The Kavanis Processing Plant thrummed with a low, restless energy, its cold metal walls holding back a tension that felt ready to snap. Blake's boots tapped a steady rhythm on the grated stairs as he made his way down to the main floor, his senses sharp, attuned to the controlled chaos below. With [Warden's Insight] active, the gathered rebels glowed with varying intensities of power—some bright with cultivated strength, others carrying more mundane but no less lethal capabilities.

"Quite the turnout," Blake murmured.

"Forty-seven combat-capable individuals," Chimera confirmed in his mind. "Want the full breakdown I got from Mara?"

"Hit me."

Data scrolled across his HUD as Chimera analyzed the crowd. Most bore some form of cybernetic enhancement—replacement fingers, ocular implants, reinforced joints—but nothing as extensive as what they'd seen on Rax's elite. From what Blake had gathered about the Skaeldrin, such augmentation was normal; their bodies were far less likely to reject grafts and implants than a human. These were working modifications, tools rather than weapons. Blake noticed how the prosthetics integrated smoothly with their owners' movements, suggesting long familiarity rather than recent upgrades.

The three figures by the far wall drew Blake's eye. Cross-legged, still as statues, they sat with faces slack and peaceful. The hair on his neck prickled as wisps of energy danced around their bodies like heat-shimmer above hot metal. Raw power, sure, but it didn't feel wild. More like fresh-forged steel cooling on the anvil, waiting for the tempering that would make it truly deadly.

"Classic internal circulation method," Kitt noted. "They're cycling ambient energy to strengthen their cores. Not the most efficient, but reliable."

Blake nodded, continuing his survey. A woman with a modified rifle caught his eye—her movements spoke of military training, and her cybernetic right leg told its own story. Beside her, a younger man checked the edge on what Chimera ID'd as a "vibro-blade," his prosthetic hand allowing him to test the frequency without risking flesh.

"By Mara's tally, we have twenty-eight with direct combat experience," Chimera continued her analysis. "Nineteen show signs of cultivation, though levels vary significantly. The rest rely primarily on what you'd consider conventional weapons and tactics."

Blake continued people-watching, picking up subtle details—the way certain folk positioned themselves, how they maintained lines of sight to exits and choke points. These most definitely weren't all raw recruits playing at rebellion. Many of these people had survived in the scrapyards, learned to fight smart rather than just hard.

"Look there," Chimera directed his attention to a group checking ammunition stores. "Notice how they're organizing by fire team? Someone's been teaching them proper squad tactics."

Before Blake could respond, Mara appeared at his side. She'd traded her usual practical clothing for something more suited to combat—reinforced fabric in muted colors, with additional padding at vital points. A simple blade hung at her hip, its worn grip speaking of regular use. Blake knew for a fact it hadn’t seen use in combat, but it at least looked the part.

"Well?" she asked, her voice low but carrying an edge of pride. "What do you think of our little band of troublemakers?"

Blake met her eyes, noting how the scar on her neck seemed to catch the dim light. "You've built something impressive here," he said honestly. "These aren't just angry people with guns. They move like fighters."

[Warden's Insight] was proving its worth in spades. Through the skill, Blake could pick up on the nuanced signals woven into the group's body language—the shared glances, the thoughtful silences, the unspoken connections. It all painted a picture of a tightly knit web of loyalty and trust. Thin, shimmering threads of force seemed to stretch between them, strongest where bonds of battle had clearly been forged, but still present across the entire group. This wasn’t some angry mob held together by their shared hatred of Rax. No, these were comrades—people who had bled, trained, and learned to rely on one another.

"We've had time to prepare," Mara acknowledged, her own gaze sweeping the assembled fighters. "Every raid on Rax's supplies, every skirmish with his enforcers - it's all been building to this. Teaching us what we needed to know."

Blake noticed how heads turned subtly toward Mara as she spoke, the unconscious acknowledgment of her leadership. Even those deep in meditation seemed aware of her presence, their energy patterns shifting slightly in response to her proximity.

