Gear rEX
The control room of Shadow Moses buzzed with the sound of keyboards and holographic monitors. Under the dim bluish light cast by the screens, Cain's face, the leader of Libertas Sans Frontières, remained tense. Before him, the metallic figures of the Gear Rex ascended toward the surface, illuminating the main monitor with their almost triumphant advance.
Less than two hundred meters from reaching their objective, a deafening roar shook the base. Monitors trembled, lights flickered, and an alarmed murmur rippled through the technicians as they watched the massive Gears crash against the walls of the giant elevators that were slowly lifting them. Cain stood upright, his eyes hardened, and his jaw clenched.
"What the hell just happened?" he demanded, his firm voice cutting through the chaos.
One of the operators, a pale-faced young man, was frantically checking the seismographs. His finger pointed to a graph oscillating violently.
"The tremor is coming from the depths, sir. Beneath the still-under-construction sector of D-212."
Cain didn't respond immediately. His expression darkened upon hearing the location. He was one of the few who knew what lay beneath that sector: a secret that must not come to light. However, priorities lay elsewhere.
"Is there any danger to the base?" he asked sharply.
The technician, his nerves on edge, input data into a simulation program. The hologram projected a model of the fault line beneath the island. After a few excruciating seconds, he spoke:
"The fault is active, but the system estimates a 70% probability that it will stabilize on its own… as long as there are no further disturbances."
Cain let out a controlled sigh. The tension in his chest eased for a moment, but the calm was short-lived.
"Boss!" another technician shouted from his console.
Cain turned abruptly toward him.
"What is it?"
The operator didn't answer immediately. With trembling fingers, he redirected the signal from the main monitor. The image of the Gear Rex's ascent vanished, replaced by a new feed: the activation of a rescue capsule. Unauthorized.
Cain frowned. "That capsule… is it the one where Dr. Helios and the others were?"
"Yes, sir…" confirmed the technician.
"Send a recovery team immediately! And deactivate all other rescue capsules," Cain ordered, slamming his fist onto the control table, his patience wearing thin.
The operators began executing the orders, but one of them, a visibly nervous young man, spoke up. "Are you sure it's wise to deactivate the rescue system? We might—"
Cain shot him a withering glare. "Do it. Now."
The technician swallowed hard and returned to his terminal, attempting to shut down the system. Meanwhile, more activation signals from various rescue capsules throughout the base flooded the screens, including those from Sector D-212.
"Damn it!" Cain clenched his fists, assuming Sundown's defeat in the same sector.
By the time they managed to stop the escape, it was too late. A dozen capsules were already out of reach.
In the tense silence that followed, another technician spoke in a grave tone:
"Sir… Multiple incidents are being reported across the base. Some workers and technicians disobeyed orders, locked their coworkers in, and… escaped to the nearest capsules."
Cain listened to the report in silence, grinding his teeth. When the technician finished, Cain leaned over the control table, his eyes reflecting a chilling mix of suppressed emotions.
"Mobilize the response teams. Locate the capsules and capture the deserters. They have nowhere to escape."
Cain's words resonated with absolute authority, lowering the temperature in the room. Despite the bad news, he resigned himself to the projection showing the Gear Rex units, now just 100 meters from the surface, continuing their ascent.
However, just as the tension seemed to ease, a series of alarms blared throughout the control room. "What is it now?" Cain growled, turning toward the monitors.
One of the technicians, his face pale and drenched in cold sweat, stared at his readings with wide, terrified eyes.
"Sir! We've detected multiple signals on the radar!"
Cain frowned, his gaze shifting to the main screen, where radar images displayed multiple red markers blinking with urgency as they converged on the island.
"Identify them. Now!" he commanded.
The technician nodded, hastily inputting a series of commands. Labels began to appear over the markers one by one. The first identification caused a murmur to escape Cain's lips.
"Arasaka..."
The operator continued, "Militech… IEC, Kang Tao, SovOil, Petrochem… Biotechnica… Sir! It's a military fleet from the World Consortium of Corporations!" The technician's voice grew louder as he uttered those words, reflecting the palpable panic that filled the room.
Cain froze for a moment, his gaze fixed on the holographic projections. The three-dimensional model displayed a swarm of military vessels: fighters, assault cruisers, and armed transports. It was clear they weren't coming to negotiate.
"Total number?" he finally asked, his tone as sharp as it was grim.
