Alita and her group moved through the palace corridors, searching for Troba and Alita's friends. Hallway after hallway, room after room, the silence was suffocating. There were no signs of life—aside from the king and prince they had found earlier, the place seemed abandoned.
Yet something felt off. The heavy atmosphere suggested they were being watched.
Galatea was the first to notice. A cold shiver ran down her spine—someone, or something, was following them. She couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from or how many there were, but the certainty was unsettling.
Just then, the castle lights began to flicker, casting erratic flashes that distorted the surrounding shadows. Before they could react, something seized one of her daughters.
"No, Ragil!" Maxin screamed in desperation, but only the echo of her sister's cry answered—fading into the air as if it had never existed.
"What happened?" Galatea demanded, turning to her remaining daughter.
Maxin trembled, stammering, "I saw Ragil… and then something pulled her. She vanished right before my eyes!"
"Where?" Galatea pressed, but before Maxin could respond, an invisible force dragged her away too—leaving her no time, no space to scream.
Only Galatea and Alita remained.
Galatea clenched her teeth and looked at Alita urgently.
"Stay close. Don't leave my side."
She steeled herself, bracing for the worst. Her body tensed like forged steel, and a sword emerged from her back, glowing faintly under the flickering light.
Alita swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath as she aimed her magic ring in all directions, ready to defend herself.
From the shadows, a monstrous figure emerged—twisted and menacing.
Galatea shoved Alita behind her with a firm motion.
"Run," she ordered, facing the beast head-on.
Alita obeyed, though her hesitant steps betrayed her panic. As she ran, she glanced over her shoulder, watching Galatea fight the creature—her movements swift and precise.
Then, a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the corridors.
And everything fell silent.
Alita's heartbeat pounded so loudly she could barely hear anything else.
The lights flickered again, and the monstrous shadow reappeared before her, materializing like a dark specter.
Before she could react, something heavy struck her head, plunging her into darkness.
A sinister laugh reverberated through the halls, mocking her defeat.
In a cold, damp cell, a sweet yet furious voice shattered the silence.
"Where am I?! Why can't I move?"
Someone struggled against their restraints, frustrated to find themselves chained—hands and feet bound to the wall. The metal shackles a bit into her skin, thwarting any attempt at escape.
"Oh, dear," another voice sneered from the shadows—harsher, crueler. "I see you're finally awake. You look much better without that disguise."
The figure gestured toward a corner where pieces of armor and a helmet lay discarded.
"So, you're an infiltrator," the voice continued, now unmistakably belonging to Troba. "This should be interesting. I'll have to inform your boss about your little betrayal."
The prisoner clenched her fists in fury.
"You wretched traitor! How dare you attack a Red Shadow soldier?"
Troba let out a dry, mocking laugh.
"Tejod doesn't allow women in his army, girl. So tell me—who did you have to kill to steal that position?"
She stepped closer, inspecting the voice modulator in Pax's shattered helmet.
"Hiding your beauty beneath this armor… and using outdated technology to alter your voice. Clever."
The wicked woman smirked smugly, letting the device fall to the ground.
"Don't worry, little one. To spare you the drama with Tejod, I'll take care of you myself. But you've brought me a delightful gift—a brat with exquisite energy. Perfect for me."
Pax's eyes burned with fury and helplessness as Troba walked away, leaving the young prisoner in the dim light.
"Damn witch," Pax spat with contempt, her voice dripping with hatred despite her chains. "You drain men's energy just to maintain that illusion of youth. But in reality, you're nothing more than a relic—thousands of years old."
Troba smiled coldly, unfazed by the insult.
"A foolish priestess cursed me—accelerated my aging," she explained casually, as if recounting a trivial story. "But I made a deal with a sorceress in Lord Urugas' service. To keep my youth and beauty, I must absorb men's energy. I can control them—make them obey my every whim without question. Of course, that doesn't work on Tejod. Otherwise, I'd be the one leading Urugas' forces, not him."
Her eyes gleamed with cruelty as she stepped closer to Pax, who remained stoic despite her predicament.
"But now that I have you, dear girl… I'd say you're about thirteen years old. Perfect for my ritual. I'll take over your body and reclaim my youth."
Troba let out a chilling laugh that echoed through the cell.
"Ha, ha! Don't worry, little one. I'll leave you some company so you won't feel lonely."
With an arrogant gesture, Troba unlocked the cell door and tossed in Alita and the other girls—still unconscious.
"Well then, until I take over your body, I'll be off. Time to make preparations. Soon, Troba will be thirteen again—even if it's in another body. But no matter… I'll find a way to adapt. And I will have my revenge on that cursed priestess."
Troba strode away with elegant steps, leaving behind an air of disdain and cruelty. The cell sank into oppressive silence, broken only by the faint groan of someone beginning to wake.
