The doors slammed open.
Theo and Dawn stumbled into the main hall like the last two survivors of a war. Their steps were slow and uneven.
Blood clung to them in thick streaks, shimmering under the emergency lights. It ran from Theo's back, soaking through the waistband of his pants and dripping onto the floor in silent, steady drops.
The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, catching on the crimson that soaked them both.
Theo's shirt clung to him like wet paper, torn and stained down the spine. Fresh blood trickled down from beneath his shoulder blades, pooling into his shirt.
His breaths came in staggered gulps. Dawn had both arms wrapped tightly around his waist, half-carrying him.
Her hands were slick with red. The blood had stained her blouse, her arms, her cheek—smudged across her face from where she'd pressed it to his spine, trying to stop the worst of the bleeding.
They looked like they'd walked out of a slaughterhouse.
And in a way—they had.
The main hall was packed. Benny's people sat huddled in corners. Some clung to each other, whispering through cracked lips. Others stared at the sealed doors, their faces pale and hollow with dread.
The fear in the room was thick—hanging in the air like smoke, seeping into every breath.
David saw them first.
He was on his feet in a heartbeat. "Theo!"
He rushed forward, Isabella right behind him, Benny trailing close.
"What the hell happened to you!?" David asked, not waiting for an answer.
He dropped to his knees beside them, hands out, not knowing where to touch that wouldn't make it worse.
Dawn gripped Theo's arm like it was the only thing holding her upright. "Bella, please..." she gasped. "He's hurt bad."
Theo swayed, barely standing.
"It's fine," he muttered, trying to brush them off. His voice was frayed, ragged. "Just a scratch..."
But his knees buckled slightly—and the lie unraveled with him. Around them, the hall stank of sweat. People screamed orders and names, sometimes both at once.
Isabella was at Theo's side in an instant.
"You've lost a lot of blood," she said sharply. "Off with the shirt."
Her tone left no room for argument.
Theo hesitated—then winced as Isabella helped him out of the shirt. The fabric peeled away from his back with a sick, tearing sound.
Threads split. Blood clung like glue. Gasps rippled through the survivors watching nearby.
The sight made David go pale.
Three slashes. Jagged. Deep. Ugly.
They ran diagonally from his shoulder blade down to his ribs—wide and raw, the skin torn open in places to reveal glimpses of red, angry muscle.
Blood welled with every breath he took. The wounds pulsed with heat, but Isabella didn't flinch.
She uncorked a vial from the pouch on her hip—glass no bigger than her thumb. The liquid inside shimmered like bottled starlight.
She waved her fingers, and the water floated free, lifting into the air.
"Sorry, Theo. This one's gonna leave a horrible scar."
The water spiraled—then unraveled—forming glowing threads that hovered over Theo's back.
She pressed it against his wounds.
The effect was immediate.
Theo hissed through his teeth as the healing began. The water seeped inward like silk sliding across nerves.
Light curled into the gashes, knitting together broken skin and raw muscle. Theo clenched his jaw, breathing hard through his nose as the pain flared, dulled, and numbed slowly.
"Stay still," Isabella muttered, her hand steady as stone.
Theo didn't answer. He just let the healing work.
"So," she asked. "What attacked you?"
Theo's lips were dry.
"...Some kind of monsters," he rasped. "Got in through one of the doors. Big. Fast. Black fur. Glowing red eyes. Claws..."
He trailed off.
"They had fangs, too," Dawn said quietly. "And they weren't just mindless. They were fast and coordinated. One of them used fire. Another—wind. It wasn't random at all."
Isabella froze mid-step. Something shifted behind her eyes.
"They were using Dyna?" she asked. "You're certain?"
Theo gave a slow nod. "We're sure. And… not everyone made it..."
A silence followed. The kind that stuck to the ribs.
Benny stepped forward, the lines in his face carved deeper than they had been minutes ago. The emergency lights caught the gray in his beard, the weight in his stare.
"I know... The ones you saved—they told me what happened."
Dawn's shoulders sank. "We're sorry," she whispered, heavy with guilt. "We tried... We fought hard... Really."
Benny's hand rested briefly on her shoulder—just a brush of calloused fingers, then gone.
"You two did more than try," he said. "You saved who you could… and you came back. That's more than most would've done. It's more than I could've asked... Thank you."
Isabella's hand pressed lightly on Theo's back, and warmth bloomed across his torn muscle.
The wound closed. The pain dulled, then vanished like smoke pulled into the wind.
But Theo barely noticed.
His eyes were fixed on the floor.
The ground was dark with blood—all of it his, some of it not. It pooled in the grooves between tiles, following cracks like veins, seeping into the foundation of the fortress itself.
A place built to withstand war. And still, it bled.
He didn't speak. Didn't blink.
Because in the darkness behind his eyes… the Devil was still there.
