Chapter 69 Battle of Paradise fall high-school

The dim room is cast in soft amber hues, illuminated only by old hanging bulbs and the glowing collage on the far wall. Photographs cover every inch— candid shots of Sarah and John, sunlit laughter, stolen glances, shared moments frozen in time.

John and Sarah were lost in their own world.

Wrapped in warmth, in memory—in denial of the storm already closing in.

Sarah had led him to the school's photography room, a quiet place filled with hanging photos and captured moments—snapshots of him, of them, frozen in time.

She wanted him to remember.

Not just the mission.Not just the danger.

But her.Them.

Who they were before all this. They didn't know—That outside, the Mogadorians had already arrived. Weapons drawn. Shadows closing in.

BZZZZZ. John's phone vibrates against a desk. Again. Again. Insistent.

John sighs, checks screen."Sam?"

He answers. On the other end, Sam's voice is frantic."You've got to get out—now."

John confused."What? Why? What's going on?"

Sam on the other hand continues."The car stunt—it's on YouTube. The Mogadorians saw it. They're coming, John. They're here."

John's face pales. His eyes flick to the hallway.In the distance, his enhanced hearing picks up shouting—not students. Not teachers. Something else.

Sam's voice through the phone."If you can escape—do it. If not, Alexander and the others are en route. Stay alive, man."

Sarah was worried and questioned."John? What's going on?

John was tense and answered."We've got to move."

He pulls her to the window. Outside, darkness stirs with menace.

Four massive black trucks roll toward the school—engines growling like beasts. From the back, hulking shadows shift—something big inside.

Mogadorian Vatborns spill out—blasters ready, armor glinting. One of them drags Mark across the pavement.

Mark struggling screams."Let go of me! Let go—!"

One of the truck hatches opens. DuRand peers in, revealing monstrous silhouettes—twisting limbs, scales, teeth.

Mark mutters, terrified."Jesus..."Then, shouting towards the school building:"Sarah! If you're in there—run! RUN!"

BLAM!

A Mogadorian spots John and Sarah at the window and opens fire.

CRACK—SHATTER!

The glass explodes, showering them with shards.

John grabs Sarah, shielding her and yelled."Down!"

They hit the floor, hearts racing. Red plasma burns the frame where their heads just were.

John in urgent, voice low voice said."Listen to me. I'm not gonna let them hurt you. Okay?"

Sarah stares at him, eyes wide but trusting. She nods. John's jaw tightens with regret and murmuring."You didn't deserve to be pulled into this..."

The air was heavy with tension as DuRand watched the Mogadorians, Vatborns, and the squad leaders disappear into the depths of the facility, their footsteps echoing faintly. Their mission was clear, but DuRand's focus was on something else.

He strode with a purposeful grind of boots against gravel, heading toward the sleek, imposing black vehicle parked just outside the building's shadow. The night was thick with unease, the cold air swirling around him as he opened the trunk. Inside, nestled among various tools of war, lay the weapon he needed: the blaster.

The blaster had a rugged military-industrial design, an unrelenting machine of destruction. It was built for efficiency and intimidation, a perfect blend of aggression and precision. The chassis was sleek yet angular, a design that balanced functionality with a certain vicious elegance. Its dark matte alloy seemed to absorb the light around it, leaving only subtle reflections that danced across its edges. The surface was textured to scatter light, making it nearly invisible in low light, ideal for stealth operations.

The gunmetal grey and black of its frame were punctuated by red-lit accents, each one pulsing with a low, ominous hum, as though the weapon itself was alive. The upper barrel, vented and reinforced, held a thermal focusing array that faintly glowed red when idle and pulsed brighter with an almost predatory rhythm as it powered up.

DuRand slid his fingers along the smooth, cool metal of the barrel, feeling the faint hum of energy coursing through it. The energy capacitor coil embedded along the lower rail throbbed with potential, feeding directly into the magnetic accelerator that would send the charged shots careening with lethal precision. The occasional flickers of red lightning arcing from the barrel's cooling shrouds sent an eerie glow across his face, as if the weapon were warning him of the volatile force contained within.

He gave a cold, almost satisfied grunt as he attached the power cells, each one pulsing with raw, barely-contained energy. The cells were stored in a bandolier-like harness running diagonally across his chest, a utility belt of sorts. Nine cylindrical energy cells, each encased in a dark frame, rested at his side, the vivid red glow from their cores illuminating the night with dangerous promise.

He clicked the power cells into place, each one locking in with a sharp, mechanical click, as though preparing to unleash the fury of the storm he was about to create. The weapon was ready, its guttural hum underscoring the palpable tension in the air.

DuRand adjusted his stance, the blaster now perfectly aligned in his grip, and his eyes narrowed as he stared toward the higschool's entrance.

He then takes out a remote and sets a timer for the Piken's release. The walks into the school.

While John inside moves fast, leading Sarah down the corridor. Shouts echo through the building. Lockers rattle. Somewhere in the distance, blasts and howls pierce the air.

