Chapter 9 - GHOST DOWN

Underground Tunnels – Staging Point

7 December 1077 – 04:30 AM

The air was thick with dampness, carrying the stench of rusted pipes and stagnant water. Every breath felt heavy. The tunnel walls were rough, covered in grime and condensation, their silence broken only by the distant hum of machinery far above.

Two squads of Resistance fighters crouched in the shadows, waiting.

Liara adjusted her comm device as her boots echoed against the damp metal flooring. The underground tunnels stretched ahead of them, winding like veins beneath the city.

Hanna moved beside her, keeping pace. "This passage should bring us up just ahead of the convoy."

Liara tapped her earpiece. "Garret, we're almost there."

His voice came back, steady. "Copy that. Stay in position until my signal."

Liara exhaled, gripping her rifle. "Got it."

She glanced at Hanna. "You ready?"

Hanna smirked. "You have to ask?"

Liara allowed herself a small smile. Then she turned her gaze forward.

They had done it—they had bypassed the military route, moving undetected beneath the city's skeleton, cutting ahead of their target.

But the waiting was always the hardest part.

Hanna shifted beside her, rolling her shoulders with a smirk. "Hell of a shortcut."

Kian, a younger fighter, let out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah. Almost too good to be true."

Liara shot him a sideways glance. "Getting second thoughts?"

He shook his head quickly. "No, just—" He hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of his rifle. "You ever get that feeling? Like something's about to go wrong?"

A few of the others exchanged looks.

Liara let out a slow breath. "Every damn time."

That earned her a few chuckles, breaking the tension, but it wasn't enough to erase the weight in the air. They all felt it.

The silence stretched, and this time it was Kian again who broke it.

"Hey, Liara… how the hell are you so good at this?"

Liara blinked. "What?"

Kian gestured vaguely. "You, Raiga, the way you two move, the way you fight. You weren't trained like us. That's not military discipline. That's survival."

His words settled over the group. It was a quiet observation, but a true one.

Liara exhaled, looking away.

Then, after a moment—

"Because we had to be."

Hanna's smirk faded. "What do you mean?"

Liara ran a hand through her hair, her fingers briefly trembling before she clenched them into a fist. "Raiga and I… we've been on our own since we were eight."

Silence.

"We had no family. No home. Just each other. And Zenithar—" she scoffed, shaking her head. "This city doesn't show mercy to orphans."

She lifted her gaze, staring at nothing in particular, lost in memory.

"We begged. Stole. Fought for scraps. Every day was a battle, not to win, but to survive. And if we lost, we didn't get another chance."

Her voice was even, but the weight of it pressed into the squad like a phantom. The brutal, unspoken truth of what she and Raiga had endured.

"But then… Garret found us."

She glanced up, the corners of her lips twitching into the ghost of a smile. "He was running the Resistance even back then. I don't know why, but he took us in. Gave us a place. A reason to fight."

She exhaled, pushing the memories away. "So if I look like I know what I'm doing, it's because I had no choice."

Kian shifted uncomfortably. "Damn… I didn't mean to bring up—"

"No, it's fine." Liara forced a small smile. "It's just… the way it was."

Hanna was quiet for a moment, then leaned forward slightly. "And Raiga?"

Liara tilted her head. "What about him?"

Hanna let out a breath. "I mean—after what we saw from the drones, how the hell is he that strong?"

The others nodded. Even the hardened Resistance soldiers had been stunned by the way Raiga had moved—how he had killed without hesitation, how he had slipped through the base like a phantom, unseen, untouchable.

Kian muttered, "It was like watching a ghost hunt the living."

Hanna hesitated, then asked what everyone was thinking. "How did he get that good?"

Liara didn't answer immediately.

Liara's expression softened.

"Raiga never stopped fighting."

The others leaned in slightly.

"Even after Garret took us in, even after we had food, shelter… Raiga never let his guard down." She let out a quiet breath. "Maybe it was habit. Maybe it was instinct. But I think… I think he was afraid. That one day, everything would be taken away again."

She looked down, fingers curling slightly.

"So he got stronger. Because if he was strong enough, he could protect us."

A heavy pause.

"And he did."

