Arrival of Force

Everyone took their positions, the cliffs casting long shadows over the rocky terrain. The strike force had spread out in a precise arc, silently encircling the small gated settlement below. Each unit had been briefed thoroughly, and now they waited with nerves coiled tight, eyes fixed on the target.

"Unit 3, ready."

"Unit 4, in position."

"Unit 8, standing by."

"Unit 12, ready to move."

One by one, each squad leader whispered into the comms, their voices firm. The confirmation ripple reached the command channel without delay. 

"Execute," came the calm but commanding order from the lead operative.

A half-second of silence followed, then the first shots cracked through the morning stillness.

Sniper rifles fired in unison, taking out the outer sentries stationed on rooftop platforms and walkway corners. The visible guards dropped before they could raise an alarm, their bodies crumpling silently against the metal railing or slumping behind crates.

Almost immediately, the infiltration teams surged forward, shadows cutting across the uneven ground. The initial shots served as the trigger. Within seconds, chaos bloomed.

The settlement stirred violently. Alarm sirens buzzed erratically as more enemies rushed out of their tents and structures, disoriented by the sudden barrage. Muffled shouting echoed within the encampment, but it was too late.

From the western side, the breach team moved swiftly. With practiced coordination, they planted and detonated a set of low-yield siege bombs against the main gate. The explosion cracked through the barrier with a sharp blast, sending smoke and scrap debris outward. The gate folded inward, twisted and mangled.

Immediately, the assault team entered in tight formation, blades drawn, rifles raised, fanning out in accordance with the pre-studied settlement layout. Each fireteam took its assigned corridor and alley, flanking around makeshift structures and ducking under elevated walkways.

"Multiple hostiles, moving from the reactor tower, west side!"

"Two squads breaking off toward the supply tents!"

The overwatch units on the cliffs relayed enemy movement through their scopes, guiding the ground squads with live positioning data.

Inside, gunfire echoed between steel walls and stone slopes. Muzzle flashes lit up narrow corridors as enemies returned fire from behind barrels, barricades, and the walls of buildings.

But the momentum of the attack began to waver.

The defending Rogues, though caught off-guard, quickly regrouped. Familiar with the layout, they navigated the terrain with ease, setting ambushes behind cover, flanking from crawl spaces, and luring the assault teams into crossfire zones.

The push toward the center slowed. In multiple choke points, the defending forces dug in, using elevated positions near the reactor tower and power junctions to rain suppressive fire on the advancing squads.

"Hostiles reinforced near the central power core!"

"Unit 4's pinned near the west barracks!"

Rook, taking cover beside a low crate near the courtyard entrance, clicked into the comms. "Stay tight. Adjust approach. Clear the southern lane before regrouping near the tower."

Smoke from a ruptured generator line curled through the air, mingling with the dust kicked up by grenades and broken earth. Explosions rumbled in the distance as another barricade went up in flames.

The battle for the settlement had begun in a flash. But the enemy had no intention of going down without a fight.

Asrel moved fluidly, trading fire with hostile Rogues across the makeshift settlement. His shots were precise, suppressing key targets and opening room for Unit 12 to reposition, but he hadn't tapped into his full power. Not yet.

Instead, his eyes were constantly shifting, studying the battlefield.

The sounds of explosions and shouted commands echoed through the narrow lanes between tents and prefabs. Smoke curled upward from scattered detonations. Despite the chaos, Asrel's movements remained calculated, and was holding back.

Near the heart of the settlement, where the towering Flux reactor stood, a fortified structure loomed. Its reinforced walls were heavier than the rest, and its position, anchored just behind the central energy tower, made it the obvious stronghold.

From within it, more hostiles continued to emerge.

"There," Asrel called out, his voice clear over the comms. "That building by the reactor. Most of the Rogues are coming from there."

Unit 12's formation adjusted slightly, shifting attention toward the suspected hub. But Asrel's gaze narrowed as a new wave exited the structure.

They moved differently, less frantic, more coordinated. Their armor bore darker trim, with visible personal modifications and upgraded gear. These weren't rank-and-file Rogues. Asrel could feel the shift in pressure, even without direct engagement.

"Those ones..." he murmured. "They're elites."

More footsteps thundered from the stronghold. Dozens of Rogues now poured from its main doors and side exits. Some vaulted over crates, others took to the rooftops. Their numbers ballooned far beyond the earlier estimate.

"What the hell is going on? There's too many of them!" someone from Unit 4 shouted over the comms, voice sharp with tension.

The intel had pegged the hideout's population at forty, maybe fifty at most. But that number had already doubled, now approaching eighty.

"This doesn't make sense!" Mari said over Unit 12's channel. "They couldn't all have been hiding underground. This place wasn't supposed to be this big."

"The enemy's numbers are still climbing," another voice added. "We can't sustain this kind of pressure."

Asrel's stance shifted slightly, his breath measured. He could feel it, that quiet gnawing tension beneath the battlefield noise. The kind that came before a storm. His instincts, honed through years of war and survival, screamed at him.

"Everyone, be careful," he said, his voice now edged with quiet urgency. "Focus your mind on getting out of this place. Prepare to retreat."

A moment of hesitation followed.

"…Why?" Rook asked, ducking behind a metal sheet as enemy fire pinged overhead. "You can handle this. If anyone here can, it's you."

"I could," Asrel said plainly, still tracking the flow of enemies. "But something's wrong. My instincts are screaming. This feels like a trap, or worse."

That answer was enough for Rook. He had known Asrel long enough to understand: the man didn't say such things lightly.

"Copy that," Rook responded, switching to the team-wide channel. "Unit 12, begin fallback procedures. Disengage and fall back to the perimeter. Move slow, stay together. We get out, now."

