[T-minus 33 Days Until Dimensional Event Ritual Completion]

The mist cracked open with gunfire.

Max didn't flinch.

The first bullet screamed past his head – not wild, not random – a clean, clinical shot aimed at his left eye.

He twisted sideways a fraction of a second before impact, the chain at his belt flicking outward like a coiled serpent, deflecting the next shot mid-air with a sharp metallic clang.

"Ambush!" Max roared.

The world erupted.

From the rooftops, figures in tactical black spilled down – grappling lines hissing, boots thudding heavy against broken concrete.

Laser sights carved thin red scars through the mist.

Max counted instinctively: Two snipers. Three assault units. Fast. Coordinated. Contractors.

Chamber Theta.

Victor dropped low with a feral snarl, beast-form rippling under his skin.

Alyssa grabbed Chloe and hurled them both sideways just as another sniper round punched into the ground where they had been standing a heartbeat before.

Ferron whipped his chain-blade free, the steel glinting under the sickly mist.

Dan flared golden for half a breath – shielding Alyssa instinctively but reined it back in at Max's sharp gesture.

"Save it!" Max barked. "They're baiting aura signatures!"

Through the chaos, Max saw him.

Standing atop a crumbled overpass – untouched, calm, watching:

Reverb.

Leader of Chamber Theta. Kinetic field manipulator. Executioner.

His polished black armour shimmered faintly, absorbing the kinetic force from the shots peppering the team – stockpiling it like a bomb waiting to go off.

Max's gaze locked onto Reverb's across the ruin.

A cold smile curved Reverb's mouth.

Third time.

And he had come to finish it.

A shriek split the fog to the left – a wave of corpse-puppets shuffling forward, their movements twitchy and unnatural – Splice's handiwork.

Behind them, Max glimpsed Crux – the pain dealer – his fingers tracing glyphs into the air, building another curse lattice aimed at Dan.

Victor moved first.

With a howl, he ripped into the nearest puppet, tearing it apart in a spray of rotted bone and tangled nerves.

Alyssa slammed her foot into the ground, a gravity shockwave flattening a wave of puppets charging toward her and Chloe.

Max didn't hesitate.

He moved forward into the killzone – chain unfurling, Soulfire igniting along its length in ragged, savage bursts.

Reverb moved too – dropping from the overpass in a casual leap that shattered the ground when he landed, kinetic ripples blasting outward, sending debris and dust spiralling.

The battle snapped into full fury – no more hesitation, no more games.

Kill or be killed.

And Max Jaeger wasn't dying today.

…………………

Victor hit Gallows like a battering ram.

The mute shapeshifter barely had time to react – already in mid-shift, flesh bubbling – before Victor's claws tore through him, raking deep gashes down the length of his shoulder.

Gallows hissed, no sound but a wet, broken gurgle, and his form twisted violently – bones snapping, muscles rearranging.

He expanded into a monstrous wolf shape – fur bristling, jaws snapping – and threw himself at Victor.

Victor didn't flinch.

He met the wolf with a full-body slam, claws driving into thick fur and sinew. They rolled across the shattered asphalt, snarling, clawing, tearing.

Victor's beast form surfaced fully – black veins surging under his skin, his mouth distorting into something not fully human.

A predator unleashed.

The two monsters grappled, teeth and claws flashing, the mist swirling around them like a cage. Blood sprayed – thick, dark, reeking of old rage and worse things.

Nearby, Crux advanced through the ruins – walking slowly, calmly – the air distorting around him with every step.

Sigils of agony spun lazily in the air – invisible to most – but Max had warned them.

Dan saw the curse lattice forming just in time.

He slammed the butt of his staff into the ground, golden light sparking around him, trying to ward off the creeping, gnawing sensations burrowing into his flesh.

It barely worked.

Pain flooded his nerves – hot, cold, sharp, and dull all at once – like being burned and frozen from the inside out.

Dan dropped to one knee, gasping, spear shaking in his grip.

Crux smiled – a lazy, almost kind expression – and drew another glyph in the air, spinning it forward like a casual toss of a coin.

Another wave of agony slammed into Dan's chest.

White fire behind his eyes. Bones screaming. Heartbeat stuttering.

Move, something inside him growled.

Move or die.

Through the blur of pain, Dan gritted his teeth – slammed the base of the spear into the ground again – and forced himself upright.

Golden light erupted outward, raw and ragged – not healing now, but refusal.

Dan lunged.

Crux's smile faltered for the first time.

The spear whipped around in a tight arc, aimed low – toward the pain dealer's knees.

Crux dodged, fast – faster than he looked but the tip scraped his thigh, burning a line of pure searing agony into his flesh.

The pain hit Crux harder than it should have – a taste of his own medicine.

