Seirath's foot slammed into Ian's chest.
The world twisted.
Ian was hurled backward through a portal.
Ian burst out of the rift and smashed into the polished halls of STF Headquarters, skidding across the floor as walls cracked and lights flickered. The portal tore open behind him
Seirath dashed through.
Ian rolled to his feet, lightning already crawling across his arms. He thrust his hand forward and unleashed it.
The blast struck Seirath square in the chest, sending him crashing into the far wall.
Ian didn't hesitate.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and activated every alarm system in the building.
Sirens screamed.
Red lights ignited.
Outside, STF units and Army forces swarmed the structure, sealing every entrance within seconds.
Ian charged forward, grabbing Seirath, but Seirath snapped awake, kicking Ian hard enough to throw him across the hall.
Ian drew his katana, electricity surging along the blade.
He attacked.
Precise. Relentless. Every strike aimed to end it.
Seirath raised his hands and fired a Kia energy beam. Ian dodged, but the explosion bloomed outward, flames swallowing him whole.
Back at the Outpost
The battlefield was chaos.
Optimus, Steel, and Stark continued their brutal struggle against Bron Krakos, blows shaking the ground with every exchange.
Nearby
Blade and Vyroz were no longer fighting on the battlefield.
They were moving across it.
Blade's twin blades glowed light blue, lightning streaking along their edges as he pushed into sonic speed. Vyroz drew his plasma rifle and fired.
But the shots passed through empty air.
Blade appeared inches from Vyroz's throat.
Vyroz kicked him away.
Blade hit the ground, rolled, and launched back forward.
He stopped.
Raised his hands.
Palms open.
The sky answered.
A lightning tornado descended, ripping the earth apart as it screamed toward Vyroz.
Vyroz stood firm, arms crossed, enduring the storm.
Blade came down from above, slashing.
Vyroz stepped back.
Blade reappeared behind him, blade already moving.
Vyroz tried to block.
Blade pushed through.
The katana cut cleanly across Vyroz's neck.
The storm vanished.
Vyroz fell.
The fight ended.
Blade stood over the body, breathing hard, armor cracked, muscles screaming.
His phone buzzed.
HQ UNDER ATTACK.
Blade groaned.
"I finished him," Blade said as he reached Optimus.
"Good," Optimus replied. "We can handle this. Get to HQ, help Ian."
Blade boarded a Swiftwind Tactical Transport.
By the time he arrived, STF Headquarters was surrounded, Army, Navy, Air Force, all weapons trained on the building.
Blade landed hard on the ground level.
A captain rushed to him.
"Blade, you're here. The commander's still inside. We evacuated everyone. We just need to get soldiers in"
Blade cut him off.
"Calm down. I'm going in. Call every Great and STF warrior you can. Now."
Inside the HQ
Ian and Seirath were still fighting, blasting through corridors, tearing chunks from walls as energy beams scorched the interior.
They burst into the common room.
Ian exhaled.
"Finally. An open area."
They circled each other slowly.
Waiting.
Ian discreetly tapped his phone.
Seirath smirked.
"Backup won't save you now."
The floor shook.
Voltron dropped from the upper balcony, an eight-foot steel titan slamming into Seirath and driving him into the floor.
"You're not going anywhere," Voltron said coldly.
Seirath smiled.
Kia surged into his bones.
He rose, grabbed Voltron, and hurled him toward Ian.
Ian ducked.
Voltron crashed through the floor.
"I can wipe him out with a blast," Voltron growled.
"No," Ian snapped. "Not inside HQ."
Seirath charged
and froze.
Ice crawled up his legs.
Ice King stood there, panting.
"Can't even leave HQ for lunch anymore. Everyone downstairs is panicking like the world's ending."
Seirath shattered the ice.
Ice King raised his staff, launching ice spikes.
Ian slipped behind Seirath and locked his arms around his neck.
Voltron grabbed his arms.
Ice King froze his feet solid.
Seirath screamed.
A Kia beam erupted from his mouth, tearing through the HQ.
"Ice King!" Ian yelled. "Can you teleport him?!"
"Yeah, hold!"
Ice King slammed a scroll onto Seirath.
They appeared outside the HQ in a flash of light.
Seirath was still firing.
Then he stopped.
Released a massive Kia Pulse.
Everyone was thrown backward.
Ian rose.
Lightning flared.
He dashed forward and attacked, slashes so fast they blurred together.
"I'm done with you."
Each strike drove Seirath back.
Seirath grabbed Ian's blade and hurled it aside.
Ian didn't stop.
He punched him again and again.
Seirath collapsed, blood covering him.
He begged.
Ian grabbed his throat.
Ice King, barely standing, shouted,
"Ian, stop. We're better than this."
Ian didn't hear him.
He tightened his grip.
And ended it.
The battlefield fell silent.
Ian stood there, breathing hard, blood on his hands.
And for the first time,
The cost of the war caught up to him.
Outside the capital, the smoke finally settled.
Optimus, Steel, and Stark emerged from the ruined outskirts and made their way back toward STF Headquarters. When they arrived, Ian was already waiting outside the building, armor scorched, expression heavy.
Optimus spoke first.
"How did it go?"
Ian exhaled slowly.
"I kind of… lost myself. But we took him out."
He looked up. "What about Bron?"
Optimus nodded once.
"We had to take him down. Before he went out, he told us he fought the First… and that he fought you and me years ago. Said they wanted revenge."
Ian's eyes narrowed slightly.
"That makes sense now. That's why they were so ambitious, why they kept testing us instead of wiping us out immediately."
He glanced back at the headquarters, its exterior scorched, windows shattered, but still standing.
"We're clearing the HQ now and assessing damage. It's not terrible… but it's going to be some long, noisy workdays."
Optimus let out a quiet breath.
"Honestly? I'm surprised it's still standing."
Ian allowed a faint, tired smile.
"So am I."
One Week Later
STF Headquarters stood whole again.
Walls rebuilt. Systems restored. Scars still visible if you knew where to look, but stronger than before.
The War Games officially ended, and their impact rippled through the entire Galactic Empire:
Boot camp training was overhauled, now including mandatory demon-simulation battles before graduation.
Soldiers were reassessed and ranked, placed where they were most effective instead of where tradition demanded.
Branches trained independently, no longer relying on immediate STF intervention.
New tactics, new doctrine, and a stronger, more unified military emerged.
The War for Iron, which had begun over demon factories and nearly spiraled into something far worse, finally came to an end.
For the first time in a long while, the Empire was calm.
No massive demon invasions.
No galaxy-spanning wars.
No alarms screaming through the night.
Just rebuilding.
Healing.
And preparing.
Because even in peace, Ian knew one truth better than anyone:
The galaxy never stayed quiet forever.
And whatever came next…
It would be stronger than anything before.