Kick grunted. "We're really doing this?"

"You heard him. Trust the call," Rook said firmly.

The team began to peel back, covering each other as they moved toward the fractured gate on the outer edge of the settlement. It was slow, measured but steady.

"What about the other Units?" Rook asked again, watching the situation unfold.

Asrel didn't answer right away. He fired two clean shots into an enemy advancing on Brenn's position, then spoke.

"Get our team close to the exit first. I'll stay behind and buy time."

"You sure?" Rook asked.

Asrel gave a short nod.

"Alright," Rook said. "Be careful."

As Unit 12 retreated toward the ruined gateway, Asrel took a final position behind a line of broken barricades facing the heart of the settlement.

More enemies surged out from the central building. The flow hadn't stopped, in fact, it was accelerating.

With Unit 12 now safely retreating and the rest of the allied forces pulling back toward the gate, Asrel decided it was time to test the waters.

A surge of Chaos energy pulsed through his veins as he activated his teleportation. The air warped around him, space twisting, folding, before snapping back into place as he reappeared near the heart of the enemy formation.

His sudden arrival triggered immediate panic. Rogues turned, shouting warnings, but it was already too late.

Dozens of crimson bolts spiraled outward from Asrel's position, each one charged with concentrated Chaos. They darted like snakes, curving mid-air before detonating across the battlefield. Makeshift barricades and hastily-formed energy shields disintegrated. Tents were shredded, the ground cracked, and enemies were thrown off their feet by the concussive bursts.

The chaos left many stunned, ears ringing, limbs burned, but the elites held their ground.

They had survived the initial onslaught. Their barriers, thicker and reinforced with a stronger Flux signature, withstood the worst of the damage. Each of them radiated Harmonized Core strength, capable fighters, trained, and augmented for combat.

Asrel tightened his grip on his blade.

He dashed forward into the dazed crowd, cutting through those who hadn't yet recovered. His movements were sharp, fluid, unforgiving. Every slash carved through bone and armor alike, every step calculated to keep him mobile and ungraspable.

The elites met his charge, drawing curved blades and high-output rifles. The clash was brief but fierce, spells flying, bursts of kinetic force colliding midair, but Asrel's speed and unpredictability overwhelmed them. Even among Harmonized Core fighters, none could match the erratic precision of Chaos-fueled teleportation.

Suddenly, a transmission crackled through his comms.

"Everyone retreat," Rook ordered. "Fall back to the gate. Now."

Asrel didn't reply. He could feel it, that shift in the battlefield. The order was necessary. The remaining forces were pulling back.

But then something else caught his attention.

The enemies around him hesitated. Their reaction wasn't to the ongoing battle, it was to the comms.

They heard it.

They knew what the Divers were doing.

Asrel's eyes narrowed.

'There's a leak… someone's feeding them intel.'

Before he could voice the thought, a sharp voice came through the open channel.

"Sniper team, we've got contact! Enemies outside the settlement, how the hell did they flank us?!"

Confirmation. The enemy had prepared for this. The battlefield had been staged.

Asrel clicked off the channel.

"So it was a trap…" he muttered, his voice calm despite the growing storm.

With no reason to hold back, Asrel let go of the restraints he'd been keeping. The Chaos surrounding him thickened, responding to his intent.

In a sudden pulse, a dozen spears of Chaos erupted into existence around him, floating, spinning slowly as they locked onto targets. With a twitch of his will, they shot forward, whistling through the air and striking clean through the remaining elite barriers. Some ruptured on impact, detonating with crimson scorch. Others impaled targets mid-motion, pinning them to shattered walls.

More Rogues advanced, but they were too slow. Asrel was already gone, vanishing and reappearing at lethal intervals. His blade carved arcs of death across the field. Every teleport brought him behind a target, every slash ended in a kill.

Their formation broke. They couldn't track him. Couldn't adapt.

But then, something shifted.

Amid the dying screams and crackling fire, Asrel froze.

He felt it.

A pressure.

It wasn't sound, or energy, or even a physical threat. It was presence. A vast and heavy awareness began to press into the battlefield from the far side of the central compound. It felt like someone, or something, had just opened its eyes.

Without hesitation, Asrel teleported away from his current position, warping to a rooftop overlooking the central tower.

But the moment he materialized, he was met with a beam of searing Dark energy.

It struck his position with precise timing.

A split-second before impact, Asrel raised a Chaos barrier, bracing himself.

The Dark beam hit with the force of a thunderclap, tearing through his surroundings, cracking the stone beneath him, and splitting the rooftop in two. The barrier shimmered brightly under the pressure… then shattered.

For the first time since awakening in this world, Asrel staggered.

His Chaos-infused armor absorbed most of the residual shock, but the hit still left a deep, ringing ache in his arms. He gritted his teeth, eyes scanning the origin point.

"That power…"

It wasn't just strong. It was focused, intelligent, and overwhelming.

This wasn't a random elite. This wasn't a brute force attack.

This was someone dangerous.

He could sense the signature lingering in the air, honed for command and destruction. The energy resembled the corrupted Dark essence he had encountered before, only this time, it was refined, precise, and unmistakably malevolent.

Unlike the Dark energy of the Hybrids, which acted on instinct alone, this one carried a distinct will, sharp, deliberate, and undeniably evil.

'Whoever that was… they're stronger than any Captain I've seen so far.'

Asrel steadied his breath. Around him, the battlefield seemed to still. The Rogues that had been charging suddenly paused, as if emboldened by the arrival of a new force.

Or waiting for an order.

Asrel's gaze swept the compound.

Someone was rising beneath the surface.