At the end of the hall, Alexander along with his grouo snaps into existence with a subtle motion blur, instantly appearing in the center of the rooftop. There body's carries a subtle motion blur, as if reality is catching up to them. They are—armed and ready.

For a brief second, John feels a surge of relief.

Then—Six sprints up, punches John square in the face as John stumbles back, wiping blood and muttered."Ow—what the hell?"

Six spoke up."Would be nice if you kept your heroics off the damn Internet."

Alexander stepping forward said."No time. The school's surrounded. We move now."

John grabs Sarah's hand, protective.

Alexander to Six, Frey, Griffin and Dante."We can take the fast way out—jump. Or we fight."

Six eyes flashing answers."We fight. They need to learn—we're not prey anymore."

John looking to Sarah, torn between Sarah's safety and his duty."She's not ready for this..."

Alexander cut in."She won't fight. We'll protect her."

He steps closer, firm."You pulled her into this, John. Now she—and her family—are targets. The only way she stays safe... is with us."

Sarah worried questioned."My parents...?

Freya spoke up."Don't worry. We already sent someone to get them. They'll be safe."

John looks between them, realization crashing over him. He grips Sarah's hand tighter.

Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, broken lockers line the walls. The silence is pierced—On the far end of the corridor, five Mogadorians led by there squad leader Rasul appear out of the shadows—hulking, armored, their skin pale and jagged.

They raise their red-glowing blasters—and fire.

Five red plasma bolts SCREAM down the hallway, crackling with unstable power.

Alexander calmly steps forward.

With a swift motion, he extends his hand outward.

A blue-transparent dome-shaped shield bursts to life in front of him—almost like energy hardened into glass.The plasma blasts slam into the field with a thunderous vibration, rippling across its surface.

The Mogs, unfazed, dart behind lockers.

They fan out, tactical, disciplined—then open fire.

The hallway becomes a blazing corridor of death, red bolts slamming into the shimmering dome of energy.

STACCATOS OF IMPACT light up the space in flashes—BAM-BAM-BAM—

Behind the shield, Alexander frowns, absorbing the brunt. His palms outstretched,

he turns to Six. A tight nod.

Six meets his gaze, grins with that dangerous spark—then nods back. Six then watches, calculating.She moves like lightning—dodging red bolts, leaping sideways—

She pushes off the side wall with a graceful twirl, spinning mid-air. A burst of blue energy erupted from where she was, expanding outwards like whisp of s glowing soft blue-white mist. In her place, a ghostly trail of flickering blue energy lingered for a moment before fading into nothing.

The Mogadorian's shot slammed into the lockers behind her, molten metal dripping down the scorched surface.

The Mogadorians snarled, their blackened eyes darting around, searching.

Six reappeared in a wisps of blue-white mist begin to gather midair.The mist coils and twists, forming an outline — Number Six is materializing, the last remnants of her energy ghostly trail remain in the air.

Before the Mogadorians could react, she flicked her wrist—

A roaring fireball burst to life in her palm, flames coiling around her fingers like living serpents. The orange glow clashed against the lingering blue light of her powers, making her look like a goddess of war.

With a single, effortless motion, she hurled the fireball forward.

BOOM!

The explosion engulfed a Mogadorian, sending him flying backward into the lockers. He screeched in agony as the flames devoured his cloak, his armor melting onto his skin.

The others recoil—but recover quickly, blasters raised—

Only to find—SHE'S GONE.

A familiar burst of blue energy, a glowing trail of light—and she's vanished from sight.

Confused and agitated, the Vatborn turn their focus—Rasul barks a command in Mogadorian to focus on Alexander. As he looked for Six.

The soldiers redirect fire at Alexander, whose energy shield absorbs the plasma blasts, each one THRUMMING as it hits—light flickers ripple across the dome.

Then—THRUMMM... builds behind them.

The sound shifts.

SIX REAPPEARS.

She slides forward on one knee, skimming across the floor like a blur of motion and light—FLASH—Her Loric diamond dagger arcs in a silver-blue streak.

SCHLIK!

Rasul's knees give out—severed clean.

He hits the floor, roaring in agony.

Before the others react—Another burst. Before she's gone. The remaining Vatborns spin and fire.

Red blaster fire streaks through the air—AND STOPS. Mid-air.

Six reappears—half-visible now, her form shimmering behind a personal shield.

The plasma impact ripples across the translucent membrane, a liquid shimmer wrapping her body.

Blue-white light blooms subtly along her figure. Her movement is smeared—trailing echoes flicker from her limbs, like time itself is catching up.

Each breath, each shift leaves behind a blue phasing afterimage—temporal ghosts fading just behind her.

She narrows her eyes.Locked in.

Coiled like a spring. Ready.

Another volley—she's gone again.

Blue flash. Ghost trail. Silence.

The Mogadorians regroup, flustered. One hauls Rasul up, who is groaning, his armor slick with black blood.

