The battlefield of Samaypur was choked with ash and death. The once-proud mining yard had become a scar upon the land, burned black and cratered. Scattered Dominion tanks smoldered, the twisted husks of war machines glowing faintly in the dawn's bleeding light. Overturned barricades smoked. Blood mingled with dust. It was no longer a battlefield — it was a graveyard.
At the heart of this ruin stood Lavin Vyer, aura pulsing with a deep, corrosive violet. His figure was draped in scorched regal armor, runes glowing like embedded flames across his gauntlets and breastplate. Around him, shattered remnants of rebel formations lay broken. Some had fled. Most had not made it far.
A shattered dome of steel crumpled at his feet. From within it, Shivam pushed up — bloodied, his aura flickering erratically. His breaths came short, shoulders heaving. Nearby, Commander Vidhart groaned from beneath a slab of fallen debris, one leg twisted unnaturally.
Lavin stepped forward, each boot crushing debris underfoot. "All that power," he sneered. "And still you kneel." A sudden scream tore through the sky.
Blue light, bright and righteous, parted the clouds as Adhivita's ship roared overhead, engines glowing with the fury of a second wind. The craft descended like judgment incarnate, kicking up waves of dust as it touched down. The ramp dropped. And from the smoke, Adhivita leapt.
Her whip was already born — a crackling rope of sapphire Noctirum that shimmered like starlight through a storm. She landed between Lavin and Shivam, legs spread, one hand outstretched toward her wounded friend, the other wrapped around her weapon.
"Lavin!" she bellowed, the wind whipping her hair around her battle-worn face. "Let them go!"
Lavin turned, his expression caught for a moment between surprise and cold amusement. "So, the traitor returns," he said, voice like gravel over glass. Adhivita raised her chin. "No. The heir does."
Her whip snapped forward. A burst of force cracked the ground as it severed Lavin's spectral bindings. Shivam dropped, gasping. Vidhart, too, rolled free, coughing into his blood-stained palm. Lavin growled.
The violet energy around him surged — and from it he summoned twin psionic blades, pulsing with an unholy light. Adhivita's whip coiled beside her. Her stance was firm, eyes narrowed.
The battlefield stilled; all other sounds drowned in the pressure between them. Brother and sister locked eyes. And then they charged.
Shivam stirred amidst the rubble, his breath ragged and shallow. Every inch of his body felt like it had been dragged through fire and shattered glass. His limbs trembled under the strain, and his chest heaved with the weight of each inhale. But beneath the bruises, beneath the pain, something stirred — something vast, bright, and burning. It wasn't rage. It wasn't fear. It was resolve.
He blinked against the haze of smoke, focusing past the heatwaves to the blur of motion ahead. Lavin danced between constructs and echoes of himself — twisted psychic doubles that flickered like mirages in a desert storm. They circled Adhivita like vultures, lashing out from impossible angles. Each illusion shimmered in lavender tones, indistinguishable from the real threat save for the faintest detail — only one left footprints in the bloodied dirt.
Adhivita was holding her own, her whip cracking like thunder through the false images, her breath coming sharp and fast. But the tide was shifting. Her steps faltered. Her guard dropped by a fraction. Shivam could see it — the moment Lavin would capitalize.
"No," Shivam whispered to himself, pushing one fist into the dirt. He rose.
His aura sparked to life — not in a burst, but in a surge. Molten orange bled across his skin, radiating from his chest in rippling pulses. Pebbles rose around him. The ground cracked beneath his feet. As he floated into the air, his body outlined in flame, the battlefield noticed. Every Dominion soldier, every rebel still alive, turned toward the storm awakening at its center. Then, he moved.
Like a comet, Shivam shot forward, piercing the field of illusions like a hammer through glass. His fists shattered false Lavins in flashes of light and dust, his presence alone unraveling the illusion matrix. The real Lavin stumbled back, eyes narrowing.
A second later, Shivam landed beside Adhivita, a grin on his cracked lips. "Tag me in?" She exhaled, nodding with a weary smirk. "Be my guest."
Together, they moved like fire and thunder. Adhivita lashed her whip, snaring Lavin's arm mid-lunge, and Shivam struck — a bone-rattling punch that launched the prince back across the crater. Lavin recovered fast, rolling through the impact, but the pressure was building.
