The first man through the broken window landed heavily behind Makima, his rifle already leveled at her head. Two others spilled in right behind him, their heavy combat boots grinding shattered glass into the rug. Across the room, beside an overturned desk, Kase pulled his bloody hand away from the trench knife embedded an inch from his knuckles.
Mori, the bald man leading the breach squad, barked to his men, "The silver haired one. Take him alive!"
Before the squad could adjust their aim, Makima's iron chain whipped through the air with a metallic crack. It wrapped tightly around the four men standing near Kase, pinning their arms to their torsos before they could even squeeze a trigger. She didn't glance back at them, keeping her gold, ringed eyes locked strictly on the newcomers.
Fitran turned toward the raised rifle, a slow, deliberate smile spreading across his face. "Alive? How remarkably considerate of you," Fitran remarked, his tone dripping with ironical charm. "I was beginning to think this gathering had no future at all."
Makima watched his reflection in the dark, rain streaked window pane. His shoulders had lost their tension; he was setting a trap. "Move left," Makima commanded, her voice dangerously flat.
Fitran stepped right.
Mori fired without hesitation. The high caliber round tore straight through Fitran's upper arm, leaving a crimson spray before slamming into the reinforced steel door behind him. Blood rapidly soaked through his expensive wool sleeve. He caught the edge of the fallen table, exhaled a sharp breath through his teeth, and then, unexpectedly, laughed.
The sheer unnerving pitch of that laugh caused Mori to lower his rifle muzzle half an inch.
[NEXUS INTERFACE | COMBAT STATUS]
Entity: Fitran Fate
Incoming Damage: High-caliber ballistic penetration
Condition: Upper-arm gunshot wound | Active bleeding
Motor Control: Impaired | Compensatory movement available
Recovery: Not initiated
Warning: Further strain may compromise fine control of Voidlight.
Fitran pressed two fingers against the bleeding hole in his shoulder, looking down at his crimson stained gloves. "Ah, that one actually reached me," Fitran said, his voice laced with grim satisfaction. "There you are."
"You were explicitly told to move left," Makima reminded him, her arm flicking outward as her chain snaked across the room to snare another rifleman's wrist right as he tried to aim.
Fitran looked up at her, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek. "And miss our proper introduction? You ask far too much of me."
"I asked for a partner who could follow a basic direction," Makima replied, her tone unyielding.
"You still have one," Fitran countered smoothly. "Check the man standing just behind your right shoulder."
Makima tightened her grip on the iron chain. The second rifleman froze in place, his fingers locking around the grip of his sidearm. A thin, braided black cord ran from his cuff directly into a copper contact buried beneath his jawline.
Across the room, Mori instinctively reached up to touch the exact same spot on his own neck.
[NEXUS INTERFACE | ANOMALY DETECTED]
Object: Subdermal copper contact
Linked Signatures: Multiple combatants
Circuit Type: Shared command / return feedback
Controller: Unidentified
Analysis: Disabling one contact may propagate a signal to the others.
Fitran noticed the subtle gesture, his grin widening into something predatory. Beneath the table, he concealed his trembling hand, letting cold Voidlight trace the intricate silver brace hidden beneath his skin.
"You enjoy getting shot, do you?" Mori growled, leveling his sights back on Fitran's chest.
"Usually I charge a premium for the privilege," Fitran replied smoothly, his eyes narrowing. "Though you strike me as a man who dislikes paying his debts."
"Kneel," Mori ordered.
Fitran lowered himself gracefully to one knee on the glass strewn floor.
Kase stared in disbelief, and even the tension in Makima's hovering chain momentarily slackened.
"If you wanted me down here, you could have simply asked before ruining the upholstery," Fitran remarked, casting a casual glance toward the shattered window frame. "Your men make a dreadful entrance."
Kase spat onto the floor. "You surrender surprisingly fast," Kase sneered. "Where did all that arrogance go?"
"I left it behind with my dignity," Fitran answered softly. "Neither has ever managed to pay my rent."
"Then at least you understand who holds the power here," Kase said, taking a step forward.