He stumbled.

Dan pressed the advantage – hammering a vicious series of strikes into Crux's ribs, his hips, his wrist – breaking the man's balance.

But Crux was still grinning – blood leaking from the corners of his mouth.

"Pain," he rasped hoarsely, "is all we are."

He raised both hands – twisting the curses around Dan's golden aura – trying to rupture it from within.

Dan staggered again, every nerve on fire.

And then Omega slammed into Crux from the side like a wrecking ball.

The supersoldier's bone armour erupted into brutal spikes, punching through Crux's side with a wet, meaty crunch.

Crux gasped – a soft, almost relieved sound – and went limp.

Omega tossed his body aside without ceremony, letting him crumple into the mist.

Dan sagged, catching himself against the haft of his spear, chest heaving.

Omega turned toward him, eyes blank behind his bone-mask helm.

"Move," Omega said simply.

Dan nodded once, wiped blood from his mouth, and stumbled back into formation.

Across the clearing, Victor and Gallows still tore at each other – fur and flesh and blood mingling.

Victor's left shoulder was ripped open, his ribs gouged, but he moved with pure rage now – faster, meaner, unstoppable.

Gallows shifted again – a massive ape-form – swinging a massive fist toward Victor's head.

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Victor ducked under it – and with a savage roar, lunged upward.

His teeth sank deep into Gallows' throat – past fur, past shifting muscle, past the last vestiges of human anatomy.

Gallows spasmed – shifting half back into human, half-stuck between forms – and went down hard.

Victor didn't let go until the body stopped twitching.

When he rose, blood slicked his mouth and hands, his beast form glowing faintly under the fractured light.

He spat into the dust.

"One down," he growled.

Max's voice crackled over comms, sharp and focused:

"Regroup. We're not done."

Victor wiped his mouth, cracked his neck, and loped back into the fog, leaving Gallows' broken corpse steaming in the mist.

The road to Chengdu was paved with corpses now – and there would be many more before it ended.

…………………

They came like broken marionettes.

Half a dozen corpse-puppets lurched through the mist, arms twitching unnaturally, heads lolling at wrong angles.

Some still wore scraps of civilian clothes, tattered hospital gowns – a child's shoe dangling from one torn foot.

The air around them buzzed faintly – threads of necrosoul stitching their bodies together, invisible but thrumming in Alyssa's ears.

Splice stood behind them – tall, thin, her body wrapped in strips of half-decayed skin, her hands flickering through sharp, cutting gestures.

Her face was hidden beneath a crude stitched mask, and her voice crooned in a dozen different registers at once.

"Come join the dance," Splice sang.

Alyssa's stomach twisted.

Chloe moved first – sliding low, ghosting through the thickening mist like a phantom but Splice reacted fast, directing two puppets to flank her.

Alyssa stepped forward – rage building – and slammed her foot into the cracked ground.

Gravity screamed downward.

The nearest puppet folded instantly – bones snapping, skull crushed into the street like wet paper.

The others staggered, slowed but didn't stop.

Chloe phased through the next one, her body flickering translucent – and as she passed, the puppet spasmed violently, the soul-thread binding it snapping with an audible twang.

Two down.

Splice hissed – the sound skittering under their skin – and drew a jagged knife from her belt, carving new glyphs into the air.

Three fresh puppets crawled from the ruins – dragging broken limbs, eyeless sockets leaking mist.

Alyssa gritted her teeth, slamming another shockwave through the asphalt – crushing two more.

"Push forward!" Chloe shouted.

Splice pointed a finger at Alyssa – the threads of her newest creation twisting to life.

The corpse lunged – a small boy no older than eight, jaw unhinged wide enough to swallow an arm.

Alyssa froze – just for a heartbeat – the sight of the child locking her muscles.

The boy screamed – a sound too full of static and broken memories to be human.

Chloe blurred – intercepting – phasing through the boy's body, severing the soul-thread that animated him.

He dropped like a ragdoll, limbs splaying awkwardly.

Alyssa stumbled backward, bile rising in her throat.

Splice laughed – a hideous, grating sound that scraped across the soul.

"You don't have the stomach for it," she said, voice layering over itself in discordant echoes. "You think you're warriors, but you're still dreaming of mercy."

Alyssa looked up – teeth bared – and something inside her cracked.

Not anger. Not hatred.

Resolve.

She surged forward, her body dense with gravitational force, each step leaving fractures in the earth.

Splice tried to backpedal but Chloe struck again, phasing through Splice's left arm, disrupting her balance.

Alyssa closed the distance in three steps.

She didn't hesitate.

She drove her fist – dense as a falling mountain – straight into Splice's chest.

Bone shattered. Flesh ruptured.

