Tohol is on standby, ready.

A pulse hits me. Orders.

I confirm.

Alright.

I press forward. Kahul and Tziib close in at my flanks. Ranged support sets up behind us. I detect six Xok'al ahead—but that's just the surface.

I keep my nodes inactive, relying on my new highly conductive armor and blades.

I deflect incoming fire mid-run, dodging between the shots.

The first one moves. I catch the twitch—predict the follow-through.

I arch my back, shift my flow. A tail sweeps past where I stood. My blades flash forward. Its waves intercept, pushing my strike wide.

I roll with it. Shift grip. Activate hip and wrist nodes—drive the pommel straight into its chest.

It hits. The Xok'al gasps.

I rotate, follow with a low-line sweep kick.

Before I connect, rounds tear through the air.

I deflect two, can't dodge the third.

I reroute node energy—redirect the projectile mid-flight with a focused pulse.

My kick lands. The Xok'al staggers. I thrust up into the neck—dead.

But no time.

Another comes in hard—overhead strike.

I parry with crossed blades just in time. The impact sends a shock through my forearms.

Strong bastard.

I shift weight, redirect the force—ready to counter—but then I see it. Another one. Fast. Angling in from behind.

Fuck.

"Kahul!" I fire him a pulse.

He's clear. Responds instantly. Sends a tight, precise EM burst. It hits the second Xok'al, staggers its rhythm.

"Thanks!"

That's all I need.

I crouch low, activate ankle nodes. Ground cracks. I drive upward—send the first Xok'al into the air.

The second closes—too late. I thrust high. My blade aimed at its throat.

It halts, forced off-timing.

I roll to the side, feint low.

Then step through with a rising kick—another feint.

It falls for it.

I trigger the nodes in my wrist and flick the blade—just the wrist. The motion strains the joint, but it's enough. A clean line opens beneath the Xok'al's head.

The other one is still mid-air, preparing two shots. I angle my other blade, sync with shoulder and hip, and draw a tight arc to intercept both.

The impact rattles me, but my bones hold. I absorb the recoil and recover fast.

I press down on the ground, dirt grinding beneath my boots as I dash forward. It hasn't landed—no way it can dodge.

It raises its guard. I sidestep, fake a thrust to the ribs, spin, and feint again with a wide cut aimed at its head—then shift the momentum into a kick.

The blow connects—keeps it airborne, balance gone.

I move under it, using the body as cover against the next barrage of projectiles.

Then I spin—forward propulsion in full—first blade intercepts the tail's path, second slashes clean across the back of the neck.

Three down.

"Fang-born!"

The voice rings in my head—rushed visuals follow.

Shit!

Dual Overdrive

Everything slows.

The smell of blood. The pounding of my heart. The rhythm of breath, of pulse. Screams in the distance. Metal clashing.

All of it—there.

But I feel more than that.

A pressure.

Crushing. Like gravity multiplied tenfold. My body stiffens—my armor, my blades, even my breath resists motion.

Something slams against my mind. A hammering force—again and again.

Every side.

I grit my teeth. Channel all my waves inward, shielding the mind. At the same time, I trigger my nodes—acceleration sequence.

My body twists—the drive comes from the ground. Feet. Hips. Waist. Shoulders. Arms. Blades.

Everything flows.

And then—impact.

It connects like a sword against stone.

The recoil threatens to tear through me. Joints scream. Bones nearly give.

I hold.

The wave pressure intensifies—trying to drown me. Force me down. Break me.

I roar.

I roar through every fiber of me.

And I push—harder. Harder!

The creature staggers—pushed back.

I look up.

The elite Xok'al stares at me.

Its cold, alien eyes lock onto mine.

The instant passes.

The creature evades two incoming javelins as it's forced back.

"I'll take it from here."

Captain Tohol intercepts—blades clash, sparks fly, and his EM domain expands, pushing back the oppressive force that had been crushing my mind and body.

I exhale sharply, deactivating Dual Overdrive and settling back into full Overdrive.

"Thanks, Xam."

I send her a pulse as I dash back into the fight.

