There were worse places to spar than the rooftop of the Citadel.
Sure, the air was thin. The platform swayed just enough to mess with your balance. And the vertical drop to certain death really added pressure. But Toya liked it up here, which meant Xavier had exactly zero input on the matter.
She stood across from him in a low stance, claws retracted, eyes focused. Her jacket flared in the wind like a cape.
"I'm not holding back," she warned, stretching her neck.
"Awesome," Xavier muttered, adjusting his stance. "That makes this the third time you've said that this week."
Her eyes narrowed. "Then maybe you'll start listening."
They moved.
She was faster than anyone her size should be — a blur of motion that forced his adaptive armor to kick in mid-dodge. The chest plating snapped tight as her elbow whistled past his ribs. He countered with a flick of his wrist, blade emitter hissing to life—
—only for Toya to twist under it and jab him clean in the gut.
He stumbled back, air knocked clean out of him.
She didn't follow up. She just stood there. Waiting.
"You hesitate when you overthink," she said, brushing a stray dreadlock behind her ear. "You're not downloading strategy files. You're fighting. Use your instincts."
Xavier coughed, hands on his knees. "What if my instincts tell me to run?"
Toya cracked a rare smile. "Then your instincts are smarter than most rookies."
He let out a breath, then straightened. "That what I still am to you? A rookie?"
"No," she said. "But you're not Grim, either."
Toya's words hit harder than they should've.
"Your still making your way up," she'd said — low, pointed, like it was both fact and failure.
Xavier didn't flinch, but his eyes narrowed behind his visor. The training mat's ambient light caught the faint glow in his adaptive suit, the chest piece flaring briefly with residual energy.
"Yeah, I figured that out after the first guy tried to throw me off the list and shank me in the academy days," he said, voice cool. "But if you're still staring and not trying to excel past him then who are we to be agents of this organization while he's missing."
Toya blinked — not just surprised by the words, but by who said them.
Xavier didn't wait for her response. He turned toward the edge of the platform, jaw tight, fists still flexing from their earlier spar.
The silence that followed stretched long enough to sting.
But then — not quite a second later — a low alarm buzzed in the corner of the chamber. Faint. Insistent.
Xavier turned, already reaching for his helmet. Toya was still staring at him, unreadable.
Before either of them could speak, the overhead lights turned crimson.
Then came the boom.
A deep, distant sound — not like thunder. More like metal crying out from the inside.
The entire floor shifted. Subtle, but enough to make the air change. The kind of change that meant the Citadel wasn't just alert — it was breached.
The sound of gunmetal boots echoed through the corridor a beat later. Hunter burst into the room first, followed by Kane, both armed and already locked into field gear.
"South sector just blacked out," Hunter said quickly, already scanning the walls as if he could see through them. "It's The Hold."
Xavier's heart dropped.
The Hold was G.H.O.S.T.'s maximum-security prison. Deep inside the Citadel. Reinforced, armored, and sealed from every direction.
If something was happening there, it wasn't a drill.
Kane tapped his wrist-mounted screen, frowning at the readouts.
"Containment doors just rerouted to open access," he said. "From inside."
Toya had already moved, claws deployed. "You don't 'accidentally' open containment on level five."
Hunter's voice was sharper now. "And if they breached it, they had help."
A pause.
Then, Xavier — trying to keep up — asked, "Who would even want to break into The Hold?"
No one answered.
Not at first.
But then Toya, her voice quieter now, said: "Not into. Out of."
Hunter pulled up a feed from the interior surveillance drones. The screen flickered, glitched — and then finally cleared.
What they saw didn't look like an escape. It looked like a warzone.
Flames licked the edge of the walls. Drones sparked where they'd fallen. And standing in the middle of the chaos — surrounded by fire, dragging what looked like a G.H.O.S.T. officer by the collar — was a man.
Black armor. Tall. Scarred. No helmet. His eyes glowed faint orange.
Shayna's voice came through comms, cutting the tension like a blade.
