Chapter 57: A Final Ultimatum

Ethan's pulse thundered in his ears as he reached the place where he'd left Lyra. He forced himself to move faster, pushing past the pain and exhaustion from his battle with Xelthar. He only had one thought in his mind, a single thread of hope that he clung to. Lyra would still be alive. She had to be.

But as he approached, the dim lights above cast an eerie glow across the metal floor, illuminating a motionless figure. His breath hitched, and he slowed, his heart plummeting at the sight before him. Lyra lay still, her eyes closed, her skin pallid. A faint trail of blood had dried beneath her nose and mouth, the telltale signs of the transmitter's deadly infrasonic waves.

Ethan fell to his knees beside her, barely able to breathe. "Lyra…" he whispered, reaching out a trembling hand to touch her shoulder. His fingers brushed against her, cold and unmoving. He didn't dare check for a pulse, too afraid of what he might not find. The realization washed over him, leaving a hollow ache that radiated through his chest, an unbearable emptiness.

She was gone.

The reality of it hit him with brutal clarity. He'd watched countless lives slip away, innocents caught in crossfire. He thought he got used to it, but when it happened again… it still hurt . Lyra wasn't just another casualty; she was an ally from the same profession, someone who had trusted him, fought beside him, even believed in him. And now, her life had been stolen, another mark on the syndicate's ever-growing list of atrocities.

The pain settled into a quiet fury, simmering beneath his grief. He clenched his jaw, blinking back the tears that threatened to blur his vision. He had wanted to protect her, to finish this mission and get them both out alive. But he'd failed her. His own limits had cost her life.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he lowered his head. It wasn't enough, nothing would be. But it was all he could give her.

A robotic voice interrupted the silence. "Ethan," Iris spoke with her usual steady tone. "Every single mercenary is ready for death. This is simply the reality you all live in".

Ethan swallowed, unable to speak. He didn't want to hear her cold and merciless words of pure logic. What he wanted right now is to grieve in silence and to honor Lyra, the woman who had fought beside him, who had died in this cold, merciless place. He could feel his grip on composure slipping, the weight of guilt and anger almost too much to bear.

His AI Iris spoke again. "Ethan, I recommend retrieving Xelthar's armor and the transmitter. The guild will want evidence of what happened here. These items could provide crucial insights into the syndicate's plans."

Her words cut through the haze of his grief, though they left him cold. Evidence, critical intel, guild priorities. It all felt so hollow now, as if nothing could possibly matter as much as the person lying before him. He looked down at Lyra, her face peaceful, almost as if she were only asleep.

"No," he said softly, shaking his head. "The guild can wait. Lyra… she deserves better than to be left behind in this place."

Without another word, he carefully lifted her into his arms. Her body was light, but every step he took felt weighted, each movement a painful reminder of her absence. He held her close, as if by some miracle he could shield her from the reality of death, from the empty silence that had taken her.

As he made his way toward the exit, carrying Lyra, the compound's speakers crackled to life, jolting him out of his sorrowful reverie. A cold, mocking voice filled the corridors, oozing with cruel amusement.

"Oh, Ethan Walker," the voice drawled, every word laced with disdain. "Did you think you could come here, storm in like some kind of hero, and walk away with a victory? I have to admit, watching you struggle has been… entertaining."

Ethan froze, his grip on Lyra's body tightening as he recognized the voice. Raeth. The high-ranking syndicate officer who had orchestrated much of the horror they'd seen. The man who had likely given the orders that led to Lyra's death.

Raeth continued, his voice a twisted mix of amusement and contempt. "You truly thought you could defeat us? Take down Xelthar and what...cripple the syndicate? Spare me. You're just a persistent little insect. An annoyance that slows us down, nothing more."

Ethan's fists clenched, fury boiling in his veins. His mind flashed back to Lyra, to the people whose lives had been taken, to the innocents caught in the syndicate's grasp. Every ounce of his grief sharpened into a knife-edged rage, his hatred for Raeth and the Black Sun Syndicate reaching a fever pitch.

"All that effort," Raeth taunted, his voice dripping with mock sympathy, "and look where it's gotten you. A dead friend, a wasted mission. You failed, Ethan. How does it feel, knowing that she died because of your weakness?"

Ethan's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding as he fought the urge to scream back at the disembodied voice. He wanted to throw himself at Raeth, to silence him, to make him pay for every twisted word that fell from his lips. But there was nothing he could do. Raeth was somewhere far away, safe behind walls and security, mocking him from a distance.

"I wonder," Raeth continued with a dark chuckle, "what's more important to you. The evidence you need so desperately, or the lifeless body of your precious friend? What will you choose, Ethan?"

The speakers crackled ominously, and then, as if relishing in the cruelty of the moment, Raeth announced, "I think I'll make it interesting. Let's give you a little countdown." A faint beep started in the background, the sound of the compound's self-destruct sequence activating. "You have two minutes, Walker. Make your choice. The armor and transmitter… or her."

Ethan's entire body shook with rage, his knuckles white as he held Lyra close. Every fiber of his being wanted to lash out, to scream, to tear Raeth's face apart with his own hands. But he had no choice, Raeth's words forced him into a twisted, impossible decision.

Iris's voice returned. "Ethan, I detect the self-destruct mechanism has been activated. We must leave immediately to ensure your safety."

Ethan looked down at Lyra, his vision blurred by a mixture of grief and fury. Raeth's taunts echoed in his mind, the smug satisfaction in his voice, the twisted pleasure he'd taken in Ethan's suffering. It was almost too much to bear, the injustice of it filling him with a dark, seething rage.

But even in his anger, he knew what he had to do. The guild could wait. The evidence could wait. Lyra, however, she would not be left here, in this place, reduced to nothing but a casualty in the syndicate's bloody game.

With renewed determination, Ethan hoisted Lyra's body over his shoulder, his heart heavy as he began the grim trek to the hover truck. He could hear the distant explosions as the countdown continued, the compound rumbling as the self-destruct sequence began tearing it apart. He moved as fast as he could, his steps fueled by a resolve that would not be shaken.

The ground trembled beneath him as the explosions grew louder, but he forced himself onward, focusing on each step, on the mission he'd given himself. He would honor Lyra. He would bring her back.

As he reached the exit, the compound began to collapse in a series of violent blasts, flames licking through the corridors and casting long shadows against the walls. With one final burst of speed, Ethan sprinted through the exit, emerging into the night just as the compound erupted behind him in a fiery blaze.

The heat washed over him, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he knelt and gently laid Lyra's body on the ground, his shoulders heavy with grief. The flames painted the sky red, the compound reduced to ashes behind him, but his mind was set on something else now. Vengeance.

As he looked down at Lyra's still form, the memory of Raeth's voice echoed in his mind, every word a spark igniting his rage. He would not let her death go unpunished. He would find Raeth, hunt him down, and dismantle the syndicate piece by piece if he had to.

For Lyra, and for every life they'd taken. Ethan would make sure they paid.