Mission Complete

The silence after Montano's death lingered like smoke. No sermon. No prophecy. Just the stillness of a dead man in a red-lined coat.

Thomas stood over the corpse, his weapon lowered. Around him, the tunnel still flickered with the last remnants of firelight from the broken lanterns. Ghost moved first, stepping past Thomas to sweep the corridor.

Phillip came up next, rifle scanning the corners.

"Clear," he said.

But the war wasn't over.

Behind them, the rest of the team regrouped—Shadow-3 limping, blood still seeping through a makeshift tourniquet. Shadow-6, carried on a stretcher, groaned softly but lived. Two down, but not dead.

"Secure this hall," Phillip ordered. "And check that room Montano came out of. If he had a throne, I want it flipped."

Thomas nodded, then turned down the adjacent tunnel—the one they hadn't checked yet. Something still pulsed behind the walls. A presence that didn't fade with the Prophet's fall.