"Steel remembers. Spirit obeys."
Mandirigma Offboarding Area, Puerto Princesa Docks
As the Mandirigma approached the docks of Puerto Princesa, shrouded in the twilight shadows and masked by enigmatic camouflage, the Sandata Unit assembled near the offboarding ramp, prepared to descend into the depths of the city. At that pivotal moment, Joaquin raised his hand, signaling for attention.
"Hold," he commanded, his tone calm yet authoritative. "Before you deploy, you must be fully prepared."
Gregorio halted mid-step, and the others turned, sensing the unspoken gravity of Joaquin's words. Without further explanation, he led them deeper into the warship's interior—navigating encrypted corridors, sealed bulkheads, and biometric gates—until they arrived at a chamber few had ever entered.
The Mandirigma Armory
Nestled within the vessel, the armory was fortified by layers of voidsteel and spiritual wards. The walls pulsated with Baybayin runes, each meticulously etched by hand and sealed with ancestral ink. Joaquin approached the central console and placed his palm on the glyph-lock. A low hum resonated through the room as containment pods hissed open, revealing the preserved Myth-Tech Suits of the Sandata Unit.
Each suit, an obsidian masterpiece, shimmered with runes that sparkled like constellations. Arcane-infused nanotechnology enveloped relic cores, designed to enhance both physical capabilities and spiritual resonance. These were not mere armaments; they were extensions of the warriors themselves.
Gregorio's suit responded first, enveloping him in swirling violet energy. The Kamay ni Bathala synchronized with the armor's core, pulsating with divine rhythm.
Marian's suit shimmered with ethereal mist, the Sundang ni Makiling harmonizing with the intricate glyphs etched into her chestplate.
Agosto's armor erupted with crimson vortexes, the Kampilan ni Lam-ang roaring to life.
Renato's suit locked into place with a prismatic hum, the Kalasag ni Bernardo Carpio anchoring him with mythic weight.
As the final seals clicked into place, Gregorio gathered the team into a tight huddle.
"Recall the plan we discussed in Bulakan," he stated, his voice calm and measured. "We will first pass through El Nido before proceeding directly to Coron. Ricardo possesses the key to one of the Eyes of Bathala. We must act swiftly, remain discreet, and be prepared to adapt."
The team nodded, their suits humming in agreement.
Before departing, they turned to Joaquin and Guido.
"Salamat," Marian expressed, her voice imbued with gratitude and history.
Joaquin stepped forward, his expression solemn. "The sea route to Coron is no longer secure. Vortexes, lightning storms, and typhoons now guard it—natural defenses so violent they could tear warships apart. Passing through El Nido is your best entry point. From there, you can advance inland and approach Coron through the mountain passes."
Guido added, "Intel confirms that Babaylan APCs and Ahas ng mga Lakans Battle SUVs are already en route. Any delay may cost us our advantage."
The Kabalyero - The Moving Fortress
He gestured toward a sealed hangar bay within the Mandirigma. With a flick of his wrist, the glyph-lock disengaged, unveiling the Sandata Battle Cruiser, known as the "Kabalyero."
The relic-armed ATV loomed like a beast forged from myth and metal. Its frame was reinforced with voidsteel plating, and its wheels featured sigil treads capable of adapting to various terrains and spiritual interferences. Mounted cannons and gatling guns hummed with dormant energy, and the cockpit emitted a soft violet glow.
"This belongs to you," Guido asserted. "The Mandirigma reigns over the sea, while this Kabalyero commands the land."
The President's Support
"Lastly, you're going to need this," Joaquin said, handing over a matte black card etched with the Sandata glyph. "Your unit isn't officially reactivated yet, but the government recognizes you as a critical ally in the war against the Babaylan and the Ahas ng mga Lakans. The President authorized this to help sustain your force."
Gregorio accepted the card with both hands, his grip firm yet reverent. "Maraming salamat," he said quietly, the weight of responsibility settling in. "We'll make it count."
Joaquin offered a faint smirk. "Just don't forget to liquidate."
The team boarded swiftly; Gregorio took the helm with Marian beside him, while Agosto and Renato secured the rear compartments.
As the hangar doors opened, the cruiser roared to life, its engine a fusion of combustion and arcane propulsion. It surged out of the Mandirigma's rib, landing on the docks with silent precision.
Puerto Princesa blurred around them—lights flickering, shadows stretching—as the Sandata Unit raced toward El Nido, armored not only in steel but also in purpose.
And behind them, the armory sealed once more, its runes dimming like a breath held in anticipation.
Puerto Princesa City Proper - City in Chaos
The Kabalyero darted through the asphalt road, a sleek shadow weaving through the chaos engulfing the city. Puerto Princesa was in turmoil, the tension in the Palawan Sea having given rise to mini breaches that echoed through the streets. The MID-Zeta units were engaged in a relentless battle, systematically exterminating the echoes one by one.
Ahead, a menacing swarm of "Tiktik"—birdlike echoes that attacked in flocks—descended upon the city like a living nightmare.
The Kabalyero's Guided Runic Machine Guns roared to life, their barrels spinning a symphony of destruction. Each bullet traced an arc of light, tearing through the horde with ruthless precision, reducing the spectral creatures to clouds of dust.
As the Kabalyero continued its charge, an army of "Aswang" humanoid echoes materialized, blocking the road with their grotesque forms. The Sandata Unit seized the opportunity to test their newly acquired suits, showcasing the enhanced powers granted by the Myth-Tech armor.
Gregorio leaped from the vehicle, Kamay ni Bathala flaring with violet energy as he weaved through the Aswang with lightning speed. Each strike dismantled the echoes' essence, unraveling their existence with a flick of his wrist.
