The celebrations in Gaza had not yet faded. Children still ran through the streets beneath the lingering trails of fireworks, their laughter echoing off newly rebuilt walls. Yet amidst the light, shadows began to whisper. Lacolone leaned close to Maya, his voice low and heavy with memory.
"You don't know," he said softly. "But I know. And I'll make you remember."
Maya looked at him, puzzled, her eyes searching his for meaning. Valgor, tossing candy to nearby children, pretended not to hear. Jessica smirked, folding her arms. "You're still weak, Maya," she said under her breath. "Shut up."
Even in triumph, vigilance began to bloom.
Lacolone's hands tightened into fists, his aura faintly glowing beneath the calm. "Justice has a form of vengeance," Valgor whispered beside him. "I will be that revenge." Jessica burst into laughter. "You sound like some villain, idiot!" she teased. The children nearby peeked curiously from behind a barricade, too young to understand the words, but drawn to the intensity. The air carried an edge—righteousness tinged with fire.
Far beyond the city, the world's darker plays unfolded. Satellite feeds revealed shifting lines of tanks across Europe and Ukraine. In a distant villa, Lensky reclined in luxury, a sly smile crossing his face as NATO emblems flickered behind him. Money flowed across secret channels, yachts gleamed on foreign coasts, and every transfer deepened the conflict. Headlines repeated the same lie—peace is impossible. The truth was clear: for some, blood had become business.
Oppression wore many faces. In China, the Uyghur people endured silence and confinement; their words forbidden, their culture erased. Across Myanmar, Sudan, Congo, and Mali, smoke rose from the ruins of forgotten wars. Lacolone watched these scenes from the holographic screen before him, jaw tightening. "Tyranny," he murmured, "has many shapes, but the same soul." The others stood behind him, silent witnesses to a world drenched in unseen cruelty.
Within the headquarters of the Revolutionary Army, maps and holograms shimmered to life. Lacolone pointed to the global hotspots—Ukraine, China, Myanmar, Sudan, Congo, Mali. "Here," he said, "injustice festers."
Maya frowned. "Are we really going to take all of that on?"
Valgor's expression hardened. "Justice doesn't wait for permission. We move, or the innocent die."
Jessica strapped her weapon and smiled faintly. "Then we bring the storm."
The air thrummed with resolve.
Plans took shape like living light. Ghali Salah described how soul-shields could protect civilians even in war zones. Lacolone studied enemy supply routes, while Maya traced funding networks that led back to the same Western power brokers who had once preached morality. "Greed and hypocrisy," Valgor said with a grin. "That's where we strike." Justice, they all knew, was no longer confined to borders.
The digital map before them glowed with threads connecting Russia, NATO, America, and China. Each line represented manipulation—aid twisted into wealth, diplomacy into deceit. Civilians bled so leaders could boast. "Remember every name," Lacolone told Maya quietly. "Every crime." She nodded, fists clenched, eyes bright with resolve. The battlefield was not one place—it was the entire world.
Outside, the children of Gaza continued to play, blissfully unaware of the strategies drawn above their heads. Lacolone knelt to them, his expression soft. Maya watched from nearby, protective, while Ghali Salah's energy shield flickered briefly overhead to block stray debris from a passing drone. Even as the world's powers plotted in darkness, innocence remained the Revolution's first duty to protect.
"Careful," Valgor teased as they regrouped. "You're starting to sound like the villains we fight."
Lacolone met his grin with a faint smile. "Evil has a shape," he said. "But justice has teeth."
Jessica laughed. "Scary idiot… I like it."
The group's banter filled the room, lightening the weight of what was coming. Around them, the holographic image of their army stretched across the globe—a promise of readiness.
Lacolone's focus returned to Lensky. The screen showed the man's networks—corrupt officials, siphoned funds, endless shipments of weapons under false humanitarian fronts. "So much blood," Maya whispered. "For his ego."
Valgor's tone dropped to a low growl. "Then we'll make him remember what guilt feels like."
Training intensified. Ghali Salah's soul-shields multiplied, layered to protect entire regions at once. Lacolone's Thunderbrand technique roared through holographic battlefields. Maya flickered through simulated enemy lines with Driftform precision. Valgor's Riftquake split the digital terrain, and Jessica's Veilward defense shimmered like crystal light. They trained as one, every movement a symphony of power. Together, they became a living weapon.
At dusk, they paused. Outside, children flew kites again, their laughter cutting through the fatigue. Lacolone watched them and whispered, "They deserve peace… not just victory." Maya smiled through tears. Ghali Salah extended the protective barrier a little wider—just in case.
New intelligence arrived. Lensky's mansions, the Uyghur camps, the civil wars—everything laid bare on the glowing screens. Lacolone clenched his fists. "We will not bow," he said quietly. Around him, the others shared his silence. Injustice was global—but so was their reach.
They studied networks of power—AIPAC, NATO councils, Western arms trade routes—each tied to hidden influence. "Time to turn their power against them," Valgor said. Jessica sharpened her blade with calm determination. They weren't just preparing for war—they were preparing to dismantle the very idea of unchecked control.
Lacolone outlined their next phase, naming conspirators in a low, even tone. Maya and Valgor listened, their eyes steady. Jessica whispered, "Justice is coming. They won't escape." Outside, the children still played, their laughter innocent against the gathering storm. Ghali Salah monitored from above, quiet and alert. Every name they spoke would soon face judgment.
"You sound like a villain again," Valgor joked.
Lacolone smiled, eyes hard. "Justice has a form of vengeance," he said. "I'll be the revenge."
Jessica rolled her eyes but smiled. "Scary idiot."
Maya's soft laughter broke the tension. "He's not wrong." For a moment, warmth replaced the weight.
Their training reached its peak. Thunderbrand strikes split the air; Driftform blurs of light darted between targets; Riftquake shattered the earth in controlled tremors; Veilward wrapped the battlefield in protective light. The air vibrated with unity, precision, and purpose. They were ready.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, children's laughter echoed through Gaza once more. Lacolone and Maya stood side by side, gazing at the golden sky. Valgor smirked. "The storm is coming," he said. "And we are it."
Jessica smiled faintly, confident and calm.
The world celebrated in its illusion of peace. But in the shadows, corruption festered, and the seeds of global reckoning had already been sown.
The next battle was written in the hearts of those who refused to bow.