The misted figure drifted forward, its movements slow, deliberate—a slug's pace, yet unyielding.
Its white eyes widened, empty yet searching, a hollow fragment of something lost.
Drawn toward the fortress.
It had broken its distance. Unbothered. Unafraid.
The soldier tightened his grip on his weapon, voice steady but tense as he pressed the radio closer.
The radio buzzed with silence.
Then—a voice.
Silk-smooth. Unwavering.
"Maintain distance. Do not engage further."
The soldiers stiffened, exchanging brief glances. His voice was never frantic—never uncertain.
"Secure it. The anomaly is not to be harmed."
No rank was stated. No formal title given.
But they knew who he was.
Dorian Vance's lieutenant. The shadow behind command.
A faint screech pierced the darkness, unraveling into the star-lit void like a desperate call—a cry for help.
Soldiers shouted in urgency, their voices cutting through the still air as the capture unfolded.
The sound of struggle rippled through the woods—branches snapped, boots struck the earth in hurried pursuit.
And then—silence.
The moment before containment.
Before the fortress claimed another.
****************************************************************
The specialized containment door slammed shut, its reinforced glass trembling under the force.
Inside, the misted figure scattered into the shadows, retreating into the dim-lit corner of the cell—an enclosed space that felt both sterile and unsettling, its transparent walls giving it an eerie, artificial clarity.
The atmosphere hummed with restrained energy.
Then—a voice.
It crackled from the intercom slits embedded between them, designed for prisoners to speak without direct contact.
The misted figure's white eyes lingered, drawn toward the voice from the neighboring cell.
A quiet glow pulsed from his pale blue hands, faint yet rhythmic, as if struggling against suppression.
He leaned forward, his white and lilac hair brushing against his face, shadows curling across his expression as he finally spoke—calm, yet distant.
"They got you too..., huh?"
His voice echoed, settling in the silence.
And across from him—
The misted figure stared back, emitting a faint astral glow.
************************************************************************
Celestia, Absynthe, and Synthena crouched behind a wall of rubble, hidden just out of sight. The building loomed ahead—fractured, collapsed, barely holding onto its structure after their battle with the monstrous being in the office.
Their eyes hovered above the debris, scanning for movement, ensuring their safety in the wreckage.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Celestia questioned
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," Absynthe muttered.
Synthena listened in, nodding as she traced the destruction with her gaze. "I think we'd know this damage anywhere—it's not a distant memory at all."
Celestia exhaled sharply. She readied herself, shifting her weight forward, preparing to sprint toward the ruined entrance.
But just as Absynthe and Synthena moved to follow—
Voices cut through the silence.
Men's voices. Deep. Tactical. One of them carried undeniable weight—an Enforcer.
Without hesitation, they threw themselves back against the rubble.
Absynthe lost her balance, jerking too quickly—her footing slipping beneath her.
"Oof!" she gasped, barely catching herself before her head met the hard stone.
Synthena stifled a laugh, covering her mouth as Absynthe whipped around. "Aye?! What's that for?"
Celestia pressed a firm finger against her lips, urging silence.
Absynthe's expression twisted into offense, arms crossed, legs folded as Celestia mirrored her posture.
Their foreheads nearly pressed together, eyes locked.
A silent battle of wills.
"Don't you tell me to shush! Who do you think you are?" Absynthe hissed.
Their fury ignited a rivalry in motion, the tension snapping into something humorously heated.
Celestia smirked. "Don't growl at me—I'm just saving your a$$, okay?"
Synthena, still containing her laughter, watched the two with amusement as they remained hidden behind the walls.
****************************************************************
"Officer Vance, we have arrived, sir!"
The soldier stood rigid, face sharp with discipline as he addressed the Enforcer—the man whose authority carried weight in every breath.
From behind the rubble, the trio remained hidden, watching only his side profile.
Dorian's eyes —steel gray, cosmic light lingering just beneath the surface— flicked upward, scanning the wreckage above.