Fitran tilted his chin up. "And who would that be? The man giving the orders, the man executing them, or whoever wired both of your nervous systems into the very same kill switch?"
Mori's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together. "Watch your mouth, mouthy bastard."
"You have been watching it for a full minute now," Fitran replied softly. "I was rather hoping you would tell me what you liked about it."
Mori growled and advanced, keeping the rifle stock tight against his shoulder. Behind him, Kase quietly reached into the shadow beneath the fallen table.
Makima raised her free hand, preparing to crush Kase's arm with her authority.
"Let him," Fitran interjected sharply, his tone leaving no room for debate.
Makima's gaze shifted to him, cold and assessing. "Explain yourself."
"He has already signaled his backers twice," Fitran explained, keeping his eyes on Kase. "Nobody answered. Whatever button he is reaching for now connects to a completely different receiver."
Kase's creeping fingers froze mid air beneath the dark wood.
Fitran tilted his head, studying the color draining from Kase's face. "There. That exact expression."
"You think this is a game?" Kase demanded, his voice cracking slightly.
"I am currently bleeding through my only decent winter coat," Fitran replied, his voice dropping an octave. "Allow me at least a little dark humor."
Losing his patience, Mori lunged forward, driving the heavy steel rifle butt directly toward Fitran's jaw. Fitran didn't flinch. He caught the incoming steel barrel with his uninjured hand, redirecting its force so the weapon slid harmlessly past his cheek.
Simultaneously, a flare of blinding Voidlight flashed beneath the table. The rifle's entire trigger assembly sheared off clean, dropping uselessly onto the carpet.
The unseen line of energy didn't stop there—it surged upward, traveling straight through Mori's cuff contact.
[SKILL ACTIVATION | VOIDLIGHT]
Technique: Precision Severance
Target: Rifle trigger assembly
Secondary Interaction: Connected return circuit
Result: Trigger disabled | Feedback transmitted
Cost: Increased stress on injured arm.
Mori jerked backward as if hit by a stun gun. Crimson blood suddenly gushed from both of his nostrils, even though Fitran hadn't physically touched his face.
Makima observed the electrical feedback chillingly. "A return circuit."
"You caught it too," Fitran said, pushing himself back up to his feet. "Keep the other gunman's hand open."
"You could have asked for my assistance before taking a bullet to the arm," Makima noted, her chains rustling like dry leaves.
"You would have stopped me from triggering the circuit," Fitran said.
"Correct," Makima agreed without hesitation. She cast a brief glance at the pooling blood on the carpet beneath his palm. "You let me set the pace outside. Now you deliberately ignore my warnings. What changed?"
Fitran locked eyes with her, his expression unreadable. "You possess such fascinating habits. I simply wanted to see which ones belonged to you."
"And which belonged to my contract?" Makima countered softly.
"You noticed the cuff wiring before I cut it," Fitran noted. "I knew you would."
"Flattery immediately following rank disobedience," Makima said, her voice dry. "Is this an old habit of yours?"
Fitran offered a faint smile. "Does it work?"
"You are still bleeding," Makima replied flatly.
Behind them, a sharp metallic click echoed through the ruined room. Kase had struck a concealed button hidden in the floorboards.
The wall behind the desk unlocked with a heavy pneumatic hiss, sliding open to reveal a cramped, hidden compartment.
Inside the narrow alcove, a young woman sat tightly strapped into a metal operator's chair. A thick copper collar covered her throat, glowing with a dull electrical thrum. Both of her hands were pinned flat against an illuminated control plate, held down by heavy magnetic bands that had bruised her pale skin. Her eyes were wide with terror, fixed entirely on an indicator lamp hovering above the doorway.
Fitran's sarcastic smile vanished in an instant.
Makima caught the sudden shift in his demeanor before she even looked at the glowing terminal display beside the chair.
NEXUS ROUTE ACCEPTED.
SIGNATURE TRANSFER IN PROGRESS.
[NEXUS INTERFACE | CRITICAL SECURITY EVENT]
Route: External Nexus archive pathway
Authentication: Blood signature detected
Transfer State: IN PROGRESS
Destination: Obscured / outside local network
Protected Identity Data: At risk
Warning: Unauthorized lineage data may be exposed if transfer completes.
