I met Logan and Kira at 0800 hours sharp. None of us spoke much on the walk to the Chief’s office. We moved with the quiet purpose of people who already knew the day was going to be heavy.

  As we approached the Chief’s door, raised voices slipped through the thin crack between wood and frame.

  “I don’t care if the mayor ordered you to give him security,” Chief Dobson said. He wasn’t shouting, but the heat in his voice was unmistakable. “It is a waste of resources to assign officers to babysit him twenty-four seven.”

  “With respect,” Deputy Chief Howard replied, his voice oily enough to slide under the door. “It’s our obligation to protect the leader of this city. He insists his life is in danger. We cannot refuse him.”

  “I sure as hell can.” Chief’s voice grew sharper, rising like a storm front. “Officers died at the gate. We are stretched thin. Martial Law is enacted. That politician can go fuck himself.”

  I froze outside the door. I had never — not once — heard Chief raise his voice like that.

  “You know who he’s related to,” Howard snapped. “Family in the White House. A brother who’s a general at Fort Carson. If we neglect him, things won’t go well for me. I’m approving his request.”

  The venom in his voice tightened my jaw.

  “Fine,” Chief bit out. “But I pick the personnel.”

  “You may choose most,” Howard conceded, “but the mayor has demanded Logan be his personal bodyguard.”

  Logan stiffened beside me. Kira reached for his arm, but I stepped forward, hand on his bicep, grounding him. Then I walked into the office.

  “Sir,” I said, locking eyes with Chief. Kira and Logan followed.

  Howard’s face twisted into a grin. “Ah. The brute himself.”

  Chief’s expression eased when he saw us, relief softening the lines around his eyes.

  “Yes, Elias?” he asked, deliberately ignoring Howard.

  I straightened, pushing the grief back down where it belonged. “I’d like to take the players from the gate to North District. We need to pay respects to the families of the fallen. After that, we’ll return to Valen to do the same.”

  “I think that’s a fantastic—” Chief began.

  “Absolutely not,” Howard cut in.

  Every head turned toward him.

  “We don’t have the resources to send officers to another city just to appease victims of your suicide mission.”

  The urge to break his nose flared white-hot. Logan stepped forward, and Kira grabbed both our arms tightly.

  Chief moved faster than either of us.

  He surged to his feet, slamming a palm on the desk. “HOW DARE YOU. THIS IS STILL MY DEPARTMENT. GET. OUT.”

  Howard stiffened, chin raised as if he still had authority in that room. Then he turned and strode out. The door slammed behind him.

  For several long seconds, no one spoke.

  “That fucking weasel,” I growled.

  “I agree,” Logan muttered.

  Chief closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Enough. He is still your superior officer, no matter how much we detest him. And thank you, Kira, for stopping these two idiots.”

  “I wasn’t stopping them, Chief,” she said, cheeks still flushed. “I just wanted a clear shot at him first.”

  Chief huffed out something that might have been a laugh. “Either way. Thank you.”

  He straightened. The anger drained from his posture, replaced by the calm authority he radiated like a badge. “We’ll head back to North District. I can spare most of our officers for half a day, but a handful must stay for patrols and Martial Law. I’ll assemble everyone and give the volunteers the option to join you.”

  “Thank you, Chief,” I said. “I want to look for supplies too — anything to help the families.”

  “Be sparing,” he warned quietly. “We may need those supplies ourselves.”

  “I will.”

  We turned toward the hall.

  “If we’re going to North District,” Logan said, scratching the back of his head, “can we stop at my place first? Grab a few things?”

  “Absolutely,” Kira said before I could.

  I added, “I already grabbed my cash. Banks and ATMs are definitely down.”

  “Same,” Kira said, then they both looked at Logan.

  “Uhh… I don’t have an emergency cash pile,” Logan admitted, voice small for a man his size.

  “That’s alright,” Kira said gently. “We’ll cover it.”

  “What are you hoping to grab?” I asked as we reached the cruiser.

  “I think we should get diapers and formula. For Charlie’s girlfriend.”

  My voice tightened. His sacrifice burned fresh across my thoughts.

  Kira softened. “That’s a wonderful idea, Elias.”

  We drove in somber silence to the store. It was boarded up with plywood, glass crunching under my boots as I peered through a gap. Someone moved inside, cleaning up the aftermath of looting.

  “Hello,” I called. “Police.”

  The person ducked behind an aisle. After a moment, a middle-aged woman peeked out, cautious. I angled my badge toward the gap to reassure her.

  She slowly unlocked the deadbolt and pushed the plywood-patched door open. More glass shattered to the floor.

  “Sorry about the mess, officers. The world went a little mad.” She tried a smile, though her eyes flicked between us warily. Mostly at Logan.

  “Hi,” I said gently. “My name is Elias. This is Kira, and that big friendly giant is Logan. What’s your name?”

  “Becky,” she said, though her gaze remained glued to Logan.

  “Becky, we’re hoping to buy diapers and formula with cash. A friend of ours died recently. His family didn’t have enough supplies before everything went to hell.”

  Her expression softened instantly. Maternal instinct flickered across her features.

  “Of course, dear,” she murmured. “Take whatever you need.”