The silence stretched long and deep, the weight of her words settling over them.

The squad listened in silence.

Liara's voice was quieter now, almost distant. "He never let me feel alone. I never had to be afraid, because he was there. Every time. No matter what. If we survived, it was because of him. If this mission is happening, it's because of him."

She exhaled. "And if I keep going forward, it's because of him."

Kian exhaled. "Damn."

Hanna shook her head, rubbing her temples. "That explains it."

Liara raised an eyebrow. "Explains what?"

Hanna smirked. "You're completely gone for him."

Liara stiffened. "What!?"

Kian grinned, nudging one of the other soldiers. "I mean, did you hear her? 'He protected me, he's the reason I keep going, he's my everything—'"

"I NEVER SAID THAT!" Liara's face turned crimson.

Hanna grinned, crossing her arms. "That was the most romantic war speech I've ever heard."

"I—WHAT!?"

Liara's face turned red in an instant. "That's NOT what I was—!!"

Kian grinned wider. "It's okay, we get it. Big scary assassin boyfriend."

"HE IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND!"

The squad erupted into quiet chuckles, muffled behind hands or helmets. Liara buried her face in her hands, groaning. "I hate all of you."

Hanna grinned. "No, you don't."

Then, softer, she extended a hand.

"For what it's worth, I'm glad I get to fight alongside you."

Liara hesitated—then, despite her embarrassment, smiled and clasped Hanna's hand. "Same."

Then—

"Liara."

Garret's voice cut through their earpieces, instantly snapping them back to reality.

Liara straightened, the warmth in her expression replaced by hardened focus. "Go ahead."

"The convoy is approaching your position."

The atmosphere shifted in an instant. No more teasing. No more laughter.

Liara adjusted her rifle, inhaling sharply.

"Understood."

She turned to her squad, her usual confident smirk back in place. "Alright, no more games. Time to move."

The Resistance fighters nodded, their bodies tensing, hands gripping weapons, minds sharpening.

The waiting was over.

Now, the real fight began.

Southern Military Base – Factory Sector – 04:22 AM

The smell of burning metal and gunpowder still hung thick in the air. Blood stained the pavement, bodies lay where they had fallen, and the echoes of battle were already fading into an eerie stillness.

Kael exhaled, shifting his grip on his pistols as he and Allen regrouped with their squad. The fight had been fast, brutal—too easy.

He didn't like it.

Garret's voice crackled in his earpiece.

"Kael, status?"

Kael wiped sweat from his forehead, eyes scanning the darkened alleys of the factory sector. Nothing moved. Not a single goddamn thing.

"Southern sector is secure," he said, but his voice was tight. "No signs of reinforcements."

Garret didn't answer immediately. Then—

"Keep your guard up. We're missing bodies."

Kael's jaw clenched. He already knew that.

Allen patted the side of his shotgun. "You hear that? We're missing bodies."

Tasha, their team's demolitions expert, scoffed. "Maybe they pissed themselves and ran."

"No," Kael murmured. That wasn't it.

The soldiers they had just killed weren't rookies. They had fought well—trained, disciplined. If there were more, they wouldn't be running.

Something else was happening.

Then—

A noise.

Soft. Hesitant.

Kael's head snapped toward the source, his pistols already halfway raised.

From behind a pile of scrap metal, a figure emerged.

An old man—gaunt, hunched, eyes wide with fear. His clothes were filthy, his hands shaking as he clutched a torn piece of cloth to his chest.

Kael's finger twitched over the trigger.

Allen was already stepping forward, lowering his weapon slightly. "Hold on—he's just a civ—"

The man fell to his knees.

"P-please," his voice cracked, raw with desperation. "The others—t-they're still inside—"

Kael tensed.

"Where?"

"They locked them up!" the man gasped, clutching at the fabric in his hands like a lifeline. "T-the workers—they took them below. In the depot—p-please, you have to help them!"

Kael exchanged a quick glance with Allen.

Allen exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "That explains why we didn't find any bodies."

Tasha frowned. "They locked them in the weapon depot? That's a hell of a place to stash civilians."

The old man nodded frantically. "T-they were going to execute them! But when the attack started, the soldiers left—p-please, you have to hurry!"

