Rain poured down the Academy's corridors, rattling stained glass and turning polished floors into slick pathways. My boots made barely a sound as I moved toward the high-security lift. The runes on the walls glowed faintly violet, as though sensing the Arkholt imprint coursing through my veins. I'd come to retrieve the Iron Bastion dossier hidden in Vault C-7, and I could feel the weight of every eye in the Citadel scanning me—though no one dared speak.
Inside the vault, holo-displays flickered, revealing combat logs, drone footage, insurgent manifestos, and runic resonance maps. I tapped the designation code, and the Iron Bastion files unfolded: battle trajectories, Aetheric feedback loops, rebel cell structures. My eyes darted across the data until a hidden layer caught my gaze—a crimson-tinted runic signature nestled beneath the surface. My breath caught as I expanded it. Arkholt. Someone had triggered the same ancient code.
Before I could process it, two Centurion officers strode in—Caldrian and Ramos. Their black-steel armor and ocular augments glinted in the holo-light. Caldrian's scarred face was cold, and Ramos's gaze fixed on my brand as though reading a confession.
"We thought we asked for telemetry only," Ramos said. His tone was flat and dangerous. "Now there's Arkholt code embedded in the logs. Explain."
I swallowed. "I retrieved exactly what was there. The code must have been buried in the field data."
Caldrian's glare sharpened. "We'll see." He slapped a restrainer on my wrist, its cold metal biting through my uniform. "Move."
I didn't bother resisting. The data was too important. I followed them down corridors of memory crystals humming with forbidden knowledge—even as the runic seals around them glowed in warning.
---
The Cetus Labs beneath Med-Bay B hummed with sterile machinery. I'd been rescued from a containment pod with Corin's covert help—dragged through half-lit tunnels past flickering neon signs and gurgling steam vents. Now, Lira lay strapped to a narrow gurney, veins rippling with black filaments of her Ruin Sequence. She seemed to drift in and out of consciousness as medic drones hovered overhead.
Corin knelt beside her, pressing a small injector against her thigh. "Hold still," he murmured. "This will buy us a few more hours."
Lira's breath hitched as the suppressants flooded her system. The Black Ruin's hunger receded, leaving her pale but aware. She blinked up at me with haunted eyes. "Luke… I saw you in the logs. They almost killed you."
I knelt, brushing damp hair from her forehead. "They won't," I said. "Not while I'm around."
Corin glanced over his shoulder, anxiety etched in his features. "They'll be on you soon. We need to get you somewhere safe."
Lira's lips quivered. "Where?" Her brand pulsed with residual energy—still unstable, still dangerous.
"Not here," Corin replied. "Meet me at the Eastern Monolith. That's where the rebels' hidden sanctuary is. You'll be safe there until your core stabilizes."
Lira exhaled, the weight of the world pressing into her chest. "Okay." She tried to sit, but the world tilted. Corin caught her, easing her back. "Just don't look at me like that."
I forced a smile. "You'll be fine."
She nodded, eyes fluttering shut. "I trust you."
Corin and I helped her to her feet, slipping out of the lab. The hallways were empty—Caldrian's heavy steps echoed somewhere above. We moved through maintenance shafts, past flickering holo-advertisements now defunct, until we emerged into a half-collapsed freight bay. Hover-cycle engines idled nearby, patched and fraying but still functional.
Rynna Shar—a scarred woman with a pulse rifle slung across her back—stood in the shadows. "They'll be here any second," she murmured, eyes glowing with fatigue. Behind her, rebel fighters shuffled into position, rifles lifted.
I set Lira into the cycle's passenger harness. She yelped as her bruises protested. Rynna held the cycle's handhold, nodding at me. "Hold her steady."
I slid onto the driver's seat, swallowed a surge of guilt, then throttled the engines. The cycle leapt forward, shredding broken floor panels, skipping over shattered doors. Above, Cadet Centurions dropped from rail-pods, rifles blazing. We ducked under a collapsed archway. Rynna's voice crackled in my ear: "To the tunnel—Sector Delta!"
I veered through corridors of rubble, the cycle's thrusters screaming against the rain's hiss. Centurion lasers slashed at the walls, sparks erupting around us. Lira whimpered, clutching my shoulder. I glanced back. Her brand flickered, roiling like oil on stormwater.
"We're almost there," I rasped.
Rynna slammed a hidden switch. A panel slid open to reveal an ancient tram tunnel. We plunged inside, leaving gunfire and blue-white flashes behind.
---
The tram tunnel's darkness swallowed us whole. My rifle's HUD pulsed with coordinates: "Maintenance Hatch 3, 200 meters ahead." Overhead, faulty lights flickered, illuminating decades of rust and graffiti: rebel slogans, runic warnings, half-erased propaganda. Our cycle skidded to a stop before a rusted hatch. Rynna pried it open, revealing a ladder leading down.
