The man's head tilted, listening. Then, in one smooth motion, he swung the rifle off his shoulder.
The muzzle flash came almost immediately—three short bursts.
Cara dove behind the shelving, splinters and paper shards spraying past her head.
Wren had already melted into shadow, moving low and fast, ghosting toward the flank.
The system's overlay lit up:
[Hostile Threat: Tier 3 – Reinforcements Approaching]
Countdown to Arrival: 02:14
"Of course there's more of you," Cara muttered, rolling to a crouch. She darted out from cover just long enough to send her blade singing through the air.
The man twisted back, just avoiding the cut, and drove the rifle butt toward her face. She blocked with the flat of her sword, the impact ringing in her arm.
From the side, Wren burst out from between shelves, sweeping the man's legs with a brutal low kick.
The hostile went down hard but rolled, coming up with a pistol drawn.
Wren's hand snapped out, grabbing the man's wrist, and for a moment the two were locked, strength against precision. Cara took the opening, swinging the sword in a fast diagonal.
The man jerked back, the blade catching only fabric, but his pistol clattered away across the floor.
A faint sound—a metallic slam—echoed from deeper in the archive.
The system pinged again:
[Reinforcements ETA: 00:47]
"Time to go!" Cara called, already scanning for an exit other than the stairwell they'd entered from.
Wren pointed toward a half-open blast door at the far end of the chamber, then made the universal sign for move.
The Dominion soldier lunged for his rifle, but Wren's boot caught him in the ribs, sending him crashing into a shelf that toppled with a roar. Crates split open, spilling yellowed documents across the floor.
Cara ran, sword low, the clang of boots behind her making it clear the man wasn't finished yet.
They hit the blast door just as more footsteps pounded into the chamber from the main corridor.
Wren shoved her through first, then pulled the door shut. The locking bar screeched as it dropped into place.
They were in a narrow maintenance tunnel, the air hotter here, smelling faintly of oil and ozone.
Behind them, the muffled thud of fists and rifle butts slammed against the sealed door.
Cara met Wren's eyes. "You've got a way out, right?"
He just gave a thin smile and signed one word: Maybe.
The maintenance tunnel sloped downward, the hum of unseen machinery vibrating faintly through the steel walls.
Cara kept her sword ready, eyes sweeping over rusted junction boxes and peeling hazard signage as they moved.
From behind came the echo of muffled pounding, then a sharper clang—like someone had brought cutting tools to the blast door.
Wren tapped her shoulder and pointed ahead: a faint seam in the wall where the corridor should have ended.
He ran a palm over it, searching for a latch, then stopped, pressing his ear to the metal. Feeling for vibration not sound.
A second later, he stepped back, flicked open a small multitool, and worked the seam until there was a soft click.
The panel shifted inward on silent hinges, revealing a narrow stone passage beyond.
No pipes. No lights. Just carved masonry slick with condensation.
The moment they stepped through, the hum of the tunnel vanished.
The air was cooler here, still, almost ancient.
Cara glanced back—Wren had already pulled the panel shut, sealing them off from the maintenance tunnel entirely.
"Where the hell does this go?" she whispered.
He shrugged once, then pointed at her necklace.
The system reacted immediately:
[Uncatalogued Environment Detected – Langcroft Deep Vault]
Warning: Area Not Mapped in Current Dominion Archives
Potential Legacy Artefacts Present]
The passage twisted downward in a slow spiral, walls rough-hewn now, as if the builders had stopped caring about symmetry and precision.
Dust lay thick in places, but here and there the stone was worn smooth—by hands, by years.
They reached a landing with a heavy oak door bound in blackened iron.
Cara pushed. It groaned open, revealing a cavernous hall lit by the faint glow of crystals embedded in the walls.
Dozens of stone plinths filled the space, each holding an object shrouded in a translucent film of energy—shields, swords, scrolls, devices that looked like they belonged in another century… or another world.
The system pinged again, sharper now:
[Legacy Vault – Access Restricted to Heir]
Task Unlocked: Claim Ancestral Artefact]
Wren was already scanning the room, but she could see it in his posture—he was impressed despite himself.
Cara stepped forward, her sword dissolving back into her arm.
The nearest plinth's shield flickered, as if recognising her presence.