"He's here. Shane."
Xavier blinked. "Who?"
The others stiffened.
Even Toya.
"Shane," Hunter repeated. "Used to be one of us. First-gen Elite. Tactical genius. Blade-trained under Grim himself."
"Then why's he—"
"He betrayed us," Toya said. Her voice wasn't cold now. It was something else. Regret, maybe. Rage. "Walked into the Marsa War and never walked out the same."
"Why haven't I heard about him?"
Hunter looked at Xavier like he'd asked why the sun was hot. "Because people don't talk about ghosts unless they come back."
Another explosion shook the base.
This one was closer.
Lights above flickered as new alerts stacked across the wall.
ALERT: CELL DELTA-01 COMPROMISED.
CONTAINMENT BREACH IN SECTOR 6.
MARSACELL LOCK DISENGAGED.
Toya moved first, sprinting toward the elevator shaft already lighting up for high-priority descent.
Xavier followed, heart hammering. "Wait — what's MarsaCell?"
She didn't answer.
But Hunter did — the kind of answer that made Xavier wish he hadn't asked.
"Marsa," he said, voice steady. "Dark Lady of the War. She died. But if that lock's open... she didn't stay that way."
The elevator doors slid shut behind them.
Down they went.
And the war they thought was over?
It was waking up beneath their feet.
The tremor was small at first — almost dismissible. A soft vibration in the floor like the breath of a sleeping giant catching in its chest.
Then came the hum.
Low. Wrong. Like sound traveling through rusted bone.
Hunter's hand shot to his blade. Toya froze mid-step. Xavier's HUD lit up in red before H.O.P.E. could even finish her warning.
"Seismic irregularity detected — sublevel breach in progress."
A deep crack rolled through the Hold's reinforced wall. The air shifted — colder, heavier. And then, from somewhere below, an unnatural pressure pushed up into the bones of the compound.
The lights flickered.
A second later, the explosion hit.
BOOM.
Metal screamed. Fire shot from the lower sectors, cascading through the distant access tunnel like a reversed waterfall. The entire substructure lurched as containment doors slammed shut — too late.
The floor cracked beneath Xavier's boots as he stumbled backward, catching Toya by the wrist before she could fall into the widening split.
Sirens. Gunfire. Screams.
A massive force surged upward from the bottom of the Hold — not physical, but energy. Wrong energy. The kind that distorted temperature, bent air pressure, made your instincts scream before your brain caught up.
Sparrow's voice broke over the comms.
"We've got a full breach! Repeat — lower tier lockdown has failed! Unknowns in motion—what the hell is—"
The feed cut.
From the nearest blast door, G.H.O.S.T. security agents sprinted toward the team, weapons hot.
"Tier 5 cells are open!" one of them shouted. "We've got enhanced loose on every floor!"
Hunter pulled Toya upright. "We need to move—now!"
Xavier turned toward the flickering overheads. His HUD was still lagging from the tremor. H.O.P.E. tried to patch visual.
"Two energy spikes approaching. Unknown classification. One matches hostile signatures from the Marsa War archives."
Then he heard it.
The sound of boots — too heavy, too even — walking up through the smoke like they belonged there.
And then:
"It's been a long time, Hunter."
The voice didn't echo.
It burned.
The smoke parted.
And Shane stepped through.
Not masked. Not hiding. A tall silhouette in sleek black plating that shimmered with heat — jagged pauldrons, cracked gauntlets glowing with ember-light. Cracked gauntlets pulsed with ember-light, and a long scar carved down one side of his face like it had been burned into memory. His eyes weren't just red — they were molten.
His gaze fell on the team — calm. Direct.
Then he smiled.
"Did you miss me?"
Hunter took one slow step forward, knives half-drawn.
"Shane," he said. Like it still tasted like ash.
Toya didn't move. Her breath hitched, eyes locked on the man who used to be part of them — who used to fight beside them. The same man who'd vanished after the Marsa War, presumed dead in the fallout.