The technician hesitated. "At least… fifty identified ships. And another thirty with unconfirmed signals. All heavily armed."
Cain ran a hand over his face, trying to maintain control. He understood the gravity of the situation: his plans had been uncovered, and the Elders at the helm of the Consortium had decided to intervene.
"Estimated time until they reach our position?" Cain asked.
Another technician, working at the back of the room, answered without looking up from his console.
"The first wave of ships, carrying soldiers, will arrive in less than twenty minutes, sir."
Cain slammed his fist on the console, the sharp sound echoing through the room. His voice, firm and authoritative, rose above the relentless rhythm of the alarms.
"Activate the island's defenses! Mobilize all base units!"
The technicians moved instantly, their fingers flying over keyboards as they executed his commands, deploying troops and preparing the defenses for the imminent arrival of enemy forces.
"Teams C through R, deploy to surface sectors 5 through 17," ordered one of the technicians through the radio.
"Air defenses at 55% operational capacity and rising," announced a female voice from another terminal.
"Increase the priority on submarine defenses," another technician interjected, his tone tense. "The Consortium has more ships than anticipated."
As the technicians worked to mobilize the entire island, Cain turned and headed toward the exit. "Operation Eater has already begun. Give the order to all units to fight for every damn inch of this island. Freedom at any cost!"
For a moment, the technicians looked up from their screens, their faces illuminated by the red emergency lights. As one, they echoed: "At any cost!"
One of them, before returning to his terminal, hesitated and asked cautiously:
"Sir… what are you going to do?"
Cain paused at the door and turned his head slightly. "I will personally oversee the operation."
Without another word, he crossed the threshold. The metallic doors closed behind him with a mechanical hiss, leaving the room heavy with tension. The technicians exchanged nervous glances before resuming their tasks.
There was no time for hesitation. The operation for which their organization had been created was now underway, and the enemy was closing in to try to stop it.
-
Forty nautical miles from the island, the sea churned restlessly under a leaden gray sky. Waves lapped gently against a rescue capsule that was slowly surfacing, its metallic structure glistening with droplets of saltwater. With a faint click, the hatch opened, releasing a hiss of compressed air.
A man with gray hair, a face marked by time, and glasses perched on tired, hollow eyes emerged. He trembled slightly, not from the cold surrounding him but from the mixture of desperation and hope gnawing at him from within. His gaze swept the horizon, searching for something—anything—while the icy wind bit at his cheeks.
After long seconds that stretched into what felt like minutes, he couldn't bring himself to sigh. Instead, silent tears began streaming down his face. The crushing thought that he had been deceived once again, that the agents who had promised to save his family had betrayed him, weighed on him like an unbearable burden.
From inside the capsule, a voice broke the silence—hesitant and worried:
"Do you see anything?"
It was one of his companions, clinging to the hope of reuniting with his wife and child.
Dr. Helios cleared his throat, trying to erase any trace of emotion from his voice before answering, unwilling to be the one to rob his companion of hope.
"No… not yet—"
Suddenly, his voice faltered as something caught his attention. On the water's surface, small bubbles began rising, breaking through the gentle waves. He froze, his eyes fixed on the spot, his heartbeat quickening.
And then, just as promised, another rescue capsule emerged slowly from the sea, expelling water as it surfaced. Then another, and another. Within minutes, nearly a dozen capsules floated in the same area, their metallic structures aligned like buoys in the water.
The hatch of the first capsule to surface opened with a metallic creak. Dr. Helios held his breath as a man in a soldier's uniform climbed out. The two locked eyes, their words stuck in their throats as the cold wind filled the space between them.
Charles was the first to break the awkward silence, scratching the back of his neck as he asked in a rough voice:
"What's your name?"
"Elia—" The Dr. began to reply, but his voice was interrupted by a youthful shout from within the soldier's capsule.
"Dad?!"
Elias stood frozen as a determined hand emerged from inside the capsule, grabbing the soldier's face and pulling it with force.
"Ouch! Don't dig your nails in! I'm coming down…" Charles protested, though a smile spread across his lips.
"Dad!"
The head of a young teenage girl emerged from the capsule. Behind her, a pale-faced woman with a worried expression followed. Elias, Dr. Helios, stood motionless for a few moments, unable to believe what he was seeing.
"You're… okay," tears he had been holding back flowed freely down his cheeks.