Kael hesitated.

Something felt wrong.

The way the old man spoke—it wasn't the usual rambling of a desperate survivor. It was too rehearsed. Too deliberate.

But the others were already reacting.

Allen turned to his squad. "Tasha, get the door open. Kael, cover me—I'll get the civs out."

Tasha was already pulling out a small hacking device.

Kael's stomach tightened. This is wrong.

The feeling wasn't just unease anymore. It was ice in his gut.

"Wait," Kael murmured, stepping closer to Allen.

Allen frowned. "What?"

Kael's grip tightened around his gun. He couldn't explain it. Something wasn't right. But the moment he tried to speak—

Tasha's device beeped.

"Got it."

Kael's breath caught.

The door unlocked.

A hiss of air. Metal grinding against metal.

Kael's entire body went cold.

Move.

He didn't think. He reacted.

"GET BACK!"

Allen's eyes widened in confusion. "What—"

Then the old man moved.

Not stumbled. Not flinched.

He ran.

Fast. Too fast.

Kael spun violently—his guns already rising—

And the door finished opening.

The factory lights flickered.

Inside the depot—

Thirty soldiers stood waiting.

Dark uniforms. Marked with the Cult's insignia.

Their weapons were already raised.

The realization hit Kael too late.

Then—

The world exploded.

A wall of gunfire tore through the air.

Kael barely had time to see Allen's face twist in shock before the bullets hit.

Blood sprayed.

Bodies jerked violently, torn apart before they could even scream.

Allen staggered, red bursting from his chest in brutal sprays, his eyes wide in sheer disbelief. His lips parted, as if trying to say something—

Then a second burst of gunfire ripped through him.

Kael moved on instinct.

Dove.

Bullets screamed past his head, shredding the air where he had been standing seconds ago.

He hit the ground hard, rolling into cover as his ears rang with the carnage.

His squad—

They were gone.

Tasha—dead before she hit the ground.

Eli—shot through the throat, his hands clutching at the wound, eyes filled with terror.

Harris—gun still raised, firing blindly before his chest burst open in a spray of red.

Kael couldn't breathe.

Allen's body hit the floor.

Lifeless.

Kael stared.

Everything slowed.

His best friend. His brother in arms.

Dead.

Just like that.

Something cracked inside him.

His fingers tightened around his gun.

The soldiers inside the depot were already moving out, shouting orders.

Kael's heartbeat slammed against his ribs.

His body was frozen—paralyzed between rage and horror.

Then—

"KAEL, REPORT!"

Garret's voice.

Kael couldn't answer.

He could only stare at Allen's lifeless eyes.

Then—

An explosion.

Somewhere nearby. Too close.

Garret's voice came again—louder, frantic. "KAEL! TALK TO ME—WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED!?"

Kael's vision blurred. His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps.

He had seconds before the Cult soldiers moved again.

He had seconds before they turned their guns on him.

Then—another voice.

Liara.

"Garret, the convoy is here."

A pause.

"Wait… Who are you?"

Then—

An abrupt, strangled scream.

Liara's voice cut out.

Kael's stomach dropped.

Garret froze.

Silence.

BOOM.

A second explosion.

Garret's entire body went rigid.

His mind barely had time to process—

But Raiga already moved.

Fast. Too fast.

"RAIGA—STOP!"

Too late.

Raiga was gone.

Sprinting across the rooftops, full speed toward Liara's position.

Then—

BANG!

A gunshot from somewhere distant.

Garret's head snapped toward the direction of the shot, his stomach lurching.

Raiga's body jerked.

A spray of blood burst from his back.

Then—

He fell.

Garret watched, horror-struck, as Raiga's body plummeted from the rooftop.

And slammed into the concrete below.

From the shadows, a lone figure watched the battlefield unfold beneath him.

Commander Varos of the Cult of Eternity stood motionless, his gaze locked onto the distant chaos. The faint glow of muzzle flashes flickered across his armored silhouette, but his focus never wavered.

With practiced ease, he ejected the spent cartridge from his rifle, the metallic click cutting through the distant echoes of gunfire.

A slow smirk tugged at his lips.

"Bullseye."