  I nodded my thanks, unable to speak around the lump in my throat. Kira stepped in, asking her about the riot, how her family was holding up.

  I grabbed a cart and rolled it toward Logan, who began pushing it as we moved through the aisles.

  We loaded diapers, formula, bottles, clothes. Kira corrected nearly every formula brand I picked up, and I accepted it with the humility of a man who didn't know a damn thing about babies.

  Before long, the cart turned into a wobbling mountain.

  Then chaos broke loose.

  “What about this?” I held up a massive stuffed bear the size of a medium dog.

  “That will crush the mother, let alone the baby,” Kira deadpanned.

  I threw it at her. It smacked her in the face with a soft flop.

  She glared, bent down, and hurled it back.

  Within seconds, the store devolved into a plushy warzone.

  Becky eventually wandered over — and caught a plushie straight to the face.

  Her laughter echoed off the aisles, and suddenly she joined the fight. She grabbed a plush cat and chucked it at Logan.

  It bounced off his stone-still face.

  Everyone froze.

  Then Logan’s grin spread, slow and feral.

  He scooped four plushies—one in each massive hand—then catapulted them at impossible speed.

  Chaos bloomed beautifully.

  By the time the last plushy fell, Becky collapsed in a breathless heap, laughing until tears welled in her eyes.

  “Sorry, Becky,” I said, trying not to laugh myself. “That got out of hand.”

  “It’s… alright,” she gasped. “I needed that. But how are… any of you… not winded?”

  “Upgrades,” I shrugged.

  We cleaned up, then finished shopping.

  “I think this is enough,” Logan said, catching a falling pack of diapers.

  “You sure?” I asked.

  “We didn’t miss anything, right?” Kira asked, suddenly nervous.

  Logan barked a laugh. “You two circled the store three times. We got everything.”

  We checked out. Becky eyed the cart thoughtfully.

  “Is all this going to fit in your vehicle?”

  “It’ll fit,” I promised. “We measured as we went. Here’s the cash.”

  She held up a hand. “If it’s for a fallen officer’s family, take it on the store. Please.”

  “That’s incredibly generous,” Kira said softly. “But you have repairs to make. We insist.”

  Becky hesitated. “…Then at least give me the officer’s name. We’ll set up a memorial.”

  “Charlie Mercer,” Logan said quietly.

  “Thank you,” Becky whispered.

  We loaded the cruiser until it bulged with supplies. Logan squeezed himself into the backseat, buried in diapers and formula.

  When we returned to the detachment, a convoy of players waited for us. Chief approached as we pulled into position.

  “I have to stay here and Logan I suggest you do the same” he said. “Please give my regards to the North District leadership and families.”

  Logan got out of the vehicle as Jamie came running up. “Got room for one more?”

  “Space just opened. I am assuming Logan has to stay because he might be arrested for assaulting their Chief” Chief smirked at my question.

  “Yeah it is probably not for the best if our new constable gets arrested on his first day” Chief’s smirk quickly disappeared when he saw Logan’s crest fallen face as he exited the Police Vehicle.

  “I am sorry Logan. I know it was your team that were the first responders to the gate and you lost a lot of your friends.” Chief rested a hand on the big man’s shoulder. “Listen, today you will shadow me and maybe we can fit in a spar before Elias and them get back”

  Logan perked up at the thought but the smile he gave the Chief didn’t reach his eyes.

  “I will give them your regards, Logan. I promise.” Logan made eye contact with me for a long moment before nodding.

  “Be safe. And be back before evening. I’ll prepare for the ceremony.”

  “Thank you, Chief.”

  We refueled the cruiser and began the drive north.

  The convoy rolled out of Valen PD in a tight line, six cruisers gliding north with lights dark and engines humming. Fifteen Valen PD players were split between them, paired up in the back seats behind steel partitions, armored, armed, and too quiet. There was no excited chatter, no nervous jokes. Just the low rumble of engines and the faint tap of radios quietly scanning dead channels.

  Kira sat beside me in the front. Jamie was behind the cage, wedged between boxes of diapers and formula, his knee bouncing nonstop. I watched him in the rearview mirror. He wasn’t scared. Not exactly. He was replaying memories, trying to make sense of them, same as the rest of us.

  The highway dipped, curved, and the tree line of Portalis Park rose in the distance. The unnatural growth was visible even from here, a giant canopy of pulsating green foliage. It looked bigger than when we left as the green trees grew over the far hill.

  We continued on towards North District, the farmland turning into neighborhoods that looked war torn.

  Jamie leaned forward, peering through the bars. “I think… this is where they hit first. Before we even knew what was happening.”

  His voice was soft, brittle.

  Kira looked ahead, jaw tightening. “No one here stood a chance. Not against creatures like that.”

  He nodded but didn’t look convinced.

  As the city limits changed from Valen’s outskirts to North District’s edge, the world seemed to darken, the light itself dimming beneath a heavy weight. The damage wasn’t total, not the city-wide devastation Jamie feared. The North still stood. Buildings were upright, roads mostly intact. But everything looked wounded.

  Burned siding curled like dead leaves. Black scorch marks climbed brick walls in long streaks. The asphalt was gouged in places as if something had scraped claws across it while dragging itself forward. Blood trails stained sidewalks in dried, rust-brown smears. Spent brass casings glittered in gutters like scattered coins from a bad dream.