And then—the soldier hesitated.
He turned, fully seeing the destruction for the first time. His breath hitched. His expression tightened.
His voice yelped—not in panic, but in sharp realization.
"What happened to this building?! It was in perfect condition a few weeks ago!"
A second of silence.
Then, quieter—almost to himself—"Damn… it's hard to keep up with this escalating damage."
The words slipped out, unguarded. Something he wasn't meant to say aloud.
Officer Vance's voice cut through the silence—raw, demanding, unwavering.
His slick black hair held a faint glint under the sunlight rays—a presence that carried both wisdom and undeniable control.
"Begin a search of the premises!"
The soldiers stiffened at the sharp order.
"Check every nook and cranny—high and low! Find the documents!"
A beat.
His eyes—steel gray with a cosmic shimmer—flicked toward the ruins, calculating something beyond the surface.
"Find the data left behind. Immediately."
The trio remained low behind the rubble, observing the soldiers beyond—unwavering, precise, dangerously aware.
Synthena barely peeked over the ruins, fingers gripping the crumbling surface for just enough height.
Absynthe slouched beside her, unseen in shadow.
Celestia lingered further back, watching, calculating.
"What do we do now?" Synthena whispered, her voice edged with uncertainty. "We don't even know if they're good or bad... but at least they're human... right?"
Absynthe turned her gaze toward Celestia.
Then, Synthena followed.
Celestia exhaled, sensing the weight of their unspoken question.
A tiny shift.
A fragment of rubble tumbled free beneath her boot, breaking the silence.
A sound that should have been nothing.
But in the quiet atmosphere, it echoed.
A mistake.
Officer Vance stilled.
His sharp, commanding gaze snapped toward the noise.
For half a second, he caught a glimpse—blonde hair vanishing behind the ruins.
His stance stiffened.
His breath deepened.
And then—he moved.
First a step. Then a march.
Then a sprint.
Then—a leap.
His fist collided with the rubble like a force of nature, silver veins pulsing across his arm as his attack landed.
Thud!
The impact split through the ruins, scattering debris like an avalanche of destruction.
Dust spiraled into the air—a whirlwind, a sudden storm.
And at the center of it—Vance stood, his aura sharp, unforgiving.
Only ruins remained. A gaping hole carved deep into the earth.
He straightened slowly, his stance unwavering.
Nothing was there.
But now—he knew something was.
The trio scrambled on their knees, crawling in desperate unison, their bodies stiff with fear.
Celestia led, her face twisted in disbelief—the realization sinking in that they had barely escaped being flattened beneath Vance's fist.
Absynthe tilted her head, shoulders rising and falling in quick, controlled breaths—a bead of sweat slipping down her brow as she stifled the tremor in her limbs.
Synthena scattered last, her face drenched in tears, her breath uneven as a nose bubble formed—a bizarre, unfiltered expression of shock overtaking her.
They moved as one—each carrying their fear differently, but all knowing how close they had come to absolute ruin.
The ruins stood in fractured silence, the aftermath of destruction lingering in the air.
Vance returned to his position, his presence darkened—unapproachable.
"Officer Vance, sir," a soldier called, standing at rigid attention. "We couldn't find much, but we located a document room higher up in the collapsed structure."
A pause.
"It's unstable. Unsafe. We can't continue by foot up those stairs."
Further back, another soldier prodded at the black dust with his weapon—the monstrous remains from the battle before.
Silence.
And then—
The soldier stilled.
He stood in salute but hesitated, his breath slow, sensing something—something uncertain, yet undeniable.
Officer Vance did not respond.
His silver veins pulsed—faint at first, then stronger.
A quiet shift in the air.
He glanced behind him.
His gaze narrowed.
And then—he saw it.
The last trace of movement.
Legwarmers.
Synthena's feet, vanishing behind the ruins.
His stance tightened.
His fist clenched. His biceps pulsed.
The corruption within him stirred—a faint reminder of dominance, of the untold power beneath his skin.