The squad watched as three objects streaked across the southeast skies. Thompson projected a virtual map, marking their predicted impact zones.

  One was headed toward a hydroponic farming complex, roughly forty kilometers east. Another slammed into Southeast Central Street, twenty-five kilometers south. The third crashed into a small artificial lake within the park where Violet’s team was stationed, sending ripples across the water and scattering startled birds into the air.

  Thompson didn’t hesitate.

  “Bonnie, deploy drones on the lake site,” he ordered, voice clipped and urgent.

  “Roger,” Bonnie replied, launching two disc-shaped devices into the sky.

  The discs unfolded mid-air, transforming into agile surveillance drones that streaked toward the northeast quadrant. Bonnie’s goggles flickered with data streams as she locked onto the landing zone, scanning for anomalies.

  The objects resembled capsules, but their forms were irregular—like amorphous boulders fused with alien tech. No seams, no hatches. Just silent, inert masses radiating unease.

  The squad watched the live drone feed through projected overlays in their visors, tension mounting.

  Thompson broke the silence. “Where are the hostiles?”

  Bonnie squinted at the telemetry. “Constant thermal feedback… but no movement.”

  She paused. Her voice dropped. “Wait. A strong electromagnetic field is forming around them…”

  Thompson’s instincts kicked in. “EMP! Bonnie, pull the drones—!”

  He didn’t finish. The surge hit.

  The feed cut to static. The drones dropped from the sky like stones.

  “Bonnie, launch backups. Sniper unit, take positions in the marked buildings. Everyone else—ready weapons,” Thompson barked, unholstering his revolver and sliding down his tactical goggles.

  “Roger,” the squad replied in near-perfect unison, their voices steady despite the rising tension.

  — ? —

  A fresh wave of drones soared into the sky, their micro-thrusters whispering as the two snipers—Asad and Elise—sprinted toward a vantage point in the northern building. Their movements were swift and practiced, boots thudding against pavement as they disappeared into the structure’s shadow. This time, Bonnie kept them high and wide—hardened units meant to survive the next pulse.

  The rest of the squad checked their gear. Some fumbled with clips and straps, hands trembling with anxious energy. Others inhaled deeply, trying to steady their nerves. Only a few moved with calm precision, their minds already locked into combat mode.

  Twelve members made up the team, including Commander Thompson. This time, the formation was lean but specialized: one Spotter, two Snipers, three Reinforcers, four Frontliners, and Violet—the Ambusher—with Thompson coordinating the whole machine.

  Spotters rarely engaged directly. Their role was to observe, relay, and survive. If cornered, they relied on close-range weapons or defensive tech—drones, traps, and sensor tools—to escape or delay.

  Bonnie, the current Spotter, was skilled enough to operate three drones simultaneously. Violet had trained with her before, during drills that tested coordination under pressure.

  Snipers were the eyes and deterrents of the battlefield. They neutralized strategic threats from afar and tracked enemy movements for precision strikes. Though capable of acting as Spotters, they typically carried only one high-powered rifle and minimal gear for close combat. Violet had just met Asad and Elise at the start of this operation. She didn’t trust them yet—not like she trusted Prince.

  Reinforcers were the adaptable backbone of the squad. They wielded a mix of weapons and support tools, able to suppress enemy advances, hold positions, or protect key assets. Samantha, Ube, and Carlos filled that role today. Violet couldn’t recall their faces clearly, but she was sure she’d seen them in passing.

  Frontliners were the spearhead. Heavily armored and armed to the teeth, they pushed through contested zones, absorbing the brunt of enemy fire while the rest of the team executed tactical maneuvers. Emil, Kanna, Anika, and Dominic were today’s vanguard.

  Each wore reinforced combat suits and carried at least three weapons: a carbine for long-range suppression, an assault rifle for mid-range engagements, and an automated handgun for close-quarters combat. Their belts were loaded with ammo and grenades of various types.

  Violet was close to Anika. She knew her strength, her resolve. The others were strangers—just names and armor for now.

  — ? —

  “Commander, three hostiles inbound—crossing the lake,” Bonnie reported, voice steady but alert.

  “Good,” Thompson replied, tactical map flashing into his visor overlay.

  Thermal overlays painted the terrain in pulsing embers. Sleek figures darted across the water, heat signatures sharp and fast.

  “Commander, visual on the lake trio. Permission to engage?” Asad asked.

  “Same here,” Elise cut in. “They’ll vanish into the tree line once they hit shore.”

  “Do it,” Thompson ordered. “Take them out.”

  “Roger,” both snipers replied.

  Perched atop northern rooftops, Asad and Elise had clear sightlines to the lake. Their rifles synced with helmet HUDs, scopes adapting to mist and low light. Trajectory arcs glowed faint green across their visors, adjusting dynamically for wind shear and humidity.