  The air felt wrong. Thick. Heavy with the memory of fear and the echo of the first screams.

  Kira lowered her voice. “Two or three monsters did all this?”

  “Yeah,” Jamie whispered. “Before anyone understood what the hell was happening.”

  A house had its entire front door torn off. A cruiser lay half melted against a streetlight. A mailbox had been bent completely in half. The damage wasn't widespread, but each scar felt personal. Intimate. A reminder of how vulnerable everyone had been that first hour.

  We turned onto the main road leading toward the police station. Civilians peeked from behind plywood-covered windows, their eyes wide, fearful, hopeful. It reminded me of the look survivors gave us as we carried bodies out of the Gate. People clinging to the idea that someone, somewhere, was still fighting.

  The station came into view.

  Still standing.

  Still fortified.

  Still breathing.

  Barricades of welded metal and overturned cruisers rimmed the perimeter. The building’s windows were sealed behind steel plates and sandbags. It looked like a bunker holding its breath.

  As my cruiser rolled to a stop, officers at the entrance stiffened and reached for weapons.

  Then they recognized us.

  Recognized me.

  And everything changed.

  The front doors burst open.

  “Stormson!” Ryker’s voice cracked across the lot like thunder. He jogged down the steps, armor scuffed, face bruised, but smiling like he had been waiting for this exact moment. “About damn time!”

  Behind him, Shanira crouched on the station’s roof, one knee braced against the shingles, drawing back a glowing mana arrow before she realized it was us. She straightened, gave a two-fingered salute, and dropped down from the gutter with fluid grace.

  Gideon and Flynn walked out after Ryker, shoulders squared, eyes bright with relief. Ivan and Jon followed with patched-up gear strapped to their backs. A few other North District officers who had survived the Gate spilled out behind them, beaming, waving, calling our names.

  Warmth bloomed in my chest.

  We had fought together. Bled together. Survived something no academy instructor had ever prepared us for. It made us family.

  Ryker reached me first, gripping my forearm before pulling me into a quick, brutal hug. “Good to see you alive, brother.”

  “You too,” I said.

  Kira was swarmed next, embraced by two ND officers who had gone into the first basin with her. Jamie was clapped on the back by Jon, who gave him a proud grin. Several more officers came forward, nodding respectfully at the Valen PD players stepping out of the convoy.

  Not everyone was smiling. A few ND officers stayed back, stiff, glancing nervously toward the door. Loyal to someone who hadn’t earned their loyalty.

  The door slammed open again.

  The North District Police Chief stormed out, looking like a disaster dressed in perfection. His uniform was immaculate. Boots polished. Tie centered. Hair combed so precisely it looked carved. Even the crease in his pants was razor sharp.

  But none of that could hide the enormous black eye blooming across his face.

  Logan’s signature. A perfect, swollen reminder of the moment the Chief called us cowards and insulted the dead.

  His gaze sliced toward me instantly. Sharp. Paranoid. Calculating in the worst way.

  “I will not,” he began, voice cold and clipped, “have Valen marching into my district as if staging a takeover. You bring disruption. Influence. Power. And I will not allow you to—”

  Captain Clarke stepped out behind him and grabbed his arm before he could reach the stairs.

  “Sir,” she said firmly, “stand down.”

  He yanked his arm, glaring at her with wounded pride. “They come here with Players. Escorts. Intentions they won’t state. First one of them attacks me”—he pointed at his black eye—“and now they show up with half their damned department.”

  “Fifteen officers,” I said calmly. “To deliver supplies and speak with the families of the officers who died inside the Gate.”

  The Chief’s expression flickered.

  Clarke stepped between us, voice unwavering. “Sir, these people saved what remained of your officers. They saved this city. These are allies, not invaders.”

  Ryker crossed his arms behind me. Shanira leaned on her bow. Gideon and Flynn drifted closer. Even my Valen officers straightened subtly, united.

  The Chief looked around and realized exactly who stood with who.

  He adjusted his perfect tie.

  “Fine,” he said sharply. “But I am watching every step you take.”

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  He turned on his heel and marched back inside.

  Captain Clarke exhaled and extended her hand to me. Her grip was strong, warm, grateful.

  “Elias,” she said. “Welcome to North District. You and your team are safe here.”

  “We brought supplies,” I said quietly. “For Charlie’s girlfriend. For the families. And we want to pay our respects.”

  Clarke nodded, eyes softening. “Then let us start there.”

  Kira stepped beside me. “That could have gone much worse.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured. “But it didn’t.”

  Jamie let out a shaky breath. “Still felt like walking past a lit fuse.”

  I looked at my people. Their faces. Their scars. Their determination.

  “We didn’t come to start a fight,” I said. “We came to honor the ones who didn’t make it.”

  Ryker clapped my back. “Then let’s do this together.”

  He led us up the stairs, we stepped into a wounded fortress ready to remember its dead.

  Captain Clarke led us through the reinforced doors of the North District station, her stride purposeful but heavy with the grief still etched across this place. The building stood, but inside it felt like a skeleton held together by tape and willpower. Officers moved through the halls with the quiet efficiency of people who had already cried once today and refused to cry again. The air carried the faint smell of smoke and disinfectant, clashing in a way that made my stomach twist.