Xavier's brows pulled together. "Who the hell is that?"
Shane tilted his head, ember-light flickering under his armor.
"Guess they didn't tell you about me," he said, voice deeper, corrupted by whatever fire now lived in his chest. "I was an Elite before an Elite meant something. Before the new blood got shiny suits and codenames."
"You were family," Toya said, her voice sharp, cutting through the moment like frost. "Until you torched half of Beijing and walked out on the rest of us."
Shane's grin didn't falter. "Perspective. I was trying to show you tour reality. But you know how it is with G.H.O.S.T. — they hate anything too public. Too "unsafe" to expose to their sheep below. Especially when the warning comes within."
Kane shifted beside the others, fists clenched.
"You're supposed to be dead."
"So are half the people in this room," Shane replied. "But you all keep showing up"
He took another step. The lights around the corridor dimmed — reacting to the heat rippling from his body like the echo of a volcano's breath.
"I'm not here for a fight. Yet. Just wanted to say hi before the world changes. Again."
Hunter's hand twitched, but didn't move.
"You working alone?" he asked.
Shane laughed once, low.
"You think I'd show up first if I was the strongest?"
Shane grinned at Toya.
"You always were the loudest when you were losing."
Toya didn't blink.
She took one slow step forward — her claws fully extended, humming, dripping faint red plasma where they scraped against each other.
Another step.
Then another.
And then—
She roared.
Not a scream.
A war-cry.
It echoed like an explosion of teeth and rage through the broken vault — and her eyes bled red.
Her body twisted, but not out of control — her muscles surged, claws elongating mid-swing as her breath pulsed out in heaving gulps. The temperature dropped around her, then spiked — her core burning hotter than her skin could contain.
Rings of heat burst outward from her steps, her boots cracking the floor beneath her.
"Move!" Xavier shouted, grabbing Sparrow by the collar and yanking him out of the way.
Even Shane stepped back — just a fraction — his grin faltering.
That was all Toya needed.
She was on him in half a blink, swinging in a blur of metal and speed. Her claws weren't slashing anymore — they were sawing, bladed arcs of crimson light carving at his chestplate with every impact.
Shane blocked once — twice — then she was inside his guard, her elbow driving into his throat, her claws raking down his flank hard enough to spark flames.
He grunted and tried to counterstrike.
She caught his fist in her bare hand.
Crushed it down.
"Not this time," she snarled through clenched teeth. Her voice didn't sound like hers anymore.
She sounded like a beast.
She spun him, lifted him midair, and slammed him straight through a cryo pod. Ice erupted. The floor cratered beneath the impact. Shane wheezed, armor flickering.
"You think you broke us?" she whispered, standing over him now, claws raised.
"You didn't even finish the job."
She swung.
The final blow—
Boom.
Shane backhanded with a serious smack to Toya.
It ripped Toya backward, as she skidded into a pile of broken steel. Her bloodlust fading just as quick as it came.
Behind him, the wall of the corridor began to hiss — groaning, creaking.
Something else was coming.
Hunter's tone hardened. "This is a prison, not a stage."
"Then maybe it's time someone tore the curtain down."
And then it happened — the blast came from beneath, a violent quake that shook the walls and threw several guards off their feet. Sirens wailed instantly, crimson lights bathing the corridor in emergency red.
[ALERT: CONTAINMENT BREACH – CELL BLOCK 9]
"Eyes up!" Toya snapped, claws sliding into place.
Xavier turned to Atlas through the comms. "What's happening?"
Atlas's voice crackled over the line, uncharacteristically sharp.
"Multiple cells compromised. Code Black. We have a Level-Z breach. Do not — I repeat, do NOT let Subject Zero escape."
"Subject Zero?" Xavier echoed.
But there was no time to ask.
The end of the hallway behind Shane exploded outward in a firestorm of molten steel and howling frost.
And from the smoke, a second figure emerged — taller, draped in burning shadows, with a mask made of obsidian glass. Not Shane.
Not human.
