The shattered laboratory felt like the lungs of a world that had long forgotten how to breathe. Air hung thick and unmoving, heavy with rust, dust, and the metallic bite of old blood. Something shifted in the collapsed corridor... a brittle clatter of bone skittering across stone. In the dim, fractured light, the creature stepped through.
It ducked beneath the ruined doorframe, its body nearly three meters tall. Muscles bulged in warped patterns, bones spearing outward beneath skin stretched too tight. In each hand it held sharpened bones, worn smooth by use... tools designed not to kill quickly, but to carve.
Ray stepped in front of Lyra, cutting off every angle with precision rather than force.
He didn't step back. He didn't challenge it.
He simply calculated.
〈If you stop restraining yourself, one strike is enough.〉
The entity's voice was cold, patient.
"Not the priority," Ray murmured.
The creature sniffed once, then again, its attention sharpening as its gaze locked onto Lyra's injured leg... the blood, the tremor in her breath, the vulnerability she could no longer hide. It moved slowly at first… then lunged forward with sudden, vicious intent.
Ray moved faster.
The first strike fell like a hammer. Ray slipped under the descending bone-blade, caught the creature's arm, and redirected it into a collapsed workstation. Metal shrieked and folded. Shards ricocheted across the floor.
Lyra bit down hard, refusing to scream. Her whole body trembled in a tight, controlled shiver.
"Ray…" The whisper scraped out of her.
"I'm here," he answered, not looking back.
The creature swung again, bone aimed for Ray's throat. He pivoted past it with hair's-width precision, delivering three rapid strikes into its ribs and shoulder. The massive body staggered... not far, but enough. It was learning.
Clack. Clack. Clack...
Soft skittering limbs scraped from the adjoining corridor.
Ray angled his stance.
Two scraplings launched from the darkness, both zeroed in on Lyra's heat signature. Ray intercepted the first midair, crushing its jaw in his hand before flinging it aside. He slammed the second into the floor, snapping its spine in a single twist.
The large creature charged again.
Ray blocked, struck, restrained... always measured, always restricting himself to protect the girl behind him.
The left-hand corridor abruptly detonated outward.
Lysandra staggered into view, her long black hair disordered, sapphire eyes razor-focused even with a streak of dried blood across her cheek. She pressed a hand against her cracked shoulder plate, lifted her pistol with the other, and fired three precise shots.
All three bullets punched through the creature's thigh. The beast lurched.
"You're alive," she said flatly, never taking her eyes off the threat.
"You're still loud," Ray replied.
More scraplings flooded the room, climbing the walls, crawling through ruptured pipes, dropping from the ceiling. Lysandra exhaled sharply, pivoting to cover angles Ray couldn't while reloading with practiced efficiency.
"Cover Lyra," she snapped.
"I am," Ray answered.
The creature growled, low and guttural, before throwing itself at Ray with its full weight.
Ray absorbed the collision, angling his shoulder to dissipate force and prevent the shockwave from reverberating into the pillar Lyra leaned against.
The impact was strong enough to snap a normal spine. Ray only clenched his jaw.
"R-Ray…!" Lyra's breath stuttered.
Ray shoved the creature aside, buying mere seconds.
From the corner of the room, a scrapling found its moment... closing in on Lysandra from a blind spot, claws raised, inches from her exposed neck. Time seemed to stagger. Lyra saw it happen frame by frame, every detail sharp enough to hurt.
Ray didn't think.
He crossed the room in a single, lethal burst and slammed into Lysandra, locking his arms around her and twisting their bodies midair. He reversed their positions with perfect control... Lysandra above, Ray below. The scrapling's claws raked across his back, tearing flesh open as blood spattered the floor.
Ray took the full landing on his spine.
Lysandra collapsed onto his chest, breath knocked from her lungs, palms braced against his shoulders. Her eyes widened... too close, too raw.
"You… you took the hit for me?" she whispered.
"You were standing in the wrong place."
Her breath caught. For one suspended moment she couldn't look away... until her face flushed and she jerked her gaze aside, pretending composure she didn't possess.