Somewhere above them, far away, the sound of Dominion soldiers cutting through steel echoed faintly in the stone.
They didn't have long.
The Vault Wakes
Cara moved toward the nearest plinth, the shimmering field over its relic rippling as she approached.
It was a sword—older than her hereditary blade, its steel blackened, the hilt wrapped in cracked leather. A faint engraving ran the length of the blade: not English, but the letters seemed to bend in her mind until she almost understood them.
The system flared in her vision:
[Legacy Artefact Identified – "Night's Promise"]
Restriction: Bloodline Verification Required
Warning: Removal Will Activate Defensive Protocols
She hesitated only a second before reaching forward.
The moment her fingers broke the energy field, it vanished in a sharp hiss. The sword's weight settled in her hands—perfect balance, as if forged for her grip alone.
The crystal light in the walls shifted from soft white to a deep crimson.
[Defensive Protocols Engaged]
Hostile Classification: All Non-Bloodline Entities]
From the far side of the hall, stone slabs slid back in the walls. Figures stepped out—humanoid constructs of bronze and obsidian, their movements unnervingly fluid. In each, the place where a face should have been was a smooth, unbroken plate.
"Uh, Wren?" Cara called, taking a defensive stance.
But Wren wasn't looking at the constructs or her.
He was kneeling at the base of a smaller plinth near the vault's corner, his hand brushing over a device the size of a lunchbox—polished metal, smooth angles, its surface engraved with an unfamiliar sigil.
The system didn't recognise it.
Wren pulled a cable from his pack and jacked it into the device. His tablet lit up instantly, scrolling streams of data in a language Cara didn't know.
Whatever it was, it was speaking to him, not her.
The constructs began to advance, the sound of their heavy footfalls echoing through the hall.
The system's overlay locked onto them:
[Threat Level: Tier 5 – Autonomous Guardian Units]
Recommendation: Neutralise or Evade. Failure = Termination.]
"Wren!" she barked, swinging Night's Promise in a testing arc that cut a groove into the stone floor.
He glanced up at the movement, eyes sharp, signing quickly: This device knows me. I can shut them down.
"How long?"
One minute.
The constructs closed in, a semi-circle tightening around her.
"Fine," she said, spinning the blade into guard. "You've got sixty seconds. Don't waste them."
The first guardian lunged.
Cara met it head-on, the blackened sword slicing through bronze plating like it was nothing—but the momentum of the thing still hit her like a sledgehammer, sending her skidding back a metre.
A second was already on her flank. She dropped low, the blade flashing upward, severing its arm before driving the tip into its chest. A burst of blue light spat out as it collapsed.
At the far plinth, Wren's fingers danced over his tablet. Lines of code—no, not code, patterns—shifted and rearranged as the device pulsed with each keystroke.
A guardian turned toward him, breaking from the formation.
"Wren!" Cara yelled, hurling the sword like a spear. It hit the construct in the neck joint, dropping it before it could take another step. She sprinted after, ripping the blade free just as two more charged her.
"Done," Wren signed.
The moment his finger hit the final sequence, the vault went still. The constructs froze mid-stride, then folded back into their alcoves as if nothing had happened.
The crimson light faded to white.
Cara straightened, breathing hard, and eyed the device in his hands. "What the hell is that?"
Wren only gave her a look that said: We're going to need more time than we have right now.
Above them, the muffled clang of Dominion breaching tools on steel drew closer.
The Waiting Game
They didn't run.
Instead, Wren led Cara to a narrow alcove halfway along the spiral passage, just wide enough to stand side by side. The stone was cool against her back, the air thick with the metallic tang of the vault below.
The secret door they'd come through was now sealed tight, the seam almost invisible unless you knew where to look. On their side, a small recess gave them a slit view into the maintenance tunnel beyond.
From the darkness, the sound came first—
A faint hiss of a cutting torch, slow and patient, burning through the blast door at the top of the main stairs.
Cara shifted her grip on Night's Promise. The sword felt warmer than before, almost like it knew a fight was close.
[System Status: Ambush Advantage +15%]
[Note: Higher reward for incapacitation over kill.]
She grimaced. "Yeah, thanks for the tip," she murmured under her breath.
