The sky above Vyrheim was still heavy with dark clouds, but calm, almost deceptively so. Then the silence was shattered. A Class A tank swooped from the horizon, slicing through the air with incredible speed. In an instant, it slammed into the city center, crashing into a narrow street. The force of the impact shook the surrounding buildings. Windows shattered, chunks of concrete flew in every direction, and the screams of civilians erupted instantly.
"Back up!" someone yelled.
It was the local hero. Tall, strong, in his thirties, with dark hair and piercing eyes, he stood amidst the chaos. His name: Taren. His imposing presence, however, was not enough to stop the Class A tank. Every movement of the attacker sent debris and shockwaves flying, staggering passersby.
Taren retaliated with precision, striking where it mattered to protect civilians without killing. Debris was hurled at him, but he dodged and retaliated, protecting the trapped families. An old man stumbled on a piece of concrete, a child screamed as a partially collapsed roof fell near him, and a woman pressed her face against her baby's to shield it.
"Don't move!" Taren shouted, hurling a piece of debris to stop the attacker.
At the same time, on the edge of town, the enemy army was deploying. A-Class, B-Class, and C-Class soldiers advanced in close formation, waiting for the moment to enter. Scouts swept the area, reporting every move of Taren and the A-Class. The invasion had barely begun.
The fighting intensified. The A-Class pounded the ground violently, sending debris flying and destroying everything in its path. Civilians screamed in terror, and the town center seemed to be turning into a field of ruins. Taren dodged an impact, hurled a collapsed wall to protect some children, but he knew he couldn't hold out forever.
The rumble of Yggdrasil went almost unnoticed in the chaos. Its immense roots vibrated slightly, but the world tree remained eerily silent. No one descended to protect the city. This lack of response heightened the sense of urgency and imminent danger.
Sigi and Ivar watched from a distant street. The chaos stretched before them. The screams, the rubble, the panic: it was all there. And then they saw Taren, the local hero, save a child from falling debris. It was then that Sigi felt his pain erupt: this city he had grown to love, this bond they had forged here, the vulnerability of every innocent life… it was too much.
Ivar placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. Silent, but a palpable tension settled in. Sigi stepped forward and donned his dark mask, Winter Soldier style. Ivar did the same. Two masked figures, motionless, yet already charged with a palpable pressure, a breath of S-Rank aura emanating from them. The air vibrated slightly, an imperceptible tension felt by all: civilians, heroes, and enemies alike.
The civilians shuddered. The enemy A- and B-Class troops instinctively retreated, unaware of what they had just experienced. A mere presence was enough to change the tone of the battle.
"We can't wait any longer," Sigi murmured.
Ivar nodded, silent but alert. Even from a distance, he felt the gravity of the attack, the weight of the chaos, and the fragility of Vyrheim. Their eyes swept the city, calculating every movement, every trajectory, every threat.
At the heart of the incident, Taren continued to fight back the Class A operatives, using every inch of his body to protect the civilians. He screamed, striking a pillar that threatened to collapse on a group of women and children. But as the Class A operatives charged again, a chunk of concrete crashed down on Taren. He was thrown against a wall, gasping for air, a dull ache radiating through his body.
Sigi and Ivar moved swiftly, still masked and stealthy, their silhouettes emerging from the dust and smoke. The aura of S-Rank continued to spread around them, subtly pressing upon the city, impressing even the most seasoned enemies.
Seeing the two figures, Taren felt a shiver run down his spine. He knew he was no longer alone, but he didn't yet know who these operatives were. His mind focused; he had to keep protecting the civilians despite his fatigue and injuries.
The Class A was struck with precision, thrown against a wall, but it rose almost immediately, roaring and pounding the ground. Enemy Classes B and C began to infiltrate the streets. The army advanced, encircling Vyrheim, planning the next wave of assaults.
"We must protect this city," Sigi whispered to Ivar.
Ivar responded with a slight nod. He knew the moment had come. They advanced, masked, leaving behind an almost tangible pressure, each step amplifying the aura of S-Rank around them. The civilians felt this change, like a reassuring breath amidst the fear.
Taren faced a Class A that was charging back. He parried, but a poorly placed piece of wall blocked his path. He retreated, wounded. Sigi and Ivar finally intervened, striking with inhuman precision. The Class A tank was hurled against a nearby building and collapsed, unconscious.
A relative calm returned, but it was deceptive. The city was still surrounded; the enemy army waited. Taren, exhausted, fell to the ground. The hero they had come to respect and admire was no longer standing. Sigi and Ivar leaned slightly toward him, silent. Taren's death echoed through the air like a stark warning: no one else would come to protect Vyrheim if they themselves did not.
In the distance, Yggdrasil remained motionless, silent, its roots trembling slightly but without reacting. This heavy silence reinforced the gravity of the situation. The city was vulnerable, the civilians terrified, and the enemy forces numerous. The chapter ended on this extreme note: the invasion is underway, the local hero is dead, and Sigi and Ivar have just entered the scene, masked and charged with a perceptible but blurred power, ready to act.