greywatch delegation was escorted to secured guest quarters, still pale and shaken. They had come expecting diplomacy; they now understood they were negotiating with someone who could bring down hell itself on their heads.
That left the pilots.
Dragged into the underground holding cells, stripped of their gear and bound in energy restraints, they still carried themselves with the rigid discipline of trained soldiers. But Kane had no patience for their silence.
He stood in the shadows of the cell, voice low and edged with menace. "You fired a nuclear weapon at my people. You would have killed children, families—everything I've built. So tell me… who sent you?"
The first pilot smirked, bloodied lip curling. "You think pain will break us? We've been trained for worse."
Kane didn't answer. He simply nodded, and the room changed.
Chains rattled as the pilot was hoisted upright. Drones extended instruments—needles, sonic disruptors, sensory amplifiers. Kane didn't lift a finger. He didn't have to. The machines did his work with clinical precision.
Minutes bled into hours. The first pilot screamed until his throat gave out, but he never spoke. The second broke.
"I'll talk!" he gasped, sweat dripping from his face as his body trembled under the pressure of Kane's methods. "The Patron… he's the one funding us. A private benefactor, not tied to Greywatch. He controls a hidden base."
Kane's eyes narrowed. "Where?"
The pilot hesitated. A sharp nod from Kane, and another drone extended a whirring drill closer to his ear. The man panicked.
"Inside a mountain!" he shouted. "A fortified base carved into the rock. Twenty kilometers east of here, on an isolated island. Everything—his labs, his soldiers, his weapons stockpiles—it's all there!"
Kane stepped closer, grabbing the pilot by the collar. His voice was quiet, deadly calm. "If you've lied to me, I'll drag your soul back from the grave just to make you suffer again. Do you understand?"
The pilot nodded frantically, tears streaking down his soot-stained face.
Kane released him and turned to his lieutenants. "Reina, Lena, Maya—confirm the location. If it's real, we'll prepare a strike. The Patron thinks he can play war from the shadows." His eyes glinted like cold steel. "Let's see how his mountain holds against me."
Outside, the purification towers hummed louder, drawing in more of the poison. Inside, the world of Sanctuary Isle was locked down, sealed in a red cocoon of survival.
And in Kane's mind, a new hunt had begun.
The wealthy benefactor thought distance and secrecy could protect him. But Kane had found his scent. And when Sanctuary Isle moved, there would be no safehold, no fortress, no mountain deep enough to hide him.