Imani gritted his teeth as the Xok'al's EM domain pressed down on his hammer, the force almost buckling his stance. His muscles bulged as he forced it upward, catching and holding the strike from the creature's blade.

Another limb swept in, aiming for his ribs—but a sword intercepted it with a sharp, clean clang.

Wang's foot barely seemed to touch the ground as his armor's mechanisms fired, vents hissing as stored energy discharged. His suit pulsed with light, and in a blink he was at the Xok'al's flank—his blade carving a silver streak as it smashed into the creature's guard.

The Xok'al skidded back, claws grinding against Wang's sword, its feet tearing grooves in the dirt as it tried to steady itself.

The tail lashed out, but Wang was already moving. His frame blurred, the crack of displaced air marking where he'd been. The tail clipped him at the edge of his dodge, glancing off his armor and leaving a dent as he twisted with the momentum, skating across the dust.

Another tail blocked Imani's advance while the last fired a magnetized round at a nearby Ajnal warrior.

"I'm ready. Can you give me an opening?" Imani pulsed to Wang.

Wang's pulse came back fast—a confirmation and a flash of his plan.

Imani nodded. No more holding back.

Wang funneled charge from his capacitor nodes, the armor's systems syncing with his conductive body. He became a blur, streaking low across the ground, dust exploding in his wake. The Xok'al barely had time to shift as Wang's sword slammed into its guard, driving it back.

But Wang didn't stop. His overcharged frame twisted in a flash, vents on his suit burning hot as his knee whipped up and caught the Xok'al clean in the side, the force of speed sending the creature staggering before it could react with its tail.

The Xok'al tried to recover—blades flashing toward Wang—but—

BOOM!

The earth erupted beneath Imani's charge, a crater left behind as he smashed into the Xok'al's core with unstoppable force. Bone shattered, organs split—the creature hurled back, crashing through a tree with a crack that echoed across the slope. The massive trunk toppled, dust and debris rising before settling in the heavy air.

Imani stood, shoulders heaving, his breath ragged. The effort of draining both his capacitor nodes and biomechanical reserves left his body trembling.

Wang slowed, steam rising from his armor's vents, his side throbbing under the slightly cracked plating.

But he grinned as his helmet retracted. "Guess we did it."

Imani exhaled, straightening slowly. He gave a nod, eyes scanning the field where the Lord of Sparks was finishing off the other three-tailed, while the Stone Jaguars dispatched the last of the two-tails.

He remained silent, staring at the lifeless body of the three-tailed Xok'al. The memory of that first encounter clawed back—how close he'd been to dying, how General Noh had saved him. And now... was this part of that revenge? Could it even count?

Wang stepped up beside him. "It's a shame, really. I still don't get why The Tower threw two of these things at Alonso so soon. If he were here now… maybe he could take one down on his own."

"He sure would," Imani said quietly. The words brought more than just Alonso's face to mind. Siddharth. Others. The ones The Tower had taken from them, one by one. How many more before this ended?

"You wanna take the orb?" Wang's voice pulled him from the spiral.

Imani shook his head. "You take it. Won't be the last anyway."

"Alright," Wang said, stepping forward. He cracked the skull clean and drew the orb free.

Not long after, the Lord of Sparks regrouped them and led the squad back to the outpost.

Later, Imani sank into a chair in the lobby, armor off, arms heavy. Wang came over, now in casual wear, the weight of the fight behind him.

"Catching a break?" Wang asked, dropping down across from him. "Hell of a feat today. Feels good, doesn't it? Knowing we can finally bring these bastards down ourselves."

"It does… and yet, we're still so far from making even a spark in this war," Imani said, his gaze drifting back to Wang. "Did you leave your armor at the forge? I can patch that crack."

"Yeah—thanks for that. It's good having you and Lukas making gear for us now," Wang said with a small smile.

"Well, someone's got to. And smithing... helps clear the mind." Imani leaned back slightly. "How was it, back with the Azcoyatl? Do they really have all those robots walking around?"