Alita was the first to open her eyes. She brought her hands to her face, trying to focus her vision while attempting to recall what had happened.
When she finally saw clearly, she noticed a figure bound to the wall in front of her—a girl with wavy red hair partially covering her face. Thick metal shackles kept her arms and legs immobilized.
"Who are you?" Alita asked, her voice trembling but curious.
The girl on the wall remained silent, watching her cautiously from behind her curtain of hair.
"Ah! Let me help you get out of those chains," Alita said, determined.
She began searching for something to free her but soon noticed the other girls lying on the floor. She rushed to them, touching their foreheads and checking for signs of life.
"Good, they're still alive," she murmured in relief. Then, she turned her attention back to the prisoner on the wall.
"Oh, right! I need to find something to get you out. It won't take long."
As she explored the room, Alita found Pax's armor scattered across the floor. She frowned, confused.
"What's going on? Why is Pax's armor here? He never takes it off—not even to eat with us. And… where is that guy?"
From her chained position, Pax thought to herself: Wow, this girl isn't very sharp at some things.
Still, she said nothing, merely watching as Alita continued searching for clues.
Soon, the others began to wake.
First was Galatea, who stood up unsteadily, followed by her daughters. They all looked around, disoriented, briefly believing they had died. But upon realizing they were in a makeshift cage, their eyes filled with confusion and concern.
Finally, their gazes landed on the figure chained against the wall.
The reddish hair still obscured her face, and her posture was tense, as if she were waiting for something.
"Who's that?" Maxin asked, pointing at the stranger.
Galatea narrowed her eyes, studying the girl.
"I don't know, but she seems to be trapped too."
Alita approached the mysterious prisoner again.
"I'm trying to find something to free you. Don't worry, we're not giving up."
The girl on the wall finally lifted her head, revealing a youthful face hardened by determination.
"I'm Pax," she said firmly, though barely audible. "And if we want to get out of here, we'll need more than good intentions."
"Well then, Pax, tell us… who did this to you?" Maxin asked, pointing at the shackles still clamped around her wrists before she was freed.
"Wait—Pax?" Alita frowned, her voice full of surprise.
"I told you it was a girl! I already suspected it," Ragil chimed in triumphantly.
Galatea approached the scattered remains of the armor and lifted the helmet, noticing a small device attached to its inner lining.
"So this was the secret behind your deep, masculine voice," she muttered as she examined the modulator. Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"You were a girl all along."
"The great Pax—posing as someone strong and mysterious…" Alita crossed her arms, smiling with a touch of irony.
"And this was the big secret you kept so tightly hidden, huh? Golden knew, didn't he?"
From her place against the wall, still shackled, Pax let out a huff.
"Yeah, yeah. Mock me if you want, but we're not getting out of here if we keep wasting time."
Her tone was sharp, but there was a subtle tremble in her voice, betraying her discomfort.
"So… is Pax really your name or what?" she asked, looking at Alita with defiance.
Galatea didn't wait any longer. In one swift, precise motion, she used all her strength to rip the shackles from the wall, freeing Pax from her prison.
The young woman tumbled forward but quickly regained her balance. She brushed the dust from herself, then—with a resolute gesture—flipped her wavy red hair back, revealing a striking face and intense crimson eyes.
The sisters exchanged stunned glances.
"You're an avocado like us!" Maxin blurted without thinking.
"No," Galatea said firmly, observing Pax with sharp attention.
"She's not one of us. She's a lúcuma."
"A lucuma?" they all echoed in unison, leaning forward with curiosity.
"Yes," Galatea explained.
"They're similar to us, but their shells are more delicate, and their skin has a golden-orange hue."
"Ah!" Maxin gasped, covering her mouth.
"That's why I thought she blushed earlier!"
"I don't blush," Pax snapped back with a mix of pride and irritation—though her cheeks glimmered faintly with a golden hue under the dim light.
"Wow, your voice is really sweet," Alita remarked, tilting her head curiously.
"So, what's your real name, young lady?" Galatea asked, arms crossed with the matriarch's authority.
Alita raised an eyebrow, adding with a playful smirk,
"Or would you rather we keep calling you Pax?"
The young lucuma hesitated for a moment, as if the words clung to the edges of her lips. Her gaze—uneasy yet unflinching—wavered between vulnerability and resolve.
Finally, she exhaled slowly, a sigh weighted with a long-postponed truth. She lifted her chin with quiet dignity and faced them all.
"Now that you've seen my face… and know who I truly am…"
Her voice faltered briefly, the words fighting their way forward. Then she straightened her back, and a glint of conviction sparkled in her eyes.
"You might call me Lukeandria. That is my name."