A thunderous rain battered the roof of the abandoned building, its cracked walls groaning with every gust of wind. What was once a warehouse now served as a temporary refuge—cold, dark, filled with the stench of rust and blood. The survivors were few… and quiet.
Three hours had passed since the last of them stumbled in. They had sealed the doors. Set up what little equipment they had. And waited.
Suddenly—
Alexander gasped awake, his eyes flying open. His hand reached for a weapon that wasn't there, instinct kicking in before memory.
Eve, bruised and bloodied, leaned over him. "You're awake…"
He sat up with a groan, head spinning. "Where… where's Ty?"
The silence was heavy.
Dr. Jin, seated by the shattered window, didn't meet his gaze.
Xiao Ling, arms wrapped around her knees, whispered, "She stayed behind…"
Elysia wiped tears from her eyes, failing to hide the shake in her voice. "She bought us time… she saved us."
Alexander stood. "Send me back."
Dr. Jin looked up slowly. His eyes were tired, his hands still shaking as he clutched his damaged teleporter device. "I can't."
Alexander stepped forward. "I said send me back!"
Dr. Jin didn't flinch. "The teleporter has one charge left. One use. After that, I need to return to HQ to refuel it—it'll take days."
Alexander's voice cracked. "Then send me. I don't care what happens after."
Adam, leaning against the wall with arms crossed, said coldly, "You'll die."
Alexander turned toward him, fury in his eyes. "She's dead because we ran!"
Adam replied flatly, "She made a choice. Just like we all did. Don't waste it."
Alexander clenched his fists, jaw trembling.
"I have to go back."
Eve stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. "I know. But don't throw yourself away for revenge. If you go now… go with purpose."
Dr. Jin stood, placing the teleporter on the table. "You have one shot. After that… I won't be able to pull you out."
Alexander stepped toward it, breathing hard.
"You won't need too."
The rain was gone.
So was the Tower.
When the flash of light faded, Alexander stood alone in a crater of ash and twisted metal—the scarred remains of the battlefield where thousands once stood, where his comrades fought and bled.
Now, there was only silence.
Charred armor littered the ground. The air stank of burnt flesh and ozone. Cracked helmets, shattered swords, torn banners soaked in blood—it was a graveyard of heroes. The corpses of the Frontier and the Xianzhou Knights lay intertwined, some clutching weapons, others embracing fallen brothers and sisters in their final moments.
He stumbled forward.
Commander Cooper's body stood frozen upright in death—sword still in hand, planted in the dirt. Burnt to the bone, but never letting go. Eyes hollow. Jaw clenched. He died facing the path Leviathan once charged through.
He died buying them time.
Alexander whispered, "Sir…"
There were more—faces he recognized.
A knight's headless body rested slumped beside a wrecked tank. A Frontier medic had been impaled through the chest, their blood smeared across the stretcher they never dropped. A pair of young recruits lay side by side—hands locked, their weapons nowhere in sight.
His boots crunched across the rubble as he made his way toward the center of the crater, where the Tower had stood. Smoke still curled from the broken ground, black and bitter.
Then he saw her.
Ty.
Her body was barely intact. Half buried in debris, one arm gone. Her armor was shredded, skin scorched black in places, lips parted—as if caught mid-scream.
Alexander dropped to his knees beside her.
He reached for her, trembling fingers brushing the edge of her scorched face. Her eyes were closed. Her chest did not rise.
He couldn't breathe.
"Ty…"
There were no signs of the enemy. No blood trail. No footprints. No aura. Whoever killed her—if it was a fight at all—left no trace.
Only violence without a name.
He looked up at the sky, teeth clenched, heart ripping open.
"I wasn't there."
His voice cracked.
"I should've been there."
Then—
The wind shifted.
Something cold stirred in the air.
From the edge of the crater, a soft clang echoed. A small, half-melted charm—Ty's—rolled toward him.
He picked it up, closed his fist around it, and stood.
The battlefield was silent.
But in Alexander's soul—
A fire began to burn.
Alexander's voice echoed through the ruins, rising in rage and despair, bouncing off the crumbled steel and scorched stone like the cries of a ghost that refused to be forgotten.
Clutching Ty's broken body, his shoulders trembled, not from weakness—but from the unbearable storm building in his chest.
The blood. The betrayal. The silence of the dead.
His scream tore through the sky.
"DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!"
Rain began to fall again—not water, but ash—drifting from the black clouds overhead. His fingers dug into the dirt beneath her, his knuckles bleeding.
"We were ready…"
His voice softened for a second, a whisper torn from his throat.
"We had everything planned. We could've won."
His eyes, red with tears, turned hard.
"You took her."
"You took all of them."
He slowly stood, carrying Ty's corpse in his arms as if it were the last fragile piece of a dream he refused to let go of. His hair clung to his face, soaked in blood and ash. His body shook—not from fear, but from a growing hatred so deep it scorched his soul.
"I refuse to die like this," he hissed.
"In this war."
He lowered her gently onto a slab of stone, placing her charm back into her hand, folding her fingers around it. His thumb lingered against her cheek.
"Rest, Ty. I'll take it from here."
Then he turned, face grim as the storm above.
"I'll drag them out… one by one…"
"…and I'll kill them with my bare hands."
A flicker of red light crossed the sky. Distant thunder. No enemy appeared—but Alexander's words weren't for them.
They were a promise.
"This isn't our war anymore."
"This is my war now."
His hand clenched into a fist.
"And you're all going to die."