"Not quite robots. They're actively controlled—so calling them automatons feels like a stretch. But yeah, they've got plenty of fancy stuff. Some of it floats around, too. Their whole society's built on Pillar mastery and EM control after all."

"I see. Would be nice to see it one day."

Silence settled between them for a moment as their thoughts drifted, before Wang spoke again.

"I know losing Alonso hits hard. As a brother, as a warrior—the weight of it is real. Same as when Siddharth fell. But we made it through that, and we'll make it through this too. And... I don't know if I've said this before, but while the rest of us are doing ok—there's Chiara."

Imani's eyes narrowed a touch, focusing fully on him. He'd been wondering. Wondering how Chiara had risen so fast among the Azcoyatl. Was it just her genius fitting so well with their research ways—or was there something more?

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"And Chiara… I don't want to use words like freak or monster, but she's something else. Even after syncing the Jaguar nodes with the Azcoyatl methods, I'm nowhere near where she was the last time I saw her in action. Not even with Lukas' tailor-made armor or fighting alongside you after you hit Second Body State. She's got what it takes to carry us far. And with Lukas at her side… I don't think it'll be long before they're facing commander-level Xok'al."

Commander-level Xok'al?

Imani's eyes narrowed. He knew their power—stronger than most Sun Bearers, second only to figures like General Noh. Could Chiara, even linked with Lukas, really take one down soon? He had no idea how many months, or longer, it would take him to get close to that level.

One of them defeating a four-tailed monster… even as a team, it still felt like something distant, out of reach.

And yet, The Tower didn't care how far they felt. The next trial would come harder than the previous.

As Chiara had said—if they didn't keep up, they'd be eliminated.

Adapt and evolve… or die.

"So that's it… we lost even without fighting back… we accept fate for The Tower to control us and be damned what has been built over centuries?" Caldwell's voice cracked through the channel.

There was silence for a moment before a lower, yet clear voice sounded.

"Oh please, enlighten us with your alternative, dear Senator."

"Destroy them now… plant bombs on every returnee spot and blast them as soon as they return. As for The Tower, fuck their game, do their worst. But if we keep going like this, our fate will be decided by these lunatics with devil-gained powers that will bring humanity to doom quicker than nuclear warfare."

"You mean… we give up on climbing The Tower and potentially give away the only thing that is entertaining this unknown civilization that can wipe us out in a blink without a challenge? If I did not know you mean the best, Senator, I would believe you just want the world to disappear or humanity be enslaved, or whatever worst they do to those that fail this challenge of theirs."

"For all we know, they don't care and may just go away. But keeping things as they are… in a couple of years' time all of you here will have zero leverage on the world. Politics? What does that even mean in a world where the biggest fist will rule? A worldwide dictatorship where madmen can erase cities unarmed and in instants, where every known form of defense is useless. Passports, visas—what's that gonna be when you can fly faster than an F-22? The progress of humanity over the last millennia will be brought back towards the Stone Age, pure savagery where civilization is gone to damn. Is that what you all want?"

A pause.

Viktor's voice came, low, steady, almost amused. "Senator… are you familiar with game theory?"

Caldwell snarled, "Spare me the lectures."

"No, let's indulge for a moment," Viktor said, tone gentle but unyielding. "In game theory, when confronted with a superior force—one that cannot be beaten or contained—the rational move is not to provoke annihilation. The worst outcome must be avoided at all costs, because survival offers a chance at adaptation, evolution, negotiation. Suicide, on the other hand, leaves nothing. You propose we trigger the worst scenario ourselves—attack climbers at their most vulnerable, reject the Tower's terms, and invite a response from whatever power built it. You are advocating we skip straight to extinction rather than playing the game to its end. Why?"

"I'm saying at least we go out with dignity," Caldwell snapped.

"No, Senator. You're saying we throw away our last pieces on the board because we don't like how the match is going." Viktor let the silence settle. "But humanity's history is built on playing even the worst hands with care."