Splice's mask split apart, revealing nothing underneath but a swirling tangle of soul-threads and rotten sinew.

The body crumpled, the necromantic puppetry unravelling into mist.

Alyssa stood over the ruin, her breath ragged, her hands trembling.

It was over.

But it didn't feel like victory.

Dan reached her first, his aura flaring soft gold in the green mist.

He put a hand gently on her shoulder – steady, warm.

"You did the right thing," he said, voice low, rough with exhaustion. "It was her or us."

Alyssa shook her head, tears stinging her eyes, fists still clenched so tight her knuckles were bloodless.

"I killed her," she whispered.

Dan squeezed her shoulder gently.

"You saved us," he corrected.

Behind them, Chloe hovered – silent, haunted – her eyes locked on the ruined body of the boy she'd phased through.

None of them spoke for a long moment.

The mist pressed closer. The world waited.

And inside Alyssa, something old and innocent died – replaced by something colder, harder.

Not gone. Not forgotten.

Just buried.

Max's voice crackled over comms, cutting through the grief:

"Form up. Reverb's mine."

Alyssa wiped her face roughly, forcing herself upright.

There was no time to mourn.

Not yet.

She fell into step beside Chloe – Dan close behind.

Because the road ahead wasn't paved with forgiveness.

It was paved with survival.

…………………

Stonewall hit like a tank.

Alpha blurred sideways, narrowly avoiding the first swing – a backhanded hammer blow that split the crumbling road in half where she had been standing.

Chunks of asphalt rained down around them, the mist swirling in thick, heavy clouds.

Stonewall advanced methodically – her massive, reinforced body shrugging off bullet impacts, blades, even the mist's corrosion.

Her armour wasn't plated steel – it was her. A mutation of bone, flesh, and kinetic hardening so dense it defied ordinary physics.

Every step cracked the earth.

Every movement promised annihilation.

Alpha moved like a phantom, darting in with quick, slicing blows – targeting the joints, the neck, the arteries but every strike simply skidded off Stonewall's living armour, leaving shallow scratches at best.

Nothing stuck. Nothing penetrated.

Victor growled low behind a shattered wall, bleeding heavily from his earlier fight, unable to engage.

Dan was still recovering, guarding Alyssa and Chloe as they regrouped.

It was Alpha and Chloe alone facing this unstoppable wall.

Stonewall swung again – a crushing haymaker.

Alpha ducked under it but even the passing air pressure threw her sideways, her boots skidding across the broken road.

Chloe moved then – stepping lightly into the open, her blade loose at her side.

Stonewall grinned – a terrible, cracked expression.

"Break," Stonewall said, voice guttural, almost gleeful.

She charged.

Alpha gritted her teeth, preparing to intercept but Chloe's voice cut across the battlefield, soft but sure:

"Leave her to me."

Alpha blinked but obeyed, backstepping fast, vanishing into the mist.

Chloe stood alone, her figure slight, almost delicate against the monstrous bulk charging her.

Stonewall barrelled forward – too fast for something so heavy – the ground shuddering under each step.

Chloe waited.

Waited.

Waited.

And just as Stonewall's massive fists came down— Chloe phased.

Stonewall's blow passed through empty air – and then Chloe passed into her.

For a heartbeat, Stonewall staggered – confusion rippling across her heavy features.

Then her body spasmed violently.

Chloe's blade flashed, invisible inside Stonewall's chest cavity, slicing upward through heart, lungs, spine. Tearing through from the inside out.

Stonewall screamed – a deep, gurgling roar that shook the mist.

Her armour cracked – hairline fractures spiderwebbing across her plated skin – and for the first time, blood sprayed from her mouth in dark, choking gouts.

She stumbled forward, hands grasping blindly at the air, at her own chest.

Chloe phased out smoothly, reappearing behind her, her blade dripping black-red ichor.

Stonewall took one last step— staggered— then collapsed onto her knees.

The ground shuddered as her massive body hit the broken earth with a final, echoing thud.

Silence followed.

Chloe stood over the corpse, chest heaving slightly, her face pale and grim.

Max's voice crackled over comms again, cutting through the static:

"Good work. Stay sharp. Reverb's still out there."

Alpha reappeared at Chloe's side, giving her a brief, almost imperceptible nod.

Respect.

Chloe just wiped her blade clean on Stonewall's ruined jacket and fell back into formation.

Because there was no time for mourning the dead – not in Chengdu's graveyard.

Only survival.

And vengeance.

…………………

Reverb stood at the centre of the shattered intersection, mist curling around his boots like worshippers at an altar.

Max slowed as he approached – boots grinding over broken stone – chain hissing faintly at his side, Hellfire already coiling along the links in ragged, hungry waves.

The others formed a loose perimeter – weapons raised but none moved to interfere.

