The sound of boots echoed through the concrete hall, rhythmic and heavy. The air smelled faintly of freshly spilled blood. Somewhere deeper in the facility, alarms chimed and flickered green—signaling high-clearance access.
Two recruits stood at the entrance to the underground corridor, whispering nervously as they caught sight of the figure emerging from the lift.
"Who's that?" one muttered. "He's covered in blood…"
The other swallowed hard, eyes widening as the man stepped into view.
Even among the hardened members of Silent Dawn, his name carried weight.
He walked slowly, black armor glinting under the dim lights—jagged plates pulsing faintly with molten lines that looked alive. The fusion of his body and his contract, which he named the Juggernaut at Kain's suggestion, made him appear more like a war machine than a man. The faint aura of death surrounding him silenced every voice within earshot.
"That's Ronan," someone whispered, almost reverently.