An African representative spoke next, voice firm. "Viktor is right. We have no cards except the Tower's favour and the returnees' goodwill. We may fear them—but killing them as they return ensures we lose both."

A Chinese marshal added, "And invites The Tower to answer. With force we cannot match. The Tower's builders are watching. If they wished to destroy us, they could. But they've chosen to test us instead. We'd be fools to spit on that chance."

Caldwell's breath was audible over the channel. "So what's the plan? Just… welcome them? Wait for them to take over?"

Elena spoke, steady, grounded. "No. We prepare a structure that includes them, defines their role, builds channels of dialogue. We play the long game. And we pray they still see themselves as human enough to play it with us."

There was a murmur of assent across the connections.

"And how exactly will we do that? I want concrete facts, not the speech you'll give to the public, Elena. What will be done with the returnees now? More specifically, what will be done with those who, as you said, do not want to play by our terms?"

Elena's eyes slightly narrowed as she leaned forward.

"You mentioned something earlier that is absolutely true, Caldwell—the one with the biggest fist rules. So we don't need to compromise with every climber. We don't need to bow to all of them. We just need those at the top to be willing to stand on our side.

The most recent feed from The Tower—the one that brought us all here today for this emergency online meeting—makes it clear that those at the top are not just a bit stronger than the rest. The prowess displayed by Climber Ayu Narongsak alone would be enough for her to single-handedly defeat all Climbers from Gen-2 combined.

The strength shown by Climber Alonso Shemson… well, even our centralised artificial superintelligence failed to comprehend it, describing what it saw as something that should not be. And we expect this pattern to repeat. The climbers will keep getting stronger, but only those at the very top will matter. They alone can instill fear in all the others and keep them in line."

"And when those at the top ask for more than we can give?" came a low voice from an EU representative.

Elena didn't pause. "Then we give it. A country? They can have it. We'll draw the borders, hand them the deeds, make it official. A continent? We'll facilitate the migration, call it a peace initiative. A planet? We'll spend every last resource helping them reach it, and call it humanity's greatest achievement. Because refusing means extinction. This isn't about pride anymore. This is about our survival, and we will pay whatever price keeps us breathing."

There was a beat of stunned silence before Caldwell's voice broke in again. "And if what they want isn't land or resources? What if it's people? What if they demand tribute in bodies—slaves, soldiers, breeders? What if their strength twists their morals, or reveals they never had any? What if they decide a city, a nation, an entire people is an insult that must be erased?"

Elena's gaze didn't shift. "Then we will bend as far as we can without breaking, and we will make ourselves indispensable. We will be the ones who smooth their path, who shape their victories, who ensure their whims cost them nothing. Because the moment we become irrelevant, or worse, an obstacle… that's the moment we disappear. If they want slaves, they won't need permission. Better we make them see us as partners than as prey."

Caldwell's voice rose, thick with anger. "You're proposing the end of every principle we're supposed to stand for. Sovereignty, rights, law, dignity. All thrown away so we can crawl at their feet."

Elena didn't blink. "I'm proposing we keep the species alive long enough to adapt. Ideals are luxuries for the strong. We are not the strong anymore. We are the fragile, trying to outlast a storm that can't be fought. If that means rewriting everything we thought sacred, so be it. Because dead nations don't stand for anything at all."

A voice from the European side, grim and quiet, spoke next. "So if this top climber turns out to be a radical, an ultranationalist, a racist, a true scorn of humanity? Someone who doesn't care for talks, or offers, or peace? The one who decides the world offends him and tears it apart simply because he can? Then what?"

Viktor's voice slid through the channel. "Then it ends. And nothing we say here tonight will matter."

Elena followed, her tone steady. "But until that day comes, we do what we must. We give what we must. We persevere, we adapt, we survive—until the day when he who guides us strives for the good of mankind. Until the strongest among us carries our ideals and leads us to the next step. Until the one who holds the greatest fist also holds the heart of his race. Until that day… we persevere. We survive."

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