Dantis advanced in silence, the Kral-T9 rifle shouldered, his heavy boots marking rhythmic steps.
The helmet visor displayed unstable readings — patches of heat and movement pulsing amid static noise, like death's static hum creeping through the comms.
His weapon felt like an extension of his body — ceramic coating, smart burst selector, and an adjustable recoil-absorbing barrel. A war tool designed to kill fast and leave no room for error.
To his right, the scorched fragments of a Sparrow-IX aerial patrol unit crackled under an unsteady amber glow. The rattling metal in the wind sounded like a dying breath.
— [Tower-One] "Zero, confirm objective for mission Sigma-4."
— "Eliminate the package. Nothing's changed."
His own voice echoed muffled inside the helmet.
The visor blinked. Thermal signatures began multiplying in the corridors ahead.
— [Tower-One] "Three human targets. Encirclement formation. Identification: WRAITH-6. Hostiles confirmed."
Dantis slid behind a collapsed column.
Bootsteps echoed — tactical, synchronized, disciplined.
Well-paid mercenaries, carrying XR-12 Gauss carbines — silent magnetic-propulsion rifles, the kind only billion-credit corporations could afford.
He switched the Kral to semi-auto.
The first enemy emerged from the shadows, and Dantis fired. The 7.62 round punched through the man's torso, throwing him backward hard enough to crack ribs.
The second tried to hide behind a beam — three shots, all precise, tearing through the thin metal.
The dry snap of recoil echoed like a metronome of death.
A pulse grenade bounced less than two meters from him.
The shell pulsed with electric energy, vibrating like a heart about to burst.
Dantis snagged it and hurled it back before it detonated.
The white flash lit up the corridor, and the smell of burnt ozone spread thickly.
Two soldiers collapsed, stunned by the electric discharge crawling through the floor and walls.
They were still recovering when Dantis opened fire, hitting their heads without missing once.
The third, disoriented, tried to react — but Dantis was already on him.
He holstered the rifle and advanced with a tight, efficient spin.
He blocked the enemy rifle with his forearm and drove a sharp blow into the solar plexus. The mercenary exhaled in a desperate gasp.
Before he could recover, Dantis grabbed his collar, twisted, and slammed him headfirst against the wall — clean, fast, precise.
The crack of his skull echoed down the corridor.
The radio crackled.
— [Tower-One] "Zero, unstable readings! Heavy magnetic noise in your area. Your position is compromised — move now! Enemy infiltration detected. Be careful… but do not let anyone take Sigma-4. Destroy it as quickly as possible."
— "Sigma-4 is our objective. No one leaves with it."
Dantis tightened his grip on the rifle, senses sharpened.
The silence pressed around him like weight.
Then a metallic hiss cut the air.
Dantis dove aside as a plasma burst tore through the wall, melting concrete.
Through the gaps he spotted three tactical drones approaching — small, fast, equipped with rotating blades and plasma emitters.
He drew the PX-90 pistol.
Two precise shots: the first drone fell; the second zigzagged, but he hit its side thruster and sent it spinning to the ground.
The third lunged toward him. Dantis met it head-on — deflecting the rotor with his forearm, seizing one blade, twisting his hips, and driving the Templar knife into its energy core.
The drone burst in an orange flash.
Dantis's breathing stayed steady. Muscles contracted and relaxed in a controlled rhythm.
He felt his body like a calibrated machine, the world around him slowing.
This was where he lived.
In war, there was no hesitation — only focus.
Then the voice came.
— [Voice] "Kayler Dantis Carvalho… still the same empty stare."
He turned slowly.
Through flames and smoke, Marcos "Gaucho" Ried emerged — the scarred face, the Coalition hybrid uniform, the Reaper-5 SMG hanging from his chest.
But what froze Dantis was the detail that shouldn't exist: Wraith-6 gear.
No alert from Tower-One.
And the command tablet on Dantis's wrist was blinking red and white — corporate enemy codes.