The fire hadn't finished echoing through the steel corridors when the smoke split down the middle — like something older than flame demanded passage.
The figure that emerged didn't walk. It advanced.
No voice. No warning. No name.
It stood taller than anyone in the room, wrapped in segmented black armor that glimmered with internal heat — not red like Shane's infernal glow, but deep. Magma beneath obsidian. Each footstep left scorched metal in its wake.
Its face was hidden beneath a jagged obsidian mask — smooth, eyeless, mouthless. A single vertical crack glowed in the center like a dying star trying to escape.
The air thickened with pressure. Heat and frost clashed in the air, caught in a silent war around the thing's presence.
Shane — still standing in the breach — stepped aside.
Just watching as the new arrival passed him... and walked straight toward the team.
Hunter's blade hissed to life with a flick of his wrist. "That one's not looking human at all."
Toya crouched low, claws extended.
Sparrow said nothing. His bow was already drawn, but the arrow shook.
Xavier stared at the mask — transfixed.
There was something behind it. Not a man. Not a monster. Something older. Like a being long forgotten.
Kane stepped forward.
"This thing gonna talk, or we skipping straight to deathmatch?"
The figure stopped.
It didn't raise a weapon.
Didn't raise a hand.
Instead, its armor flexed — as if the very material was alive — and heat poured off its frame in an arc. It wasn't a blast, but it melted the tiles beneath its feet.
And then it moved.
Boom.
The air detonated as it charged.
Not at Xavier.
At the wall behind him.
It drove its fist through the steel, exploding a reinforced panel like paper.
Hunter shouted, "It's breaching the lock!"
Too late.
Sirens flared. Red light washed the corridor as containment seals began failing — one by one — along the ring.
The Hold wasn't holding.
"TOYA, BACK RIGHT!" Hunter shouted.
Toya sprinted low, claws dragging sparks as she tried to flank the Knight — but the thing anticipated her. Without turning, it raised one arm and released a wave of kinetic heat so thick the wall buckled.
Toya was thrown back, crashing into a stasis console with a violent crunch.
Sparrow launched a blinding arrow. It hit — dead center.
White flash.
Smoke.
Silence.
The thing stepped through it — untouched.
And behind it, cells began unlocking.
Not one.
Not two.
All of them.
Kane yelled, "FALL BACK TO SECTOR 3! FROST, NOW!"
A pulse of freezing wind slammed across the corridor as Frost raised both arms and let the full arc of her cryokinesis lash out.
The Knight stopped.
Its molten armor began to slow — frost hissing up its sides like steam fighting death.
For a moment, it didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Xavier stepped forward, breathing hard. "What the hell is that thing?!"
Shane answered, finally — from behind him.
"Her hand."
The team turned — but Shane wasn't smiling anymore.
He looked reverent.
Like a priest before a flame.
"You wanted to know who still remembers Marsa?" he whispered. "He does."
A tremor shook the corridor.
The Knight raised its hand.
And the last door opened.
Inside:
A chamber wrapped in burn-black stone.
Cables melted. Seals cracked.
And in the center — a cocoon of scorched silver, pulsing with red veins.
It moved.
Just once.
But it moved.
Hunter's face paled.
"No."
The Knight raised its arm again, reaching toward the cocoon — the metal of its gauntlet warping from the heat, twisting in unnatural coils like it wasn't built, but grown.
Xavier didn't think. He moved.
"HEY!"
He launched himself forward, shoulder-first, slamming into the Knight with every ounce of powered force his adaptive suit could muster. A shockwave rippled out. The hallway cracked beneath them.
The Knight didn't budge.
But it turned.
That obsidian mask pivoted toward him — just a sliver.
And then Xavier was flying.
The Knight hadn't punched him. Hadn't even raised a hand.
It released pressure.
Like a flex of gravity, a ripple of impossible mass — and it tossed Xavier like gravity spat him out. He slammed into the far wall, cracked his helmet display, and skidded onto the metal floor, coughing from the impact.
