Gray skies pressed low over the Ashguard barracks, a weight of cloud and ash that made the early morning feel older than it was. The courtyard lay still beneath their shadow, boots grinding softly into cracked stone as Squad A assembled in silence. Not a word was spoken.

  Raithe stood high on a collapsed wall, dark against the pale sky. From there he surveyed them all.

  “New hive,” he said, his voice carrying. “Northeast quadrant. Breeding cluster, intel says.”

  The silence deepened as the words sank in.

  “Five-hour march. Light gear. We leave in ten. Move fast. Stay clean.”

  He jumped down from the wall, and the instant his boots struck the ground, the squad broke into motion.

  Inside the armory, the air clanged with the sounds of straps buckled and steel shifted. Vaeyna knelt, tightening the last strap on her boots before rising to heft the broad sword that was as much a part of her as her own body. She slung it across her back, the weight settling with familiarity.

  Soreya lounged nearby, wrapping cloth around her fists with deliberate ease. “You gonna polish that thing all day?” she asked with a sly smirk.

  “Your mouth runs faster than your legs,” Vaeyna replied coolly.

  Soreya’s grin widened. “My legs don’t need to run when I don’t miss.”

  Eren stepped in, his tone sharp. “Shut it.”

  “You late,” Soreya quipped, raising an eyebrow, “or just dramatic?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m here now.”

  Adric leaned against a steel rack, his greatsword balanced lazily against his shoulder. Watching the exchange with amusement, he asked, “You two always like this?”

  Kael answered dryly from across the room, “Only when they’re breathing.”

  Rhyza smirked while checking the balance of her throwing knives. Kira and Argen, silent as always, ran brisk gear checks on each other with practiced precision. Talen flicked a dagger into the air and caught it smoothly behind his back.

  “This banter gonna last the whole march?” he drawled.

  Raithe’s voice rang in from outside, cold and decisive. “Form up. Double column.”

  No more words were wasted. The squad moved.

  At the city gates, the air grew heavy. The groan of ancient hinges filled the air as the gates drew open. Squad A stood ready, packs tight, weapons sheathed but hands never far. Raithe alone sat mounted, his black horse still as carved stone beneath him, his eyes sharp.

  “Seal it behind us,” he ordered.

  The gate crews obeyed. As the massive doors ground shut, the squad marched forward, boots striking stone in perfect rhythm.

  By dusk they had reached the outer wilds. The air grew damp, ash thinning into heavy fog that curled through crooked treelines. Branches hung low like broken ribs. No birds sang. No wind stirred. The squad moved in file, weapons drawn, every step measured.

  “Too quiet,” Vaeyna murmured.

  “You say that every time,” Adric replied.

  “And I’m never wrong.”

  Kael sniffed the air. “Smells off. Wet.”

  “That’s rot,” Rhyza confirmed. “Fresh.”

  “Still think we’re early?” Soreya asked.

  Eren’s hand tightened on his blade. “Hope not.”

  Without a word, Raithe dismounted. He tied off his horse to a twisted stump, drew his blade, and stepped forward at point, as he always did when it grew dangerous.

  “Low approach,” he commanded. “Vaeyna, ten paces ahead. Talen, right flank. Rhyza, left. No talking unless it bleeds.”

  They moved like shadows into the trees.

  Through the mist, a faint glow pulsed green against twisted trunks. And then came the sound — low, wet clicking, crawling from ground and air alike.

  Talen froze mid-step. “You hear that?”

  “Yeah,” Rhyza muttered.

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  “Hold,” Soreya ordered.

  They crouched low, all of them. The glow revealed itself: a fleshy mass clinging to the remnants of an old shrine, egg-sacs the size of torsos swelling with dim light.

  Movement stirred behind it.

  “Three o’clock,” Kira whispered.

  The first creature lumbered forward — a Brute Rhupenshron, malformed like some hulking bear, its back jagged with bony ridges, claws dragging deep furrows in the earth.

  Two smaller forms followed — Insectoid Rhupenshron, fast and twitching, legs bristling with spines, mandibles clattering.

  From above, a skeletal shimmer descended: a Phantom, its body blinking in and out like smoke in wind, eyes glowing faint violet.

  “Form up!” Raithe barked. “Argen, Kael, left side. Eren with me. Hold the rearline! Don’t let the Phantom touch you!”

  The Brute roared — not rage, but the groan of metal under pressure — and charged.

  Adric planted his stance, sword lifted. “Come on, then.”

  Steel met claw in a shriek of sparks. The impact staggered him, but he held.

  Vaeyna vanished into motion, grappling a low branch to launch herself upward. She watched the Phantom’s flickering pattern, then struck as it reappeared. “Got you,” she hissed, her blade carving its back as it screamed.

  Below, the Insectoids split. One lunged for Kira, her spear barely sparking against stone as she leapt aside. “Fast little—”

  Soreya intercepted. Her spear spun in a deadly arc, driving through mandibles to pin the creature in the dirt. “Pay attention,” she said coolly.

  Eren crashed into the Brute beside Adric, shoulder slamming its gut, driving it back. Argen darted in from behind, twin hatchets burying into its spine. The monster shrieked, dying slow.

  Kael struck a flare, its light piercing fog. “More moving. Four, maybe five, north treeline.”