  I saw it in their eyes.

  They recognized me.

  Not as a Valen officer.

  As the one who carried Charlie out.

  Clarke guided us into the briefing room. The space was cramped, whiteboards covered in frantic handwriting and maps marked with red X’s and timestamps. A dozen North District officers waited inside — all Players, all survivors. Some nodded respectfully when they saw us. Others stepped forward and offered Kira gentle hugs, squeezed Jamie’s shoulder, shook my hand like it steadied them.

  Except the Chief.

  He stood near the front with his arms crossed, immaculate uniform stretched tight across a posture that was too perfect, too rigid. His black eye stood out like a bruise on polished marble.

  Clarke cleared her throat. “Alright. Let’s begin. We have… a lot to cover.”

  The Chief cut her off.

  “Make it quick. We have a city to rebuild.”

  I ignored him and stepped forward.

  “We brought supplies,” I began. “For the families of the fallen. Valen PD collected diapers, formula, groceries, and essentials. We came to pay respects, to help them grieve, and to show that no one stands alone in this.”

  A murmur rippled through the room. Several officers nodded; one wiped at her eyes, jaw tightening.

  Clarke’s voice softened. “North District lost thirty-two officers in the first strike. Many were new. Some had families with newborns. We have done our best, but…” She swallowed. “Resources are thin.”

  Jamie stepped up beside me. “We’re delivering these ourselves. All of us. Every home.”

  The Chief scoffed. “Parading around like heroes.”

  Clarke snapped her gaze toward him. “Sir.”

  He didn’t back down; he simply tightened his tie and straightened the crease in his sleeve, as if order in his clothes restored order in his mind.

  I stepped closer — not aggressive, but solid. “No parading. No speeches. Just support. You can come with us if you like.”

  His jaw flexed. “I have more important tasks.”

  Clarke hid her disappointment with the grace of a seasoned officer.

  “Then we proceed without him,” she said.

  She turned toward the map and began marking addresses. “We’ll split into teams. Elias, Kira, Jamie — take the west block with Ryker and Ivan. I’ll lead Shanira, Jon, and Gideon to the south sector. Flynn will stay here on overwatch.”

  Flynn nodded once, face stoic.

  Clarke continued, “Most families already know their officers didn’t come home. Some witnessed it. Some…” Her voice wavered. “Some had the bodies brought back by their squadmates.”

  Jamie lowered his gaze, throat tight.

  “And Charlie’s girlfriend?” Kira asked softly.

  A silence fell.

  Clarke closed her eyes for a heartbeat. “She’s at home. Her mother is with her. We haven’t approached yet. She’s at the end of your route.”

  My hands curled around the edge of the table.

  Clarke met my eyes. “She deserves to hear it from people who loved him.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “We’ll go.”

  The Chief straightened his collar, narrowed his eyes, and spoke with a clipped tone. “If you stir up false hope, if you make promises you cannot keep, I will not shield you from the consequences.”

  I held his gaze. “The only promise I make is to honor the fallen. If that’s an issue, I don’t know what to tell you.”

  His lips tightened, but he didn’t reply.

  Clarke stepped between us again, her presence grounding the room. “Alright. Let’s gear up. We have a long day ahead.”

  Officers began to disperse, gathering radios and jackets, checking sidearms out of habit though most threats were already gone.

  Ryker clapped me on the back. “We’re with you, brother. All the way through.”

  Kira offered a small, resolute smile. “We’ll do this right.”

  Jamie exhaled, steadying himself. “For Charlie.”

  “For all of them,” I said.

  We stepped out into the shattered streets of North District together.

  The weight of thirty-two homes waiting for a knock on the door pressed down on all of us.

  And the first one was just ahead.

  The first address was only three blocks from the station, but the walk felt longer. The convoy remained behind, engines cooling in the lot, while the three of us carried bags of supplies through the hollowed quiet of North District’s residential strip.

  Most houses were intact, but the atmosphere pressed down like a storm that refused to break. Curtains barely shifted when we walked by. Doors that once stood open to friendly porches were bolted shut. Every sound seemed too loud, from the crunch of gravel beneath my boots to the soft rustle of Kira’s clothing as she walked.

  Jamie checked the address again. “This is it.”

  A small, single-story home stood before us. The front garden was trampled, crushed under the weight of frantic feet during the attack. A child’s bike lay on its side in the grass, back wheel bent. The porch light was on, even though daylight still lingered.

  I knocked gently.

  The door cracked open. A woman in her fifties stared at us, eyes rimmed red, exhaustion etched into every line of her face.

  “Mrs. Hargreaves?” I asked softly.

  Her mouth trembled. “You are from the police.” Not a question. A confirmation of something she had dreaded.

  “Yes,” I said. “We were with your son. Officer Daniel Hargreaves.”

  Her breath caught and a sob threatened to escape, but she forced it down. “Please. Come in.”

  Inside, the home smelled of lavender and stale air. A mug of untouched tea sat on the table. A blanket lay draped over a couch cushion, as if she had tried and failed to sleep.