  “Leader’s mine,” Asad murmured over private comms.

  Through the drifting mist, he spotted a quadrupedal silhouette—plated, bristling with alien tech. Its stride was unnervingly fluid, armored limbs rippling with mechanical precision. A faint shimmer cloaked its body and the water beneath, bending light in unnatural ripples.

  “What are these things…?” Asad muttered.

  “Doesn’t matter. We stop them here,” Elise replied, calm as ever.

  The reticle pulsed, locking tight as the targeting system synced. Asad exhaled slowly, chambering a kinetic-explosive penetrator.

  He fired.

  A sharp crack split the air. The round tore across 600 meters in a blink, detonating in a flash of red and orange. Water erupted in a violent shockwave—yet three figures burst through the mist, shields shimmering like liquid glass.

  “No way…” Asad hissed.

  Elise cycled her chamber, loading a high-density penetrator. Her shot rang out—clean, dry. Another flash. Less splash.

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  “Did you see that?” Elise asked.

  “Yeah. Shields. They’re bleeding off kinetic energy,” Asad replied, mind racing.

  Both snipers adjusted, scopes tracking the trio as they closed in. Reticles danced over shimmering shields. They waited for an opening—then the lead creature turned, locking onto their positions.

  A mechanism on its back flared.

  Two missiles streaked skyward.

  Asad dove, rolling onto a lower rooftop as explosions ripped the air. Elise blasted a window with her underbarrel charge, diving through as the blast tore the building’s edge apart.

  “They’re armed—long-range capable!” Asad shouted.

  “Understood,” Thompson replied. “Fall back. Central building. Prepare for close-quarters.”

  “Roger,” Asad said, rifle morphing into marksman mode.

  “On it,” Elise added, her weapon folding into a carbine.

  — ? —

  “Defensive positions! Lock down approach vectors!” Thompson barked, moving fast toward a console embedded in the park’s infrastructure. His gauntlet synced with the system, activating local defense protocols.

  Adaptive constructs unfolded across the terrain—modular plates rising from the ground, forming barricades and shimmering energy shields. A compact bunker assembled near an underground passage, giving Bonnie a secure fallback and escape route if things went south.

  The Academy’s perimeter defenses were strong, but not absolute. When exceptions hit, recruits engaged—real combat under real pressure.

  Thompson reinforced the Frontliners and Reinforcers, then pinged the Sniper unit to relocate to the central building—a multi-level structure with balconies perfect for overwatch.

  “Tangos are two minutes out. Give them a warm welcome!” he said, letting a dry edge slip into his tone.

  “Roger!” came the chorus—some voices tight, others calm.

  Violet stayed silent.

  Her armor shimmered as the Stealth Module engaged, phasing into full-spectrum camouflage. Thermal, acoustic, and electromagnetic signatures dropped to near-zero, rendering her indistinguishable from idle equipment under even advanced scans.

  Her breathing slowed. Time stretched.

  I’m calm. I’m empty. I’m invisible.

  She had chosen her ambush position with precision—100 meters south, nestled among dense foliage along a trail. Right flank, angled at 0200. Far enough to vanish, close enough to strike.

  Ambushers were predators. They didn’t chase—they struck from blind angles, broke formations, and drove chaos into enemy ranks.

  The targets were fast. Pursuit was pointless. Luring was unnecessary—they were already charging the main force.

  Surprise was the only option.

  “Violet, you know what to do. Hold until my mark,” Thompson said through comms.

  She didn’t answer. Her mind was still. Waiting.

  Ambient sounds filtered through her helmet: rustling leaves, trickling water, faint metallic hums… and then—

  Heavy stomps.

  Here they come.

  — ? —

  The thunderous stomps shook the park, sending tremors through the barricades and nerves alike. The squad had tracked their approach on the map—but hearing them, feeling them, was something else entirely.

  “Ready!” Thompson roared.

  Weapons rose. Breath held. The air thickened with tension.

  Shadows flickered behind the trees—dark, unnatural silhouettes slicing through the foliage.

  “Fire at will!”

  Gunfire erupted like a storm. Carbines cracked, rifles spat bursts, auto-handguns hissed. Shells clattered across the barricades as muzzle flashes strobed the night.

  “Violet, go!” Thompson shouted, revolver raised, eyes locked on the advancing threat.

  The words hit her like a trigger pulled inside her chest.

  Her blood surged—not just with adrenaline, but with purpose. She sprinted forward, boots tearing across the ground, sword igniting in a violet blaze.

  Her HUD flickered once:

  COMBAT PROFILE: EGANGED

  TRIAL LIMITERS: OFFLINE

  The blade hummed, tethering her to something deeper than combat. This wasn’t just a fight—it was a reckoning. Every step forward burned hesitation away.