"Your people respect you," he observed. "Not just follow—respect. That's harder to earn."

A ghost of a smile crossed Mara's face. "They respect what we're trying to build here. A community that doesn't need Rax's brand of protection." She gestured to where Korrn stood with a group reviewing tactical plans. "We've lost people along the way. Good people. But each loss taught us something valuable."

Blake watched as the woman with a prosthetic leg demonstrated a takedown technique to several others. Her movements were smooth, efficient—she'd clearly adapted her fighting style to take advantage of her augmentation rather than simply compensating for it. Others observed with focused attention, occasionally asking questions or mimicking the motions.

"They learn," he noted with approval. "Adapt. Share knowledge."

"They have to," Mara replied. "Rax's people have better gear, more resources. We survive by being smarter, more flexible." She touched the scar on her neck unconsciously. "And by remembering why we fight."

Blake could see how that sentiment resonated through the gathered fighters. Each person carried their own wounds, their own reasons for standing against Rax's authority. But those individual motivations had been forged into something stronger—a shared purpose that manifested as a subtle harmonic in their collective energy.

"You've done well," Blake said finally, meaning it.

Blake turned as the air shifted near the plant's entrance, his focus narrowing on the approaching figures. Korrn emerged first, his rugged frame marked by the grime and wear of long hours spent scavenging and scouting. Behind him, Eland followed, moving with a practiced efficiency that belied his evident fatigue. The golden hues of Eland’s eyes flickered briefly toward Blake, an unspoken exchange passing between them.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“We’ve got movement on Rax’s end,” Korrn began without preamble, his voice gravelly but clear enough to carry over the low murmur of activity in the room. He tossed a small datapad onto the makeshift table Mara had been using for planning. “Patrols have shifted—looks like he’s doubling down near the compound’s western approach.”

Eland stepped forward, adding smoothly, “The southern tunnels remain clear for now, as anticipated. However, Rax’s forces are concentrated around key access points—likely expecting frontal assaults or diversionary tactics.” He glanced toward Mara before continuing. “Your chosen route should hold, provided you move quickly.”

Mara leaned over the datapad, her sharp eyes scanning its contents while her fingers traced along a hand-drawn map pinned to the table. Her jaw tightened as she absorbed the information. “Then we stick to the plan,” she said decisively, straightening and addressing the fighters who had gathered closer. “No unnecessary risks—precision and discipline will see us through this.”

Korrn grunted his agreement, folding his arms across his chest as he surveyed the group. “We’ll keep Rax busy topside,” he said grimly. “Give you and your teams enough breathing room to get inside and do what needs doing.”

Blake noted how Mara’s posture shifted as she stepped into her role fully. Her voice carried a quiet authority that cut through any lingering doubts among her people. One by one, they began to gather into designated clusters as Mara issued orders with brisk efficiency.

“Team A,” she called out sharply, pointing toward one of the meditating cultivators and two riflemen nearby, “you’ll take up position along this ridge here.” She tapped the map with precision. “Team B…” Her commands continued as she moved around the room, addressing each group with tailored instructions.

Blake felt a hand clap lightly on his shoulder and turned to find Korrn studying him with a mixture of appraisal and trust hard-won through shared hardship. “You watch yourself out there,” Korrn said simply before stepping back to join another cluster of fighters.

Finally, Mara approached Blake directly after concluding her final assignments. Her expression softened slightly, though her tone remained firm. “I suppose we've got our own paths to walk, today” she said quietly but with conviction. Her gaze held his for a moment longer before she added, “Good luck out there. I'll be back here calling shots over comms if you need anything.”

With that, she turned away without hesitation to oversee her people once more, leaving Blake standing amid the hum of preparation as their paths prepared to diverge.

Blake stepped through the shifting throng of rebels, weaving between clusters of Mara's fighters as they prepped their gear and adjusted their formations. The ambient buzz of anticipation in the air felt almost electric, thrumming against his skin as he approached Eland. The Stokrine stood near the edge of the plant’s floor, studying a schematic projected from his wrist device. His wide, pale hands gestured with subtle precision, rotating the glowing display to highlight sections of Rax's compound.