"Stay down!" Hunter's voice barked from across the chamber, blade locked against Shane's burning gauntlet.
"No chance!" Xavier spat, already rising, armor hissing with micro-repair.
Hunter and Toya were tangled in the other fight — every blow with Shane was like swinging at a wildfire.
Toya's claws screeched against his infernal armor, each strike sparking white-hot. Shane laughed through it — not maniacally, but with the calm fury of someone who knew he was winning.
"Still slow, Ravager," he said, parrying her blow with a backfist of heat. "Grim would've disarmed me by now."
"Damn you," Toya snapped, slashing low.
"Well that's not nice," Shane growled, and drove a boot into her chest, sending her flying back.
Hunter caught her mid-air, anchoring them both with a sliding stop, then whipped a blade toward the cocoon seal.
"XAVIER! Get it closed! That's your job! GO!"
The Knight was already at the edge of the containment vault. Its hand hovered over the lock seal — red veins of molten light spreading outward, activating old G.H.O.S.T. tech that shouldn't even be online anymore.
The cocoon pulsed again — faster this time.
Xavier darted across the broken floor, sliding beneath a burst of molten shrapnel as another vent exploded.
"H.O.P.E.! Override protocol! LOCKDOWN C3—NOW!"
"Override denied. Foreign entropy signature detected."
"Override it anyway!"
"Unable. Seal controls have been hijacked."
Xavier cursed under his breath, pulled open a cracked terminal, and yanked the wiring with his bare hand.
The heat made the plastic melt around his fingers, but the pain didn't matter. He rerouted the feed directly to his wrist-link.
"Manual interface enabled," his HUD chimed.
The moment his gauntlet synced to the cocoon's bio-lock, the thing reacted — a jolt of red energy surged up his arm.
He screamed — just once — before biting it back, falling to one knee.
Behind him, the Knight turned.
It had noticed.
"No no no no—" Xavier hissed, sweat pouring down his temple, fingers flying over the makeshift interface.
The code was alive. The cocoon was learning from him.
"You're not waking up today," he muttered, grinding his teeth. "Not if I have anything to say about it."
He activated the failsafe — the old G.H.O.S.T. security node hidden behind the main relay. Kane had taught him about it during simulations. One of those "if all else fails" tricks the old Elites built.
The moment it lit green — he slammed it.
The cocoon sealed.
Metal clamped down like a mechanical tomb.
The pulsing slowed.
The Knight screeched.
A noise that didn't belong to metal or man. A hiss that shattered the light fixtures overhead and bent the air.
And then it turned — straight at Xavier.
"COME ON THEN!" Xavier roared, activating his full suit charge, blades crackling to life down both arms.
The Knight charged - and Xavier smiled.
Not because he wasn't terrified.
He was.
But panic was for people who weren't trained by the deadliest black-ops unit on Earth, and who didn't grow up decoding combat schematics for fun. Panic was for the unprepared.
Xavier's mind was already moving five steps ahead.
Weight. Heat. Frame. The Knight was dense — unnaturally so. Every strike came with a microgravity wave. Center-mass was off. Balance slow to recover on pivots. Shadow trailing algorithms weren't just for show — they masked real-time spatial anchoring.
Conclusion: Overclocked brute tank. Not good with pressure from underneath.
Perfect.
Xavier sprinted forward, deliberately clumsy — baiting the Knight. Sure enough, the thing swung hard.
Xavier vaulted under it, shoulder-skidded along the floor, and tossed a micro-drone upward mid-slide.
It latched to the Knight's back and pulsed green.
"Tag. You're it."
He triggered his left bracer — and the drone detonated with a concussive EMP burst, stunning the Knight's motion systems just long enough for Xavier to flip onto its back and jam both gauntlet blades into the exposed spinal anchor.
The Knight roared — but not out loud.
In Xavier's head.
"You should not exist."
"I get that a lot." He kicked off, using the recoil to land just as the Knight turned, slower now.
Adaptive routing online.