  The beasts deflected most fire with shields rippling like liquid glass. Bullets bent aside, impacts flaring harmlessly against the surface.

  “Overwhelm them! Reinforcers—grenades, now!” Thompson barked, firing alongside his squad.

  Explosions ripped the terrain, firestorms lighting the park in orange and red. Combined with sustained gunfire, the pressure forced shield flickers—brief breaches flashing like arcs of light.

  The trio tightened formation, leader forward, shields overlapping. Blind spots vanished.

  “Aim for the sides!” Thompson shouted, though the Reinforcers were already adjusting, trained to exploit every weakness.

  Despite the barrage, the beasts drove forward—fast, unyielding.

  Cannons unfolded from their flanks, blasting charged rounds that shattered concrete and sent shards flying.

  Then—sharp, timed shots from above. The Sniper unit joined the fray taking position within a multilevel building nearby, striking during shield flickers, carving deep wounds.

  One beast retaliated, rockets streaking toward the sniper building. Bonnie’s Aerial Threat Interceptor (ATI) system fired high-density laser bursts, shredding most incoming rockets before they reached the structure—but a few slammed home, tearing chunks from the upper floors.

  Another beast lunged at Anika on the right flank, claws glowing molten. It sacrificed shield integrity for speed, closing in for the kill.

  Anika fired, eyes fierce. One hit meant death.

  Time slowed. Bullets ricocheted. No escape.

  A violet crescent shimmered in her vision.

  Violet struck mid-air, blade carving through the shield and biting into hind armor. Metal shards burst as she vaulted over the beast, landing hard on its flank.

  It spun, claws slashing. Violet deflected, twisting left, then drove an overhead strike deep into its core. Steel screamed.

  The beast staggered, flames bursting from its breached frame. It collapsed in a cascade of molten fragments and smoke.

  Another slammed down from above. Violet vaulted aside, claws grazing her calf. Pain flared white-hot. She gritted her teeth, hopping back as cannons roared.

  One blast struck the blunt side of her sword as she raised it to block, the impact hurling her into a tree. Bark exploded. Warnings flashed across her HUD: rib fractures, armor integrity down 13%, energy reserves 72%.

  She forced herself up—then froze.

  Her HUD pulsed crimson—friendly vitals dropping fast. A scream tore through comms. Violet turned—and the horror hit.

  Dominic lay dead, chest torn open, flesh scorched. Emil collapsed under a hail of rounds, blood pooling at his feet.

  Violet charged, sword blazing.

  Reinforcers suppressed the monster looming over Emil, but the third flanked hard.

  Thompson met it head-on, revolver barking point-blank, every shot aimed at seams Bonnie fed him in real time.

  The beast reeled—then unleashed a missile barrage. Ten rockets screamed toward the squad. ATI lasers intercepted some, but explosions ripped the barricades apart, hurling soldiers like ragdolls.

  Violet closed on the launcher. She leapt, blade plunging deep into its back. Metal shrieked as the weapon bit through armor, locking inside the beast’s frame.

  The creature thrashed violently, trying to shake her off. Violet yanked hard, retracting the blade to break free, then landed in front of her target.

  She dashed, sword reigniting, delivering a brutal upward side strike that carved through weakened plating and severed its head in a spray of molten fragments and fluid.

  The last one fought like a demon. Snipers pinned it with precision fire while Thompson danced in close, grenades primed. He jammed them into gaping breaches and dove clear as detonations tore the monster apart.

  It staggered, collapsed.

  The squad fired until nothing moved.

  The fight was over.

  — ? —

  For a moment, the squad remained on edge—weapons raised, eyes sweeping the shadows, waiting for something else to emerge.

  Silence pressed against them, broken only by the faint hum of damaged shields and the static crackle of comms.

  Thompson instinctively avoided looking at what remained of Dominic. Even after years of combat, the sight of a comrade torn apart was never easy. It never should be.

  The others tried to stay composed, but nausea crept in. Their suits responded instantly, administering stabilizers to keep vitals steady and preserve combat readiness.

  Recruits were trained to endure the brutality of battle—including the loss of teammates. But training didn’t make it painless. It only taught them how to keep moving.

  “Anika, cover Dom’s remains. I’ll report the loss,” Thompson said, his gaze fixed elsewhere.

  Anika complied without a word, deploying a thin fabric from her kit—a standard Star Force field shroud for fallen soldiers.

  “Kanna, tend to Emil.”

  Kanna nodded and moved quickly. Emil stirred, consciousness returning in ragged breaths.

  The adrenaline faded. The recoil of battle settled into their bones. Some recruits knelt, catching their breath, trying to slow the pounding in their chests.

