Felix struck from behind just as Thomas was locked in combat with Darius. The hit caught Thomas off guard, and Darius followed up immediately, landing a crushing blow that sent him flying into a pile of debris.
Felix moved in for another sneak attack, but Iris jumped between them, her duel aura flaring to life. The moment it reached Felix, his body stiffened. His precise, calculated movements broke as the aura took hold, forcing his focus entirely onto her. He struggled against it, realizing he could no longer control where he struck.
His composure vanished, replaced by anger. Snarling, Felix turned on Iris with wild aggression, his every move aimed solely at her.
Bryan dove from above, intercepting him mid-charge and slamming him into the ruins with full force. Iris followed up fast, her blade flashing as she slashed deep across Felix's back. The Naga staggered forward, hissing in pain, trying to regain his footing.
But Bryan wasn't finished. With a heavy beat of his wings, he swung his body and hurled Felix straight toward Thomas's position.
Thomas wiped the blood from his side and braced himself. "You talk too much," he muttered.
As Felix came flying toward him, Thomas stepped forward and threw a full-force punch. His fist struck clean through the Naga's chest, the impact echoing across the battlefield. Felix's eyes went wide before his body went limp and hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Silence hung thick over the battlefield. The remaining Red Hands stood frozen, staring at Felix's lifeless body. They had waited, watching Thomas and his crew fight through two Callers, expecting to strike once they were too weak to resist. But even exhausted and bloodied, Thomas's team had proved far tougher than they anticipated.
Darius, who had been charging toward Thomas, stopped mid-stride. His expression hardened as he looked at Felix's body, then at the rest of his squad. The plan had failed. They had waited for the perfect opening, but instead of finishing a weakened enemy, they had lost another officer.
"You're going to regret that," Darius said quietly, his tone filled with restrained fury. He didn't attack. Instead, he stepped back, assessing the field. Continuing the fight now would only mean more bodies on the ground.
His gaze lingered on Thomas. "This isn't over. Next time, we'll be ready."
He raised a hand, signaling his men to retreat. The Red Hands began pulling back, disappearing into the fog, their formation silent and tense.
Thomas exhaled slowly, his muscles trembling from the strain. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by exhaustion and the sting of fresh wounds.
Bryan landed beside him, wings folding in. "Guess they weren't expecting that."
Iris nodded, catching her breath. "No one ever does."
The glow inside Nevin's body had dimmed noticeably, his energy nearly spent. It seemed he had used too much fog energy, and it was a good thing Iris and Bryan were already at Stage 1 and no longer needed his healing, or it would have taken him a while to recover.
"And the Archivists?" he asked.
They were gone. The Voynich Manuscript had already been secured, and the Archivists had slipped away the moment the battlefield cleared.
Thomas groaned, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. "They didn't even say goodbye. Kinda feels like we just got used."
Nevin let out a dry chuckle. "At least we got paid in advance."
Bryan stretched his sore wings, his joints popping. "Can't complain. They gave a pretty hefty sum."
Thomas straightened up slowly, wincing as pain shot through his ribs. "Yeah, yeah. We did our job. That's enough for me."
Iris raised an eyebrow. "That almost sounded responsible."
Thomas gave her a tired grin. "I'm evolving."
Nevin smirked. "Yeah, like a Pokémon evolving from Slowpoke to Slowbro."
Thomas blinked. "I don't know what that is, but I'm pretty sure that was an insult."
The crew broke into tired laughter. The fight had taken everything out of them, but the sound eased the weight of the moment. For now, they were still standing, still together.
The Hammer truck rumbled through the mist, its tires crunching over cracked asphalt as Thomas's crew made their way along the edge of District 10 in Region 2. They were traveling diagonally toward District 19 in Region 4, which sat above Region 2. Between them and Region 4 lay District 9, a danger zone swarming with Fades, and cutting straight through it would have been suicide. The longer diagonal route through District 10 was safer, even if it took more time.