Ray flung the dead scrapling away and rose, his wounds already closing. He resumed guarding as though nothing had happened.
Lyra watched everything.
Something warm and painful tightened beneath her ribs. Not jealousy...
but fear of losing him in ways she had no words for yet.
"Ray… your back…" she breathed.
"It's nothing," he replied.
More creatures stirred in the vents.
More footsteps filled the hall.
"We can't stay here," Lysandra said. "They'll collapse this room on us."
"We move," Ray decided. "I take point. You cover the rear. Lyra stays between us. Nothing passes you."
"And if it drops from above?" Lysandra pressed.
"I'll catch it."
Ray lifted Lyra again, arms secure, every movement calibrated not to jostle her injury. Lyra's breath hitched as her hands hooked around his neck, her cheek brushing his shoulder.
"Hold on," he murmured.
"I… I can."
Lysandra watched the way he adjusted his grip... how gently, how carefully. The way his breathing matched Lyra's to steady her pain.
How he shielded her from every vibration of the floor.
"Ridiculous…" Lysandra muttered under her breath.
"A monster like you being that gentle."
Ray glanced back only slightly.
"Quiet."
Lysandra huffed... but the faint pink on her ears betrayed her.
They moved. Ray ripped through scraplings with single, economical motions while Lysandra executed precise cover fire. The sound of tiny feet followed them in relentless waves.
They reached a small service room... thick concrete, narrow vents, and a steel door. Ray shoved the door shut with his shoulder and dropped the locking bar.
Scratches erupted immediately from the other side.
"This room is tiny," Lysandra said sharply.
"It's safe," Ray answered.
He lowered Lyra gently. She winced as the motion sent fresh pain up her leg. Ray knelt, rewrapping the bandage, tightening the pressure, cleaning away new blood.
His movements were slow. Exact.
Surprisingly soft.
Lyra watched him.
"Why… are you this gentle?"
He didn't pause.
"Too many questions."
"I want to understand…"
Ray brushed blood from her skin with the lightest touch, almost careful.
"I want you alive," he said quietly.
Lyra's breath caught.
He didn't smile.
He didn't soften.
But something in his voice made her eyes sting.
Lysandra watched them... every small, thoughtful movement Ray made.
And something twisted inside her chest.
She hated it.
She hated that she wanted to be treated like that too.
She, Lysandra Larasvati... Ghostline's commander... had never been handled with care by anyone.
Ray looked at her.
"Your armor's compromised. Sit."
"I don't..."
"Sit."
His tone brooked no argument. Lysandra hesitated… then obeyed.
Ray removed her cracked shoulder plate and examined the bruises and shallow cuts beneath. His fingers were firm yet controlled.
Lysandra held her breath.
"You're not supposed to touch..."
"You're bleeding. Be still."
Her heart hammered.
Annoyance burned under her skin... but not only annoyance.
Ray finished and stood. Lysandra turned away abruptly, hiding the heat rising in her cheeks.
"Don't get the wrong idea," she muttered. "I was only..."
"Not important."
Lysandra almost strangled him.
Or kissed him.
Or both.
Lyra watched the two of them… and something inside her tightened.
Ray returned to the door.
The banging outside grew louder.
The vents trembled.
"We need to move," Lysandra said. "Lyra's father created a safe route."
Ray turned to Lyra.
"Your father?"
Lyra swallowed.
"I… I don't know if he's alive. But if there's a path that leads to him… we have to try."
Ray studied the bending door.
He braced himself.
"Then," he said, "we survive."
The door fractured with a deafening crack.
Cold air bled through the widening gap.
Claws scraped the floor.
Ray pulled Lyra close, muscles coiling.
Lysandra stepped behind him, raising her gun, sapphire eyes burning.
"Ray," Lyra whispered.
He tilted his head slightly.
"Hm?"
"I trust you."
Ray didn't speak.
But his hold on her tightened.
The door burst inward...
and darkness swallowed the room whole.