  Thompson stayed upright, scanning the perimeter with quiet precision. Violet noticed. Despite the ache clawing at her limbs, she mirrored his stance, refusing to let her guard drop.

  “Commander…” a voice crackled through comms.

  “Bonnie, report,” Thompson replied instantly.

  “Multiple engagements across the citadel. Other teams confirm hostiles with similar capabilities—likely coordinated.”

  “Nearest?”

  “South sector—thirty kilometers out. Heavy resistance. They’re requesting immediate reinforcement.”

  Thompson’s visor displayed squad vitals: two Frontliners still standing, Reinforcers battered, armor integrity dipping into red zones. Emil barely conscious.

  He exhaled slowly, making the call.

  “Everyone, run a quick self-check. We’re moving.”

  “Bonnie, Carlos, Kanna, Anika, Violet, Asad, Elise—you’re with me. We assist the south sector. The rest will extract and await further orders once combat-ready.”

  “Roger!” voices echoed, steady despite exhaustion.

  Thompson turned to Violet, scanning her for critical damage. Aside from the seared wound on her calf, she looked intact. Still, he asked.

  “Violet, you good?” His tone was calm—an invitation for honesty.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, suppressing the pain pulsing through her leg.

  Thompson studied her for a moment longer. She gave him nothing.

  “Fine,” he muttered, locking the route on his HUD. “Move out.”

  — ? —

  Thompson, as commander, had access to regional battle status and logistics. He requested extraction for the wounded and rerouted transport for the active team.

  Minutes later, a compact armored carrier rolled up, flanked by two all-terrain bikes. Its reinforced frame housed a high-caliber turret, adaptive suspension, and medium plating—light enough for speed, tough enough to survive a firefight. The bikes were lean and fast, built for rapid flanking maneuvers.

  “Alright! Everyone, get in,” Thompson barked, climbing into the driver’s seat. “Snipers, take the bikes and keep close.”

  The team complied.

  The reduced team rolled out, heading toward the nearest engagement zone.

  “I’ve uploaded the route to the nav system,” Bonnie said from the copilot’s seat.

  The rest remained silent, the hum of the engine and distant echoes of gunfire filling the air.

  Violet shifted slightly, the pain in her calf flaring. Her visor displayed an estimated 22 minutes until full combat regeneration.

  She barely noticed the fractured ribs until now—pain surfacing in the quiet—but there was no time to care.

  Breathe. It will pass, she told herself, resisting the urge to touch the wound.

  The suit had already regenerated the outer membrane, but the damaged plating remained vulnerable. She’d need to replace it soon.

  Then, a sudden burst of excitement broke through the comms.

  “Hey! A Knight just arrived!” Bonnie exclaimed, unable to contain herself.

  “A Star Knight? Who?” Anika asked.

  “No idea. I just saw a message from the Oracle Atmospheric Monitor. It had the entry code structure of a Star Knight ship.”

  Thompson didn’t respond, but he was listening. He tried to send a silent message to Bonnie to hold off—but she didn’t receive it. Or ignored it.

  Bonnie was a Star Knight enthusiast. Nothing could stop her from talking about them.

  “How do you have access to Oracle?” Carlos asked.

  “I have my ways…” Bonnie replied, evasive.

  Only select officials had direct access to Oracle. But some resourceful recruits had discovered public access points—backdoors to data dumps from the system.

  The chatter continued, aimless but charged with curiosity.

  A Star Knight… here? Violet thought. If one had to intervene, the academy may have underestimated the threat.

  “Everyone, focus. We’re almost there,” Thompson interrupted.

  The team quieted. Everyone but Bonnie, who remained fixated on her data feed, her excitement barely contained.

  The vehicle stopped outside the rear entrance of the Southeast T&C Material Transfer Hub.

  They disembarked quickly, weapons ready, eyes scanning the darkened facility.

  Gunfire echoed from deeper within. The night sky pulsed with flashes, each burst illuminating the industrial silhouettes ahead.

  Violet checked her gear again, briefly igniting her sword to confirm its charge.

  She glanced at the facility’s nameplate—and froze.

  Nina!

  Her breath caught. She had muted the party feed during the last fight, but as if fate had intervened, a small notification blinked in her HUD.

  Nina’s signal just disconnected.

  Her eyes darted across the HUD, thoughts firing like triggers. Neural mapping translated every impulse into commands—logs opened, data streamed.

  The numbers hit like a gut punch: Nina’s armor threshold had plummeted before the disconnect.

  Too low. Too fast.

  Her pulse spiked. The hum of the engine faded behind the pounding in her ears.

  Nina’s fate was unknown.

  Every instinct screamed at Violet to break formation, to abandon everything and run—run until she found her friend

  — ? —