The cisterns were a claustrophobic nightmare of dripping water, echoing footsteps, and oppressive darkness. The circular tunnels, barely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, were slick with centuries of grime. Haruto's suit provided the only light, its shoulder-mounted illuminators cutting a sharp, white path through the black. His HUD was a web of tactical data, displaying the tunnel layout and the relentless, closing pincer of the enemy patrols.
"They're moving faster than I anticipated," Haruto transmitted to the team. "They know these tunnels. We're at the disadvantage here."
They moved at a swift, jarring trot, their armored boots splashing in the shallow channel of murky water that flowed down the center of the tunnel. The air was cold, and every sound was amplified, bouncing off the curved stone walls.
They rounded a bend and came face-to-face with the first patrol. Four Black Guards, their way lit by a sputtering torch, stood frozen in surprise. Their eyes widened at the sight of the armored figures, their minds struggling to comprehend what they were seeing.
That moment of hesitation was all Haruto's team needed. There was no shouted challenge, no clash of steel on steel. There was only the silent, terrifying efficiency of a 27th-century firefight.
Haruto's carbine fired a three-round burst. The plasma bolts, nearly invisible, slammed into the lead guard, his plate armor melting like wax. Kaito and Riku, flanking Haruto, raised their own weapons. The fear they felt was eclipsed by the muscle memory drilled into them by Akane. They acquired their targets, controlled their breathing, and squeezed their triggers. Two more guards fell, their bodies slumping into the water without a sound.
The fourth guard, a seasoned veteran, managed to raise his crossbow, but a single, precise shot from Haruto's carbine vaporized the weapon in his hands. The man stared at his smoking, empty gloves, his face a mask of utter disbelief. He dropped to his knees and surrendered, a choice Kaito and Riku would never have thought possible from a Black Guard.
"No prisoners," Haruto's voice was cold and hard. A final, silent bolt ended the encounter. He stepped over the bodies, his pace not slowing for a second. "The sound of those impacts will travel. They'll know our position now. Double time."
The brief, brutal engagement had changed something in Kaito and Riku. They moved with a new confidence, their fear replaced by a cold, adrenaline-fueled focus. They were no longer just royal guards; they were soldiers in a war they were only now beginning to understand, and for the first time, they felt like they had the power to win.
The transponder signal was getting stronger. They could hear sounds ahead—the distinct, sharp crackle of a Weaver's spell, followed by the muffled thud of a plasma discharge. Sakura was fighting back.
"They've made contact," Haruto said, breaking into a full sprint. "They're fifty meters ahead, around this bend. But another patrol, a large one, is closing from a side tunnel. They're about to be caught in a crossfire."
He skidded to a halt at the intersection, holding up a hand. The main tunnel opened into a wider, circular junction chamber. In the center, illuminated by the flickering, malevolent energy of a Weaver's spell, Sakura and Himari stood back-to-back, surrounded by a dozen Black Guards. And from a tunnel to their left, another twenty soldiers were charging in, led by a second Shadow Weaver. The trap was sprung.