This was Max's fight.

Reverb cracked his neck lazily, kinetic ripples vibrating through his black armour. Blood leaked from a cracked seam over his ribs – courtesy of Omega's earlier clash but he moved like it didn't matter.

"You," Reverb said, voice dripping disdain.

Max said nothing.

"You're not supposed to still be standing," Reverb continued, pacing sideways, a slow, circling predator. "You were a project. A wildcard. Nothing more."

Max let him talk.

Every word bought him time to measure the rhythm – the subtle pulsing hum of stored energy gathering in Reverb's body.

One wrong move and Reverb would blast him apart like a bug under a sledgehammer.

Reverb's smile widened.

"You think you're the hero now? You think you're going to save anyone?" He shook his head, almost pitying. "You're just the last piece to burn."

Max rolled his shoulders once – shrugging off the ache – and swung the half-chain lazily through the mist.

"I'm not here to save anyone," Max said quietly.

The chain snapped forward, crackling with Hellfire.

Reverb grunted – sidestepping – and fired the first kinetic blast.

The air folded with a deafening crack.

Max threw himself sideways – the blast shearing past him – exploding a crater into the road.

Even a graze would break bones.

He couldn't trade blows.

Not directly.

Reverb moved – flashing forward with a blur of built-up force – driving a punch toward Max's ribs.

Max met him halfway, slipping inside the arc, snapping the chain around Reverb's wrist.

Hellfire flared – hissing into Reverb's kinetic armour – not burning through, but disrupting it.

Reverb snarled, wrenching free with a pulse of force that sent Max staggering backward.

"You learned a few tricks," Reverb admitted, circling again.

He flexed his fingers – kinetic charges pulsing down his forearms like veins made of pressure.

"But tricks don't save you."

He stomped the ground – kinetic force slamming outward in a concussive blast.

Max dropped low, digging his boots into the cracked earth, absorbing the shockwave with grim, grinding strength.

The chain flicked out again – wrapping around a broken traffic sign – and Max hurled himself forward, momentum twisting him around Reverb's side.

He struck.

Not with the chain.

With his fist.

Hellfire punched through the air, carving across Reverb's armoured side, burning deep, leaving a smoking, blackened gouge.

Reverb staggered, genuine shock flashing across his face.

"You—" he hissed.

Max didn't let him finish.

He drove forward, relentless, hammering strikes with Hellfire-burnished fists – attacking high, low, feinting with the chain, forcing Reverb to waste kinetic charges defensively.

Each block drained Reverb's stored energy faster.

Max wasn't just fighting now.

He was grinding him down.

Reverb roared – primal, furious – and unleashed a desperate kinetic blast at point-blank range.

Max took it.

He let it hit.

Hellfire flared around him, absorbing the worst of it – the rest ripping across his armour, bruising ribs, rattling teeth but Max stayed on his feet.

He caught Reverb's arm before the next blow landed – twisted – and drove his knee into Reverb's burned side.

There was a sickening crack.

Reverb gasped – and Max saw the moment doubt entered his eyes.

That was all he needed.

Max wrapped the chain around Reverb's throat, yanking him backward – Soulfire searing the skin even through tactical armour – and dragged him down to one knee.

"You never understood," Max said, voice low, almost pitying.

"You can't break what's already burning."

Reverb lashed out wildly – a kinetic shockwave blasting Max off his feet but the damage was done.

Reverb staggered upright, armour cracked, skin scorched, kinetic reserves sputtering.

He spat blood into the dirt – one last bitter defiance – and turned.

Retreat.

He vanished into the mist with a stumbling kinetic jump – too fast for pursuit.

Max watched the space where Reverb had vanished.

Not with pity. Nor with anger.

Just the cold certainty that some things rotted too deep to ever be saved.

And some battles were only won by leaving the wreckage behind.

And Reverb – broken, bleeding, burning – was already finished.

Even if he didn't know it yet.

Max stood alone in the ruined intersection, breathing hard, chain dragging at his side.

Around him, his team regrouped – battered, bloodied, but alive.

They didn't walk like soldiers anymore. They walked like survivors – stitched together by blood, by scars, by the stubborn refusal to break. Some limped. Some bled. But they moved together – toward the next war.

Victor limped, his beast form flickering at the edges. Chloe and Alyssa leaned into each other, bruised and shaken but unbroken. Dan leaned heavily on his spear, his golden aura flickering low but steady.

Max looked at them – really looked – and felt a grim, hollow pride.

They weren't soldiers anymore.

They were survivors.

And whatever waited at the heart of Chengdu's rotting corpse – they would face it together.

He raised the chain.

"Move out," Max said.

And into the mist they marched, leaving the wreckage of Chamber Theta rotting in the fog behind them.

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