The red dragon was a nightmare of scales and sulfur. It lunged through the ancient pines, its breath igniting the frost-covered brush into a hellish inferno. It was hungry, angry, and completely unaware that it was no longer the apex predator of these woods.
"Raptor Team, execute!" Robert barked over the comms.
The coordination was flawless. Robert and Psycho moved in first, their suits shifting into Maximum Armor. They met the beast's charge head-on, Robert's Nanosuit 2.0 absorbing the kinetic shock of a tail-swipe that would have crushed a stone wall. Psycho was a blurring whirlwind beside him, his SCAR spitting rounds into the dragon's underbelly to keep its focus diverted.
High in the canopy, Prophet and Nomad provided surgical support. From their perched positions, they used their Tactical Visors to tag the dragon's wing joints, firing suppressed shots that shredded the leather-like membranes and grounded the beast.
As the dragon roared in frustration, Aztec and Jester shimmered into existence behind its head. They had been in Cloak Mode since the start, waiting for the perfect opening. They drove their tactical knives into the beast's neck, severing the spinal cord in one clean, synchronized strike.
The dragon collapsed, a mountain of red scales sliding into the dirt.
"Bloody hell!" Psycho shouted, slapping the side of his helmet. "Tell me someone got that on a GoPro! I'd pay a million credits to see that replay. A dragon! A real, fire-breathing lizard, dead at our feet!"
Robert stood over the carcass, his HUD calculating the massive "Chaos" energy bleed from the dying creature. Out of curiosity, he turned to Aztec and Jester as they wiped dragon blood from their suits.
"I've read the reports from Lingshan," Robert said, his voice quiet. "How did it happen? How did two of the best Delta operators die so quickly on that island?"
Aztec looked at the dead dragon, then back at Robert. "It wasn't a lack of skill, Commander. It was the unknown. We were fighting ghosts. We didn't know what the Ceph were. We didn't know their weapons, their speed, or that our suits could be jammed."
Aztec looked at the dead dragon, then back at Robert. "It wasn't a lack of skill, Commander. It was the unknown. We were fighting ghosts. We didn't know what the Ceph were. We didn't know their weapons, their speed, or that our suits could be jammed."
"He's right," Jester added, his voice grim. "Had we known what we were facing—had we been briefed on alien tech instead of North Korean soldiers—we would have survived. Information is the difference between a soldier and a casualty."
Robert nodded slowly. In this world, they had the information. They had the system.
MISSION COMPLETE: APEX PREDATOR NEUTRALIZEDREWARD: 5,000 Credits.HARVESTING DATA: Draconid Physiology & Pyromancy resistance.
"Let's get the NOM Module started," Robert ordered. "Hargreave is going to want to see how these scales react to thermal energy."
The return to CryNet City was a procession of technological triumph. The massive red dragon, its scales shimmering with a dull, cooling heat, was hauled through the main gates by a specialized C.E.L.L. heavy-lift transport. To Robert and his team, it was a high-value biological specimen; to the hidden eyes watching from the treeline, it was a divine impossibility.
A scouting party of Aen Seidhe elves—remnants of a proud race driven into the deep woods—watched from the brush. Their eyes widened as they saw the "Iron Golems" walk with a fluid, organic grace that defied the clunky nature of any construct they had ever seen. They watched the city gates hiss open, revealing a world of blinding white light and humming machinery that looked like a fallen star embedded in the mountain.
"We must see inside," the lead scout whispered. "If these golems serve a new power, we must know if they are a threat to our people."
As night fell, the elves slipped toward the city perimeter. To their heightened elven senses, the streets appeared eerily empty—devoid of guards, torches, or the smell of woodsmoke.
They didn't realize they were already compromised.
Robert had spent his latest hoard of points to summon a full battalion of Nanosuit 1.0 soldiers. These were professional operators, men who lived and breathed in the shade. Every corner, every rooftop, and every alleyway was occupied. Hundreds of soldiers stood in perfect silence, their Cloak Mode bending the city's electric light around them. To the elves, the air only occasionally "shimmered," a distortion they mistook for mountain mist.
A squad of these invisible sentinels watched the elves creep past a nanocarbon pylon.
"Contact. Five biologicals, non-human, lightly armed with primitive blades," a soldier reported over the encrypted neural net. "Orders, Commander?"
Robert watched the feed from his command center, his Tactical Visor overlaying the elves' heat signatures in bright orange. He didn't know who they were or what "Aen Seidhe" meant; he only saw five intruders with bows and daggers trespassing on a high-security facility.
"Maintain stealth," Robert commanded. "Maintain distance. I want to see their objective before we initiate detainment. Do not engage unless they attempt to sabotage the reactors."
The invisible hunters trailed the elves like ghosts. The elves moved with legendary grace, but behind them, the soft, mechanical whir of CryFibril muscles followed every footstep. The intruders felt a prickle on the backs of their necks—the primal instinct of being watched by a predator they couldn't see.
One elf stopped, sniffing the air. "The wind... it smells like ozone and cold steel," he whispered, reaching for a bone-handled knife.
Behind him, only inches away, a Nanosuit operator stood perfectly still, his night-vision sensors tracking the elf's heart rate. The soldier held his breath, waiting for the command to either welcome the guests or neutralize the threat.