[Oliver’s POV]

  “Fall back!” the figure in Green Ranger Armor commanded. “I’ll handle them.”

  “Keep them off us,” Oliver ordered his Hoplites. The soldiers acknowledged immediately, their formation tightening as they continued to suppress the mercenaries still firing from the flanks.

  Yet the mercenaries didn’t obey their supposed leader.

  Despite the barked command, they kept firing. The Green Ranger’s authority meant nothing to them. They weren’t a disciplined army. They were survivors scrambling for escape.

  That left only Oliver and the impostor.

  The two slowly closed the distance, the chaos of battle fading into a muffled backdrop. Plasma fire and explosions echoed in the distance. However, here, between them, there was only the heavy hum of their armors.

  Oliver lowered his arms to his sides as he studied the figure before him.

  The impostor’s armor was impressive, almost flawless in design. The plating was smooth, the Energy output steady, the synchronization felt tight. Whoever had built it had done their homework.

  But it wasn’t the real one.

  'If he draws a weapon,' Oliver thought, 'that’ll show them everything. The real Green Ranger only used a dagger.'

  He waited, his muscles coiled, watching every subtle shift in the other man’s stance.

  The Green Ranger moved first.

  He surged forward with startling speed, his boots tearing shallow grooves into the ground. The air rippled around him.

  Oliver’s reflexes kicked in; he crossed his arms in front of him, bracing for impact.

  'Straightforward charge?' he thought, almost disappointed. 'Even with a Unique Armor, that won’t break through mine.'

  He stood firm, expecting the collision.

  But it never came.

  Instead of the bone-rattling impact of a melee strike, there was silence. Just the faint sound of metal scraping and the soft crunch of gravel.

  Then, footsteps.

  'Retreating?' Oliver’s instincts screamed.

  He opened his eyes in time to see two small, metallic objects bounce across the ground toward him. Two tiny spheres, blinking red.

  Grenades.

  “Damn it—!”

  The world went white.

  The blast hit like a thunderclap, a surge of light and concussive force that swallowed everything. The shockwave threw Oliver backward, his armor’s shields flaring as they absorbed the brunt of the explosion. The air was filled with dust and smoke, the sound of ringing static drowning out all else.

  For a moment, he couldn’t see, couldn’t even think.

  Sound came to him as a distant hum, muffled and distorted, like he was underwater. His vision was a blur of light and shadow, the world spinning in jagged fragments. The only thing he could feel was the weight of his armor and the impact of fists slamming into him.

  A strike to his ribs. Another across his face.

  The blows came fast and relentless, each one rattling his frame. He raised his arms out of instinct, but his reactions were dulled. Too slow to block, too disoriented to counter.

  He gritted his teeth. 'Not heavy. Not precise.'

  The punches, though fast and chaotic, had no strength behind them. ‘What the hell is this?’

  Even in its unstable state, his Red Armor could take far more than what this impostor could deliver.

  Still, something about this didn’t add up. 'This is supposed to be a Unique Crystal? It doesn’t feel like it.'

  He stumbled backward, his boots grinding against the pavement. The green-armored figure pressed the assault, every movement wild and unpredictable.

  Gradually, Oliver’s visor recalibrated, the blinding light fading. His systems rebooted one by one. The world began to take shape again.

  And then he activated his boon.

  [Observation]

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  The world shifted.

  Color drained away, replaced by stark contrasts of black and white. The noise of battle fell silent, replaced by the rhythmic pulse of Energy. The shapes around him sharpened into outlines, each movement traced by luminous lines of motion and intent.

  From the figure before him, hundreds of lines extended. Each one marking the path of an attack, a dodge, a strike yet to come.

  But something was wrong.

  The lines didn’t flow like they should. They didn’t follow the clean, efficient geometry of trained combat.

  They were chaotic.

  They twisted and tangled, spiraling around one another like living threads. Some branched off in impossible directions, others doubled back, intersecting violently. It was a web of confusion, a mess of instinct and aggression rather than discipline or technique.

  Oliver had never seen anything like it.

  The Green Ranger moved again, and the patterns came to life, disordered, frantic, but fast.

  No stance. No rhythm. No precision.

  He wasn’t fighting like a soldier or a Ranger. He was fighting like a brawler.

  A street fighter, throwing everything he had in a storm of raw, unrefined violence. It wasn’t skill. It was survival.

  Oliver ducked under another swing, the blow slicing through the air above his head. His mind was still trying to make sense of the erratic movements of the enemy.

  The tangled web of lines from his [Observation] boon still danced before his eyes, an incomprehensible storm of motion. It was useless; he couldn’t read this opponent. He couldn’t predict him.