"Dad, I thought we'd never see you again…" the girl said between sobs. At the same time, voices and cries escaped from her capsule.
Recognizing some of the names being called, Elias announced with a trembling voice to his companions, "Your families are here too!" The anguish etched on the faces of the other workers turned to relief as they heard or saw their loved ones.
However, a sharp buzzing sound shattered the moment. Charles, still standing by the hatch of his capsule, frowned as he recognized the noise. He quickly leaned out, scanning the horizon with his eyes. In the distance, four combat AVs emerged from the mist, rapidly approaching from the direction of the island.
"Damn it…" he muttered under his breath.
Wasting no time, he looked down and issued orders to his companions. One of them handed him a rocket launcher, a modified version with carbon fiber components and an assisted targeting system.
"Good thing we stopped by the armory before we left," he commented as he loaded the launcher and quickly aimed at the AVs.
Taking a deep breath to steady his trembling hands, Charles focused on the target. He didn't aim at the cockpit; he didn't want to kill his former comrades. Instead, he fixed his sights on one of the engines.
The projectile shot out with a flash, leaving a trail in its wake. The AV tried to evade it, veering sharply to the right, but the rocket struck one of its side engines, causing the aircraft to spin through the air before crashing into the sea with a resounding boom.
"Quick, quick!" Charles exclaimed as he handed the rocket launcher to one of his companions to reload.
However, when he turned back, the three remaining AVs were already nearly upon them.
Unlike Charles, his former comrades showed no such empathy. The AV pilots aimed their machine guns and opened fire. A volley of bullets began to strike the water, advancing toward the capsule and raising small columns of saltwater in their wake.
Panic quickly overtook everyone present.
"No!" shouted Helios, instinctively extending his arms as if to shield the capsule where his family and the others were from the imminent attack. The other workers in the nearby capsules, who had barely had time to reunite with their loved ones, began to scream as well, terrified at the thought of losing everything all over again.
Despite the bullets about to hit them, Charles didn't give up. With his eyes fixed on the AVs, he tried to fire a second rocket launcher.
But before he could do so... the central AV, the one he was aiming at, the one leading the formation, exploded into a thousand pieces. The shockwave shook the air, pushing the other two AVs to the sides.
Its sudden destruction made Charles look at the RPG in disbelief, checking the explosive charge still waiting to be fired.
A second later, the sound of the shot reached them. Making him and the others instinctively turn, searching for the source. On the grayish horizon, barely visible through the haze, a black silhouette advanced slowly.
Before they could react, the black blur shone intensely. This time, for a fraction of a second, Charles could have sworn he saw the projectile:
A metallic spike the size of a man. Just before it pierced the second AV, destroying it instantly.
"What the hell...?" he muttered in bewilderment.
"Arasaka..." Dr. Helios responded, with a mix of relief and dread as he recognized the distinctive hum of the electromagnetic cannon aboard Arasaka Corporation's battlecruisers.
The third AV, seeing the fate of its companions, tried to escape. It rose quickly, turning in the opposite direction and accelerating. Everyone present instinctively turned their gaze toward the Arasaka battlecruiser, whose cannon was beginning to recharge, its glow slowly intensifying.
However, before it could shoot...
The roar of a fighter jet slicing through the air shattered the tense silence. From the clouds, a Militech fighter jet dove down like a predator unwilling to lose its prey.
In a stealthy maneuver, the fighter unleashed a precise burst of projectiles that pierced the AV's fuselage. The craft exploded mid-air, transforming into a rain of debris scattered over the ocean.
Behind Arasaka's battleship, a colossal figure emerged: a Militech aircraft carrier, its deck brimming with fighter jets that began deploying, forming an aerial fleet.
And they weren't the only ones. Mere seconds later, more ships from other corporations appeared on the horizon.
A few minutes after the massive warships had passed, a smaller, sleeker black Arasaka craft finally stopped next to the pods. One by one, it began hoisting the pods aboard with a crane system.
When the pods landed, families reunited amidst hugs and tears. Dr. Helios held his wife and daughter tightly, silently grateful to have them in his arms.
However, the joy of his reunion—and that of the others—quickly faded. A rhythmic, heavy sound announced the arrival of about thirty Arasaka soldiers, clad in black armor and tactical helmets, who advanced and formed a perimeter around them.
The children clung to their parents, frightened by the cold stares behind the soldiers' visors.