Ixchel is still locked with the other elite—but she's pushing it back. It's only a matter of time before she finishes it.

Should be the same with Tohol and this one.

I glance at my forearm—still trembling.

That clash made it clear.

It's not raw strength that makes these elite Xok'al dangerous.

Physically, they're about on par with me. Reflexes? Probably slower—especially when I'm in Dual Overdrive.

No… it's the EM field.

That crushing pressure…

That thought flickers and fades as I leap back in, my used nodes slowly recharging.

I intercept a Xok'al lunging at Tziib. Coordinating with one of our ranged fighters, we take it down fast.

That's my fourth one today.

I shift left—Xam is just finishing another.

"Nice block, Fang-born. Not many match blades with an elite and live to talk about it."

"Well, I'm talking to someone who actually killed one."

I smirk—but my heart hasn't slowed. There's still a tremble in my arms. I let the words carry the weight instead.

A deep breath.

Refocus.

The fight's practically over.

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Let's fini—

"AHHHH!"

The scream. Human.

I snap my head around. My eyes widen.

Ixchel's eyes—locked into mine—are frozen in shock. Still wide. Still alive.

Still staring from a head that's no longer part of a body.

What the—

My gaze drops.

A scythe-like limb retracts, slick and glistening red.

Dark crimson carapace.

Viper-like eyes. Pale. Cold.

Another elite Xok'al.

No…

Two.

Standing side by side.

Three elites. One already fighting Tohol. One just killed Ixchel. One more watching, unmoving.

An ambush?

My fingers twitch. My blade hand trembles.

Captain Ixchel is dead.

There are three elite Xok'al.

Three.

What the fuck is this?

My heart slams against my ribs. My breath chokes.

I stare into the new one's eyes.

They look at me like I'm prey. Nothing else.

My legs tighten. My mind screams.

Run.

"Scatter and run!"

Tohol's voice rips through the static.

His field explodes—wave pressure expanding outward in a dome of raw force, slamming the elite he's fighting back a step.

"This is an order! SCATTER AND RUN!!"

No wave now. Full shout.

"Fang-born!"

A hand on my back—Xam.

"Snap out of it. GO!"

My chest burns. My teeth grind.

Dual Overdrive

Time slows.

I feel the blood in the air.

I hear another scream—wet, abrupt, cut short.

Another dead.

The air thickens with scent. Metal. Ash. Blood.

And then—pressure.

It ripples out like a shockwave.

Tohol.

His field flares like a stormfront, breaking through the ambient interference. I feel it in my bones, the raw surge of a Lord of Sparks letting go of all restraint.

The elite Xok'al before him stumbles back.

Then—

A crack.

No, a thunderclap.

The air trembles as all of Tohol's nodes ignite at once. No rhythm. No precision. Just force. Pure force.

He roars—deep, primal, tearing through the soundscape.

A blur. Sparks. Light arcs through the dust. The first elite Xok'al is cleaved apart, its skull split clean in two.

Dead.

But the moment freezes.

The other two are already on him.

He doesn't step back.

He steps in.

A last stand.

They clash—three monsters in the shape of warriors. Fields ripping. Blades screaming.

Then—impact.

A deep crunch.

A metallic shriek—steel against carapace—cut short by flesh.

Another roar—raw defiance.

And then—

Silence.

His field collapses.

I feel it vanish.

Gone.

Tohol is dead.

I don't look back.

I run.

And so do the others.

Xam. Kahul. Tziib. The survivors of Ixchel's squad.

We scatter like broken arrows.

And the hunt begins.

I hear the ripple in the field. They're coming.

Another scream.

Behind me.

A tear—like muscle pulled from bone.

I smell it.

Blood.

I force myself to keep going. My legs scream, lungs tearing open. I activate every node—ankles, hips, spine. Push Overdrive to the edge.

I don't care.

My vision blurs. My mind pulses with strain. I keep moving.

Faster. Faster. Faster!

Behind me, another shriek. It fades too quickly.

Dead.

I press harder, pain lighting up every nerve.

A thought flickers.

Turn back.

Help them.

Die.

…

No.

Not yet.

Not here.

