The footage went live at 03:41.
Not everywhere.
Not loudly.
Just enough.
A grainy clip surfaced on three private channels favored by mercenaries and fixers, security cam angles spliced together with deliberate gaps. Black-clad figures entering a warehouse. Silent movement. Then chaos.
Clash!
A blur of motion.
A body hitting the floor—Thud!
A final frame: blood on concrete, no faces.
No narration.
No watermark.
Within minutes, it spread.
Aine watched the analytics roll in from the command room, arms folded, posture relaxed as if nothing of consequence was happening.
"It'll draw scavengers," Marcus said. "And hunters."
"Good," Aine replied. "I want both."
"Host," Sera added,
"pressure response is accelerating. You've successfully destabilized the rumor equilibrium."
Aine smiled faintly. "Then the liars will come first."
The first arrived alone.
The perimeter registered him without hostility—hands open, no visible weapons, posture calm. He wore a neutral coat and a smile practiced enough to pass for sincerity.
Marcus met him in the outer hall.
"He says he represents the Heavenly Calculation Sect," Marcus reported over comms. "Requests parley."
"Bring him," Aine said.
The man entered the command room and bowed slightly. "Princess Crimson," he said smoothly. "An honor."
Aine didn't return the gesture.
"Speak."
He straightened, unfazed. "City A values balance. Your recent actions threaten—"
Aine moved.
She crossed the distance in a single step and seized his collar, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into the wall—
Boom!
The impact cracked reinforced plating. The man gasped, composure shattering.
"You came alone," Aine said calmly. "That means you're lying."
She leaned in, eyes burning.
"You're not here to negotiate. You're here to test me."
His eyes flicked, just once, to the corner.
Aine followed the glance.
"Thank you," she said.
She twisted her wrist—
Crack!
His arm snapped. He screamed.
Aine dropped him.
"Take him," she told Marcus. "Send him back alive. Missing something memorable."
Marcus dragged the man away as he sobbed.
"Trial condition satisfied," Sera noted.
"You denied soft coercion."
Aine flexed her fingers. "Next."
They didn't bother with talk.
The lights flickered.
Power dipped.
Then the ceiling exploded—
Boom!
Four figures dropped through smoke and debris, weapons already up.
Bang! Bang!
Gunfire ripped across the room. Consoles shattered. Sparks sprayed.
Aine dove, rolled, came up firing—
Bang!
One attacker spun and fell—
Thud!
Another charged with a shock blade—
Clash!
Aine caught the strike on her forearm guard, sparks screaming as she pivoted and drove her knee into his midsection—
Crack!
He folded.
The third leapt from above—
Aine sidestepped and grabbed his vest, using his momentum to slam him into the floor—
Wham!
She followed with a heel drop.
Crack!
The last attacker fired point-blank.
Bang!
The round tore through Aine's side. Pain flared bright and vicious.
She smiled.
She closed the distance and jammed her pistol under his chin—
Bang!
Silence fell.
Smoke curled.
Aine straightened, blood soaking her clothes.
"Host—injury assessment—"
"I know," Aine said. "Keep count."
Ding!
[Trial: Silent Pressure — Escalation Detected]
Pressure Level: High
New Modifier: Resource Drain
Aine felt it immediately.
Fatigue tugged heavier. Pain lingered longer. Recovery slowed.
She wiped blood from her ribs and exhaled.
"So you're taxing me," she said. "Fine."
"You're still outperforming projections," Sera replied.
"But this is the inflection point. They'll coordinate next."
Aine looked toward Fay's wing.
"Then I won't be here when they do."
Marcus frowned. "You're leaving?"
Aine nodded. "Bait moves. Anchor stays."
He understood instantly.
"I'll double the shield."
"Triple it," Aine said. "And if anyone breaches—"
"They don't," Marcus finished.
Aine turned, already pulling on a fresh coat.
She exited through a side access and vanished into the night.
Rain fell in a steady curtain, city lights reflecting off wet asphalt as Aine moved through alleys and rooftops with practiced ease. Her Enhanced Perception mapped the city's pulse—eyes turning, steps adjusting, danger tightening.
"They'll follow," Aine said.
"Already are," Sera replied.
"Three groups. Different factions. Same objective."
Aine slowed at a deserted plaza—wide, open, ringed by concrete and steel.
Perfect.
She stopped in the center and waited.
Footsteps approached.
Weapons readied.
Breaths held.
Aine smiled.
"Come on," she murmured. "Let's stop pretending."
Shadows detached themselves from the dark.
Steel flashed.
The world lunged.
Aine stepped forward to meet it—
and the night erupted in violence.
They came all at once.
Five from the front.
Two from above.
One patient sniper lining up the shot.
Aine felt it before she saw it—the tightening of probability, the way the night seemed to lean inward.
She stepped forward.
The sniper fired—
Bang!
Aine twisted at the last possible instant, the round ripping through her coat where her heart had been. She didn't slow.
The front line surged.
Blades flashed—
Clash!
Steel screamed as Aine caught the first strike, rolled her wrist, and drove her elbow up.
Crack!
A throat collapsed. The body dropped..
Thud!
Gunfire erupted from the flank—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Aine dove, rolled, came up inside the arc of fire, seized the shooter's weapon, and tore it free—
Clang!
She smashed the rifle across his face—
Wham!
Teeth scattered. He folded.
Something heavy slammed into her back—
Boom!
They crashed across the plaza tiles, stone shattering as Aine rolled with the impact. She locked her legs around the attacker's arm and twisted.
Crack!
The arm snapped. She followed with a knife through the eye.
Thud!
Above—
"Now!" someone shouted.
Two attackers dropped from opposite sides, blades aimed for her spine.
Aine pushed off the ground and spun—
Clash! Clash!
Metal rang as she parried both strikes mid-turn, sparks exploding in a bright halo. She headbutted one.
Crack!
Then pivoted and kicked the other square in the chest—
Boom!
The man flew backward, skidding across the plaza before slamming into a concrete bench.
Clang!
The sniper adjusted, breath steady.
Bang!
Pain tore through Aine's thigh as the round punched clean through.
She stumbled—
Then laughed.
She ripped a charge free and hurled it skyward—
Boom!
The explosion lit the rooftops, blasting the sniper off his perch in a spray of debris—
Thud!
The last two hesitated.
That was enough.
Aine surged forward despite the blood pouring down her leg. She grabbed the first by the collar and slammed him into the ground.
Wham!
Once.
Twice.
Crack!
She turned on the final attacker.
He raised his hands.
"I—"
Aine punched through his chest—
Crack!
His eyes went empty as he fell.
Silence crashed down hard.
Aine stood alone in the ruined plaza, rain washing blood into the drains as her breath steadied by force of will alone.
"Host," Sera said quietly,
"pressure response achieved. Hostile coordination broken."
Aine wiped rain and blood from her face.
"Good."
She looked up at the dark skyline.
"Now they know," she murmured. "Pressure doesn't scare me."
She limped away into the night as distant sirens began to rise—not for her, but for the mess she'd left behind.
Behind layers of code and probability, the system updated once more:
[Trial: Silent Pressure — Phase Shift Detected]
The world had pushed.
Aine Crimson had not bent.
Something, somewhere, was about to break.