Ethan spent a while tidying the chaos inside his Mindscape, sorting through the aftermath of the earlier scuffle with a critical eye. Quite a few stored items had been damaged beyond repair, shattered or warped by the clash of wills within his inner world, and he discarded those without hesitation. What remained intact, he salvaged carefully, reorganizing everything into its proper place until the familiar order of his mental domain was restored.

Just as he finished, a faint tremor brushed against his awareness from the outside world, subtle but unmistakable, like a ripple against still water. Two warm, living weights were pressed against his body. They're waking up, he realized.

With one last stern thought directed at Luna and the others, his mental voice rang with unmistakable authority. "If I catch you fighting in here again, every last one of you will regret it. I won't be lenient next time." The warning carried enough pressure to leave no room for defiance.

His consciousness withdrew, sliding smoothly toward the exit of his inner realm. As he passed through the Gate of Ascension, he hesitated for a brief moment, caught off guard. The doorway itself had changed, its surface now etched with the same Convergence Sigil that dominated the sky of his Mindscape, intricate and faintly radiant.

He did not linger on the implications. His awareness flowed back into his body.

Ethan opened his eyes slowly, only to find himself immediately staring into two pairs of wide, alert eyes that were far too close for comfort.

A crooked, unapologetic grin spread across his face as his hands moved on instinct, tracing familiar warmth and curves.

"Ah! No!"

Twin shrieks rang out in the icy chamber. Both women recoiled as if burned, scrambling to opposite sides of the oversized bed in a flurry of limbs and panic. Clothes were snatched up from the floor in a frantic scramble, pale skin disappearing beneath hastily pulled fabric.

They were genuinely terrified of a repeat performance. Rainie, especially, winced as she dressed, her movements stiff and unsteady, lingering soreness and weak legs nearly betraying her balance.

"Ahn…" A small, involuntary whimper slipped from her lips.

The sound sent a sharp jolt through Ethan, a possessive, primal urge flaring hot and sudden. For a heartbeat, he wanted nothing more than to pull her back and finish what had been interrupted. Then he saw the way she swayed, the tightness in her expression, and the impulse cooled. It was her first time, he reminded himself, forcing the thought down and letting the moment pass.

His gaze shifted to Amber. The strange amber light had vanished from her eyes the instant he awoke, leaving them clear but distant. She seemed to retain fragments of memory, nothing solid, only impressions. The way she looked back and forth between him and Rainie was odd, her expression caught between confusion and something she could not quite name. When she noticed the lingering sharpness in Ethan's eyes, she flushed deeply and looked away.

Whatever she remembered, it was incomplete and disjointed. Hadn't she been badly injured earlier? Why had she woken up tangled with him on a bed? Every attempt to recall specifics slipped through her grasp like smoke. The only thing that remained was a heavy, lingering sensation she could not explain.

Ethan watched with mild irritation as both women dressed at record speed. Before he could properly enjoy the sight, they were fully clothed, movements efficient and purposeful.

'Weren't women supposed to take forever getting ready?' he thought sourly. 'That was way too fast.'

"Get up already, you lazy bum!" Amber snapped when she noticed him still sprawled naked on the bed, her glare a messy blend of embarrassment and irritation.

Ethan sighed theatrically, dragging himself upright with exaggerated reluctance. Reaching into his Spatial Storage, he pulled out a fresh set of clothes and dressed quickly, his earlier amusement fading as he focused.

The moment he fastened the last clasp, the warm, amber dome of energy surrounding them dissolved.

Biting cold rushed in instantly, making Ethan shudder as the temperature plummeted. Both women gasped and hugged themselves, teeth chattering as the frigid air seeped into their clothes.

"Where the hell are we?" Ethan muttered, glancing around. The place looked like a massive walk-in freezer, the walls constructed from thick, meter-deep slabs of ice that glimmered faintly.

With a thought, he returned the oversized bed to storage. He took Rainie's hand in one and Amber's in the other, a pulse of Soul Sense spreading outward and quickly mapping the surroundings. The exit stood out clearly.

"Come on," he said, breaking into a jog and pulling them along toward the heavy door.