I bite down hard enough to taste blood.

And I run.

I run faster than I ever have.

I run and run, faster than all of them.

I leave them behind.

Not because I want to.

But because I must.

Because if I stop—

I die.

If I turn—

I die.

If I think—

I die.

So I just… run.

I burn through everything my body can offer.

I push my waves until my mind frays. I push my muscles until they tear.

My boots dig into the dirt. My lungs scream. My vision pulses black at the edges.

I hear another scream—but it's distant now. Behind. Farther. Not a voice. A gurgle.

I don't know who it was.

I don't want to know.

I keep running. I keep running until it is silent.

Silence… that's good that's—

I shift.

My blade flashes up to the side, waves channeled into the edge.

CLANG!!

The impact vibrates through my arm. I don't resist the momentum.

My body is flung backward—skidding, spinning on the ground.

As I roll, I feel the pressure build—waves crushing from both sides.

Their fields.

I grit my teeth and act.

Gauntlets off. Chest plate unlatched. I rip the armor off mid-tumble, piece by piece, letting it clatter away behind me.

The weight lifts. Their grip weakens.

But the damage is done.

I crash hard against a slope.

Ribs compress. My shoulder dislocates with a sickening crunch. Numbness shoots down my arm.

I roll again, hit stone. Blood mats my hair.

I get up anyway.

The world spins. My knees threaten to give.

The first elite lunges—low and fast. A sweeping slash aimed at my legs.

The second trails close behind, its EM field shrieking with layered interference.

I raise both blades—too slow. My limbs drag under the weight of their pressure. I can't swing. Can't strike. Only block.

I anchor with two of my few remaining charged nodes—left heel and right shoulder—forcing the block into place.

Metal clashes. My bones jar. My elbow pops.

The second elite is already on me.

A downward slash. I don't dodge. I can't.

I twist with a snap of waist node—just enough to keep it from splitting me in two.

But it still lands.

The edge rips across my side. A hot line of pain from ribs to waist. I scream.

Blood gushes down my hip.

I reel back. I can't parry again.

So I gamble.

With my right hand still locked to the hilt, I flick my fingers open.

One of the bullets I had hidden clicks into place—small, high-conductivity, EM reactive.

I trigger it with a pulse from the wrist node. A desperate, last-ditch blast aimed straight at the closest elite.

It fires—snaps through the air, close-range.

The creature jerks. The round connects with its shoulder, punching through armor.

A stumble. A crackle. A window.

I force my body to move with a scream—but the second elite is already in motion.

I barely shift my sword into guard position.

Its arm swings. Not a slash—a punch.

This…

It hits my blade. The shock runs straight through the grip. My fingers break. My wrist gives. The blade is held by tension and pain alone.

The force throws me sideways.

I bite down to stay conscious.

My last node in my left hip activates, rerouting force up my spine—just enough to right myself.

I drag my blade up.

A desperate counter.

It dodges.

A tail snaps across my vision. I see it too late.

It clips my hip.

They are toying with me…

I stumble—and the other one crashes into me full force.

A tackle.

So this is it…?

Its shoulder slams into my ribs. I'm lifted clean into the air. My back bends backward. Something tears. Something cracks.

I don't even scream.

My mouth opens—but no sound comes out.

Then the second elite follows through. A blow to the side of the head.

My jaw snaps. The world flashes white, then fades to black around the edges.

My vision narrows. One eye goes dark.

I can't stand.

I'm done.

I'm sorry…

Then the ground vanishes beneath me.

I'm flung off the ridge.

I'm sorry I broke my promise…

The ridge crumbles beneath my feet. For a moment, weightlessness. Then—

Impact.

I slam into a ledge. My ribs buckle. The air's ripped from my lungs.

I bounce. Another ledge catches my thigh—bone cracks. The jagged wall scrapes across my back, slicing through flesh. Blood smears the stone behind me as I spin mid-air.

Then another impact.

My shoulder hits next, a sickening pop. Nerve fire spreads down my arm.

Then—nothing to catch me. Just a long, howling drop.

Down.

The dark swallows me.

I'm sorry… Ayu.

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