The ghost bull rises

The meeting chamber was quiet — not with tension, but with something far rarer.

Purpose.

Kael stood by the holographic table, his gaze fixed on the flickering logo prototype hovering above it. A stylized image was slowly taking shape — a white, spectral bull, forged in haze and metal. Its horns curved like the arc of twin blades, its eyes glowing faint violet.

Behind him, Tyren spun lazily in one of the sleek chairs, tossing a fruit cube into his mouth as he stared at the ceiling like he was waiting for divine intervention.

"'Ghost Bull,' huh?" he finally said, half a smirk on his lips. "A bit dramatic, don't you think?"

Kael didn't answer immediately. He simply tapped the side panel and enlarged the symbol.

"It's meant to be dramatic," Kael said finally. "Ghost — because we never follow orders. Bull — because we charge anyway."

Tyren sat upright. "Now that's a Kael-ism if I've ever heard one."

On the other side of the room, Ryssa and Ziya were exchanging glances. The new unit name had been approved, the insignia finalized. But it wasn't just a name. It was a declaration.

They weren't pawns anymore.

They were Ghost Bull — an independent strike force led by two Free Commanders, respected and feared alike.

Ryssa crossed her arms. "So this is official now?"

Kael nodded.

A subtle shimmer in the air announced the delivery drones gliding into the chamber, carrying sleek, sealed containers.

When they clicked open, the contents within stole the breath from the room.

Each suit was pristine white — tailored to command but shaped for agility and speed. The shoulders were edged with a pale violet trim, nearly silver under the room's light. The boots reinforced, the gloves sealed with magnetic sync-pads.

Each suit bore the newly-forged Ghost Bull insignia over the left chest.

Kael lifted his collar and studied it. "Feels light."

"It's made with Coreweave Fiber," Ryssa explained. "Top military grade. Better than what Commanders usually wear."

Tyren ran a hand along the trim of his new coat. "Damn… we look like noble assassins."

Ziya blinked. "Or flashy ghosts."

Kael didn't smile, but the faintest glint in his eye said everything.

Then came the moment they'd all been waiting for.

A secondary console activated and illuminated two full schematics — each easily 10 meters wide. The center of the chamber dimmed, and the holograms began spinning in perfect 3D render.

Ravager Reforged.

Kael stepped closer. The new Ravager was a marvel of design. Where its previous form had been jagged and brutal, this one was sleek, surgical. Built for velocity and precision. Its surface was matte black with violet core veins, its limbs more narrow, flexible — no wasted mass, every line speaking of purpose.

The blade core along its spine shimmered faintly.

And in place of its eyes — a twin-iris focus that pulsed slowly, ready to connect to Kael's neural sync on command.

Kael stared at it like someone looking at a memory reborn.

Brawler Prime.

Now came Tyren's mecha.

This was no sleek assassin. This was a monster in armor. Shoulder plating thick like compressed meteorite, fists the size of transport engines. Instead of a sword, a graviton maul was integrated into its right arm — pulsing with raw kinetic force.

The back was reinforced with a dual reactor system, meaning Brawler Prime could sustain max output longer than any existing military mech in its class.

And yet… Tyren wasn't even looking.

Instead, he was leaned back again, grinning absently at the ceiling.

"Tyren," Kael said, not even turning. "You haven't looked at your mech."

"I have," Tyren murmured. "It's perfect."

"You're not paying attention."

"Oh, I am. Just… not to the mech right now."

Ryssa raised a brow. "Then what are you—"

"I was thinking," Tyren interrupted dreamily, "my new quarters as Free Commander have that extra privacy layer. Soundproof walls. Lock override controls. Mood lighting…"

Ziya turned red.

Ryssa blinked.

Kael didn't flinch. "You're fantasizing. Again."

"I'm manifesting."

Ziya looked away quickly, brushing her fingers through her hair in flustered silence.

"I mean, imagine it," Tyren went on, now in his own world. "Just me, Ziya, zero comms interference, soft music, maybe some synth-wine—"

Ryssa threw a small data tablet at his head.

Tyren ducked. "Hey!"

"Enough," Kael said, but his voice was amused in that dry, ghost-of-a-smile way. "We've got more than dreams to prep."

"Dreams are part of morale."

"We're not leaving for R22 just yet," Ryssa cut in sharply, trying to regain composure. "Command wants us on standby while they finalize post-mission debriefs. But once they approve the recon paths… Ghost Bull launches officially."

"Back to the Kaiju graveyard," Ziya whispered.

Kael looked toward her.

"No," he said. "Back to the truth."

Later – Kael's Quarters

The Ghost Bull insignia glowed softly on the door.

Inside, Kael sat alone. The new Ravager blueprint was laid out across his display wall, scrolling slowly through combat modules, neural overlay options, and precision systems.

But Kael's mind wasn't on the tech.

He kept seeing the bodies of the dead Origin-class Kaiju. Too clean. Too deliberate.

As if something had killed them that wasn't from this planet.

Or this war.

His hand moved to his neck, brushing against the fresh scar where Ravager's interface had nearly fused with him during the final neural sync. It still pulsed faintly — like a second heartbeat.

What if it wasn't the last Origin Kaiju?

His thoughts were broken by a soft knock.

He turned.

Ryssa stepped in, already half-smiling.

"You're not resting."

"I don't rest well."

She walked forward slowly. "You're thinking about R22 again."

Kael tilted his head slightly. "I always am."

Ryssa crossed her arms, her coat falling around her like a cape. "You made me a promise. After the battle. Remember?"

"That we'd do whatever you say," Kael recited. "Starting after the mission."

"Well," she said, stepping close now. "The mission is over."

He didn't move. "Then what do you want to say?"

She hesitated… and then reached up to gently fix the collar of his new uniform. Her fingers lingered.

"I want to say," she whispered, "that I almost lost you."

Kael's eyes didn't move. "But you didn't."

She looked up into his face. "I know. And maybe that scares me even more."

There was silence between them. Close. Charged. Like a storm barely held back.

But neither made the next move.

Not yet.