Xavier's HUD displayed a pulse map of the Knight's energy core — a faint red hum just under the sternum.
"Alright, mystery bastard. Let's do some surgery."
He reconfigured his right blade mid-combat — flipping it into a resonance drill mode. A risky prototype. Had only tested it once. On a door.
The door exploded.
He lunged.
The Knight met him halfway — its arm becoming a spike of living heat.
Xavier didn't parry.
He slid under the blow, twisted in mid-air, and jammed the drill into the Knight's chest.
BRRRTZZZ-CHUNK.
Sparks. Screeching metal. Shadow screaming like a banshee. The Knight reeled, slammed him aside — but it stumbled for the first time.
Xavier crashed into the wall, coughing.
His armor hissed. Systems fried. One eye of his HUD was out.
Still, he grinned.
"Yeah. Told you. I do weird tech sh*t."
The Knight recovered — slower now.
And its gaze was angrier.
But Xavier wasn't done.
"Hey, HOPE?" he said into his mic. "Recalibrate pulse sync. Route auxiliary energy to suit core."
[H.O.P.E.: "Warning: This may compromise onboard temperature regulation."]
"Yeah? So will dying."
He stood — blood on his lip, wild in the eyes.
He wasn't fighting like a soldier.
He was calculating like an engineer who hated being underestimated.
Because sometimes the best way to kill a monster...
Was to out-think it.
on the other side, Shane's boots hit the cracked floor like war drums — and every step echoed with the radiant heat.
Hunter stood in front of him, blade loose in one hand, the other adjusting the strap on his shoulder holster. Toya flanked him, claws extended, eyes burning not with fear — but something far more personal.
Rage. Hurt. Memory.
Shane smirked as if nothing had changed.
"You two always were predictable," he said. "Rushing into fights you didn't understand. Still trying to play soldier while the real war's underneath you."
Toya didn't answer.
She moved first.
A blur of claws and fury — she launched straight into him, a whirlwind of slashes that could've torn through armor.
But Shane caught her wrist mid-strike.
Her body twisted to counter — knee to his ribs, elbow to his temple. He let go, spinning just enough to backstep.
Hunter was already on him — no hesitation.
His dagger lashed across Shane's shoulder — sparks flew, the edge barely slicing through the infernal plating.
Shane responded with a backfist wreathed in heat — the blow sent Hunter crashing into a wall, leaving a Hunter-shaped dent in the steel.
He grunted as he shifted in his suit, rolled, landed on his feet, already flicking another blade into position.
Toya stood her ground, panting. "You're letting her loose. Are you insane?"
Shane's expression shifted.
For half a second, something of rage passed through it.
Then it was gone.
"Am I insane for helping someone who suffered?," he said. "I'm the only one trying to bring justice to this world."
Toya's claws flared red.
Hunter's grip tightened.
But then...
A low hum started beneath the floor.
The light changed. A deep, pulse — like a heart beating from beneath concrete.
Toya's breath hitched.
The seal was re activating.
Marsa's seal.
Hunter turned sharply. "We have to stop him now."
Shane turned toward the vault gate, hand rising.
His palm shimmered — not with flame, but a symbol. A brand. Glowing red.
It responded to the pulsing seal.
The lock on the ancient chamber groaned.
Toya lunged — claws out — but Shane clapped his hands together—
BOOM—
A wave of heat slammed outward, sending both her and Hunter flying back.
A firestorm cracked the ceiling. Pipes burst. Sirens screamed.
"He's unlocking it!" Toya roared, barely catching herself against a crumbling support beam.
Hunter crawled up beside her, bleeding.
"Together," he said. "We stop him. Now."
They moved in sync — like old times.
Hunter went high — slamming a flash-round into Shane's shoulder and flipping behind him. Toya spun low — claws slashing through heat shimmer, cutting deep into Shane's side.
He howled — real pain this time — and staggered.
But it wasn't enough.
The gate to Marsa's chamber shuddered. The lock mechanisms began to crack.
