The battlefield fell into stunned silence as Anton and the remaining GLF fighters gaped at the sudden shift in the tide of war. One moment, they had been cornered, backs against the wall, bullets whining past their ears—the next, an invincible tide of black-clad soldiers had swept through Hammer Bay like a storm.
Anton's scaled fingers twitched around his rifle, his slit pupils dilating in disbelief. "What… what is going on?"
Around him, the exhausted GLF members staggered back, their weapons lowering as the impossible unfolded before them. The enemy forces—Press Gang enforcers, Magistrate mercenaries, even the Genoshan Army regulars—were being erased. Not defeated. Not pushed back. Erased.
A Magistrate soldier screamed as he emptied his magazine into one of the shadowy figures that had appeared alongside the prince's forces. The bullets punched through the dark armor—only for the wounds to seal instantly. The Shadow Soldier didn't even flinch.
"You vermin," the soldier hissed, its voice like grinding gravel, "should have never stood in my Lord's way."
A single thrust of its blade, and the Magistrate man crumpled.
Anton swallowed hard. "They're not human."
Melisa, leaning heavily against a shattered wall, let out a breathless laugh. "I don't care what they were…as long as they were on our side..."
Three Hours Later,
Hammer Bay Industrial District was theirs. The prince's forces had moved with terrifying efficiency, securing every street, every building, every choke point. The Press Gang had been annihilated. The Magistrate's mercenaries had fled. The Genoshan Army had been forced into full retreat, their heavy armor nothing but smoldering wreckage in the streets.
And now, standing amidst the settling dust, the GLF knelt.
Melisa went down on one knee first, her head bowed. Anton and the others followed suit, their postures rigid with respect—no, with reverence.
"Your Highness," Melisa said, her voice hoarse but steady.
The prince exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Stand up, Miss Melisa. All of you." He waved a hand, his expression almost exasperated. "There's no need for that. We're fighting the same war."
Slowly, the GLF rose. Anton fidgeted, his claws clicking together nervously. The prince turned to him, offering a hand.
"Mr. Anton, yes?"
Anton stared at the offered hand like it might bite him. "Y-yes, Your Highness."
The prince's lips quirked. "Relax. I don't bite." A beat. "Unless you're a Genoshan officer…. Then, I make no promises… Hahaha~"
A startled laugh burst from Anton's throat before he could stop it. The tension in the air eased—just a fraction.
Melisa swayed on her feet, her legs trembling. The prince's sharp eyes caught the movement instantly.
"Sit down before you fall down," he ordered, gesturing to a nearby sandbag. "All of you, rest. My men will handle the cleanup."
Melisa didn't argue. She collapsed onto the makeshift seat with a groan, her muscles screaming in relief. "Thank you. We've been fighting nonstop for days. The Genoshan Army… they've been throwing everything at us."
The prince crossed his arms. "What changed? Last I checked, this was a three-way stalemate."
Melisa's smile was bitter. "We became the only enemy."
Anton spat to the side, his tail lashing. "The other 'freedom fighters' sold out. Took bribes to turn on us."
"Ah…" The prince's voice was dangerously soft. "Probably that's Because you were winning. And because you dared to treat Metas as people."
Melisa nodded, exhaustion and fury warring in her gaze. "The moment they were offered power and money; they dropped the act. Turns out, their 'revolution' was just an excuse to hate differently."
The prince was silent for a long moment. Then he chuckled—a dark, humorless sound. "Good."
Melisa blinked. "Good?"
"It makes things simpler." He turned, his coat flaring as he surveyed the ruined district. "Now I don't have to waste time figuring out who deserves mercy."
The command tent hummed with activity as Melisa and Anton finished their debrief, their voices hoarse from exhaustion and lingering adrenaline. I studied the crude maps spread across the table—hand-drawn by desperate rebels, marked with bloodstains and charcoal—before rolling them up with a decisive snap.
"Rest," I ordered, not looking up. "Both of you. That's an order, not a suggestion."
Melisa opened her mouth to protest, but Anton placed a clawed hand on her shoulder. "We're no use to anyone half-dead, Commander."
She relented with a weary nod. As they shuffled out, my Logistics and Support division moved in like a well-oiled machine. Crates of supplies materialized, communication arrays were set up, and within minutes, the ramshackle GLF camp began transforming into something resembling a proper military base.
Sebastian observed from the corner; arms crossed. "They were running on fumes and hope."
"And they still held the line," I noted. "That's worth something."
Callisto strode in, her boots kicking up dust. "The Meta divisions settled. Mostly kids who've never held a gun before today." She jerked her chin toward the bustling activity outside. "Your people work fast."
"They'd better. We don't have time to waste."
The structural overhaul was brutal in its efficiency. The abandoned factories and warehouses of Hammer Bay's Industrial District—frozen in 1940s decay—were repurposed within hours. A gutted textile mill became our command center. A rusted shipping warehouse transformed into a field hospital with rows of pristine beds. Even the civilians—huddled in fear when we arrived—now watched wide-eyed as my medics distributed food and blankets.
Sebastian appeared at my elbow as I surveyed the progress. "Residential and Harbor Districts are secured."
I raised an eyebrow. "That quickly?"
"Shadow Soldiers don't tire. Don't hesitate." He tapped his temple where the targeting goggles rested. "And now they don't question."
Magina materialized from the shadows, her crimson eyes glowing faintly. "Father. The instability factors remain."
A beat of silence. Callisto's jaw tightened, but she didn't object.
Sebastian's smile was razor-thin. "Shall we... *clean house*?"
I exhaled through my nose. The rebel groups who'd turned on the GLF—the so-called "freedom fighters" who'd sold out for coins and bigotry—were a cancer. One that would metastasize if left unchecked.
"Do it quietly," I said at last. "Shadow Soldiers only. No traces. No witnesses."
Magina bowed. "As you command."
In the Residential District's crumbling tenements, a Press Gang lieutenant laughed as he counted stolen GLF supplies—
—until the lights flickered.
His laughter died as the shadows twisted. A blade flashed. The coin-filled purse hit the floor with a muffled thump beside his head.
In the Harbor District's fish market, Magistrate enforcers played cards over a barrel of stolen medicine—
—when the lanterns guttered out.
One enforcer looked up just in time to see his comrade's throat open like a second smile.
Six rebel strongholds fell in sixty minutes. No alarms raised. No bodies found. Just empty rooms where dangerous men had once gathered, their blood seeping silently between floorboards.
Back at Command, Sebastian reviewed the reports with grim satisfaction. "Phase one complete."
Outside, the citizens of Hammer Bay slept unaware as their city was remade. Tomorrow, they'd wake to rumors of cowardly desertions. Of enemies fleeing rather than facing justice. Let them believe what they wanted. The truth was far darker—and far more necessary.