Charles stepped forward, raising his hands in surrender as a spotlight blinded him, its beam aimed directly at his face.
"We're not enemies. Please, don't shoot," he said in a tone that tried to sound firm, though a faint tremor betrayed his voice.
"That remains to be seen until we detain you and verify your identities," replied a cold voice with a Japanese accent from behind the wall of soldiers.
Dr. Helios frowned upon hearing this. If Arasaka discovered who he was... it was almost certain they would "insist" on him working for them, even if it meant putting his family at risk again.
Charles gripped the black cylinder in his hand tightly and, with a hesitant yet resolute tone, replied:
"I'm sorry, but we refuse. We were rescued by the 13th Seat of Lazarus, and he himself told us to surrender and hand over the information only to Lazarus."
"Information?" asked the Arasaka officer, his eyes gleaming with ambition. If there was something valuable that could secure him a promotion within the corporation, he wasn't going to let it slip away. He gestured to his men, who began to tighten the perimeter.
"Hand it over now," he ordered sternly, signaling the loyal Arasaka soldiers to raise their weapons.
The families, who had naively believed they were finally safe, instinctively stepped back, shielding their children. The tension and fear were palpable on every face. Charles swallowed hard and, in a trembling voice, stammered:
"I-I refuse..."
Clicking his tongue in impatience, the officer raised his hand to give the order to fire.
But before he could, the steel door of the battleship opened with a metallic hiss, and a towering figure emerged from within, having to stoop slightly to pass through the threshold.
The sound of rotors and motors accompanied each of her heavy steps as she advanced. Everyone present held their breath. She, nearly entirely metallic, radiated an intimidating presence. Her dark armor gleamed under the dim light of the overcast sky, and each step echoed ominously on the steel deck.
She took the cylinder without saying a word and stored it in a side compartment of her frame. Then, with a slow and deliberate gesture, she turned to the group of rescued individuals and said in an impersonal tone:
"You are under the protection of Lazarus. Remain silent and await further instructions."
-
"Are you sure about this?"
Murmured one of the two soldiers, struggling to carry a heavy box.
"Do you want to die?" his companion replied curtly.
"No…" he muttered back, trying to add something else but interrupting himself to complain: "How a single person can weigh so mu-"
"Shh!" his companion cut him off again.
Immediately afterward, a unit of five men appeared, running down the corridor. The two soldiers exchanged a quick salute. Although it was unusual to see someone transporting equipment when all forces had been mobilized, the patrol returned the salute without asking questions and continued on their way.
Finally, they reached their destination: massive armored doors reinforced with multiple layers of metal. Without authorization to enter, they carefully placed the box on the ground. One of them, speaking in a respectful tone, said:
"Sir, as we agreed... we've brought it to where you wanted."
They waited in silence. When no response came, the soldier swallowed hard and nervously added:
"If you don't need our help anymore... we'll head back to our comrades—" As if suddenly remembering something important, he nervously raised his hands.
"Ah! But don't worry... we won't say a word." He quickly glanced at his companion for support. "Right?"
"Of-of course!" the other exclaimed, stammering and clearly uncomfortable.
Receiving no response, they exchanged silent glances before slowly starting to walk away. But just as they were about to lose sight of the box after turning the corner, their interfaces were filled with static interference.
At that moment, the daemon installed in their systems activated, infecting and overloading their cyberware, causing both soldiers to collapse and fall unconscious.
Immediately afterward, the imposing double doors opened... and from the box... two legs emerged...
-
The echo of clashing swords resonated in the immense multi-level hall. The barely visible figures of Jack and Sam moved tirelessly through the labyrinth of steel walkways and gigantic columns.
These columns housed transparent capsules, inside which human brains floated, connected to an intricate network of cables. Together, they formed a vast organic computer—pulsating and alive—that emitted a faint glow, partially illuminating the surroundings and casting irregular shadows on the floor.
Just as both figures finished their latest exchange of sword strikes—each switching from attack to defense multiple times in a single second—Jack, due to the damage to his frame, was unable to fully keep up with the movements of Sam's crimson sword. The weapon, moving with a sharp grace akin to its wielder's fencing style, severed Jack's right arm at the elbow.
Jack had no choice but to retreat, cursing under his breath to avoid letting any sign of pain escape. In the tense silence that settled before the combat resumed, a mocking voice asked:
"Need a hand?"