The seal screamed.
BOOM.
A second explosion tore through the western wall, showering the chamber with concrete and red warning light.
Out of the smoke came Kane, full momentum, slamming shoulder-first into Shane with the force of a damn freight train.
The floor split beneath them.
Shane rolled, caught Kane's leg mid-swing, twisted, and threw him into a collapsing support column. It cracked but didn't crush him — Kane stood, dazed, and grinned.
"You hit like you've been skipping leg day."
From above, Frost dropped in, encased in a spiraling swirl of ice dust, arms sweeping outward to send a wave of crystalline frost toward the gate.
She wasn't aiming at Shane.
She was aiming at the seal itself — trying to slow the pulse long enough for the rest of the team to catch up.
Her voice rang in the comms:
"I can stall the gate, but whatever's on the other side? It's fighting back."
Shane turned toward her, raising his hand — a burning chain unfurling from his wrist.
"You really think I'll let you freeze her again?"
"You'll try," she whispered.
The chain snapped out — Sparrow's arrow sliced it mid-air.
He landed softly near the vault stairwell, hood down, eyes sharp, another arrow already drawn.
"Hey, fire-boy," he said. "Why don't you pick on someone with a better jawline?"
Shane snarled.
Kane, back on his feet, nodded at Sparrow. "We doing this?"
"Ghost style," Sparrow answered.
Shane launched forward — a comet of fire and rage.
The team moved as one.
Shane's flame-coated fist came down like a meteor, but Toya blocked with a crossguard of claws, redirecting the blow sideways.
"You're late," she hissed.
"Fashionably," Shane grinned — and then Kane barreled in like a war engine.
Kane's arms locked around Shane mid-move, the sound of reinforced skin-on-armor like metal drums slamming shut. He lifted Shane clean off the floor and slammed him into the steel deck hard enough to buckle the plating.
No hesitation.
Just force.
Sparrow moved next, already a blur in motion.
One arrow — ice-tipped — exploded at Shane's feet. Instant frost spidered across the floor, freezing the ground solid beneath him. Shane shifted his weight to move—
But the second arrow hit — an illusion marker.
To Shane's burning eyes, the entire squad had vanished.
"You always fall for it," Sparrow muttered under his breath, already knocking another arrow.
And just like clockwork—
Frost dropped to one knee. Palms slammed into the metal. Her eyes glowed pale blue.
The floor cracked.
Ice erupted in jagged spears from beneath, tearing up the frozen steel and piercing through Shane's left side. He howled and twisted, melting the ice with a wave of heat— but not all of it.
Steam blasted around him as the ground hissed and fought back.
Then—
From above—
Hunter.
Silent.
Precise.
Deadly.
He dropped from the broken catwalk like a blade from heaven, slamming a combat knife into the weak spot behind Shane's left shoulder plate.
Beneath their feet — and above them — the vault shuddered.
The door wasn't just cracking anymore.
It was pulsing — red and black, like a heart caught between worlds.
Molten runes had begun sliding down the metal, carving themselves like veins across the steel face.
Frost staggered, suddenly, blood streaking from her nose. Her hands shook as she tried to hold the containment sigils in place.
"I can't—" she gasped. "It's—something's waking up!"
Everyone froze for just a second.
Just long enough to see the shadow moving behind the cocoon.
Hunter turned to Toya.
"It's now or never."
Toya nodded once.
"We end him."
They lunged — blades and fury, frost and fire meeting in a final charge—
But while the team battled above, Xavier was already bleeding in the dark.
He slammed into a bulkhead for the third time, gasping as his armor took another hit.
"Chestplate integrity: 47%"
"Blade output: 63% efficiency"
"Blood oxygen: 82%"
He was running out of time.
The Knight loomed over him — seven feet of war-forged shadow, a mask of obsidian glass, and armor that seemed to drink the light. No words. No sound.
Just that judging silence.
But Xavier wasn't just a soldier.
He was a problem-solver.
