Forced into Retreat

"Ding! Warning! Warning! Unidentified flying objects were detected in the vicinity. Estimated aggression, 85%."

"Warning! Warning!"

The shrill alarms reverberated through the dimly lit corridors just as Mark was about to head down to Clara's room. The flickering red lights cast ominous shadows on the walls, quickening his pulse. "Who's attacking this time?" he muttered, his mind racing through the possibilities as he turned on his heel and sprinted back to Anitrix's lab.

The metallic hum of the lab's security systems clashed with the urgent beeping of the alarms. Anitrix was focused on a floating screen, his fingers tapping away with urgency. His usually calm demeanor was replaced by a deep frown.

"Mark, they're here. The Nexus soldiers. And they look serious this time," his voice strained, eyes glued to the screen.

"How many are there? And how did they find us so quickly?" Mark asked, trying to steady his voice. The gravity of the situation sank in, a cold knot of fear tightening in his stomach.

"I don't know. Take a look," Anitrix replied grimly, projecting a live feed onto the wall. The holographic display showed a swarm of Nexus Corporation ships, lustrous and dark, slicing through the sky with ominous precision.

"Damn! That's a lot," Mark exclaimed, eyes widening at the sight. A fleet of this magnitude meant one thing: Nexus wasn't issuing a mere warning—they intended to capture or obliterate them completely. His thoughts raced. Could Anitrix handle them?

Even with his improved pyrokinesis, Mark doubted his ability to confront such a formidable force. Worse, they were airborne, beyond his current reach. Even if he could somehow able to fly, the chances are very slim. They had ultra-modern weaponry on board.

"Can you stop them? Should I help somehow?" Mark asked though he knew the answer.

Anitrix glanced up, a brief flicker of amusement crossing his face. "No. You can't. You're not strong enough. Neither am I. Today, we need to retreat."

Mark's surprise was evident. Retreat? He had anticipated a fierce standoff, a confrontation.

Anitrix noticed the confusion and disappointment etched on his face.

"Mark, do you think retreat is shameful? Let me tell you," Anitrix's voice turned serious. "When the odds are against you, retreat without hesitation. Survival is paramount. If you live today, you can fight back tomorrow. Understand?"

Mark nodded silently, the truth in Anitrix's words resonating deeply. Survival over pride. Live to fight another day.

They moved swiftly, every second crucial. Clara lay unconscious, fragile and vulnerable. Carefully, they transferred her into the emergency evacuation aircraft. The aircraft was highly developed and swift, designed for rapid escape.

Navigating the narrow emergency tunnel, the sounds of battle faded, replaced by the hum of the aircraft's engines. Mark's mind raced, processing the day's events and Anitrix's words. The retreat wasn't defeat—it was a strategic maneuver, a promise of future resilience.

As the aircraft ascended into the night sky, leaving behind the flickering red lights and the approaching Nexus fleet, Mark glanced at Anitrix, determination etched on his face.

This wasn't the end; it was a new beginning, an opportunity to grow stronger and smarter. He made up his mind to use the system to his advantage and get stronger.

"Where do we go from here?" Mark asked, the weight of the future heavy on his shoulders.

Anitrix met his gaze, a faint smile playing on his lips. "We need a safe place to gather resources, to plan, and grow stronger. And, I know just the place. Nexus might have won this round, but the game isn't over."

As the aircraft soared through the clouds, Mark felt a renewed sense of purpose. They would return, stronger and prepared.

Back at the entrance of the underground tunnel, Commander Gideon seethed.

"Commander, mission failed. They escaped before we arrived. We were too late," reported a soldier from Nexus Corporation.

"Damn it!" Commander Gideon cursed, snapping his cigarette in frustration. "Useless! All of you are useless. How will I face my superiors now?" The soldiers cowered under his imposing presence, heads bowed.

Commander Gideon straightened, pulling out a communicator to make a call. His hands were trembling as he did so.

Soon, a grey-haired, wrinkly old man appeared before Commander Gideon. Despite his unassuming appearance, the power he wielded was undeniable. A force capable of ending lives with a mere gesture.

"Gideon, what's the report?" The old man asked calmly.

"Forgive me, Sir. We failed. The target escaped before we could apprehend them. It seems they had assistance," Commander Gideon replied, head still lowered.

"Sigh..." The old man sighed, disappointment evident.

"Gideon, did you know? Despite mankind's progress in scientific research over centuries, they still haven't conquered death. Why do we die? Why can't we live forever? No one has the answer to this question. But now, it seems these lesser beings possess the secret we seek. It's absurd! They shouldn't even breathe the same air as us."

"Gideon, I'm growing old. Do you understand?" The old man's gaze sharpened. "Go, find them quickly. If you need more psychics, take them with you. But don't fail me again. You know the consequences."

Gideon nodded stiffly, fear flickering in his eyes. The old man's words hung in the air, a clear reminder of what was at stake.