Region 3, the old capital, was on a separate island beside Region 2, and beyond Region 4 lay their true destination, Region 5, the northernmost part of the Gaur country.
Thomas drove with one hand on the wheel, his eyes flicking between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. Outside, two figures moved beside the truck, Nevin and Bryan, both in their Glint forms. The Pink Fog was thicker than usual, blanketing the ruined streets in a heavy haze. Even as they advanced, they stayed alert, scanning for movement in the mist.
They had developed a system that worked. Two stayed inside the truck to rest and revert to human form, while the other two stayed outside, escorting and keeping watch. They switched roles every few hours to manage fatigue, and even Thomas joined the rotation, sometimes walking beside the Hammer so the others could recover. It was the only way to stay combat ready without burning themselves out.
"This is getting boring," Nevin muttered, keeping pace beside the Hammer. "Not that I'm asking for another Red Hands ambush, but it's been days. Either they're regrouping or waiting for us to let our guard down."
"They're not gone," Bryan said, scanning the fog above. "They're just patient."
"Patient sucks," Thomas grumbled from the driver's seat. "I'd rather get it over with."
Iris, resting in the passenger seat, looked out through the fogged windshield. "Maybe no trouble is a good thing. We should take what we can get."
Thomas exhaled and tightened his grip on the wheel. "Yeah, maybe. Still feels too quiet."
The Hammer move onward, its headlights cutting faint beams through the pink haze as the broken skyline of District 10 stretched behind them, and the uncertain border to Region 4 waited ahead.
The Hammer rolled steadily through the fog, each day feeling the same as the last. They traveled slowly, stopping often to rest and check their bearings. Whenever they spotted a settlement or safe zone, they took the time to investigate, trade if possible, and gather any information they could about the nearby districts.
By the third day, they came across a small settlement. It looked barely functional, surrounded by makeshift barricades of rusted metal, stacked debris, and old vehicles. A few survivors moved sluggishly behind the barriers, watching the truck approach. There was something strange about them. Their eyes weren't filled with fear or suspicion, just emptiness.
Hollow. Tired.
Thomas eased the truck to a stop just outside the perimeter, glancing at his crew. "Well, this place screams bad idea."
Bryan sighed. "Agreed. But since we're already here, might as well see what's going on."
They stepped out of the Hammer carefully. A small group of settlers approached, their posture cautious but not aggressive. An older man led them, his face lined from years of struggle. He gave a small nod. "Travelers don't usually stop here."
Thomas met his gaze evenly. "We go where the road takes us. This time, it led us here."
The old man studied them for a long moment before giving a slow nod. "Come inside. But don't cause trouble."
The deeper they went into the settlement, the stranger it felt. The people weren't starving, but they moved slow, empty, as if half-asleep. Then Thomas noticed something in the shadows, a man trading broken valuables for a small vial of pink powder.
Thomas frowned. "What is that?"
The old man sighed. "Little Finger's Pink Dust."
Iris narrowed her eyes. "A drug?"
"A lifeline," the old man said quietly. "Or a curse, depending on who you ask."
Pink Dust. A refined version of Pink Fog fragments, crushed and inhaled for a short burst of strength and energy. It made users feel unstoppable, but when the effect faded, it left them weak and empty. Over time, it destroyed their minds completely.
"And they still take it?" Bryan asked.
"People take what they need to keep going," the old man replied.
A soft voice cut through the silence. "My dad will stop. He promised."
A young girl stood nearby, clutching a torn scarf. Thomas followed her gaze to a man slumped against a crate, an empty vial at his side.
Thomas exhaled. "How long's he been saying that?"
"A while," she whispered. "But this time, he means it."
No one spoke. Thomas turned back toward the Hammer. "Let's go."
The engine started, fading into the fog as the girl kept waiting for a promise that would never come.
Thomas exhaled. "Not everything should be this broken."