And this thing?
This was a problem.
He sprinted — not at the Knight — but toward the wall. Mid-run, he yanked two broken cables out of the floor, let them spark across each other, and hurled them behind him.
The Knight stepped forward—
WHAM — right into a trap arc.
Electricity screamed through its armor, sparks flying.
Xavier flipped up the wall, kicked off the top rail, and spun mid-air, launching a twin-blade strike down into the back of the Knight's neck.
The first blade hit.
The second pierced.
Sparks and screaming metal.
He landed behind it, breathing heavy, blinking blood from his left eye.
"Don't care who sent you," he panted. "Don't care what you're made of."
He looked up — through a cracked ceiling grate — and saw the vault above splitting open.
Runes burned like wildfire.
Something moved behind the door.
Marsa...
Waking.
Xavier clenched his fists and whispered—
"You don't get to win. Not today."
A deafening crack shook the facility — then another — as molten runes across the vault lit up in a blinding crimson spiral.
Everyone felt it in their bones.
The seal failed.
Frost hit the ground, unconscious. Her containment field shattered in a wave of ice dust.
Kane reached for her, but the shockwave launched him backward, straight into a collapsing wall.
Hunter and Toya were still locked in battle with Shane — until a pulse of black energy surged from the vault and froze them mid-motion, as if time forgot how to move.
Only Xavier was still standing.
Just barely.
He saw the Knight take one final step back... then kneel.
Not to him.
But to her.
The vault exploded outward — not in fire, or ice, or even debris.
But in memory.
Shattered images surged out of the breach — voices, screams, laughter. A little girl's lullaby. Ace's voice. A kiss. A death.
Then—
She stepped forward.
Not burned. Not twisted. Not the corpse they'd buried.
But whole.
Marsa.
Dark gown stitched with embers.
Eyes like eclipses.
A presence so cold it boiled the air.
The Vaknar Knight and Shane both dropped to one knee.
"Queen," Shane said softly, almost reverently.
Marsa turned her head slightly. The moment her gaze swept the room, every lightbulb cracked in unison.
She saw them all — broken and failing around her.
And then—
She whispered a name.
Not a curse.
Not a scream.
Just one word, full of grief.
"Grim..."
Xavier's eyes widened.
Hunter flinched like he'd been shot.
Toya's entire body froze.
That name was a scar.
A wound she hadn't let scab.
Before anyone could react—
Marsa vanished.
No step.
No trail.
Just gone, along with Shane and the Knight in a burst of heatless light that left nothing but ash and static behind.
Fire suppression drones buzzed weakly overhead.
The Hold — G.H.O.S.T.'s most secure blacksite — lay in ruin. Vaults cracked. Lights dead. Emergency sirens bleeding out.
Kane coughed blood, dragging himself out of a collapsed wall.
Frost stirred weakly, gripping Kane's arm. Her eyes glazed, but alive.
Sparrow sat propped against a pillar, blinking hard. "Did we... lose?"
Hunter didn't answer. He stared at the spot Marsa vanished from.
Then Toya fell to her knees — not from pain, but from the weight of failure.
Xavier caught her, arms wrapping instinctively around her shoulders.
"We're okay," he whispered. "You're okay."
She didn't answer, just rested her head against his chest. Her claws retracted with a soft hiss.
Atlas arrived shortly after with Thomas through emergency transport.
He stood in the wreckage, silent. His glowing red eye scanned the field, searching for the survivors of the battle.
Payne exhaled sharply. "We lost her."
"No," Atlas said flatly. "We lost control."
He looked up — not at the vault.
At the cameras.
"And I don't think we're alone."
Far above the wreckage...
Atop a jagged outcrop of destroyed ceiling...
A figure stood in silence.
Cloaked.
Still.
Eyes faintly silver, watching the ruin below like a god watching ants burn.
His hands were folded behind his back.
He did not speak.
He didn't need to.
Because his name hadn't yet returned to history.
But the shadows knew him.
And soon... the world would too.