The mountain did not forgive hesitation, and neither did the two figures that burst from the mist behind me. I felt them before I saw them, the shift in air pressure, the faint tremor of boots striking stone in perfect rhythm. When I glanced back, two silhouettes in black armour cut through the fog with disciplined precision, their movements controlled and terrifyingly calm. One veered left without warning, dissolving into the mist as if swallowed by it, while the other remained fixed on me with relentless intent. I increased my pace without engaging thrusters, forcing my legs into brutal, efficient strides, the heavy armour turning me into a battering ram on skates as I climbed the incline. The cold air burned in my lungs even through filtration, carrying the metallic taste of old blood and the distant rot of things that had died here long before tonight.
Then I saw it a shimmer at roughly thirty-five degrees to my right, a distortion in the mist that did not belong to wind or terrain. Instinct took control. I slammed my thrusters backward in a violent burst, boots scraping sparks from stone as I launched myself away from the incoming trajectory. My sword rose in the same motion toward the figure directly behind me while the shimmering object some kind of blade or projectile cut through the space I had occupied less than a heartbeat before. The enemy met my counter with shocking speed, parrying my strike in a shower of sparks that briefly illuminated his visor. In that flash of fractured light, I saw his eyes through the narrow slit of his helmet human eyes, focused and unflinching, dark irises reflecting calculation rather than madness.
Before I could press the advantage, the second figure materialized behind me with predatory timing. I engaged my gravity boots and kicked off the mountain face, launching into open air as both enemies aligned side by side beneath me. The mist swallowed depth perception, and for a suspended second I floated in darkness with only the roar of blood in my ears. That was when clarity struck: these were not the resurrecting horrors from the earlier waves. These were men. Men in armour unfamiliar to any house I knew. I hurled a magnetic compression bomb downward and disengaged my gravity boots at the same instant, allowing myself to drop as the device detonated between them. The pulse locked onto their suits, overcharging their plating and slamming them together in a violent embrace of force. Their bodies collided mid-motion, armour plates screeching as magnetized fields fused them momentarily in place.
I hit the slope below and climbed again with minimal thruster assistance, conserving energy as I ascended with savage urgency. Within seconds I reached them. They were struggling to separate, servos whining under magnetic strain. One managed to rise partially, blade lifting in defiance, but I did not hesitate. I slipped from his sightline with a lateral feint and drove my sword into the narrow seam between neck guard and shoulder plating. The steel slid home with brutal efficiency. He collapsed instantly, life extinguished before surprise had time to register. The second enemy tore free of his fallen companion and attempted to bring a secondary weapon to bear, but I was already inside his range. I sliced through the tendons behind his knee, severing control and forcing him down. In the same motion I disarmed him, stripping away weapons and scanning for any suicide trigger. I would not allow him the luxury of silence through death.
I dragged him by his collar to a jagged rock and forced him against it, my blade resting against his throat where armour thinned. Up close I saw him clearly a young man, dark brown eyes sharp beneath disheveled black hair visible through the cracked edge of his helmet, pale skin with faint undertones of pink and yellow that betrayed exhaustion beneath discipline. He stared at me without blinking. The mist coiled around us, shadows shifting in the low light, whispers threading through the mountains like distant prayers. "Who are you?" I demanded. "What is your objective?" He said nothing. The silence between us thickened, charged with defiance.
Frustration sharpened into something darker. I sliced off one of his fingers cleanly and let it fall into the wet soil. Blood pooled quickly, steaming faintly in the cold air. "The longer you remain silent, the more I cut," I said evenly. "There are creatures here that will smell your blood." His breathing quickened, but he held his tongue. I continued, methodical and deliberate, each wound shallow enough to prolong life but deep enough to break composure. I hated the calm in my own movements, the calculated cruelty that had taken root since the riot ship fell. Then, faintly at first, I heard it the distant vibration of Toli wings cutting through air, a rhythmic buzz that grew louder with each passing second.
His composure cracked at that sound. "It is easier to kill me and run," he muttered. "You will never get answers, little Heir." The word struck me like a blade. He knew. They knew. Which meant infiltration deeper than any of us had imagined. I forced a smile that did not reach my eyes. "Have you ever seen a Toli kill its prey?" I asked conversationally. His gaze shifted, curiosity and fear warring behind it. "They do not carry you away like the Vix," I continued, leaning closer so he could smell the metallic residue of battle on my armour. "They begin at the limbs. They eat slowly. Alive." I did not know if it was true, but the image was vivid enough that it did not need to be.
His breathing became erratic. "Kill me like a warrior," he demanded through clenched teeth. I laughed, low and humourless. "A warrior? You hide in mist and strike from shadows, and now you ask for honour? Speak truth and perhaps you'll earn it." The Toli's wings grew louder, the vibration trembling through the rock beneath us. I leaned back and disengaged my gravity boots slightly. "If not, I swear I'll leave you for it. Let it feast while you pray."
Something broke in him then. He spat curses, then fell into silence, eyes darting toward the approaching sound. I prepared to disengage fully when he finally spoke, voice shaking but fervent. "We are from the horrors of man," he said. "Abandoned by time and peace. We are the children of a heavenly lord. Above all demons, only he remains true." His lips trembled as he continued, words thick with devotion. "May his six hands find you in your dreams." A chill colder than the mountain air moved through me. "Is this your final choice?" I asked. He smiled at me as the shadow of the Toli fell over us, and then he spoke again in a language I did not recognize, syllables sharp and fluid, foreign and unsettling. The final phrase lingered like a curse.
I did not wait to decipher it. I launched upward, gravity boots propelling me back toward the higher ridge as the Toli descended with ravenous speed. The last thing I saw before mist swallowed him was the predator's silhouette folding over the kneeling man. The mountain carried the first scream only briefly before it was consumed by the vastness of Misty Mountains.
As I ran, my short-range comms crackled with nothing but static. The whispers in the mist felt closer now, less like wind and more like watching eyes. The enemy was within the mountains, within our knowledge, within our bloodlines. Each revelation stripped away another fragment of certainty. Hope, once a bright and burning force, now felt like a thin thread pulled tight against the weight of something ancient and patient stalking us from every shadow.