Jack and Sam turned in unison. Both shared the same surprise when they saw, high up on one of the upper walkways, a person sitting calmly with a large box tossed to the side. Holding a bottle in one hand, while watching them with an amused smile.
Perplexed by the brazen attitude of the companion he had been waiting for, one-armed Jack growled angrily: "What the hell are you doing?"
"Tch," appearing annoyed by his tone, Sora replied: "See! This is why I didn't say anything until now—I didn't want to distract you..."
Waving his hand at them as if urging them to continue their entertaining fight, he added: "Just carry on as if I'm not here."
"You've got to be kidding me!"
While Sam, genuinely surprised by Sora's attitude, let out a laugh as he tapped his shoulder with the flat of his sword.
"And to think I considered myself shameless... Hahaha."
Before Jack could respond, Sam charged again, this time attacking with a more aggressive and determined fencing style, as if he had stopped playing around. His intention was to finish him off quickly before being overwhelmed.
Sam attacked relentlessly, forcing Jack to retreat further and further. He seized the moment when his enemy was most exposed—in the middle of taking a swig from his bourbon bottle.
Activating his Sandevistan at full power, he delivered a brutal kick that sent Jack crashing against one of the columns. In the blink of an eye, he appeared behind the distracted Sora, driving his crimson sword through his heart.
"It can't be..."Unable to believe what he was seeing, Jack, still pinned against the column, watched in shock as Sam pulled his sword from Sora's body, and the latter fell to the floor of the walkway.
Sam stood still, staring at the lifeless body until he was sure it wouldn't move. Satisfied, he jumped down to the lower level, landing firmly in front of an exhausted Jack.
Calmly, Sam shook the sword, cleaning Sora's blood off with a sharp motion. Without emotion in his voice, he remarked:
"I would have liked to see a demonstration of his swordsmanship, but we're adults, and we can't always get what we want."
The senator's orders were clear, and Sam had no intention of failing. He couldn't allow the two Lazarus agents to jeopardize the deployment of the Gears.
Without another word, his face devoid of any expression, he launched himself at Jack, intending to make this the final move.
Jack gritted his teeth and tried to defend himself, but with only one arm and a severely damaged frame, he could barely withstand Sam's precise attacks, each one aimed at ending his life.
Every sequence of strikes, which he could only barely dodge or block, left him increasingly exposed until, after a well-placed blow, he lost his balance and fell to the ground with a dull thud.
Gasping and still clutching his sword, Jack tried to get back up, but Sam advanced slowly, preventing him from doing so. Without a word, he raised his crimson blade above his head, ready to deliver the final blow.
However, before he could bring it down, his eyes widened in shock. A black blade had pierced through his chest, just as he had done moments before.
In that split second, as Sam stood frozen, Jack sighed inwardly, relieved to see Sora alive. But his expression didn't reflect satisfaction; on the contrary, he seemed displeased. Jack didn't understand why until the figure of Sam in front of him began to fade.
Like a lingering afterimage, Sam disappeared, reappearing a few meters back—pale and breathing heavily... but without any wound in his chest. He had moved so fast that what had been stabbed was nothing more than an illusion left behind by his speed.
Clearly irritated after being stabbed. After finishing burning off any trace of alcohol in his system and patching up his battered heart, which had just seconds ago been pierced.
Sora, without taking his eyes off his opponent, stabbed Jack's severed arm, which lay to the side, with his sword. With a sharp gesture, he grabbed it by the tip of the blade and tossed it to his companion on the ground.
"You can go. Go after Cain. I'll take care of this one."
Sora's voice was firm and sharp, leaving no room for disagreement. Jack, seeing how the rudimentary nanobot technology in his frame was starting to reconnect the tissues, grabbed his arm and placed it back in position. Slowly, the severed hand reattached, albeit unsteadily. To secure the connection, he wrapped the section with metallic bandages.
"Are you sure?" Jack asked, looking at Sora with some doubt.
Sora nodded without saying a word, not even glancing at him.
When he was finally able to move his hand again, Jack stood up with difficulty and began advancing toward the other end of the room.
Sam, unwilling to allow it, lunged at him, determined to take his life. However, the moment he appeared in front of Jack, Sora followed him like an Oni.
Exhaling smoke through his mouth, and with a single glowing eye, he brought his sword down on Sam in a violent vertical slash, full of rage. The force of the blow stirred the air around them, and Sam barely managed to dodge in time, feeling the blade graze his shoulder.