Centurion footfalls rattled the ground above. I lifted Lira and began descending. The ladder ended in a narrow passage, choked with steam and rotten cables. We picked our way through the labyrinth of monorail tracks and ancient cargo pods until we found the rebels' hidden sanctum—a patchwork of tents and runic braziers hidden beneath the Academy's rubble.
Lira collapsed against a cot. Jadek Vor—a scarred sniper in drift-tactic gear—rushed to her side. "She'll live," he said, scanning her labs. "But we need to move her to the Eastern Monolith fast."
Rynna's expression was grim. "We lost time. Centurion squads are fanning out. We have two hours before they breach our defenses."
I sank onto a crate. My brand throbbed. "I need to warn Tetrus and Rael—I have the Arkholt logs."
Rynna shook her head. "Caldrian's men will intercept you. Use the smuggler route across the Iron Frontier East."
I stared at her. "I can't leave Lira."
Her gaze softened. "You won't. Take one of our mech-breach walkers. They'll keep her safe. I'll stall them."
I clenched my fists. "I'm not letting you die too."
She gave a half-smile. "Then go. I'll hold them off." She lifted her rifle. "Bring her back in one piece."
I lifted Lira into my arms again and followed Jadek to a battered mech-walker—cargo hold big enough for two, engines humming with stolen drift cores. I strapped Lira in, held her close as Jadek piloted. Rynna saluted, raising her rifle. "Get ready for a fight."
Jadek throttled the walker's thrusters. We shot into the storm, leaving Rynna's silhouette framed by barricades and runic fires. I watched until she vanished.
---
The Iron Frontier's wasteland stretched below: broken bunkers half-buried in snow, derail-chains of ancient runic railways, icy crevasses that pulsed with Aetheric storms. Our walker's engines roared as we navigated the ice. Lira's breathing was shallow, but her brand glowed stable—viral energy forging her bond with my Arkholt codes.
Jadek guided us to a maintenance shaft buried in drift. "This leads to Bunker Eleven," he explained. "The soul-biocode orb is inside. Lira can anchor her Ruin there."
I nodded. Each step forward felt like stepping into a memory crystal, shards of First Ones' power fracturing reality. The walk to the shaft was perilous: drift-mutants slithered among frozen mecha husks, their metallic wings scraping fragments of ice. Rynna's last message echoed in my mind: "Hold them off."
At the shaft entrance, I lifted Lira from the walker and carried her through the snow. Her weight sagged as exhaustion pulled her down. The runic locks above the bunker glowed violet: three glyphs carved into steel—Soulbind, Aetherlock, Cosmic Void. I scanned each with my Gun-array overlay: frequencies out of sync, Byzantine codex conflicts. Lira lay trembling.
"Almost there," I whispered, pressing her to my chest.
Inside the bunker, the corridors were writhed in runic sculptures—half shattered, half alive. Our footsteps echoed through the ivory-white halls. At the heart of the complex, a pedestal carved from obsidian supported the soul-biocode orb: a crystalline sphere swirling with liquid starlight. The air crackled.
Lira's eyes opened. She reached out, shaking. I knelt, brushing her hair back. "You can do this."
She rose, voice unsteady: "I need to bind my Ruin to the Arkholt code." Tears bloomed on her cheeks. I held her as she traced glyphs in the air. The orb's runes flared, pulsing in response. A wave of energy rolled through the chamber. The runic locks along the gates buckled, and the Aetheric storms beyond the bunker faded.
Lira collapsed, hands clasped to her chest. Her brand glowed violet, then blue. The orb's glyphs dimmed. She looked up, breathless. "The Rift will collapse," she whispered.
Behind us, a chorus of pounding drifts: Centurion mechs streamed through the entrance—heavy Fusion units with seal-breaker cannons. Their runes glowed red-hot. Tetrus's voice crackled in my ear: "Extraction's inbound. We'll cover the rear."
I hugged Lira close as Jadek and I sprinted through collapsing corridors. Hapless lasers flared behind us, pillars of stone crumbling. The ceiling buckled; shards of concrete collapsed in sparks. My brand roared with energy, guiding me: Maintain focus or lose her entirely.
We burst into the open ridge. Tetrus's mech loomed, blade blazing. Rynna and a handful of rebels held off Centurion squads—rifles spitting arc shards, grenades carving shockwaves. The caves closed behind us. Tetrus wrenched me into the walker's cockpit. Rynna launched a pulse grenade across the ridge—Centurion mechs crumpled in a blossom of violet energy.
The walker's engines thrummed as we rose, leaving Centurion reinforcements behind. I watched Rynna's stance—still fierce, rifle ready—and my heart twisted. She refused to leave. But we had Lira. We had to live.