"Eland," Blake said as he drew near, keeping his voice low to avoid attracting unnecessary attention. The taller alien turned, golden eyes flickering with recognition before narrowing slightly in thought.

"You’re ready then," Eland stated more than asked, closing the projection with a flick of his fingers. His tone carried an even weight, calm and deliberate.

Blake nodded once.

"You’re sure the Northern wall is where you want me to hit? We've only got one shot for maximum chaos."

"The Northern wall is the key," Eland said, tilting his head slightly, as if weighing his words for a fraction longer than necessary. "Its structural weaknesses make it your best target. If you breach there, it will force Rax’s forces to overextend themselves to cover it." He gestured toward the schematic with a brief motion before locking eyes with Blake once more. "That window gives Mara and Korrn’s teams their opening to advance."

"I agree, I just wanted to make sure we hadn't learned anything new," Blake said firmly.

"The plan remains the same. Good luck out there," Eland said, his hand coming to rest lightly on Blake’s shoulder. The Stokrine bent his massive frame just enough to meet Blake at eye level, his voice soft but carrying unmistakable conviction. "This lot is counting on you more than they know."

"Well, do your best to keep them safe," Blake said, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "We'll get as many as we can through the day." He pivoted sharply, turning his back on Eland and the rest of the assembled rebels.

Chimera's voice chimed in as soon as they were alone outside, her tone uncharacteristically focused. "So... one perfectly timed singularity shot? No pressure or anything."

"Yeah," Blake muttered under his breath as he scanned the surrounding scrapyard with his abilities, looking for a viable route forward. "Just another day at the office, Kitt."

The path ahead stretched unevenly into the distance—rusted wreckage piled high in chaotic mounds interspersed with jagged gaps and precarious inclines. Blake moved with practiced efficiency, his body adapting naturally to the rough terrain thanks to [Unfettered Stride]. He vaulted over collapsed girders and scrambled up unstable slopes, all while keeping an eye out for patrols or unexpected dangers.

"Keep an eye on our six," he murmured to Chimera as they crested another rise.

"I'll do my best," she replied crisply. "But we really need to get your suit a better suite of sensors if you want me to really put in work."

Blake kept his mouth shut and focused on projecting his thoughts instead, filling his mind with vivid images of the high-end surveillance gear he'd let her install later. Hell, he might even go dig up those fancy thermal arrays she'd been eyeing off of Aureon's list. The mental exercise helped pass the time as they picked their way through the wreckage, until finally they reached higher ground that gave them a decent view of their target.

Below them stretched Rax's compound, a chaotic sprawl of post-apocalyptic ingenuity gone wrong. The walls jutted out in harsh, mismatched angles, as if their builder had taken lessons in engineering from a stack of comic books. Rusty metal sheets clung together with a prayer and a few stubborn bolts, while gun nests and spotlights were slapped on wherever they’d fit, like afterthoughts in a madman’s blueprint. To Blake, the whole thing resembled a mechanical porcupine mid-meltdown, its jagged silhouette bristling with bad intentions.

He crouched low behind a section of twisted metal that offered decent cover while still providing a clear line of sight toward his target zone. He unslung his weapon and felt as Chimera began calibrating it for [Singularity Shot].

"You’ll want to wait for Mara’s signal," Chimera reminded him quietly through their link.

"I know, Kitt" Blake replied evenly without breaking focus. "I've blown up my share of buildings."

From their elevated position, he could see faint movements around the perimeter of Rax’s compound—patrols pacing methodically along well-worn routes while others adjusted defensive emplacements along key choke points. Farther out toward the south, subtle flashes of light and shifting shadows hinted at Mara and Korrn's teams preparing for their respective roles in the plan.

Blake adjusted his grip on the weapon slightly before settling into position, muscles coiled but steady as he waited for the right moment to strike.

When it came time to move, he'd be ready.