Marian moved like a whisper, the Sundang ni Makiling enveloping her in a shroud of mist. She danced between foes, her blade singing as it cut through the air, leaving trails of silvery light in its wake. The Aswang fell before her, succumbing to the ethereal might of her weapon.
Agosto wielded the Kampilan ni Lam-ang with precision, unleashing flame slashes as he teleported through crimson dimensional rifts. His movements were a blur of fiery arcs that scorched the echoes into oblivion. The air crackled with heat, and the ground beneath him was charred by the sheer intensity of his power.
Renato stood as a bulwark, the Kalasag ni Bernardo Carpio projecting a radiant barrier that deflected the Aswang's onslaught. His shield shimmered with prismatic light, each wave of energy repelling the echoes' advances until their ranks crumbled.
With the road cleared and the echoes' army vanquished, the Sandata Unit regrouped, boarding the Kabalyero once more. The vehicle surged forward, leaving the chaos of Puerto Princesa behind as they raced toward the exit arc of the city. As the Kabalyero roared onto the open road, the team pressed onward, their resolve unyielding as they continued their journey to El Nido. The road ahead was fraught with uncertainty, yet the fire within each warrior burned fiercely, refusing to be extinguished.
Ahas ng mga Lakan Forward Outpost:
Hangar & Mobile Command Route
The cliffside outpost clung to the limestone like a parasite breathing rock dust. Voidsteel beams bit into the overhang, cradling a hangar that pulsed with curse-light. Two relic motorbikes idled there, their frames thrumming like caged beasts. Below, on the switchback service road, a Babaylan-class APC growled in the dark.
Hangar — Putik, Natalia, Maximo & Kalawit
Putik stood shirtless beneath a guttering glyph-lamp, blood-ink runes mapping his torso like a war chant. He thumb-flicked the Balisong ng Dahas in a heartbeat cadence as Katraydoran exhaled molten vapor.
"I want them to feel the road burn before they see me," he said, palming a detonator glyph into his satchel.
He paused, fingers brushing the edge of a folded photo tucked inside the satchel's lining. The corners were worn. The ink had bled. But her smile remained.
"Her lungs rattle like broken relics. Every breath she takes is a countdown I can't stop. They said it was incurable—that the glyphs had already rooted too deep. But I've seen what relics can do. How they bend reality. How they rewrite fate.If I can reach the Kamay ni Bathala, maybe we can rewrite history—reshape the present—so she never contracts this disease. So yes. I'll burn the road, detonate the sky, and carve through gods if I must. Because this isn't about redemption. It's about her."
Natalia Saavedra tightened her void-thread harness, the Karambit ni Kain catching the light. Kasakiman split into spectral twins as she neared.
"Flank them. Bleed them. Leave no trace," she murmured.
She glanced toward the skyline—where the glyphs shimmered faintly, like veins pulsing through Manila's bones. Her jaw clenched.
"Manila is bleeding. Not from war—but from whispers. The Anino ng mga Anito have crept into our glyphs, our rituals, our dreams. I see it in the way the relics flicker. In the way my people forget their own names. This city was built on defiance. On rhythm. On blood. I will not let it fall to shadows. Tonight, I strike not for control—but for freedom. Let the Anino learn: Manila does not kneel. It rises."
Maximo leaned over the holo-projector table, boots planted wide, eyes locked on a shifting topographic overlay of the highway's choke points. Kalawit stood beside him, tattooed hands drumming against the haft of his Dugong Itim, the metal ringing like a countdown.
"First intercept at the curve past Kilometro 27," Maximo ordered.
"Secondary kill-zone here," Kalawit added, pointing to a blind incline. "Force them into Putik's fire path."
Both glanced toward the service road where the APC idled—their final piece on the board.
Babaylan APC — Crispulo & Mia
Inside the armored troop bay, dull red glyph-light pulsed in rhythm with the engine's bass rumble. Crispulo Toledo sat opposite the hatch, Anino drawn just enough for its edge to hum; shadow phantoms ran oily fingers across the bulkhead.
"First cut takes the captain," he said flatly. "Everything after is noise."
He adjusted his grip, eyes drifting to the land beyond the hatch—soil he once called home, now marked by exile.
"They hated me for my face. For the smoke in my blood. For the way the shadows followed me like kin. They called me demon. Freak. Curse. But this land—this cursed soil—is mine. I bled for it. I buried my shame in it. And now I rise from it. I don't want their forgiveness. I want their silence. When I reclaim what was stolen, they'll remember me not as a monster—but as the reckoning they deserved."
Mia Torre knelt by her relic tome, tearing a page free and whispering an incantation until the glyphs bled into a web of false highways and mirrored convoys. She fed it into the APC's console, locking the illusion into their navigation grid.
"They'll never find the real road," she smiled.
She tapped her comms bead, then hesitated—her fingers hovering over a second bead tucked beneath her collar. It was silent. Always silent.
"Her voice is still in the static. Garbled, but there. They took her—my sister—because she's a relic reader. Because she saw something they didn't want revealed. Now she's a hostage in their international game, a pawn in a glyph war she never asked to play. But I hold the Aklat. I know the truths they buried. And I will rewrite this story with fire. I will find her. And when I do, the ones who caged her will learn what it means to be erased."
The comms bead in Mia's ear clicked alive—Juan's voice, steady but warm.
"Mia, Crispulo… luck favors the precise. Make your marks and come home."
Crispulo smirked without looking up. Mia simply touched the bead once in silent acknowledgment.
A single siren note rolled through the night.
Above, the hangar doors yawned to the wind, releasing the relic bikes into the cliffside descent.
Below, the Babaylan APC's engine roared in sync.
This ambush is primed to split the El Nido Highway open like a wound.