The first missiles carved the sky like falling stars. Night shattered into streaks of fire as the horizon erupted, the world illuminated in red and white flashes of destruction. One after another, cities burned—silhouettes of towers crumbling beneath rolling clouds of smoke.
"The world burns," whispered the voice of narration. "Borders vanish in smoke and chaos."
Below that storm, soldiers and civilians ran together through the same shattered streets. Sirens wailed, metal groaned, and the air reeked of oil and fire.
Across the holographic battle maps, new territories lit up with the mark of conflict—The Greater Expansion Project had begun.
Missiles screamed overhead. Defensive grids flared alive, streaking the sky with counterfire. Every light in the heavens seemed to be chasing another, trying to erase its existence.
The inferno had awakened.
In the Middle East, retaliation answered aggression. Yemenite and Iranian forces launched volleys of rockets toward Israel, the night alive with flame trails. Countermeasures cut through the darkness, each interception exploding midair in blossoms of artificial daylight.
"Even with precision defenses," the narration murmured, "every strike leaves scars."
Deep underground, children huddled together, clutching one another as the world shook above. Dust rained from concrete ceilings. A little boy whispered his mother's name until his voice broke.
In the streets, resistance flickered to life. Ragtag fighters—men and women with makeshift weapons and unwavering will—struck armored vehicles with anti-tank rockets. The explosions ripped through the night, and for a heartbeat, the oppressors faltered.
"Even the smallest resistance leaves a mark when courage persists."
Lacolone's eyes caught the light of distant fires. Beside him, Maya and Jessica appeared like silhouettes of defiance, their auras shimmering with restrained power.
The shadows of Soul Control had entered the battlefield.
"Raise the Veilwards!" Ghali Salah's voice boomed as his red energy barriers expanded like domes of glass, shielding crowds of civilians from missile rain. The impacts thundered against them—harmless now.
Children pressed trembling hands against the glowing shields, their faces illuminated by hope.
Maya and Jessica vanished into Driftform flashes, teleporting families out of danger.
"They want to erase us," Lacolone said, eyes burning with quiet resolve. "We'll protect even when hope seems lost."
"Soul Control is the last wall between survival and oblivion."
The city became a crucible of sound and fury. Buildings collapsed, streets split open, and yet—Soul Control fought with precision.
Lacolone shattered enemy energy fields with Riftquake, seismic blasts that tore through metal and shield alike. Maya unleashed her Thunderbrand attacks, electricity arcing from her blades as she cut through automated turrets. Jessica fractured armored vehicles with pinpoint dimensional strikes, freezing their advance.
"Even in chaos," the narration said, "precision, teamwork, and courage persist."
And amid the hellfire—humanity persisted.
A boy and girl screamed for their parents through the smoke. Before the debris could crush them, Lacolone and Maya teleported in, pulling them free.
Valgor tossed candy bars from his pack, forcing a smile. "Chocolate saves the soul," he muttered. Jessica laughed softly, brushing soot from a child's face.
"Moments of innocence pierce the darkness of war."
The enemy faltered. Armored divisions disintegrated under coordinated Soul-Control strikes. Snipers abandoned their perches as panic spread. Valgor strode through the wreckage, aura burning gold, eyes like judgment incarnate.
"The children you were killing wanted to live too," he said quietly. His blade fell, and the last of the machines crumbled into silence.
"Justice may be cruel," said the voice. "But for the oppressors, it is inevitable."
Around the world, the news erupted.
"Retaliatory Strikes Intensify — WWIII Feared."
Screens flickered. Protests filled cities from Tokyo to Paris. Ordinary citizens tore down propaganda and demanded truth.
"They thought fire would silence us," Maya said, watching the crowds from afar. "But it only unites us."
"When lies fail," the narration answered, "the people rise."
As the bombardment worsened, the Revolutionary Army shifted tactics. Civilians were escorted through glowing Driftform portals into temporary sanctuaries. Ghali Salah held the line, his barriers expanding under relentless fire.
Lacolone commanded the field, every movement calculated to save lives rather than take them. Jessica disabled drones with surgical precision, while Valgor struck only to defend.
"Every life protected," said the voice, "is a victory in the inferno of nations."
In the middle of the chaos, they found a fragile peace.
Children huddled under Veilward domes, eating ration bars and the candy Valgor had tossed. Laughter, weak but real, rose above the distant explosions.
Maya knelt beside them, her voice soft. "You're safe now… for a moment."
Lacolone took her hand and nodded.
"Even amidst bombardment," the narration whispered, "hope survives in small moments of care."
From the rooftops, Lacolone and Valgor watched the enemy struggle to reorganize.
"They don't realize their systems are already broken," Valgor smirked.
Maya's Whispercall swept the field, revealing hidden ambushes. Ghali Salah's shields flared again, sealing every breach.
"The battlefield is brutal," said the voice. "But skill and unity tip the scales."
Everywhere, the firestorm grew. Missiles arced through the sky like burning comets, while below, civilians darted from cover to cover beneath Soul-Control's protection.
Lacolone moved like a phantom, Driftform carrying him between collapsing ruins. Maya's lightning cut through the smoke.
"War rages," the narration said, "but hearts determined to survive shine through."
The enemy's morale broke. Communications failed. Soldiers abandoned their weapons. Commanders screamed through static.
Valgor's strikes came like thunderbolts—decisive, merciless, yet controlled.
"Fear spreads faster than fire," whispered the voice. "And justice comes swift."
Amidst the collapsing city, the Revolutionary Army turned the ruins into cover. Ghali Salah deflected missiles with precision. Jessica cracked open enemy armor with surgical Riftquakes. Maya led civilians through safe corridors while Lacolone shattered enemy formations.
"Knowledge, skill, and heart overcome the strongest defenses."
A brief moment of joy returned.
Children laughed again, their small voices trembling but alive. Adults wept as the Veilwards held back the flames.
Maya looked at Lacolone through the haze. Both were filthy, bleeding, exhausted—but unbroken.
Jessica smiled quietly at the sight of the children.
"Even in inferno," the narration said, "humanity clings to moments of light."
When the smoke cleared, the enemy fled. Their numbers were broken, their machines useless.
"They thought numbers and tech would erase us," Lacolone muttered, lowering his weapon. "They underestimated courage."
Valgor's smile was grim, proud.
"The battlefield may burn," said the voice, "but unity prevails."
Families emerged from hiding. Civilians were guided through shimmering portals into the next safe zone. Ghali Salah's last barrier held until the final group was through.
Children waved, tears streaking their ash-covered faces. "Thank you!" they cried.
Maya whispered, "We'll rebuild… we promise."
"In tragedy," the narration concluded, "protection and compassion define true strength."
As the night fell silent again, the skyline remained a charred silhouette. Fires still burned in the distance. Missiles still streaked across faraway skies.
Lacolone stood at the edge of a ruined overpass, blood on his cheek, his breath steady. Maya leaned against him, clutching two children close. Valgor watched the horizon, eyes glinting like molten steel.
"The war rages," said the final line, heavy as thunder.
"But hearts unyielding endure, even as the storm of nations continues."