Its claws had torn straight through him. He'd felt the heat of its breath. Heard the way it growled—not like an animal, but something worse. Something deliberate.
Its eyes—there was something in them.
Not rage. Not hunger.
It knew what it was doing.
It wanted him afraid.
It wanted him to see death before it came.
And for a moment—he had.
Theo swallowed hard. His chest rose and fell too quickly. The wound was healed, but the memory stayed.
Sharp. Fresh.
He looked down at his hands. They were steady now, but they hadn't been. Not when he was just bleeding, gasping, wondering if that last breath would be his.
I didn't die.
The thought struck him unsolicited.
...But I could have.
And something inside him had cracked at that moment. A piece he hadn't known was fragile. Maybe it always had been.
Theo exhaled slowly.
No one spoke after that.
For a moment, they could only hear the groan of metal above them, the soft wail of the alarms that never stopped, and the distant rumbles of something still moving beyond the fortress walls.
And in that quiet, despite the grief curling beneath every breath… they stood together. Shoulder to shoulder. Alive.
"Hey, did you two actually fight a monster?" Bryce whispered to Theo but received no response.
Theo just sat there, blood crusted across his ribs, eyes blank, like he was still standing on the battlefield—even though the fight was long past.
Arthur followed close behind, giving Theo a once-over before letting out a low whistle.
"Don't ask dumb questions, Bryce," he muttered. "I mean, look at him. It wasn't a meat grinder that did this."
Then came the soft steps—light, synchronized. Aida and Aeda.
The sisters moved without a word, but their eyes were sharp.
Then Aeda spoke. "His back…"
Aida finished the thought. "Those are some big scars..."
Clarissa's head snapped toward them.
"Twins, give him some space," she said—calm but firm.
Then—
BOOM.
The floor buckled.
The walls shuddered as a thunderous explosion roared from somewhere deeper inside the Iron Fortress. Dust spilled from the ceiling like snow, and the lights overhead flickered wildly.
Curtis spun toward the door. "What the hell was that?"
"An explosion?" Clarissa whispered, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the bench. "It sounds like it came from inside."
"Hey! Curtis! Pentadraig! You guys need to see this!"
It was Bryce, calling from the far side of the hall, one hand pressed to the windowpane, breath fogging the glass.
Arthur jogged over first. He reached the window—then stopped cold.
"…What in the world..."
They all crowded in behind him.
Outside, the night was burning.
The sky had caught fire, with deep reds, hungry oranges, and streaks of violent gold painting the trees going up in flames.
But it wasn't just fire.
At the heart of it—was a storm.
A swirling inferno tore across the forest floor, spinning like a cyclone possessed.
"Aeda, look!" Aida pointed. "It's like a tornado…made of fire."
Gasps rippled through the recruits. Even Isabella stepped forward.
"A tornado of fire?" she murmured. "Firenado... For them to use that..."
The inferno roared across the land, devouring trees like kindling.
"…What the hell are we fighting?"
Behind her, gossip from the crowd sparked like embers.
"Why is this happening?"
"Did we anger the Section Commander?"
"No… no, this is because of the outsiders. This is punishment."
Another explosion rocked the fortress. The floor pitched. Light fixtures swung like pendulums from the ceiling. Someone screamed. Others collapsed to their knees, clutching their head.
"Everyone, stay calm!" Benny barked, his voice booming over the commotion. "Don't jump to conclusions. We don't know what this is yet."
But even as he spoke, the foundation rumbled again with a tremor. The walls rattled, and thin cracks spidered up the corners of the upper wall.
David stepped close to Isabella, whispering. "We can't stay here. This place is coming apart."
"Wait," she said softly, raising a hand.
The room held its breath.
Silence.
Then—
Footsteps.
Heavy. Uneven. Slow.
And something else, underneath them… growls.
Aida whimpered and pressed into Aeda's side. Isabella reached for her belt. Water from the vials at her hip uncoiled, rising in slow arcs around her arm, forming the shape of a glimmering whip.
BAM.
Something struck the door.
Not a knock.
It rammed. The sound rolled through the chamber like thunder. Everyone froze.
BOOM.
Another blast—distant, somewhere deep in the belly of the fortress.
Then, silence again. Whatever was outside in the hall… stepped away. Benny crept to the steel door, pressing his ear to the cold surface.
"They're… moving on."
A soft wave of relief broke across the room. Shoulders dropped. A few sobs were stifled.
Isabella turned slightly, her head tilting as a breeze slipped past her cheek—soft, calculated, and into her ear like a whisper carried on command.
Her eyes sharpened.
"Recruits. I've just received word from Commander Nozomu."
Every head turned. Every sound in the room died.
"There are roughly one hundred of the creatures we're facing. They're called Devils. At least thirty have been confirmed heading toward this location."
Then her gaze shifted—passing over Theo, Dawn.
"But based on what Theo and Dawn encountered… they're already inside."
The room fell into a deeper silence than before.