Wren crouched, checking his sidearm. He didn't look tense—but then, he never did.
Instead of watching the door, his attention flicked between the small display on his tablet and the corridor ahead, where the shadows deepened.
He tapped her shoulder, signing: Three. Armour. Trained.
She nodded once. "Guess we make it quick, then."
The first figure appeared in the slit view—a Dominion breacher in matte-black armour, visor sweeping the room beyond the blast door. Behind him, two more, rifles ready, moving in textbook formation.
They fanned out, scanning the archive chamber. The lead operative gestured toward the open plinths. She couldn't hear the words, but she didn't need to—his posture said search everything.
Wren caught her eye, holding up a finger, then two, then three—counting down.
On zero, he hit a small control pad attached to the strange vault device now slung across his chest.
The overhead emergency lights in the archive cut out instantly. The Dominion operatives froze, their visors glowing faintly in the dark.
Cara pushed the hidden door just enough to slip through. She and Wren were in among them before the first could turn.
The nearest soldier swung his rifle toward her, but she stepped inside the arc, blade slicing through the weapon's sling before driving her elbow into his visor. He staggered back, disoriented, and Wren's boot swept his legs from behind.
The second got a shot off—loud in the confined space, muzzle flash blooming—but Wren's hand clamped over the barrel, twisting it upward before ramming the man into a shelf.
The third turned, trying to bring his weapon to bear on Cara. She closed the distance, the blackened sword humming as it cut through his side armour just enough to stagger him.
Thirty seconds later, all three were down. Breathing, groaning, but not dead.
Cara wiped the sword on one of their sleeves, her voice low. "You know, that 'incapacitate' thing is a lot harder than it sounds."
Wren gave her a quick look that might have been a smirk, then crouched to strip their comms units.
[System Task Complete – Bonus Award: Skill Unlock Token x1]
A faint crackle came from one of the comms:
"Team One, report. What's your status? Over."
Wren and Cara exchanged a look.
Cara grinned. "Let's tell them we're coming to say hello."
Playing Their Game
The comm in Wren's hand crackled again, more insistent this time:
"Team One, respond. Do you have visual on the asset? Over."
Cara crouched beside him, already unclipping the helmet from the groaning breacher. The inside smelled of sweat and ozone.
She slid it on, the visor tinting her view green. "How's my voice projected?"
Wren tapped his throat, then pointed to his ear—she'd need the breacher's comm mic. She found it, clipped it into place, and exhaled once to steady herself.
"Copy," she said into the comm, keeping her voice low and clipped. "Contact made. Securing the asset. Require additional containment."
There was a short pause, then:
"Understood. Team Two moving to your position. Team Three on standby at secondary exit."
Her eyes flicked to Wren. Secondary exit. That meant there was another way in—and out.
Wren signed: Ambush second group. Clear path.
She nodded. "We take them clean, before they can warn the rest."
They moved fast, dragging the downed operatives into the hidden alcove and resealing the secret door. The comms units from all three were wired into Wren's tablet now, feeding him a constant stream of encrypted chatter that he was quietly stripping for location tags.
He pointed toward the east wing of the archive map displayed on his screen. A blinking dot marked the second team—closing in, fast.
They reached the east wing just as the lights flickered with the Dominion's override code. Footsteps echoed ahead—heavier this time, boots pounding in unison.
Cara slipped behind a stack of sealed crates, Wren opposite her, his sidearm low.
She breathed deep, letting the system's faint overlay sharpen her senses.
[Temporary Buff: Ambush Initiative +20%]
The first soldier through the archway barely had time to register her.
She stepped in, sword flashing up in a smooth arc that clipped the rifle from his grip. Wren moved simultaneously, catching the second man in a brutal shoulder slam that sent him crashing into a steel support beam.
The third tried to retreat, radio in hand. Cara hooked her blade into his vest, yanking him forward and slamming him into the floor.
Thirty seconds. Silent, efficient. Just like the first team.
Wren pulled their comms, plugging them into the growing network on his tablet. His eyes scanned the data, then he froze for half a beat before signing: More than one unit. Five total.
Cara felt her stomach drop. "Five? That's… what, twenty, thirty operators?"
He nodded once.
And then signed something that made her blood run cold: They're sealing the exits.