The sky was blood red.
Not literally, of course, but in a way that made it feel like the heavens themselves had broken. Smoke from distant fires climbed in black coils, mingling with clouds that hung low over the shattered city. The streets were empty now, abandoned by those who could flee and by those too afraid to move.
Che walked silently along the cracked asphalt, boots sloshing through shallow pools of water mixed with ash. Every step sent a shiver up his spine not from cold, but from anticipation.
He could feel it before he even saw it: a tension in the air, like the pause before a thunderclap. Not just danger, but awareness, a ripple in the energy of the world itself.
His chest rose slowly, deliberately. Inhale. Hold. Out. Out again. His lungs filled and emptied with methodical control, each breath a tether to the moment, keeping him from being swept away by panic.
Behind him, the ruins of the research complex still smoked, the fires leaving a coppery tang in the air. Every surface glimmered faintly under the harsh, blood-colored light of the sky. Broken metal, shattered glass, warped concrete it all caught the red glow and reflected it like scattered mirrors.
Che's eyes narrowed. Something moved across the distance, a shadow among shadows. Not human. Not entirely. A figure rose from the rubble, tall, lean, almost skeletal in its proportions, but moving with deliberate, inhuman precision. Its gaze locked onto him, cold and calculating.
A surge of adrenaline hit him. His heart beat harder, but his breathing remained steady. In. Hold. Out. Focus.
He took another step forward.
The city wasn't silent for long.
From all directions, movement stirred. Figures emerged from ruined buildings, alleyways, and collapsed highways. Some ran, terrified, screaming. Others well, they didn't run at all. They had seen Che's kind before, or they had learned the hard way that fleeing was useless.
The Dominion had sent word.
Everyone knew now.
Che slowed. He observed carefully: not just the individuals, but the patterns, the rhythms of movement, the sway of weight, the subtle signals between groups. Each breath he drew matched the rhythm of the city itself, as if syncing with the pulse of fear, chaos, and anticipation that now dominated the streets.
A distant explosion shook the ground beneath him, and shards of concrete tumbled from collapsed skyscrapers. Che's chest heaved not from exertion, but from alertness, from the pressure of being in the center of a world that had finally noticed him.
Arielle's voice came through his earpiece steady, calm, but tense. "Che, multiple targets moving north. They're coordinating."
He inhaled, held, exhaled slowly. "Understood. Keep eyes open. Watch their flanks."
The next moments blurred into a sequence of calculations, movements, and instinct.
The first wave hit.
Three attackers emerged from a ruined bridge, augmented soldiers with glowing red eyes and mechanical limbs. Their weapons hummed faintly with energy.
Che dropped into a crouch, feet gripping cracked asphalt. His muscles coiled, ready to spring. His first strike was instinctive: a lunge, a twist, and a fist that connected with the nearest soldier's chest, sending it staggering back into the rubble.
Air hissed from their mechanical lungs. Sparks flew from exposed circuits. The other two rushed, but Che didn't stop.
Breath, movement, and thought were one. Inhale, pivot, strike. Out, dodge, counter. Every step was calculated, every motion precise. He rolled beneath a swinging energy blade, twisting midair to deliver a backhand strike that sent another attacker into a collapsed car frame.
Arielle fired from a distance, her shots precise and efficient. Each bullet illuminated the night briefly, ricocheting off metal, tearing through limbs, making sounds that echoed across the empty streets. She breathed slowly, deeply, each exhale measured to conserve energy, to calm herself amidst the chaos.
Chase moved like a phantom behind them, silent and lethal. He struck without warning, breaking necks, crushing skulls, and moving so fast that the enemies barely registered his presence until it was too late. His chest heaved with controlled effort, his lungs steady despite the violence around him.
The city reacted.
Windows shattered spontaneously as tremors from their fight reverberated. Neon signs flickered and exploded, sending shards of glass raining down. Small fires erupted spontaneously along alleyways. Electricity sparked along fallen power lines. The environment itself seemed to sense the battle, feeding on the energy of fear and aggression.
Che noticed it instinctively. He used the chaos, letting it guide his movements. Smoke drifted in his favor. Rain slicked streets allowed him to skid around opponents. Shattered walls provided cover. Every inhalation filled him with awareness, every exhalation released energy into his strikes.