Their synergy became sharper. Shivam blocked energy spears with his bare hands; Adhivita launched counterattacks through the openings he carved. For the first time, Lavin's calm faltered. A flicker of frustration curled at the edge of his lips.
"This isn't teamwork," Lavin growled. "This is desperation dressed in theatrics." Then he changed his rhythm.
Lavin's illusions fell away. No more games. His form shifted — not his shape, but his style. His movements flowed into a brutal martial precision. He didn't float anymore; he stalked. Dodged. Struck. His fists became weapons of art, each motion reinforced with Noctirum energy blades that formed mid-swing, blinking in and out of reality like phantom claws.
Shivam blocked the first strike, but Lavin twisted with inhuman grace and swept his legs out. Shivam hit the ground, gasping, only to take a blow to the ribs that sent him skidding through rubble. Lavin walked forward slowly, unhurried, like a teacher scolding a child.
"I trained for decades," he said coldly. "You've barely survived weeks." Shivam spat blood, his aura flickering. But he wasn't done yet. He gritted his teeth and rose again. But it doesn't matter anymore.
Above the battlefield, the clouds split open like a wound torn into the heavens. A thunderous vibration rolled through the air as massive Dominion carriers broke through the ash-filled sky. Their hulls shimmered obsidian black, edged in sharp chrome and bleeding red light — four-pointed blade designs slicing against the gloom.
Each was emblazoned with the sigil of the High Dominion: a spiraling serpent wrapped in a sunburst, ancient glyphs glowing like molten gold. And from the bellies of those titanic war machines, death arrived.
Hatches hissed open, platforms extended, and ropes unfurled like the tongues of some great mechanical beast. Dominion elites descended — lines of soldiers in advanced exo-armor, matte black with glowing faceplates that shimmered with emotion-dampening circuitry. There were no chants. No battle cries. Just the synchronized rhythm of boots slamming into the scorched earth. It sounded like war drums being played by machines.
A broadcast boomed across the entire field, projected from the flagship's upper hull with cold finality:
"PRIORITY ONE DIRECTIVE.
BY ORDER OF SUPREME COMMANDER VYER —
ALL INSURGENTS ARE TO BE ELIMINATED.
NO EXCEPTIONS."
It echoed like a death sentence across every rebel comm. For a moment, the battlefield froze. Then panic set in.
Rebels who had been holding the line with sheer will now be faltered. The air grew tight. Hope began to buckle.
"No..." Naina breathed, stepping back, her bow lowering slightly. Her eyes tracked the endless descent of elite troops. "No, no, no…"
Adhivita's expression turned hollow. "That's not just a response team. That's a purge fleet. My father sent his executioners."
Across the scorched plains, Lavin stood amid a swirling cyclone of debris and blood, violet aura blazing brighter than ever. He looked skyward, smiled as if he'd summoned the fleet himself. "My audience has arrived," he said, arms wide. "Let's put on a show, shall we?"
Before anyone could retreat, before Vidhart could issue another command, Lavin struck. A psionic bolt, pure and blinding, screamed from his hand and tore through the smoke.
Adhivita raised a barrier, sapphire light arcing around her like a shell — but it shattered on impact. She was thrown backward, her whip dissipating mid-air, and slammed into the dirt with a gasp of pain. "Enough running," Lavin growled.
He surged forward in a blur of violet light, tendrils of psionic force lashing out like living ropes. They wrapped around Adhivita's limbs before she could rise. Her scream was cut short as he lifted her mid-air, suspended like a prisoner in chains, then smashed her to the ground with brutal force.
"You'll come home in chains," he whispered, kneeling beside her. "And this little rebellion… ends today." Across the battlefield, Shivam roared, fury erupting through him.
He flew toward Lavin — only to be cut off by a sudden explosion. A Dominion turret ignited nearby, flinging fire and shrapnel in all directions. Shivam was hurled back, dazed.
Dikshant appeared in the smoke, coughing, pulling Shivam to safety. A flash of metal — and Dikshant cried out, a Dominion blade slicing deep into his thigh. Blood sprayed across the rubble. Shivam caught him before he fell completely.
