Veyra crouched low in the shadows of the abandoned magrail station, clutching the small data shard like it was her last lifeline.
Her mechanical hand trembled faintly, the faint hum of its internal servos betraying her tension.
The Disciples were getting closer.
Through the cracked doorway, she saw two of them pass again—eyes glowing faintly, implants humming softly as they scanned the area. Their movements were slow but precise, like they knew she was close.
She leaned back against the cold wall, whispering under her breath.
Veyra (whispering): "Think… think. You can't wait forever. If they find you first, it's over."
Her thoughts raced. She had the information Ronnie wanted—the proof of the Ascendant Protocol. But what good was it if she never made it out of this hole alive?
She glanced toward the western corridor of the market—the only section that still had active civilian movement.
If she wanted Ronnie's people to find her, she'd have to risk revealing herself.
She took a deep breath, then slipped out of the station and merged into the thin flow of people, keeping her hood low.
But as she stepped into the light of the market's west section, she saw them.
Henry's group, moving carefully through the crowd.
Veyra's eyes widened.
Ronnie had described them to her in encrypted messages—the group who would come.
She hesitated for only a second. Then she moved toward them—quickly but trying not to draw attention.
But it was too late.
The Halo Disciples nearby sensed her movement.
One of them tilted his head sharply, implant glowing brighter.
Disciple: "…The traitor. There."
Henry's instincts kicked in immediately.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a hooded figure—Veyra—moving toward them. But behind her, three Disciples were already closing in, faster than the crowd could react.
Henry stepped forward.
Henry: "That's her."
Before Veyra could reach them, one of the Disciples raised an arm. A shockwave of gravity pulsed out from his implant, sending nearby civilians staggering.
The crowd screamed and scattered.
Jack immediately shoved two people aside as the Disciple lunged for Veyra.
He intercepted the attack, his dragon scales hardening over his arm as he blocked the blow and slammed the Disciple back into a vendor stall.
The other two disciples moved in perfect sync, flanking.
He turns his head towards them, shooting a burst of purple lightning out of his mouth.
They fly into a market stand.
Emilia dissolved into mist, intercepting a disciple and striking at the implant on his neck to disrupt his movements.
Ichiro moved with sharp precision, his wind aura flickering faintly as he parried another disciple's blade and countered with a clean strike.
Lenny stayed near the edge of the fight, pulling Veyra toward cover while pulling a flash charge from his belt.
Veyra Reaches Them
Breathing hard, Veyra clutched the data shard tighter as Lenny dragged her into the group's cover.
Veyra (panting): "You… you're Ronnie's people?"
Henry's eyes stayed locked on the fight, but his voice was calm.
Henry: "Yes. Stay low."
But the brief clash had already drawn attention.
Across the market, more disciples were turning, their glowing implants lighting up like signal flares.
Jack growled, tossing another Disciple aside.
Jack: "Great. Now we've got a crowd."
Emilia reformed beside Henry, her tone controlled.
Emilia: "We can't fight all of them. We need an exit—fast."
Ichiro nodded, already watching the nearest alley.
Ichiro: "There's a narrow passage east of here. If we move now, we can slip through before they surround us."
Henry's gaze swept the market, reading the flow of enemies.
Henry: "Jack, cover the front. Emilia, rear. Ichiro, clear the path. Lenny—get her out."
They moved.
Jack charged through the first wave, scattering Disciples like bowling pins with sheer force.
Emilia's mist curled behind them, creating visual disruption to slow the pursuit.
Ichiro led ahead, cutting down two more in swift motions, keeping the path open.
Lenny pulled Veyra close, shielding her as they ducked through the narrow passage.
Henry stayed at the center, calm but precise, striking only when necessary to keep the group moving.
They slipped through the alley just as more Disciples flooded into the market square.
Behind them, a low hum of implants activating filled the air—like a hive awakening.
But they made it to the outer corridor of the Lower Halo Market, breathing hard.
Finally, in the relative safety of the corridor, Veyra looked up at them, her voice shaking but determined.
Veyra: "…I have what you're looking for. But it's worse than you think. The Ascendant Grid is only the first phase. Zorath Veil isn't the one you should fear."
Henry's eyes narrowed.
Henry: "Then who is?"
Veyra hesitated, glancing around like the shadows themselves could hear her.
Veyra: "…The one above him. The one who gave the order. He's planning something far beyond Neoterra."
She clutched the data shard tighter.
Veyra: "I can show you. But we have to leave. Now."
Far beneath the Market, in a quiet, dimly lit control chamber lined with golden halo engravings, Ravenous Halo stood before a massive circular console.
The console displayed faint golden outlines of the market's streets, showing real-time movement of all disciples.
A single signal—a traitor's implant—was flickering erratically.
Ravenous Halo tilted his masked head slightly as the console pulsed, indicating movement toward the market's outer corridors.
Ravenous Halo (quietly): "…So. She has chosen to run."
A low voice echoed from a communication relay.
Disciple (through comms): "The traitor Veyra is fleeing with outsiders. Should we cut them off?"
Ravenous Halo's halo implant spun slowly, emitting a faint hum.
Ravenous Halo: "No. Let them reach the edge. Then seal the path."
He turned away from the console, his polearm resting lightly in his hand.
Ravenous Halo: "I will deal with them myself. The Ascendant Grid must not be touched by their hands."
Before leaving, he sent one final encrypted signal deeper into the Halo network.
Ravenous Halo: "Inform the Master that the Halo stirs. His pieces are moving."
Then he stepped into the shadows, the air bending faintly as he moved—heading toward the upper Market corridors.