  We shared what we could. How her son fought. How he saved two people in the basin when everything collapsed around them. We left out the worst details. The horror of the halls. The way he screamed for his mother with his last breath.

  She sat very still, hands folded tightly together, absorbing each word like it was both a blessing and a knife.

  Kira set the supplies gently on the counter. “This is just a start. We will bring more if you need it.”

  Mrs. Hargreaves gave a brittle smile. “Thank you. Thank you for not letting him be alone.”

  Jamie bowed his head. “We were with him. All the way.”

  When we stepped out, the door closed quietly behind us, shutting the grief inside.

  I exhaled. My chest felt too tight.

  “One down,” Jamie whispered. “Too many to go.”

  We continued.

  It was the same at every door.

  The grief.

  The horror.

  The hollow silence that followed the moment families understood what our presence meant.

  Each home felt heavier than the last, as if we were walking deeper into a storm made of memory and loss. The air in those living rooms clung to my skin, thick with the echoes of futures that would never come to pass. Faces blurred together—shaking hands, red-rimmed eyes, photos clutched like lifelines. And with each name spoken, each uniform folded, that familiar river of despair rose higher inside me, threatening to swallow everything that kept me standing.

  But we moved forward.

  We had to.

  It was our duty to look these families in the eye and honor the ones who would never walk through their doors again. And we were not alone. Valen PD and North District stood shoulder to shoulder, grief shared, burdens carried together. Two districts that had bled on opposite sides of the same war now moving as one.

  A single shield.

  The shield that had held back the storm, and would keep holding it back for every person whose doorstep we crossed, stayed steady beside me as we moved house to house.

  Then we reached his home.

  Charlie’s home.

  The moment I recognized the address, the pavement seemed to shift beneath my feet. It felt as if the earth wanted to swallow me whole under the weight that slammed down on my shoulders. My breath came thin. My ribs felt too tight. Every step forward was a betrayal of the hope I once promised him.

  His house sat at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac, the surrounding windows dark and hollow. Only his place glowed with warm, fragile light, a stubborn beacon refusing to go out. Wind chimes hung by the porch, a tangled cluster of metal and seashells that clicked and chimed with the breeze. The sound was delicate, almost hopeful, but the cold evening air devoured it before it could reach the street.

  I stopped at the foot of the walkway.

  For a long, aching moment, I couldn’t move.

  This was different from every house before it. Every grief-stricken mother, father, sibling, spouse—we carried those losses like stones in our pockets. But this? This felt like a shard driven straight through my sternum.

  Not because Charlie had been the bravest. Not because he had been one of ours. But because he had been excited. He was going to be a father.

  My hand lifted toward the door.

  It refused to knock.

  My knuckles hovered there, trembling faintly. All I could think of was his voice, cracked with fear and raw determination, telling me he needed to fight so his family could have a world to live in. Telling me to get him home.

  I closed my eyes.

  Breathed in once, slow and deep.

  When I opened them, Kira was at my side, silent but steady. Jamie stood behind us, his face pale, jaw set. The North District officers waited at the curb, giving me the space they knew I needed.

  I exhaled and forced my hand to knock.

  Soft. Barely audible.

  But it was enough.

  The door creaked open, and the world tilted.

  Kira laid her hand on my elbow, grounding me.

  “You can do this,” she said quietly.

  I nodded and forced myself forward.

  When the door opened, she looked so young it nearly took my legs out from under me. Early twenties, maybe. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes, and her hair was pulled into a messy bun that had clearly lost a battle long before we knocked. Her shirt stretched gently around her stomach. One hand hovered there, protective. The other gripped the doorframe like she needed it to stay upright.

  “You’re… from Valen,” she said recognizing the patches. Her voice sounded like it had been scraped raw.

  “Yes,” I said quietly. “I’m Elias.” The rest lodged in my throat, refusing to move. “Charlie fought with us. He saved lives.”

  Her breath hitched. One small, fragile sound. The first tear slid down her cheek before she even blinked, as if it had been waiting days for permission.

  “I know,” she whispered. “They told me about his death. They said he died a hero.” Her lips trembled. “My hero.”

  She gathered herself with a shaky inhale, trying to stand upright beneath a grief far too heavy for one person.

  Kira stepped forward carefully, her voice soft enough not to disturb the delicate balance between us. “We brought supplies,” she said. “Formula, diapers, bottles, clothes. Everything he wanted to pick up.”

  The woman’s hand flew to her mouth. Her shoulders shook with the effort of staying composed.

  “He was going to get those yesterday,” she murmured. A quiet, broken laugh escaped her, thin and warping at the edges. “He said he didn’t want to look like a clueless dad.”

  Jamie turned away, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve.

  I crouched and set the largest bag gently on the porch. “He talked about you,” I said, forcing the words past the tight ache in my chest. “Every chance he got. He called you the bravest person he knew. He said he would do whatever it took to keep you and the baby safe.”

  Her knees gave out. Not in a dramatic way. Not in a collapse of sound. More like a tree that had been cut silently at the roots. She folded inward under the weight of loss, and I moved instinctively.

  I caught her before she reached the ground.

  She clutched my vest with desperate fingers, holding on as if she were slipping off the edge of the world. Her sobs came muffled against my chest, small, steady breaks in a dam that had held far too long.

