The hiss of the QT's hydraulics echoed
through the compound bay as the doors slid open. Dust swirled in the overhead
lights. Flare stepped out first, the worn steel floor beneath his boots
groaning with fatigue that mirrored his own. Marcos followed, unusually silent.
They didn't speak on the way in. They
didn't need to. Some silences didn't ask to be broken — they just settled in
and made space.
The squad was already gathered in the
common area. Claire was perched on the armrest of the couch, long legs swinging
lazily. Marek sat cross-legged on the floor, spinning a small drone between his
fingers. Maria leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, eyes sharp and
waiting. Caim was off to the side, greatsword resting against his thigh, gaze
low.
Flare's voice was steady when he
finally spoke.
"We're cleared for rest."
He paused. No one moved.
"Shayla confirmed it. That Ashen… it
was myth-born."
A thin string of silence stretched
across the room. No one breathed. The implication was too heavy.
"She also said we've got a transfer
coming," he added. "Name's Kai Kazura. Fresh from the compound. Be ready to
break him in."
Claire let out a low whistle. "Damn. A
cow-headed demon and a rookie in the same day? We're really racking up the
lore."
The Mess Hall
Later, they sat gathered in the mess —
if not for the tension, it could've been mistaken for any other night.
Claire leaned back in her chair,
chewing on a protein bar like it owed her money. "Well… that was a moo-ving
experience," she said, eyes twinkling.
Marek groaned. "Claire, I swear to
every pantheon left, if you start with cow puns, I'm gonna start adding arsenic
to your rations."
Even Flare cracked a smile — briefly.
Caim didn't laugh. He hadn't said much
since they returned.
You froze, his mind whispered. You
hesitated. It baited you and you walked right into it.
You're not good enough. Not fast
enough. Not like the others.
Maria's voice cut through the room
like a thrown blade.
"All of this," she said sharply,
"because some old bastard didn't wear his damn monitor."
The laughter stopped. Marek looked
down. Claire frowned.
"No bitterness," Marcos said from
behind them. His voice was even, firm. "Just facts. Protocols are there for a
reason."
Flare nodded slowly. "He probably
didn't think he needed it. Thought he was fine."
Maria scoffed. "People always think
that. Right up until they aren't. And then someone like us gets to clean up the
pieces."
Marcos stepped forward then, folding
his arms. Something had shifted in his stance — the weight of command settling
in.
"That's not what scares me the most,"
he said. "Not the death. Not even the transformation. It's the trap."
The room stilled again.
"That thing waited," he continued. "It
watched. It baited Caim. That wasn't instinct. That was thought."
Flare leaned against the table, his
jaw tight. "We've been training like they're beasts. Mindless. Reactionary."
"They're not," Marcos said. "Not
anymore, especially not if other reports are to be believed."
Claire leaned back, her easy posture
faltering slightly. "So… what? They've got strategy now?"
Maria exhaled, slow. "They remember
something. Or someone inside still knows how to fight, I'm not sure exactly
what yet, it would be nice if they lasted long enough to dissect to compare what's
different about them physically."
"They've always been brutal," Flare
said. "But this was different. It knew how to draw us in."
For once, Claire didn't have a snappy
comeback. She stared at the floor, lips pressed into a thin line.
"We've gotta adapt," Marcos said.
"Change how we train. How we think. We're not just fighting monsters anymore.
We're fighting what's left of people."
"They aren't just shells," Flare
added. "They're becoming more dangerous."
Claire's mask of humor slipped a
little more.
Then, quietly, from the edge of the
group, Caim spoke.
"What if we build drills for trap
reversals? For bait scenarios. If we practice how to disarm them or trip them
up mid-trap…"
Everyone looked at him.
Maria tilted her head. "Actually not a
bad idea."
Flare gave him a small nod. "Smart
thinking."
Claire bumped his shoulder. "Look at
you. All grown up and tactical."
Caim managed a shaky smile. Not all
the way real — but closer than before.
Flare stayed behind when the rest
started drifting toward their quarters. He stood in the doorway of the mess,
staring into nothing.
That thing could've killed Caim.
If I was just a little slower… if I
had been a little more tired…
His thoughts flicked to Anira.
What happens when they come for her?
When they think, plan, strategize?
He clenched his fists. She's going to
need to be ready. And I'm going to make sure she is.
Marcos watched from the hallway,
unseen.
They're evolving.
Myth-born. Tactical.
He added it to the mental list of
changes he needed to bring to command. New drills. New doctrine. He needed to
push harder, get ahead of whatever curve they were about to be swallowed by.
Caim sat on the edge of his bed, armor
peeled away, sword leaned against the wall.
Next time…
Next time I won't freeze. Next time,
no hesitation.
He stared at the scar forming on his
hand where the Minotaur had grazed him.
I won't let anyone die because I
doubted myself.
Claire left the room last. She joked
on the way out, of course. Something stupid. Something cow-related. "Make the
next one into a pretty purse if it left hide behind."
But the moment the door slid shut
behind her, the smile disappeared and she felt something dark itch at the back
of her mind.
She stood in the hall, back to the
wall, fists clenched at her sides.
*They're thinking now. They're
changing.
She didn't move for a long time.
The night sky above the compound was a
blanket of silver pinpricks. Nebula haze drifted in thin rivers behind the
clouds. From up on the rooftop, the world felt still — as if it hadn't nearly
unraveled hours ago.
Flare stood at the edge, one hand on
the railing. Marcos joined him, wordless at first.
"They're changing," Flare said.
"Yeah," Marcos replied. "And we're
behind."
They watched the stars for a long
moment. The quiet felt louder than any battlefield.
"We need to move faster than them,"
Marcos added. "Adapt harder. Smarter. Before they outthink us again."
Flare nodded. "Then we train like they
know what they're doing."