  With a growl, Oliver dismissed the ability, the monochrome world snapping back into color. 'To hell with it.'

  The moment one of the Green Ranger’s blows grazed his armor, Oliver acted.

  He stepped in sharply, twisting his shoulder and driving his weight forward. His fist ignited with the golden flame of [Prometheus], the Energy coiling tightly around his gauntlet like liquid fire.

  'This will end it.'

  He exhaled, his breath steady inside the helmet. The blow was perfect—clean, direct, unstoppable.

  But it never landed. There was no impact. No resistance.

  His eyes widened as his arm veered sharply to the right, the strike passing harmlessly through the air inches from the enemy’s face. His follow-through carried him forward, leaving him completely open.

  'What—?' He barely had time to register the failure before the counterattack came.

  The Green Ranger’s fists crashed into him; one to the ribs, another to the shoulder, a third snapping his head to the side.

  Oliver stumbled back, raising his arms to defend, his armor groaning under the strain. He forced distance between them.

  Inside the helmet, he was seething. 'That bastard. It’s the Crystal.'

  He hadn’t noticed it earlier. It was subtle, almost imperceptible. But someone was pushing his movements, just by millimeters, yet enough to throw his attacks off course.

  'I should’ve hit him. That punch should’ve shattered his head.' Instead, his own armor had betrayed him.

  The Green Ranger advanced again. His strikes came in unpredictable bursts—knees, elbows, a spinning kick that caught Oliver’s shoulder, yet no attack did real damage.

  Oliver retaliated, swinging hard, but his blows were sluggish. Every attack either went wide or landed with half the force he intended.

  “Damn it!” he snarled, his voice echoing through the suit’s comms. “This cursed—”

  Oliver could deactivate it, strip the armor, and fight barehanded. He was strong enough, skilled enough. But one good hit from that Green Armor, and it would crush his head.

  He had no choice but to endure.

  Little by little, Oliver’s knees began to give way. Though the attacks caused almost no damage, staying on the defensive was starting to wear him down, especially when the armor didn’t seem to want to help him.

  “Governor!” a Hoplite shouted. The soldier broke formation, charging toward the green-armored Ranger with a blinding burst of plasma.

  But the Green Ranger was gone before the attack even connected. He leapt backward, twisting through the air, landing on his feet.

  “Don’t worry about me!” Oliver barked, his voice raw through the comms. “Cover the others. That’s an order.”

  “Sir?” one of them hesitated, the uncertainty clear in his voice.

  Oliver didn’t answer. He kept his gaze locked on his opponent.

  The Green Ranger’s face was hidden behind the emerald-tinted visor, but his movements told the story. His breathing was heavier now, his strikes slower, his footwork less precise.

  He was tiring.

  'He’s not trained for this,' Oliver realized. 'He doesn’t know how to control the Crystal’s output.'

  The armor might have given the man power, but it was devouring him from the inside.

  All Oliver needed to do was outlast him.

  Even if it meant taking more hits.

  'Just hold him. Let him burn himself out.'

  The two circled one another, the air between them rippling with residual Energy.

  Then the Green Ranger spoke. “You’re tougher than I thought.” The voice was distorted through the helmet’s filters. It was low, rough, and almost mocking.

  Oliver’s jaw tightened. He wanted to retort, to tell him how much luck had been on his side, but the words stuck in his throat. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  Instead, he steadied his breathing, forcing his armor to respond.

  “Where did you get that Crystal?” he demanded.

  The Green Ranger tilted his head slightly, the faintest glint of amusement flashing across the visor. “Curiosity killed the cat.”

  Oliver’s fists clenched.

  “If you’re this weak, maybe you shouldn’t play with the big fish.” The words hit harder than any punch.

  Rage boiled in Oliver’s chest, burning hotter than the Prometheus flames that flickered faintly around his gauntlets.

  'If not for this cursed Crystal—' He didn’t finish the thought.

  The Green Ranger moved again.

  “Maybe I’ll tell you next time.”

  He leapt, his armor flaring bright green as the boosters on his back ignited. The force of the jump sent shockwaves through the ground, scattering dust and debris. He shot upward, toward the shimmering barrier of Tros’s artificial atmosphere.

  Oliver watched, stunned, as the figure soared higher and higher until he reached one of the departing transport ships. The Ranger landed on its hull, gripping the outer plating as the vessel climbed toward the void.

  Oliver’s strength finally gave out. He dropped to one knee, then another, before collapsing completely.

  “What the hell was that?”

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