  “Regroup, form wall!” Raithe ordered. “We’re not done.”

  The hive pulsed brighter.

  The forest stilled. For a long beat, nothing but the Brute’s last rattling breath. Then the ground began to rumble.

  “…You feel that?” Eren muttered.

  “It’s below,” Soreya answered.

  The earth erupted.

  A hybrid Rhupenshron tore free — wormlike body armored in plates, four tattered wings beating furiously, a circular maw rimmed with talons and a second jaw screeching like glass.

  “…That’s not supposed to fly,” Kael whispered.

  “Fall back to open ground!” Raithe commanded. “Move!”

  The beast dove, ripped the ground apart, then vanished beneath it again.

  “We can’t track that here,” Vaeyna growled, landing beside Adric.

  “Force it into the clearing,” Adric said.

  They lured it north with flares and shouts, baiting it out. The ground split open again.

  “Now!” Vaeyna cried.

  Soreya’s detonation spear blasted it sideways, wings struggling. Eren leapt, blade-first, riding its back as it crashed into the clearing.

  The fight became chaos: shock-pulses, spear strikes, grapple lines hissing through air. The beast burrowed again.

  And Vaeyna, wild with defiance, locked her grapple and followed it down into the collapsing tunnel.

  “Vaeyna, fall back!” Raithe roared. “That’s an order!”

  But she was gone, swallowed by earth.

  Underground, the air reeked of stone and rot. Vaeyna hurtled through twisting tunnels, torchlight gleaming off her blade. She nearly slammed into the beast’s armored plates as it halted suddenly, its head folding grotesquely to face her. Its inner jaw snapped, scraping walls.

  “…Oh. You knew,” she whispered.

  Its wings began to hum.

  Too late to escape, she lit her blade with fire. “Then we finish this down here.”

  The fight that followed was brutal — wings slashing, gas spewing, her sword finding only shallow wounds until, at last, she cut deep into a joint. The creature screamed, thrashing, collapsing stone.

  The squad’s voices echoed down the tunnel. Grapples, shouts, Raithe’s command.

  Vaeyna grinned through her sweat. “About time.”

  But the monster refused to die. It burrowed again, dragging earth down with it, until Raithe pulled them all back.

  “We can’t kill it here,” he said. “Not without losing someone.”

  They watched it vanish, the tunnel quaking shut. Dust rained, silence followed.

  “I could’ve finished it,” Vaeyna muttered, still burning with adrenaline.

  “Or it could’ve finished you,” Raithe said, steady. He laid a firm hand on her shoulder. “You did good. But next time, we need a strategy.”

  They returned to the surface under sharp morning light. Relief was short-lived. A hum rose in the air, deep and mechanical.

  Shadows fell.

  From the clouds descended three massive machines, humanoid in form yet towering thirty feet tall. Thrusters hissed, armor gleamed, and they struck the earth with thunderous weight.

  “What… are those?” Adric whispered.

  “Piloted machines,” Vaeyna answered, jaw tight.

  The mechs raised no weapons. From the nearest, a voice boomed, calm and amplified. “To the people of Urbanatra. We are the Iron Legion, Support Recon Group Four. We are not your enemy.”

  The squad braced, blades drawn. But no attack came. Instead, hatches hissed open, and two figures descended — a man and a woman, their armor sleek, their hands raised in peace.

  “My name is Lieutenant Rell Kaedin,” the woman said. “We detected Rhupenshron mutation activity here. We’re here to help.”

  The Council arrived soon after, cloaked elders with staves and blades, their eyes sharp with suspicion. Ardren Soln himself stepped forward, his presence commanding.

  “You arrive from the skies in metal giants,” he said evenly. “Bearing unknown symbols and weapons we cannot match. Who leads you?”

  Lieutenant Rell stepped forward, helmet tucked under his arm. Young, scarred, sharp-eyed. “I do. Lieutenant Rell Kaedin. I lead this scout detachment.”

  The exchange was tense — suspicion clashing with quiet resolve. The Legion spoke of mutations spreading, of cities falling, of battles that no one place could win alone. Ardren listened, hard-eyed, but he did not dismiss them.

  “Urbanatra does not welcome strangers lightly,” he said at last. “But for now, we will listen.”

  Later, in the Council Hall, the debate raged beneath stone arches and firelight. The Legion insisted the threat was growing. The Council pressed them on motive, on weapons, on tradition.

  In the end, Ardren relented only slightly. “You will have watchers. You will follow our law. And you will speak. Then we will decide if your Legion has a place here.”

  That night, the Legionnaires were shown to a storm-worn house at the city’s edge. Lanterns flickered as they entered.

  From a nearby scaffold, Alyssa crouched in the shadows, her eyes fixed on them. Their armor gleamed too clean, too alien. Their words carried the weight of other wars.

  She whispered to herself, “Aliens with human faces.”

  Her jaw tightened.

  A moment later, she knocked.

  The Legion pilots stirred, startled. Lieutenant Rell rose and opened the door cautiously.

  Alyssa stood in the pale light, coat half-buttoned, bandages still fresh on her leg, eyes sharp as glass.

  “You’re not the first thing to fall from the sky,” she said flatly. “But you…”