The override key burned in Maya's fist, white fire searing through her glove. The Architects' voice still rattled in her skull, vast and merciless:
"Return what was never yours… or be unmade."
The night answered with violence.
The Division struck first. Their carriers regrouped, engines shrieking, cannons glowing red-hot. Soldiers swarmed the ruins below, rifles blazing, their formation reforming with terrifying precision. The hunters had smelled weakness.
But the Architects didn't wait. The rift above deepened, spilling a darkness that wasn't shadow but erasure. Stars winked out one by one. A pressure crashed down on the city, buckling steel, cracking pavement, making every breath like inhaling glass.
Maya staggered, teeth gritted. The ship's platform lurched, lowering just enough that Vector and Rei could leap. Vector landed in a roll, gun already raised, firing into the advancing soldiers. Rei collapsed to his knees, coughing blood but forcing himself upright.
"Maya!" Vector barked, eyes wild. "We don't win this fight—we survive it!"
The ship's voice cut through the chaos:
"Defensive protocols engaged. Shield active. Hostile interference—unsustainable."
Blue light cascaded from its hull, a shimmering dome shielding the tower's base. Division bullets ricocheted harmlessly, sparks fizzling in mid-air. But the shield cracked under the Architects' pressure, each ripple like thunder.
Maya lifted the rifle. The filaments strung across its frame vibrated, syncing with the override key's frantic pulse. She aimed at the nearest carrier and pulled the trigger.
The shot ripped the night apart—blue lightning coiled with black filaments, slicing the carrier in half. Flames rained from the sky, bathing the ruins in molten fire.
"Nice shot!" Vector shouted, covering her flank.
But the victory was hollow. Two more carriers swept in, cannons roaring, raining crimson blasts against the weakening shield. Division soldiers surged forward, trying to overwhelm by sheer numbers.
And above them all, the Architects pressed harder. The rift spread wider, the darkness yawning like a mouth ready to swallow the city whole.
Rei stumbled to Maya's side, clutching a wound on his ribs. "They're trying to overwrite us," he gasped. "Erase this place—like it never existed."
"Then we don't let them," Maya said, fire in her chest. She aimed again, tearing through another carrier.
But the rifle grew heavier with each shot, its hum rising into a keening wail. It wasn't meant to kill—it was meant to protect. She was forcing it into war.
"Maya!" the ship's voice broke through again. "The override is collapsing. Continued fire will breach your tether."
"I don't care!" she snarled. "They won't take this city!"
The next blast split a carrier open, its wreckage crashing into Division ranks. Screams and chaos rose. For the first time, their perfect discipline faltered.
Vector seized the moment, tossing grenades into their lines, shouting, "Push them back!"
For one breath, it looked possible. For one heartbeat, hope flared.
Then the sky moved.
A tendril of darkness unspooled from the rift, thick as a tower, its edge dissolving into static. It struck the shield, not like a weapon but like a hand wiping chalk from a slate. The shield shrieked and shattered, shards of blue scattering like broken glass.
The Division surged forward, pouring fire. The Architects' pressure crushed the ground, buildings folding like paper.
"Maya!" Rei's scream cut through the madness. "If you keep firing, you'll break the ship! If you stop, we're erased!"
The override key blazed, heat crawling up her arm. The rifle shook in her grip, light spilling from its seams.
She had no time, no good choice.
The rift above widened, swallowing half the stars. The Division closed in from every side. Vector reloaded furiously, shouting through clenched teeth. Rei braced himself, pale and swaying, ready to throw his last charge.
And in that heartbeat—the moment before everything collapsed—Maya realized the truth.
This wasn't just a battle for survival.
This was a war between what was remembered and what was erased.
She raised the rifle one last time, the override searing through her veins like fire.
"Then let them come," she whispered. "Let them see me."
And she pulled the trigger.
The shot wasn't light. It wasn't sound. It was memory—blazing, raw, indestructible—slamming into the rift above.
The sky screamed.