"Hostile contact! Defensive perimeter! Secure the Minister!" Rhys Graves' command cut through the chaos.
What seconds ago had been a methodical search operation shifted instantly into a coordinated defensive maneuver. STF units reformed around Henry Bates in a protective formation, weapons raised, every rifle trained toward the source of the blast. No hesitation. No panic. Only combat protocol.
They were deep in hostile territory—and not against scattered raiders, but against first-generation enchanted mutants. Yet neither the soldiers nor Henry Bates, whose rank positioned him among Shelter City 9's most critical figures, showed the slightest trace of fear or hesitation.
Their expressions remained composed, eyes sharp, and posture steady. Their focus was absolute—fixed on the blast site with the unwavering discipline of men who saw their mission not as duty, but as conviction.
Seconds passed.
The silence, already heavy, thickened further until something moved.
