The teleport spike rent reality for an instant. The sound was vacant, like the world exhaled through clenched teeth.
Kuro, Lindsay, Felix, and Chief Ivers materialized in the HQ teleportation chamber—fluorescent lights flickering above, the air heavy with disinfectant and ozone. It was quiet. Too quiet. As if the building itself knew that something had gone wrong.
Julie was already waiting. She stood by the steel double doors, arms folded, jaw set. No hello. No inquiries.
"Kuro. Ivers. Follow me. Now."
Felix staggered a bit, catching his breath. Lindsay winced and rotated her neck, shaking off the vertigo.
Kuro turned to them. "You two—take five. Grab a bite. I'll brief you when I can."
Felix inclined his head slightly. "We'll be ready."
Lindsay looked like she was about to protest, but something in Kuro's tone made her stop. He wasn't asking. He was preparing for something, and both of them were aware of it.
Julie led Kuro and Ivers down a narrow corridor that was chillier than the others. The walls here were lined with reinforced plating. No ornamentation. No insignia. These halls were for conflict, not politics.
They entered the war room—a highly secured room deep beneath the HQ. The room had no windows, only bare ceiling lights and one conference table with five high-ranking officers already seated around it. The atmosphere was tense already.
Julie went straight to business. She slammed a thick file onto the table.
"We just received a field report. Priority One clearance. Frontline scout. Embedded with our eastern watchpoint." She paused, eyes scanning the room. "The enemy's moving."
Someone exhaled sharply through their nose. Another officer leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
Julie continued. "They're advancing three days ahead of our best projections. Flank squadrons, mobile artillery, heavy walkers, and… confirmed sightings of Class B entities."
That drew silence.
A man near the end of the table interrupted, grizzled voice cracking. "How accurate?"
"Three confirmations. Two aerial recon drones, one relay from a magewatch post." Julie tapped the file. "They're not stalling. They're going to breach Line 3 in less than twenty hours."
Kuro's voice was quiet, but it fell like a dropped blade.
"We move now. Every unit. Every soldier."
One of the officers blinked. "We haven't extended the long-range array. Our flanks are still—"
Kuro cut him off with a look. "We trained for this exact situation. Adaptive response. Simulated chaos. No fallback. We strike now or take the rest of the war getting behind. "
The room fell into tense silence.
Julie, ever pragmatic, looked to Ivers. "Your call?"
Ivers looked between them. He already knew Kuro was right.
"Agreed," Ivers said. "We move out within the hour. Full deployment."
Kuro nodded. He stood up, his face toward the door.
Julie raised an eyebrow. "Where are you going?"
"There's something I need to do."
He didn't explain. He didn't need to. Julie didn't stop him.
Kuro vanished down the hall, coat flowing behind him like smoke.
Chief Ivers stood at the front of the barracks. Hundreds of troops had crammed into the common hall, half-strapped equipment, half-eaten meals, some still breathless from morning drills.
The room buzzed with a confused whisper. Some talked of a drill. Others expected a false alarm. None of them were ready to hear what Ivers was about to say to them.
He climbed the central table, boots echoing on the wood. He didn't use a mic. He didn't need one.
"Listen up."
Silence crept across the room like a cold wind.
"We've just received a high-priority alert. The enemy's moving—now. Faster than projected. Three days early."
No response. They didn't understand.
"So here's the truth," Ivers continued. "There is no prep time. There is no warm-up. We're moving out within the hour. Every unit."
Now the room erupted. Shouts, denial, panic. Somebody bellowed, "Is this a test?!"
"No," Ivers growled. "This is the real thing. We fight now, or we let them walk through our defenses like they own the place."
Some of the soldiers glanced around, eyes wide. Others clenched their fists, lips tightening.
Then Felix stood up.
He mounted the table alongside Ivers. Not a word to ask permission. He did not need to.
He silenced the group, fire already raging in his chest.
"Shut up and listen."
That was all it took. Even the green recruits were quiet.
"We trained for this. Every minute of hell. Every broken rib. Every sleepless week. Every time you fell flat on your face and got moving again—this is why.".
He pointed to the back of the hall, where the youngest cadets stood. "You don't feel prepared? Neither did I. But I am. We are. You hear me?"
He shouted now, his voice shaking but resolute.
"They want us scared. They want us to question. But we're not here to question. We're here to end this."
A pause. Then someone clapped. Another voice shouted, "Let's go!" The sound built like pressure under the skin.
The room didn't erupt into cheers. It didn't need to. The tension shifted. The soldiers didn't feel ready—but now they remembered why they existed.
Ivers gave Felix a brief nod.
"Suit up," he barked. "You've got twenty minutes."
Kuro stood in the doorway of a small, weathered house on the edge of the HQ's outer perimeter. It looked untouched by the war, although it hadn't been. The ground here had been burned before.
Inside, Reinhard was seated at the kitchen table. He looked older. Not in years, but in silence. A stiffness that only sorrow and waiting could bring.
Marie looked around the hallway wall, her eyes wide but silent.
Kuro came in and placed a small black rectangular device on the table. No buttons. Just a faint sheen along its length.
"This is a direct-link communicator. Encoded. One way. You press here, and I'll know. Wherever I am."
Reinhard looked at it, then at Kuro. "Why now?"
"Because things are going to get noisy."
Reinhard didn't push it. He knew something that most others did not. He had seen what Kuro had been like before.
"You'll keep her safe?" Kuro asked softly.
Reinhard nodded. "With my life."
"I know."
Marie stepped forward now, cautiously. "You're going away again?"
Kuro crouched and looked her in the eyes.
"Just for a little while."
"Promise?"
Kuro hesitated, then said something rare for him.
"I'll try."
That was enough for her.
Beyond the house, far beyond the electric fence, figures moved in the trees.
Six of them. Silent. No footsteps. Their bodies distorted the air around them, like heat mirages twisting into something far more sinister.
They did not speak.
They did not have to.
They had waited long enough.
And tonight, the waiting was done.