No one screamed.
No one moved.
It was suffocating.
No muttering. No panic. No questions.
Just the low hum of failing lights and a room full of people holding their breath, waiting for something to break.
Then Isabella spoke again, softer this time—almost to herself.
"…The fortress... It won't hold much longer."
Meanwhile—
Miles above the inferno, two figures carved through the smoke-stained sky.
Nozomu and Pop flew low over the treetops, their cloaks whipping in the wind, their bodies framed against the dying blaze of the firenado below—a spiral of flame now collapsing in on itself.
No longer majestic but broken.
The tornado sputtered, coughing sparks as its once-mighty roar faded to a brittle hiss.
"…It's almost out of Dyna," Nozomu said as his boots touched down in a clearing blackened by heat.
Embers scattered beneath him, dancing like perishing stars.
The air flowed with heat, and charred leaves drifted down from above like mourning snow. In the distance, the firenado twisted one final time—then flashed like a candle gasping for breath.
Nozomu's stance was still. Grounded. But his eyes were sharp.
The battle wasn't over.
Not yet, at least.
Pop landed hard beside him. He staggered, catching himself with a grunt.
His shirt was nearly gone—slashed down the sides, scorched at the collar. Sweat traced lines through the dirt on his face, but his grip hadn't loosened.
"…How many do you think are left?"
"About half," Nozomu said. "Maybe a little less. They recover too fast."
Pop let out a dry, bitter laugh. "Half? Still that many?"
His muscles ached. His Dyna reserves scraped bottom. His lungs burned.
And still… those creatures kept coming.
He stared into the shadows where they waited—watching, breathing.
"…Can we even win this?" he asked quietly.
Nozomu turned.
No fear in his expression.
No doubt.
Only clarity.
"Yes," he said like it was already written.
The wind shifted around him, catching the edge of his blade. It twisted in a slow spiral as if the wind were listening.
"We just have to hold out a little longer."
Pop looked at him. And for a second—just a second—that fear melted away.
His fingers curled tighter around his sword hilt.
The flames reflected in his eyes like twin stars rising again.
"Then let's hold the line," he said, voice rising with heat. "No matter what."
Back inside the Iron Fortress—
Benny emerged from a side passage connected to the main hall with a line of workers at his back.
Their arms were heavy with reinforced shields, stacked high, engraved with faint markings that glistened under the pulse of red emergency lights.
The metal glinted like embers trapped in steel.
The recruits gathered quickly, forming a half-circle around the central table. Their faces were pale but focused.
Isabella stood at the head of the room—her hair damp with sweat, clinging to her cheeks, her eyes burning with purpose.
"We don't have much time. If we stay here, we die. Either by those Devils… or when this fortress caves in on us."
Benny dropped a shield onto the table with a heavy thud.
"Listen up! These shields are Dyna-resistant. Reinforced against heat, pressure—hell, even bursts of elemental force. They won't last forever, but they'll give us enough time to get people moving."
Isabella nodded. "We split into two groups. One escorts the workers out. The other stays with me—forms a wall and holds it while I clear us a path."
Her gaze swept the room. The recruits didn't withdraw. Not a single one stepped back.
"Marco!" Benny barked.
A tall, wiry teen stepped forward from the crowd. His hands trembled, but his chin stayed high.
"You know the terrain better than anyone," Benny said. "You're leading the evac. Get them somewhere safe. Away from the fires. Away from those monsters."
Marco hesitated, just for a moment. "I… I'll try—"
"No." Benny moved in, placing a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder. "Don't try. Do. I'm trusting you."
Marco stared at him for a long second… then nodded.
"Then I'll do my best."
But before the plan could settle—
A voice cut through the moment like a scream down a tunnel.
"Benny! Benny!"
A woman erupted through the crowd, panic in every motion. Her face was streaked with tears, her chest rising in jagged breaths.
Benny caught her by the arms. "Easy. What's wrong?"
She shook her head, trembling. "It's Mera. She was right beside me—I turned around for a second, and now—she's gone."
The word gone struck the room like an iron bell.
Everything stopped.
Benny's jaw tightened. "Gone?" He turned sharply. "Has anyone seen Mera? Anyone!?"
Dozens of eyes scanned the room. Heads turned. Mouths opened—but no one spoke. A tide of murmurs rolled across the hall, searching for something solid.
Nothing.
Then—
A slight tug at Marco's shirt.
He looked down.
A young child, Faye, stood there, barely past his waist, eyes wide and gleaming with fear. At her side, Colt clutched her hand like he'd never let go.
Marco crouched instinctively, lowering himself to meet her gaze. "Faye?"
She glanced at Colt, then back to Marco. Her voice was a whisper—so soft it almost didn't reach his ears.
"We… we know where Mera is."
The entire room froze again.
Every sound fell away, and every eye turned to the two children.
Watching.
Waiting.
For whatever came next.