CHAPTER FOUR
Conner and the rest of the squad stood frozen, their gazes locked on the massive battleship looming in the distance. Its obsidian surface gleamed like polished stone, etched with glowing red lines that pulsed ominously even from afar. The crimson glow seemed to stretch across space, casting flickers of light over their position.
Their silence wasn't out of awe—it was fear. And it wasn't unwarranted.
The JK gang might have been a threat, but the Red Cosmic Army? They were a nightmare.
A force so powerful that even the Shadow Legion—the most feared and elusive warriors of the dark—couldn't bring them down. It was said that the two factions had been locked in war for centuries, long before Conner was even born. And yet… neither had claimed victory.
"Should we contact the higher-ups?" a young girl in the squad asked quietly, looking toward Conner.
For a moment, he didn't respond.
Then he slowly shook his head.
"No."
Reporting this would mean admitting failure. And that wasn't something Conner was willing to do.
Besides, the ship was just hovering there—motionless. If the Red Cosmic Army had really boarded it, they wouldn't have brought it this deep into Shadow Legion territory. It didn't make sense. It was far more likely that the vessel had been abandoned. A derelict remnant of some forgotten battle.
It was dangerous, no doubt.
But Conner was willing to risk it.
What's the worst that could happen?
He imagined getting torn in half by three Red Cosmos at once.
Yeah—plenty could go wrong.
Still… his instincts told him they'd be fine.
But he wasn't going to force anyone to follow him. Turning to face his squad, he made it clear: anyone who didn't want to come could stay behind. He'd do everything in his power to protect those who chose to go—but the choice was theirs.
To his surprise—or perhaps not—none of them backed down.
They were the Steele Squad. Reckless was practically their middle name.
With a unified nod, they boarded their own ship and made their way toward the massive warship.
Tension thickened with every second as the Red Cosmic Armor Ship loomed larger, closer, more imposing. Conner braced himself for the worst—plasma fire, security drones, maybe a trapdoor into the vacuum of space—but nothing happened.
No alarms. No weapons. No resistance.
Just silence.
They docked without issue.
No Red Cosmos in sight.
Using the shadows to dampen their steps, they moved cautiously through the vessel's corridors. The silence was oppressive. Every footfall, no matter how muffled, echoed through the hollow halls.
The difference between the two factions' technology was clear. While the Shadow Legion prided itself on sleek efficiency and stealth, the Red Cosmos leaned into power and raw construction. The halls were rough, unpolished—functional, but devoid of comfort or grace. Every corner was built for war.
And yet… there was no one here.
No soldiers.
No weapons.
Nothing but broken walls and scattered debris.
But one thing was certain.
A battle had broken out here. A brutal one.
The scorch marks, shattered consoles, and caved-in bulkheads were undeniable proof. Someone—or something—had torn through this ship with merciless precision.
But where were they now?
And more importantly where was the gang leader?
After opening several random doors—each creaking with tension—Conner silently prayed they wouldn't encounter anything beyond their ability to handle. If luck would just be on their side for once, maybe—just maybe—they could avoid trouble altogether.
And, for a while, it seemed his prayers were being answered.
Then they opened one last door.
Conner sighed.
There he was.
Sitting motionless in the center of the chamber, perched on a jagged obsidian throne, was none other than the two-headed leader of the JK Gang. His four eyes—once burning with madness—were dimming. His second heart was failing.
Though Conner's earlier strike had destroyed only one of the creature's hearts, the resulting heat damage had nearly cooked the second. It was a slow death.
The gang leader gazed lazily at the twenty-one Shadow Agents now standing before him. Then, with a flicker of amusement, he grinned.
"You really are stupid," he rasped, voice dry. "Marching right into enemy territory without a clue..."
Conner shrugged. "There's no one here anyway."
To be sure, he activated his Shadow Sense—scanning the ship one last time. Not a single presence. No movement. No hostile aura. Nothing but the dying gang boss before them.
He's bluffing, Conner thought.
"Am I?" the gang leader said, his grin widening as if he'd read the thought. "At the end of the day, you're the one who underestimated what I'm capable of."
Without hesitation, he pulled a blade—an obsidian dagger—from beneath his cloak and drove it straight into his chest.
Blood sprayed. His twin heads jerked. And he slumped forward, dead.
Even in death, his lips curled into a satisfied smile.
The room went silent. Uneasy.
One of the agents finally broke it. "We should leave. We've completed our task."
But Conner's eyes suddenly widened. His instincts screamed danger.
"Down!" he barked, flinging his hand to the side.
A thick wall of shadow erupted from the ground just in time—blocking a devastating blow that would've killed the agent instantly.
The attacker pulled back as the agent dove out of the way. Conner dispelled the shadow shield—and there, standing in its place, was something far worse than the JK Gang.
A figure clad in obsidian armor stepped forward, its helmet sleek and featureless—save for a glowing red X across the faceplate. Embedded in its chest was a pulsing red core.
Conner's breath caught in his throat.
Red Cosmos.
A Red Cosmic Soldier.
And not just any kind—this was a fully armed Red Cosmo.
Panic threatened to break through his calm, but he steadied himself. It was just one. There were twenty of them—they could handle one soldier.
Then, as if summoned by fate itself, three more Red Cosmos shimmered into view, materializing from the shadows.
Conner's heart dropped.
They'd masked themselves completely—even from his Shadow Sense.
That shouldn't be possible.
Not just dangerous—for the squad—but horrifying for the Legion as a whole.
One of the soldiers stepped forward. Its voice, distorted and mechanical, echoed through the chamber:
"Shadow Agents detected. Prepare for elimination. Surrender... and die."
Conner almost rolled his eyes—if the situation weren't so dire. Why the hell would anyone surrender if the next option was death?
If there was one thing Conner hated more than war, it was dying.
And he had no plans of doing that anytime soon.
To be continued...