The second wave arrived. This time, more soldiers. More coordinated. More deadly.
Che leapt, twisting midair, avoiding a charged energy lance. The attack shattered the ground where he had stood seconds before. He landed with precise balance, pivoted, and delivered a devastating strike that shattered the enemy's chest plate. Sparks flew, catching on the rain to ignite small bursts of fire.
Arielle and Chase converged with him, their combined movements forming a fluid, almost choreographed dance of survival and offense.
But the Dominion had not yet revealed their true hand.
A low rumble began beneath their feet. At first subtle, like distant thunder. Then louder, shaking the streets, cracking asphalt, splitting concrete. From beneath a collapsed plaza, a massive figure emerged tall, impossibly muscular, encased in black armor that seemed to drink the light around it. Its eyes glowed crimson. Its hands carried energy that sizzled violently, distorting the air.
Che's pulse spiked. The figure wasn't just another soldier. It was something else entirely. Something evolved.
He inhaled deeply, holding it as long as he could. Then exhaled slowly. The rhythm of his breath anchored him. Fear was present, sharp, but controlled. He could not afford panic.
The figure roared, sending a shockwave across the city. Cars overturned. Windows shattered. The ground quaked violently beneath their feet. Rain fell harder, mixing with smoke, fire, and ash, creating a storm that seemed alive.
Che charged.
Not blindly. Not recklessly.
Calculated. Focused. Precise.
Each footfall was deliberate. Each movement was timed. Each strike aimed for the weak points in the armor.
The figure swung a massive arm, energy arcs slicing through the street where Che had stood moments before. He rolled, barely escaping, feeling the heat singe the back of his jacket. He countered with a strike to its knee joint, but the armored giant barely reacted, its movements almost preternaturally strong.
Chase and Arielle flanked him, coordinating attacks, exploiting small openings, striking relentlessly.
But the figure absorbed their combined assault as if it were nothing more than wind brushing against its armor.
Che's chest tightened. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with air and tension. His exhale was long, controlled, as he recalibrated his strategy.
"This isn't brute force," he said, voice low but clear. "It's patience. Precision. We find the weak point, or we die."
The fight escalated.
Energy tore across streets. Concrete exploded. Metal bent and twisted. Sparks lit up the rain in brilliant streaks.
Che felt every strike in his muscles, every tremor through his bones. Pain sharpened his senses. Fatigue lingered, gnawing at the edges of his focus, but he kept moving, breathing, enduring.
Arielle's precision strikes began to find openings in the armor, small gaps that shimmered faintly with energy. Chase exploited them with brute speed, targeting joints, moving like a shadow over the battlefield.
Che inhaled again.
Deep.
Steady.
The storm around them became a weapon as well as a threat. Rain slicked the ground for mobility, lightning lit up the gaps, wind carried the sound of the figure's roars and their own footfalls. Every breath, every heartbeat was amplified, a symphony of life and combat.
Finally, Che saw it a subtle weakening in the armor near its chestplate, where energy circuits converged. He signaled Chase. Arielle read it immediately.
A coordinated strike.
Chase leapt, striking with a force that bent metal. Arielle fired a focused energy blast, exploiting the opening. Che delivered the final blow, channeling his full strength, his controlled breath, his honed instincts into one decisive strike.
The armored figure staggered, then collapsed, energy arcs fizzing out, crimson eyes dimming. The ground shook violently as the massive body fell. Silence followed, broken only by the storm and the occasional distant crack of collapsing structures.
Che dropped to his knees, chest heaving, lungs burning, sweat and rain mixing across his face.
Breathing, at last, was slow. Controlled. Measured.
Above the ruined city, sirens began to wail faintly. The world had noticed. The Dominion's forces would respond. The battle was over, for now but the war had only just begun.
Che rose slowly, glancing at Arielle and Chase. Their eyes met, sharing exhaustion, relief, and the unspoken knowledge: survival was temporary, but together, they were more dangerous than the Dominion had expected.
He inhaled deeply. Slowly. Exhaled.
The world had reacted.
And now, it would never be the same again.