The moment they emerged from the ice cellar, Ethan spotted Victor standing nearby. There was no sign of Micah or Blackie.

Victor had his back to the entrance, his attention fixed on the distance. In the direction of his gaze, thick columns of black smoke climbed into the sky, while the sharp rattle of automatic gunfire and the deeper, concussive thump of explosions echoed through the cold air.

Only moments earlier, Blackfin's camp had been hit by a sudden, ferocious assault. At least a thousand attackers had struck with terrifying speed, opening with a barrage of RPGs that tore through the camp's structures. Their primary targets were the remaining three watchtowers, the fourth having already been destroyed earlier by Ethan.

Notably, the attack came from the very sector where that missing watchtower had stood. The enemy had scouted carefully and planned their approach well.

When the bombardment began, Blackfin's expression had darkened, but there was no panic in him as he watched his camp get, as Victor grimly put it, mowed down. The sight had made Victor's blood run cold. There had been over a thousand people in that camp. That opening salvo alone could not have left many alive. Every shack and building was reduced to rubble.

Victor glanced at Blackfin again, unease tightening his chest. The man showed no grief, no concern for the apparent loss of his men. If anything, there was a faint, unsettling spark in his eyes, something dangerously close to excitement.

Victor could not make sense of it.

"My roast chicken…!" Blackie suddenly growled, his voice cutting through the tension.

Victor followed his gaze and grimaced. The spot where they had been cooking earlier had taken a direct rocket hit, and a half-charred bird was sent spinning through the air by the blast.

Frowning, Victor realized something was deeply wrong. 'Where is everyone?' The attack had been sudden and violent, yet there was no screaming, no panicked retreat, no chaotic return fire. It was as if the camp had been… empty.

He looked at Blackfin again, a realization slowly taking shape. Unless…

The moment Blackie finished mourning his lost meal, the hulking man shot forward like a cannonball. At the exact same time, the initial rocket barrage abruptly ceased.

In that fleeting instant, as Blackie charged ahead, Victor caught it, the faintest curl of a satisfied smile on Blackfin's lips.

That was all the confirmation he needed.

'A setup. A false flag. He's using this attack to clean house.'

Blackfin was sacrificing his own camp, his own men, to lure the enemy in and erase a problem in one decisive move.

'Cold bastard.'

Victor almost laughed under his breath. After spending so much time around Ethan, his sense of scale had warped. Compared to the ruthless calculations he had seen lately, these brutal, mortal power plays barely registered anymore.

Nearby, Micah watched Blackie tear toward the smoke, then turned to Victor for direction.

Victor gave him a small nod and a crooked smile. "Go. Keep an eye on him. His brain…" He made a small circling motion near his temple, letting the implication hang.

"Blackie is all instinct," Micah muttered with a sigh, already moving. "A beast is a beast." He took off after the charging figure.

Blackfin flashed Victor a sharp-toothed grin before following, barking rapid orders into a radio as he ran. Victor could not hear the words, but from his vantage point, he saw the truth of the situation unfold.

Across the devastated campgrounds, cleverly concealed trapdoors snapped open. Dozens of armed men emerged, then hundreds, weapons raised and ready.

They had been hiding underground the entire time. The destruction above had been a stage, the carnage a carefully planned illusion.

Blackie, now in the middle of the camp, slowed when he noticed the soldiers surfacing around him. Instead of attacking, he stared at them with open curiosity. He stomped over to one man, snatched the submachine gun straight out of his hands, and turned it over, inspecting it like a child with a new toy.

After a few seconds of confused examination, he grabbed the terrified soldier by the collar and grunted a question. Shaking violently, the man hurriedly explained how the safety and trigger worked.

A wide, savage grin split Blackie's face. He raised the weapon and squeezed the trigger.

BRRRRRT!

A stream of bullets tore through the air above the soldiers' heads, sending every single one of them diving for cover.

"Heh heh…" Blackie chuckled, hefting the gun with delight. Then he roared and bolted toward the direction the rockets had come from, charging straight at the unseen enemy.

He vaulted over the camp's outer berm and landed hard in the scrubland beyond.

BOOM!

The ground exploded beneath his feet the instant he touched down.

He had run straight into a minefield.

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