Something was off.
The silence felt like a prelude to catastrophe.
— "Gaucho…? But shouldn't he be in charge of this mission...?"
A chill crawled down his spine.
— [Gaucho] "I thought the Coalition ghosts had been buried already."
— [Dantis] "Some still walk. And kill."
Silence thickened. Rain dripped over cracked metal, as if the world held its breath.
Gaucho raised the Reaper and opened fire.
Tracer rounds carved lines of light through the corridor.
Dantis spun, diving behind debris — the rounds sliced inches from his helmet.
He returned fire with surgical precision — tight, methodical bursts.
The Kral-T9 roared, mixing with choked screams.
Sparks danced across the walls. Metal fragments ricocheted off his helmet.
Gaucho climbed to an upper walkway.
Dantis sprinted, leapt over a corpse, and used a fallen beam as a ramp.
In mid-air, he dropped the magazine, reloaded smoothly — instinct honed by endless drills.
He landed firing short, controlled bursts.
One round clipped Gaucho's shoulder; another struck the edge of the tablet, exploding it in sparks.
— "You're betraying your own Coalition, Gaucho."
— (laughing) "I didn't betray anything. I just stopped pretending."
They charged toward each other.
Dantis dropped the rifle and engaged in close-quarters combat.
Gaucho emptied the Reaper, then tried a low strike with the stock — Dantis dodged, seized his arm and twisted sharply.
A crack — immediate pain — the arm partially locked.
Gaucho kicked at his knee to destabilize him, but Dantis spun with the impact, redirected the momentum, slipped under the arm, and flipped him in a tight ippon seoi nage.
Gaucho hit the floor hard.
The impact boomed.
Dantis stepped forward to finish him, but Gaucho rolled, driving an elbow that grazed the helmet and bought him space to retreat.
Bleeding, coughing, he staggered back.
— "You don't get it, Carvalho. Sigma isn't just a project. It's a way out."
— "A way out for whom? The people selling the world?"
— "For those who know what comes next."
Before Dantis could press him, a sharp beep echoed — from beneath torn cables.
Gaucho lifted his head with a half-smile.
— "You think I'd come without an exit plan?"
Dantis spotted the small cylinder under debris — a gravitational pulse charge, armed and blinking red.
He reacted instantly.
A side kick sent it flying into a pit of exposed cables.
The explosion hit immediately.
The shockwave threw him back. He crashed into debris, visor cracking as the HUD flickered wildly.
Gaucho used the chaos to dive into a side hatch.
Dantis tried to pursue, but the ceiling started collapsing.
Light beams sliced through dust as concrete fell in sheets.
— [Gaucho] "See you on the other side, brother!" he shouted, vanishing into the smoke.
Dantis rose, unsteady.
His shoulder burned. His ribs throbbed.
But he didn't stop.
The radio hissed.
— "Tower-One, situation update. I encountered Commander Marcos Ried in the east sector. He was carrying Wraith-6 weaponry and opened fire on me. We have a traitor in the operation."
Silence. Interference.
— "Zero… that confirms the leak. The mission may be compromised. Your priority now is to protect Sigma — do not let them take it."
— "They won't. I'll complete the mission, no matter the cost."
— "Understood. Secondary explosions detected. Structure unstable."
Dantis reloaded the PX-90, retrieved the Kral-T9, checked the magazine and moved toward the sublevel stairs.
Each step echoed with groaning metal, as if the facility itself warned him the place was coming apart.
The corridor below was drowned in gloom.
Emergency lights flickered, reflecting the blood on the floor like something breathing.
He paused, placing a hand on the cold wall.
Steady breath. Steady pulse.
Sharp eyes.
Discipline kept him alive.
Instinct pushed him forward.
Dantis adjusted the rifle, exhaled slowly, and murmured:
— "One more mission… just one more."
Then he advanced down the narrow passage to sublevel two — one step before the heart of the storm.