  “No. No. No. No,” she whispered, each word trembling through her body.

  “I am sorry,” I murmured into the crown of her hair. “We couldn't bring him home alive. I failed him. He saved us. Every single one of us walked out because of him and I failed him.” The words shook loose something inside me. My own tears burned hot trails down my face. “I am standing here because of him. His sacrifice kept this world standing, he didn’t let a single god damn monster past him.”

  We clung to each other for a long moment before she trembled once more, then slowly pulled back. Her face was streaked with tears, but her breathing steadied as she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. Her fingers brushed the top of the supply bag, lingering there like it was the last piece of him she could hold.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “For bringing him back. And for this.”

  I wiped away my own tears before hesitating, then placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “Listen to me,” I said. “If you ever need anything, you have a place in Valen. With us. If things get hard, if you ever feel unsafe, if the baby needs support, you come to us. Charlie saved every single person who walked out of that gate. That makes you family.”

  Her breath caught again, but this time it steadied instead of breaking. A small spark of resolve lit behind the grief in her eyes.

  “Thank you, Elias,” she breathed. “Truly.”

  We stepped back, giving her room to retreat at her own pace. She lingered in the doorway for a moment, framed by the warm glow of her home, holding a future Charlie would never meet, a future he had given everything to protect.

  The door clicked shut with a soft finality.

  Cold air swept around us, sharp and quiet. No one spoke. We didn’t need to.

  Charlie walked with us as we left that quiet cul-de-sac, a silent guardian in every step.

  When we returned to the station, the atmosphere was transformed.

  Valen and North District officers stood together in a loose circle outside the entrance. Some leaned on cruisers. Some stood with arms folded. All had the same look in their eyes. Exhaustion. Grief. But also something steadier.

  Resolve.

  Ryker stepped forward first. “How did it go?”

  I shook my head. “Harder than anything in that gate.”

  “No shame in that,” he said quietly. “This part always hurts more.”

  North District officers nodded. One placed a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. Another gave Kira a soft smile.

  Then one of the ND players stepped forward, summoning their weapon and raising it into the air. “For the fallen,” he said simply.

  The others players all summoned their weapons lifting them high into the air. A silent salute.

  For a moment, both districts stood together as one. No borders. No rivalry. Just survivors honoring the dead.

  The moment ended when Captain Clarke emerged from the station doorway.

  Her expression was unreadable.

  “Stormson,” she called. “A word.”

  We stepped aside to a quiet corner near a damaged cruiser. The metal was bent inward from claw marks, and dried blood stained the bumper. It was as good a place as any for a difficult talk.

  Clarke crossed her arms. The wind tugged at the ends of her uniform jacket. “You handled the Chief better than I expected,” she said.

  “I was not trying to handle him,” I replied. “Just trying to avoid another fight.”

  She gave a humorless smile. “He is not a man who takes well to being ignored. Or corrected. Or upstaged.” Her gaze sharpened. “And right now, you are all three.”

  I leaned against the cruiser, feeling the hot metal through my uniform. “What do you want from me, Captain?”

  Her eyes softened, but only slightly. “I want to know what your plan is. Truly. Not the polite version you give my officers. You are moving like a man carrying a mission the rest of us have not caught up to yet.”

  I looked down at my hands. The faint glow of mana still clung to my skin, like a reminder of what the System had turned us into.

  “The plan is simple,” I said. “We keep people alive. We hold the districts together. And we prepare for the next gate.”

  Her breath caught. “You are certain there will be another?”

  “Yes,” I said. “This was not the end. Just the beginning.”

  Clarke stared at me for several long seconds. Something heavy, like realization or fear, settled behind her eyes.

  Then she nodded once.

  “Then North District stands with you,” she said quietly. “But tread carefully. My Chief is a viper. He will strike if he feels threatened.”

  I met her gaze. “Let him try.”

  She studied me as if seeing a man forged in the Gate’s fire, no longer JUST another officer, this was a player.

  Finally she said, “Good, this world is changing and we don’t know what the future looks like.”

  I let out a heavy sigh before looking skyward at the clear blue sky, “it already has changed and I am afraid it will never go back to the way it was”

  “Then lets face the unknown tomorrow together,” she stretched out a hand and I took it.

  “To tomorrow” I smiled.

  We rejoined the others as the afternoon shadows stretched across the station lot.

  The unity would not last forever. But for now, we had time. A fragile peace. A shared purpose. And a promise to the dead that none of us intended to break.

  Ryker and the North District players were waiting for us when we approached the cruisers. Shanira had reclaimed her perch on the station roof, watching everything from above like a sentinel. Gideon leaned against a burnt squad car, arms folded, shaking with silent laughter at something Flynn muttered from the shadow beside him. Ivan and Jon were deep in conversation with Kira and Jamie.

  “Hey, we should start packing up and heading to Valen. Chief will want to start our own ceremony soon” I called and Jamie nodded before the Valen Players said good by to North District and began getting into their cruisers.

  Ryker stepped forward and clasped my shoulder. “Stormson,” he said quietly, “we should come with you. All of us. Valen mourned with us at the gate. You honored our dead. It would be wrong not to stand with you now.”

  His voice was earnest and full of conviction, the kind that made you want to believe his presence alone could set a broken world right.