"Hold on!" he shouted. Then — Aanchal arrived like a storm.
She tore through the melee, her blade flashing with superheated precision. Every strike was measured, brutal. Her movements weren't showy. They were efficient. She ducked under a spear thrust and drove her blade through the attacker's chest plate, dragging Dikshant with her toward partial cover. A plasma round clipped her side. She hissed, staggering — but kept going. No time to bleed.
Nearby, Aman grunted as he blocked another blow with the shaft of his spear. "They're not slowing down!" "Neither are we!" Aanchal barked back. "Form a wedge! Protect each other!"
Dikshant was barely standing. Naina leaned against a crate, shaking, her next arrow trembling in her hand. Then — she fired.
The shot struck true, hitting a Dominion soldier in the visor. But another enemy replaced him immediately. "We're being swallowed," she gasped.
The Dominion elites surged forward like a machine. Ruthless. Relentless. The black tide of soldiers moved with such precision that even time itself seemed to bend around their assault.
And above them, Dominion warships loomed larger — now fully eclipsing the sky.
"They're not done," Naina whispered.
And from the center of the Dominion line, Lavin turned his gaze toward the resistance — and smiled.
The ground quaked as another Dominion carrier touched down, its landing claws crushing the rubble of broken tanks. Fire raged along the northern ridge. Smoke bled through the air in thick curtains, choking the sunlight and painting the battlefield in crimson dusk.
And then, through the smoke—hope returned.
A sleek vessel erupted from behind a shattered outcrop of stone — fast, angular, wrapped in stealth-armor. The hull was Dominion blue, but the wings bore subtle burn patterns: coded signals etched by rebel hands. Sumit and Pawan's ship.
The vessel banked low, engines whining against the wind. Smoke canisters launched from under its frame, exploding midair in thick gray clouds that spread like a tidal wave. The battlefield vanished beneath it — sightlines blurred; sensors scrambled.
From the haze, Vidhart shouted, "That's our ride!"
Rebels surged from scattered trenches and behind broken walls. Shivam and Vidhart stumbled through the smoke, dragging a semi-conscious Dikshant between them. Blood soaked the boy's thigh bandage, but he gritted his teeth and kept one arm looped around Shivam's shoulder.
Aman appeared, carrying Naina — her arm over his neck, one leg dragging behind her. Her bow had snapped in the earlier blast, the fragments still clutched in her hand. Pawan stood at the edge of the ship's ramp, headset crackling. "Come on, come on—move!"
Agastya waved frantically from within. "We're out of time! Get them inside!" More rebels leapt aboard. The ramp hissed as it began to rise. Shivam was halfway up when he turned — and froze. Through a break in the smoke, on the far end of the battlefield, Lavin stood tall.
His armor gleamed with heat; his aura dimmed only slightly. Around him marched Dominion elites, forming a protective ring as he dragged something behind him.
Adhivita. Bound in crackling psionic chains, one arm limp, her face bruised but defiant. She stumbled as he pulled her toward a waiting lander, but didn't fall.
Their eyes met. Even across the battlefield — they found each other.
"ADHIVITA!" Shivam shouted, voice cracking. He tried to leap off the ramp, to fly toward her, but Vidhart caught him, yanking him back by the shoulder.
"No! You go now, or you die too!" the commander barked.
Adhivita met Shivam's gaze. Her lips moved. No sound.
But he read them anyway.
"Live.
And come back for me."
Shivam's fists trembled at his sides. His aura flared. The floor beneath him groaned. But the ramp sealed shut with a final hiss.
"Strap in!" Sumit shouted from the cockpit. "We're punching through vertical!"
The ship's engines ignited. Flames poured from the rear thrusters as the rebel craft roared into the air, slicing through the thick black sky like a spear hurled by the gods. Dominion turrets tried to lock on, but smoke confused their targeting. Below, the battlefield shrank. The mines of Samaypur faded into a shattered wasteland.
And Lavin Vyer stood in the ashes, one hand raised in mock salute, the other gripping a glowing chain. His smile never faded. As the ship vanished into the clouds, he whispered to the rising storm— "Let them run. The hunt has only begun."