The destination address flashing on the screen was completely unfamiliar to Makima, but Fitran recognized the encrypted archive prefix instantly.
The route wasn't terminating inside this building. It was broadcasting outward.
"Makima," Fitran said, his voice dropping into absolute, chilling seriousness. "Hold the operator's right wrist. Keep her hand pinned to that plate until I tell you otherwise."
Kase backed toward the open wall, a desperate smirk returning to his face. "Touch her and the transmission completes instantly!"
Fitran stepped right over Mori's ruined rifle, his boots crunching on glass. "What does this node send?"
"You should have asked that before you butchered my equipment!" Kase spat back.
The young woman in the chair tried to part her lips to speak, but the copper contact at her throat brightened with a harsh blue light. She gasped, her spine spasticity locking her hard against the back of the chair.
"Her real name first," Kase taunted, leaning against the doorway. "Then every name attached to her family lineage. And finally, whichever secure vault door your blood just unlocked."
Fitran knew the truth: Rinoa's true name remained buried outside every public archive he had ever authorized. But this machine had just tapped into a deep route that could bypass those protections.
Without hesitation, Fitran slapped his bleeding palm directly against the chair's conductive outer frame.
"You used my blood to authenticate the transfer," Fitran growled, his eyes dark.
Kase's smile broadened. "You were so very eager to provide a fresh sample."
Fitran watched his blood seep into the terminal's circuit grooves, the lines on the monitor shifting rapidly with every heartbeat. "So I was," he murmured.
Makima stepped up beside him. "Can you close the breach?"
"Only after you separate his command signal from her physical hand," Fitran answered.
"If I take direct control of her wrist," Makima analyzed calmly, "the relay will register an unauthorized owner and execute a failsafe."
"Then do not take control," Fitran instructed. "Restrain her physical movement, but leave her intent untouched."
Makima studied the woman's trembling, white knuckled fingers. "You are asking for surgical precision from a damaged contract."
"I know," Fitran replied quietly. "Do it anyway."
Kase lunged forward, reaching wildly for the copper plate. "I'll dump the whole drive!"
Makima's chain lashed out like a strike from a viper, snapping around Kase's wrist and wrenching his arm violently backward against his own belt buckle. Bone popped, and Kase screamed in agony. Ignoring his cries entirely, Makima crouched beside the trembling chair.
"Look at me," Makima instructed the trapped woman, her voice commanding yet strangely soothing. "Can you hear my voice?"
The woman's terrified eyes shifted away from the warning lamp, locking onto Makima's golden gaze.
"Blink once for yes," Makima requested.
The woman blinked once.
Fitran traced his fingers along the outer circuit path. Beneath the primary conduit, a second wire—so thin it was practically invisible—ran in the shadows of the copper frame. He followed its cold vibration with his thumb until a sharp metallic chill set into his bone.
"There are two distinct outputs here," Fitran reported, his breath fogging slightly in the cold air. "The visible line carries the primary signal. The hidden secondary line carries the confirmation ping."
[SYSTEM ANALYSIS | DUAL-CHANNEL RELAY]
Primary Output: Data transmission
Secondary Output: Confirmation signal
Fallback: Operator biometric pulse
Safe Shutdown: Unavailable without coordinated manual intervention
Recommendation: Isolate return filament while preserving operator autonomy.
"Sever the confirmation ping first," Makima advised.
"If I do, the system will use her biometric pulse as a backup trigger," Fitran warned.
Kase tried to laugh through his groans on the floor, though the chain tightened around his shattered wrist the moment he moved. "Everything in this facility has a built in redundancy!" Kase taunted. "Even her!"
"Show her the replacement, then," Makima said coldly, not even turning her head.
Kase went pale and looked away.
"There is none," Makima stated plainly. "You have forced this child to obey a threat you cannot even execute yourself."
"The contract dictates the terms!" Kase snarled.
Fitran leaned over the console, his shadow falling over Kase. "The contract belongs to you. Show me the clause that demands her life."