He wipes his mouth, eyes wild. Pulls his blaster and yells in Mogadorian."You are so fucking dead. I'm—"

His voice halts.Eyes widen. He looks down.

A Loric diamond dagger has pierced through his chest—its blade glowing with pulsing, electric blue energy.

He stumbles forward—turns to ash.Behind him—

Six smirks. Then—vanishes again. In burst of blue energy, a glowing ghostly trail of blue energy.

The remaining Mogadorians stumble back in horror.

Griffin, never one to shy away from action, couldn't resist. He lunged forward, a wild grin flashing across his face.

"My chance," he shouted, the thrill of the fight alive in his voice.

He twirled his scepter — the long golden grip handle gleaming, its black fittings shining under the dim lights. The blue gem at its center pulsed with energy, its light sharp and vibrant between the platinum blades that encircled it. The weapon was an extension of Griffin's power — two sharp platinum blades, one elongated above the gem, one shortened beneath it, each crafted to slice through anything in its path.

With a swift motion, Griffin raised the scepter high, pointing it at the two Vatborns ahead. The air crackled with energy, the blue gem blazing with lethal intent.

Without hesitation, he fired.

A surge of blue, concentrated energy shot forward, striking one of the Vatborns square in the chest. The force of the blast sent it flying backward, crashing into the wall with a sickening thud. It crumpled, stunned and struggling to regain its footing.

But the second Vatborn wasn't caught off guard. It spun toward Griffin, aiming its weapon and firing back.

Before the blast could reach him, Griffin was already gone.

A sharp whoosh filled the air, and Griffin seemed to vanish. The space where he'd stood collapsed inward for a fraction of a second, a brief moment where reality itself seemed to bend and distort. A transparent ripple shimmered in the air, before it vanished as if he had never been there.

WHOOMPH!

Griffin snapped into existence, the motion blur trailing behind him, his body appearing as if reality itself was struggling to keep up. He was midair, above the Vatborn, and his descent was like a falling storm.

He plummeted downward, slamming into the Vatborn with ferocious speed. The scepter in his hand drove down, the elongated platinum blade impaling the creature's chest with brutal precision.

The Vatborn shrieked, its body disintegrating into ashes as it was pierced. In an instant, it was nothing but dust, leaving Griffin standing over the empty space.

Without missing a beat, Griffin dropped to the ground, rolling with the momentum and coming up on his feet in a smooth, practiced motion.

He flashed a grin, dusting himself off. "Not bad, huh?"

While outside the timer DuRand had set on his device clicked down, the final seconds ticking away with grinding precision. The air seemed to thicken, every passing second feeling heavier as though the very atmosphere was preparing for the coming chaos.

The three black trucks loomed in the darkened space, their sleek, angular designs blending with the shadows, their tires crushed and cargo containers seems move ominously stillness.Then, with a sudden mechanical hiss, the tops of the trucks containers lifted, the hatches flipping open with a sound that cut through the quiet night like the sharp snap of bone.

From within the containers, the Pikens emerged. Two from each truck — massive, predatory creatures, their bodies rippling with unnatural muscle and grotesque form. The flesh of their bodies seemed to ripple beneath their alien, translucent skin, the mottled greys and purples pulsing faintly under the harsh lighting. Their clawed hands scraped against the metal, the sharp tips of their talons creating a screeching sound as they leapt to the ground.

With every movement, their elongated, hunched bodies flexed, as if they were shaking off the confines of the vehicles, eager for the hunt. Red eyes gleamed with hunger and aggression, their mouths opening to reveal rows of jagged, razor-sharp teeth. Each step they took was a thundering reminder of the ferocity that lay beneath their skeletal, reptilian features.

The Pikens moved quickly, their powerful limbs propelling them forward with unnatural speed as they made their way to the open area. The membranous fins that extended from their forelimbs flicked, adding to their eerie, alien presence. Their movements were unsettlingly fluid, as though the creatures were crafted for only one purpose: destruction.

The ground trembled beneath the Pikens as they adjusted their stance, their muscles coiling with a primal, predatory energy. But this time, instead of charging forward on all fours, they leaped into the air.

With a snap of their powerful limbs, the creatures launched themselves upward, their membranous fin-like appendages extending slightly to catch the air. They weren't just ground-bound beasts; these Pikens had an unnatural agility that allowed them to ascend into the night sky.

Their bodies sliced through the air with disturbing grace, the flaps of their limbs creating an almost haunting whistle in the wind, their wings—or what passed for them—rippling as they adjusted their flight path.

The darkened school below them stretched out like an unfamiliar maze, the dim lights casting long shadows that hid potential prey. The Pikens' eyes, glowing red with hunger, scanned the environment below with a laser-like intensity, their senses heightened, seeking any sign of movement.

The buildings of the school loomed like towering structures in the dark, and from their vantage point high in the sky, the Pikens could see everything below, including the small movements and subtle shifts of those who had hidden themselves within.