  Before I could answer, the station doors banged open.

  The North District Chief stormed out, face purple with rage, his pristine uniform stiff as armor. The black eye on his face made him look almost grotesque, but the anger pouring off him made everyone stiffen. He must have been listening from one of the open windows.

  He stabbed a finger at Ryker. “If any officer under my command leaves this district without authorization, they are fired on the spot. I will not have Valen stealing my personnel or undermining my authority. Not today. Not ever.”

  A ripple of discomfort passed through the ND officers. Several looked ready to argue. Ryker especially looked like he might march up the steps and plant the man into the pavement.

  I stepped in quickly, placing a hand on Ryker’s chest.

  “Not worth it,” I said quietly. “Not this fight. Not today.”

  Ryker’s jaw flexed. His breath trembled with fury he was barely containing. But after a long moment, he nodded.

  “Fine,” he muttered. “But it feels wrong.”

  I understood. God, I understood. These players had become family in a matter of hours inside a nightmare realm. But North District needed them. Badly. Their city was wounded, barely holding together after the two early monster attacks and the chaos that followed.

  Clarke climbed the steps in between Ryker and Chief, her expression apologetic and tight with frustration. “You know you are always welcome here,” she said quietly to me as she passed. “We must look after our city” she said to everyone this time. “There is lots of work to do.” Again she looked at me apologetically.

  “I know,” I said. “And I know how many you lost. The supplies are delivered and we paid our respects. That is what we came to do.”

  Clarke nodded. “I appreciate that. More than you know.” She turned and followed Chief back inside.

  The tension from the Chief’s outburst still clung to the air long after he retreated back inside the station. Officers who had been smiling moments ago now hovered in uneasy clusters, their expressions tight, their loyalty divided.

  Ryker stood beside me in the parking lot, jaw flexing, fists clenched. I could practically hear the words he wanted to shout.

  “I should go anyway,” he muttered. “Screw him. He didn’t fight in that gate. He didn’t see what Charlie did. What any of them did.”

  I placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. “Ryker… it’s not worth losing your badge over this. You still have a district to protect. People here need you.” I let the words settle, my voice dropping to something quieter. “Charlie would hate it if you threw your future away to stand in a parking lot yelling at a coward.”

  His eyes flickered. A breath shuddered out of him. Then he nodded, slow and pained.

  “Doesn’t feel right letting you handle everything alone.”

  “You’re not,” I said. “You honored him inside that gate. You honored all of them. This ceremony is for Valen’s families. North District needs you to stay.”

  Shanira called down from her perch on the station roof. “We’ll handle things here,” she said, trying to sound light, though her eyes shimmered with grief. “Besides, if that Chief fires all of us, this entire city is doomed.”

  Jon hefted his mace over one shoulder, giving me a small but firm nod. Gideon laughed under his breath, murmuring something into the shadow beside him that could only be Flynn. Flynn didn’t step out, but I saw a faint smile in the darkness.

  Ivan wiped his eyes before they could fall. “Take care of yourself, Elias. And tell the Chief in Valen that… that we’re sorry for the losses.”

  “I will,” I promised. “And I’ll come back. You still owe me that rematch in the training yard.”

  That earned a few tired laughs.

  Small. Faint. But real.

  I squeezed Ryker’s forearm once more. “We’ll visit again. And when Valen isn’t under martial law, you can visit us. Our doors will be open.”

  “Just come back alive,” he said. “I don’t want to hear Clarke telling stories about how Valen’s golden boy tripped into another gate.”

  Kira snorted loudly, an unguarded, incredulous sound that made Jamie blink. “Please. That is absolutely something Elias would do.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but she steamrolled right over me, eyes sparkling with mischief.

  “And don’t worry,” she continued, patting my shoulder with exaggerated sympathy. “I will heal him. I need all that easy experience from patching up his dumb ass.”

  Ryker barked a laugh so loud two nearby officers jumped. “Hear that, Stormson? Your healer already budgeting her level-ups around your poor life choices.”

  Jamie tried, and failed to hide his grin. “I mean… she’s not wrong.”

  I stared at them, deadpan. “I hate all of you.”

  Kira smiled sweetly. “You love us.”

  Ryker clapped me on the back hard enough to jolt my teeth. “And we love you too, brother. Even if you do make it far too easy for us to pick on you.”

  I rubbed my face, fighting a losing battle against a smile. “One day,” I said, “I am going to do something perfectly sensible, perfectly normal, and none of you will know how to cope.”

  “Sure,” Kira said. “And one day Gideon will whisper.”

  From somewhere behind us Gideon muttered, “I can whisper,” at a volume that suggested he’d never once attempted it in his entire life.

  Everyone laughed.

  And for a few fragile seconds, the weight of the dead, the ruined city, and the gathering storm lifted.

  And then it was time.

  I turned toward our convoy. “Let’s move out.”

  The North District players stood in a solemn line as we pulled away. Some saluted. Some bowed their heads. A few simply watched in silence, hands over their hearts.

  They stayed on that pavement until we faded from sight.

  The Road Back

  The drive south felt heavier than the drive north, even though the city around us shifted slowly from ruin to relative order. Martial law kept the streets mostly empty. Barricades sat at intersections. Civilians moved in cautious clusters, watching the cruisers with haunted eyes.