"Tch," Sam clicked his tongue, annoyed at how quickly the situation had escalated. But he had no intention of giving up. He activated his Sandevistan at maximum power and charged after Jack once again.
Which led to absolute chaos... around Jack, who continued walking slowly as sparks, flashes, and metallic creaks erupted around him, the result of hundreds of sword clashes occurring within a fraction of a second.
When Jack finally stepped out of the chamber, the metallic sounds of clashing swords faded behind him. Inside, Sora and Sam paused for a moment, their breathing barely altered despite the frantic pace of their duel.
"You said you wanted to test my fencing, didn't you?" Sora asked, keeping his sword lowered. Before Sam could respond, Sora continued, "Don't worry... I'm dying to show you... and your boss."
Sam regarded him coldly, tightening his grip on the hilt of his crimson sword. "Do you really think you'll be able to get out of here...?"
"I doubt you mean yourself... so I imagine you're referring to the robotic monstrosities you've built?" Sora replied, unfazed.
Sam didn't answer, witnessing the smile that spread across Sora's face. Sora couldn't help but grin as he watched the timer in his interface window hit [0].
"I wonder..." Sora murmured, his eyes glinting with a mix of defiance and satisfaction as a series of explosions shook the base, "if those things will even make it to the surface."
Before Sam could react, the ground trembled with terrifying force as thousands of tons of rock and metal collapsed into the underground fault, feeding it until it fully reactivated. This caused the magma level to rise rapidly, threatening an imminent eruption on the island.
-
Jack, advancing through a long and narrow corridor, felt the first impact. The metal walls began to groan violently, and the lights flickered several times before stabilizing. He stopped and leaned against the wall to keep his balance as the tremors grew in intensity.
The echoes of twisting metal and the distant rumble of explosions made him grit his teeth. Wasting no more time, he ran as fast as he could toward the end of the corridor.
When he reached a control room, chaos was evident. Over thirty operators were working frantically at their stations, so absorbed in their tasks that they didn't notice his presence as they tried to make sense of what was happening.
Holographic screens displayed erratic readings, while graphs and maps updated at a dizzying pace.
"The fault is active!" one of the technicians exclaimed, panic evident in his voice.
"How did this happen?" another asked, glancing at his colleague.
"We've detected over a hundred small explosions that created a channel, allowing thousands of tons from the island's base to... feed the fault!" another operator replied, typing furiously as he reviewed the readings.
Amid the chaos, a priority signal flashed on one of the consoles. A technician quickly read the message before turning to the rest of the operators.
"Order from Cain! Absolute priority: redirect all available energy to the elevators."
Without hesitation, the operators immediately set to work, typing rapidly and adjusting the energy flows from every system. The screens displayed loading bars and diagrams of the base's primary systems, while the lights flickered irregularly, reflecting the strain on the facility's power grid.
"Life support in Sector C will drop to 60%," one of the technicians reported.
"It doesn't matter. Prioritize the elevators," another replied without looking up from his console.
Jack observed the scene from the back of the room. Listening as everyone focused on the elevators, he clenched his metallic jaw and stepped into the center of the room.
"Where is he?" he asked firmly, his voice loud enough to cut through the clamor of keyboards and alarms.
No one answered. The operators remained focused on their tasks, deliberately ignoring him.
Jack moved to the main console, and without hesitation, grabbed one of the technicians by the collar of his uniform, pulling him close.
"I said: Where is Cain?" This time, his tone was sharper, bordering on a threat.
-
As the tremors in the hall grew stronger and more constant, Sora and Sam studied each other, both with their swords firmly gripped, while small sparks of energy coursed along the blade of Getsuda.
Sam was the first to move, his Sandevistan activating in a flash. He vanished from Sora's sight and reappeared right next to him, unleashing a horizontal slash with all his strength.
Sora spun on his heel and blocked the attack with a fluid motion, the clash of their blades creating an explosion of sparks that briefly illuminated the columns and capsules around them. There was no pause; Sam followed up with another strike immediately, varying the angles and intensity. His movements were swift and precise.
Sora, however, matched every one of his moves. His blocks were minimal yet effective, deflecting each of Sam's blows with an almost inhuman economy of motion. The speed of the battle increased with each passing second, their blades clashing again and again, creating a frenetic rhythm that echoed through the vast hall.
