"This is more than a reclamation. It's a Descent."
By now, every cadet and Phantom within the Unit had gathered. There was no need to organize themselves into the same rows and columns that they did earlier — the operation soon to begin anyways.
And it was there, scattered and lost, did those words hit like a bullet to the chest: It was a Descent.
"This information has yet to go public, hence why the rest of the Units weren't informed. Omicron Phantoms have already been sent to clear the nest. As I stated previously, your only and required task is to secure the remains, look for survivors, and gather anything important."
Nyx could hardly believe his ears.
He was still mildly bruised and battered from the training he did with Silas, though the second he had time to process those words, it was almost as if the pain had seeped from his body, turning him to nothing but a numb shell of his former being.
A Descent is a phenomenon. It's a rite. The Phantoms have existed for nearly three hundred concurrent years, and only five have ever taken place... the sixth being now.
It wasn't something out of pride did Nyx feel this way... perhaps horror would be the most accurate term. The Fifth Descent only happened three years ago. Today, another had occurred.
Not impossible, but unlikely. A Descent was... as it's named, a descent. Terrors, from what little is known of them and their nature, fail to possess any form of reproductive organs of any kind. Naturally, the question sprung on how or why they were being produced. It didn't take long to find out, however; They were nesting.
Still, the how remains unanswered, as theoretically they shouldn't be able to do such a thing. That being said, when it comes to Terrors, it's best to assume that anything is possible.
Hence why a Descent needs to occur... to exterminate the nest and prevent more from being made.
Usually, their discoveries are so few and far between because, well, you usually don't see a nest and survive. The same reason why Omicron was sent for extermination instead of them.
In an odd way, Nyx didn't know whether to feel burdened or relieved. On one hand, close to the tarnished city would be death and destruction likely on a scale he couldn't even believe. On the other, Omicron would be handling the execution; and from what little time Nyx had spent as a cadet, he knew Omicron wouldn't take it lying down. They almost never do.
Of course, he would be lying to himself if he stated he didn't have second thoughts, though whether he wanted to or not, he knew he didn't have much of a choice.
The only thing he could do was to keep his doubts to himself, and never let them go.
Apart from the speech, Nyx found his eyes naturally being drawn to perhaps the biggest elephant in the room; The rift.
Being slightly raised atop a stone platform, it remained completely visible, even with the swarm of other heads standing between him and it. The more his eyes glared at its appearance, the more a slight chill began to grow down his spine.
It appeared like a spikey disk, offset to slightly swirl and encapsulate the gaping hole at its center. By all means, it failed to look even remotely human-made. Even if it was, then it'd be more of a construct or statue than anything that would be practical.
And yet, all must acknowledge the sense of power which exuded off from its base. The sense of a frothing overflow of raw, unbridled energy.
The feeling felt oddly electric.
Silas stood just to Nyx's right, similarly encapsulated by the figure before them. Tightly did he clench the grip of his bow, hand visibly tensing up and loosening in quick succession. His expression remained rather serious, not daring to show even the slightest hint of fear.
And yet, Nyx could tell.
For the first time, many here might encounter their first Terror. They'd lay eyes on horrific beasts of unfurled rage and destruction. They'd get to experience first-hand their disheartening, horrific presence. You'd have to be insane to not be terrified — or, at the very least, nervous.
The only ones which managed to wear a completely unfaltering face were of course the Epsilon Phantoms.
All stood right by the front edge of the gathering, and while they were too far away for Nyx to make out any major details, they undeniably had an aura of hell itself. Perhaps it was their cadence that tipped him off. Maybe their expressions, barely discernable from that distance. Regardless, it was painfully clear that these were elites. Veterans. Slaughterers of fear. Butchers of Terrors.
There were seventeen of them total, and not a single one tipped off any form of grief or worry. They were ready...
...And only then, as if it were on cue, the silent portal began to hum to life.
It happened so abruptly that it only appeared like a flash of thunder in his eyes. With a great, indescribable amount of torrent wind, it churned from within its frame, like a prisoner forced to be harnessed. Its edges twisted into a sickly green, color and venomous scent creeping like a vortex inwards before converging into chaos near its center. From within its swirling mass, it seemed almost infinitely deep — an endless sea which could never be conquered.
The rhythm of its movements felt oddly hypnotic, as if trying to lure them into their graves. The ground shook, his will faltered. Such power felt... ancient. Wrong.
"Cadets-!" Sir Vaelis' voice boomed once more, so loud that not even the violent sounds of the gateway behind him could overshadow. "Beyond this portal lies what remains of Neodera. This mission is currently a... sensitive situation for many. No matter what you are to see, and no matter what you are to do, don't forget your obligation as soldiers. As cadets. You've promised your hearts and souls for this cause — now I ask you to provide it."
He grew louder. "We are not humanity's last hope, but we are its best. For those who have been forgotten, their sacrifices still live on in those who live and fight today. Soldiers — those who yearn to fight for our freedom — steel your hearts, and hearten your resolve. Let the Sixth Descent commence!"
Without much more of a word, every soldier present let out a prideful cheer. A roar of victory before the battle had even begun. As if similar to a horde of bulls, they didn't hesitate to charge into the pulsating rift. As if they were nothing but an offering.
The closer and closer Nyx got, the more and more he could feel his nerves begin to get the better of him. It was only when he looked around and saw his comrades did those worries begin to fade, even if only slightly.
Whatever waited for them on the other side, they would face it together.
Even if Nyx didn't trust himself, he'd trust the other Epsilon cadets he'd trained with for a year. He'd trust their instincts and their wills, their resolves and their strengths.
He'd trust Silas, and everyone else who was fighting the same battle.
He'd trust the Phantoms, the ones who saved him once before, and the ones who'll surely do it again.
Before him, he could see the first few cadets beginning to fade through. When it came to his turn, he was ready...
...Let the Sixth Descent officially commence.
- | Extra information I can share thus far | -
The rift, despite being an integral device used by the Phantoms to carry out many of their operations, remains a mystery to most of humanity. Perhaps alien in nature, or perhaps an ancient technology since lost to genocidal time.
Using a great deal of energy, the rift is able to open a literal 'rift' in space to transport things across great distances, so long as the destination is pictured clearly within the mind of the current Regiment Leader. Perhaps the connection is spiritually locked to the title, as it only and exclusively reacts to that person, and due to how much energy is required for the device to activate, it can usually only be activated once every week or so (though the length tends to vary based on how far a distance they're traveling).
Any research attempts at uncovering it's existence is usually ended soon after, as any damage to the portal could be detrimental to the continued existence of the Phantoms. That being said, it's been uncovered that the 'frame' of the rift acts more as a container of energy than a functioning piece to the mysterious puzzle. Beyond that, it's highly unlikely any further information will be gained unless the portal is fully decommissioned, which is a risk far too great to be deemed worth it.