  Jamie stared out the window, hands clasped tightly in his lap. “Feels wrong going back to normal streets after all that.”

  “There is no normal anymore,” Kira said softly. “Just what comes next.”

  Ahead of us, Valen’s skyline rose—scarred but standing. Reinforced checkpoints dotted the roads, officers watching our approach with confusion before recognizing the convoy and waving us through.

  As we neared Valen PD, a strange quiet settled over us. Not tense. Not heavy.

  Sacred.

  The lot was packed. Players. Officers. Civilians who had lost loved ones. All waiting. Waiting for us. Waiting for them.

  Waiting for the dead.

  Chief Dobson stood at the front of the assembly, his armor shining in the light of the parking lot. A silver breastplate with a soaring eagle, wings spread wide towards each shoulder plate. His sword and shield placed in front of him. He looked like a commander ready for battle but the grief in his eyes was unmistakable. He scanned each cruiser as it rolled in, lingering on every face.

  The Valen Ceremony

  We stepped out, the soft crunch of gravel somehow deafening. Dobson stepped forward, stopped in front of me, and for a moment, the old soldier inside him flickered through the grief.

  “Welcome home,” he said quietly.

  Behind him, rows of white shrouds lay on long tables draped in blue and black. Thirteen in total. Valen PD’s dead. Fewer than North District’s, but far too many all the same.

  Rows of seats had been placed in the parking lot where grieving families all sobbed together. The rest of the city standing behind them in solidarity. A solemn quiet was on them as their eyes locked on the row of dead.

  I swallowed hard. The image of Charlie lying among wildflowers threatened to choke me again. But this wasn’t the place to break. Not yet.

  Chief Dobson addressed the crowd, his voice carrying a weight only loss could forge. “These officers fought in a place no human has ever walked before. They stood between our city and annihilation. Fighting monsters in a war they never expected to be a part of.” The people present began to murmur.

  “Did he say monsters”

  “I thought they died in the riots?”

  “What does he mean?”

  “You heard me right.” Chief Dobson continued. “Monsters from our nightmares invaded our world from a portal outside the city. We responded together and fought against the tides and won.”

  The murmuring became tumultuous as angry voices began to shout about lies until Chief brought his sword on his shield. “To Me” the mana infused cry whirled through the crowd and suddenly there was silence as every eye was back on Chief.

  “That was a skill. A skill given to us by a system for killing these” He gestured to a white sheet on the back of a flat bed truck. A member pulled back the sheet revealing the form of a Lesser Lizard. The crowd gasps and murmurs began again. Questions began to be thrown at the Chief.

  “SILENCE!” He shouted once more and the crowd again locked onto Chief.

  “I know you have questions and I will answer them after. But right now we are here for these fallens officers. The ones who died keeping these monsters from your homes. I ask you give them and their grieving families the respect they are owed. These officers bought us time. They bought us safety. And tonight, we honor them.”

  Numerous people in the crowd lowered their heads in shame as the white shrouds of the dead officers once again became the focus.

  He gestured for me to speak.

  My legs felt like stone as I stepped to the front. Kira and Jamie flanked me, their hands trembling.

  I looked at the shrouds. Dozens of them. Rows of white cloth glowing faintly in the candlelight, edges stirring whenever the night breeze breathed over them. I looked at the officers holding those candles, their faces lined with grief that age alone could never carve. And when I met their eyes, I saw the same hollow ache I felt in my chest reflected back at me.

  I stepped forward. Not because I wanted to. Because I owed the dead… and the living.

  When I spoke, it wasn’t loud. It wasn’t some commander’s bark or a speech meant to rally troops. It was just my voice. Honest. Raw. Barely steady.

  “Our brothers and sisters behind us gave the ultimate sacrifice for this city,” I said, letting my gaze travel along the line of shrouds. “For humanity. They stared into the abyss… and they didn’t blink.”

  A ripple of wind drifted through the courtyard, brushing past my shoulders, making the flames waver like they were listening.

  “They didn’t run,” I continued. “They didn’t cower. They stood their ground against monsters that bullets barely scratched. And they fought on.”

  My throat tightened. I forced the next breath through the knot. “They saved us. Every last one of them. They were scared, just like we were. But they held their ground until their last breath. They believed this city—these people—were worth dying for. Their watch has ended, now we must do our part. We must continue fighting whatever threatens our home, we must make a future worthy of their sacrifice and live lives twice as full in honor of them. For the fallen”

  Silence followed. Deep. Heavy. Reverent.

  The air smelled of melted wax and smoke drifting from a thousand tiny flames. Officers lowered their candles in unison, shoulders bowing as though the collective weight finally settled onto all of us at once.

  Chief Dobson straightened at the front of the crowd and raised his hand in a crisp salute. No theatrics. No speech. Just raw respect.

  I returned it. My arm trembled, but I held it. For them. For all of them.

  We stood like that for a long time. Long enough for the candles to burn low. Long enough for the sorrow to settle into something quieter, something steadier. Long enough that the dead—finally—felt acknowledged.

  And when the moment ended, it was not because the pain had faded.

  It was because we had the strength to carry it.