Sam launched a low sweep, attempting to throw Sora off balance, but Sora leapt nimbly, spinning in the air and delivering a descending slash that forced Sam to step back. Without giving him a moment to recover, Sora landed and advanced, launching a flurry of quick thrusts, each one targeting a weak point in Sam's defense.
The swords crossed in a sharp, deadly dance, their movements so fast that the sparks seemed to float around them. At one point, Sam shifted his weight to one side and twisted his sword at an unexpected angle, slicing through the air with a sharp hum. The blade came within inches of Sora's neck, who leaned backward at the last second, narrowly avoiding the strike.
"Impressive," admitted Sora with a slight smile as he blocked another attack and countered with equal speed.
"You're better than I expected," Sam growled, pushing forward with greater force.
The fight continued, both combatants moving at such a speed that to any ordinary observer, they would have appeared as blurred figures intertwined. The nearby columns began to show deep cuts and scorch marks from the constant clash of their weapons.
Sora grew more accustomed to Sam's technique, and vice versa. Though brutal, it possessed a precision and discipline he rarely encountered. Every move was calculated to exploit any mistake, any opening. For the first time in years, something stirred inside him. Excitement.
"At last…" he murmured, his smile widening as his movements became more fluid, almost as if he were dancing with the sword. His mind briefly wandered to a memory, to the days when he trained under his grandfather's tutelage. Musashi had always held Sora's talent in high regard, so much so that he often said with a certain seriousness:
"For someone like you, finding a rival will be nearly impossible. But if you ever do… don't waste the opportunity. A good opponent doesn't just test you—they force you to become better."
Musashi believed that his grandson's skill level would surpass that of any other swordsman, and up until that moment, Sora had proven him right. None of the adversaries he had faced so far had demanded more than minimal effort from him. It had been so long since he'd encountered a true challenge that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to face someone who could match him, who could force him to react, to grow.
But now, amidst the frantic clash of swords, Sora felt it. With every block and parry, Sam's movements grew sharper, as if he were improving right in the middle of their battle.
The strikes became more intense, the distance between them closing until they were almost face-to-face, their swords locked in a struggle. Sora pushed with all his strength, managing to break the lock and gracefully sliding back.
Sam charged again, but this time, Sora used his momentum against him. Sidestepping smoothly, he moved in a single fluid motion, bringing the tip of Getsuda to within millimeters of Sam's neck.
"What are you waiting for?" Sam snapped, panting, his voice a mixture of defiance and frustration.
Sora didn't respond immediately. He remained silent for a moment, as if internally debating the reasons behind his actions—or rather, his inaction in not finishing Sam off then and there.
'He's not at my level yet, but… he could get there,' Sora thought before withdrawing his sword. "You can go."
Sam blinked, incredulous. "Are you serious?"
"We'll meet again when I come for your boss. With any luck, you'll be stronger by then."
"You're sparing me just so we can fight again?" Sam asked, still bewildered.
Sora nodded slowly, but his tone suddenly shifted, becoming both playful and menacing. "But… that's only if you manage to survive."
Before Sam could process those words, Sora vanished from sight. An instant later, a sharp pain shot through his right arm. He glanced down and saw that his limb had been cleanly severed—at the same height as Jack's.
"You bastard…!" he growled through clenched teeth, staggering back as he tried to contain the pain.
But before he could catch his breath, he felt Sora's presence behind him. A shiver ran down his spine, and his heart sank. He couldn't see him, but he knew Getsuda was dangerously close to his back.
'I won't survive this if he pierces my heart,' he thought, panic flooding his mind. With a surge of adrenaline, he moved desperately to dodge, but he wasn't fast enough.
Sora's blade plunged through him, side to side, grazing vital organs. Sam collapsed to his knees, gasping, blood dripping from his mouth.
For a moment, he thought it was all over. But then, something changed.
Sam watched in disbelief as Sora, stepping away, raised an arm. Before he could comprehend what was happening, Sora clenched his fist tightly and, in a swift, violent motion, tore through the air with a downward pull.
Suddenly, a red light flooded the room. The emergency lights began flashing, and every capsule contained within the massive columns began to glow intensely. Sam felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine as he realized what was happening.
The brains stored within the capsules, connected to the vast organic computer, were dying. One by one, the capsules lit up with a blinding flash before going dark, marking the end of each of those trapped minds.