On the higher floors of the Thermus, chaos unfolded as men scavenged the data terminals while robots methodically loaded crates of materials scattered throughout the rooms. The hum of machinery and frantic typing filled the air, punctuated by the occasional crash of equipment being thrown aside in frustration.

The Obsidian stood in the center of it all, his piercing gaze locked onto a terminal that displayed an endless stream of corrupted data. His gloved hand slammed against the reinforced steel table, the sound echoing through the chamber.

"What's taking so long?" he demanded, his voice cold and sharp, cutting through the noise like a blade.

A junior officer hesitated before stepping forward, datapad in hand. "Sir, the mainframe's encryption is more advanced than anticipated. It's like… ."

"Like what?"

"...like it's being reinforced as we speak."

The Obsidian's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "Then adapt. We don't have time for excuses."

"Y-Yes, sir!" the officer stammered, retreating to his station, where a group of tech specialists were feverishly working. Sparks flew from a dismantled console as one of the robots extracted a core component, carefully placing it into a containment unit.

Behind him, one of the veteran soldiers approached, his expression grim.

"Commander, we've secured the primary research labs and recovered some prototypes, but the deeper levels are still inaccessible. We're detecting… strange energy readings down there."

The Obsidian's frustration simmered beneath the surface, but he maintained his composure.

"Define 'strange.'"

The soldier hesitated, glancing at his datapad. "It's fluctuating, almost like it's alive. We're not sure what's causing it, but whatever it is, it's interfering with our equipment."

The Obsidian's lips curled into a tight, grim smile. "Alive, you say?" He turned to face the central terminal, his mind racing. "This could be the breakthrough we need."

"Sir, if I may," the soldier continued cautiously. "We should consider evacuating. The enemy forces outside are relentless, and our defenses won't hold indefinitely."

The Obsidian's eyes flashed with anger. "Evacuate?" he repeated, his tone dripping with disdain. "Do you think I care about holding the line? Our mission is to extract every scrap of value from this place. If the men outside die buying us time, so be it."

The soldier stiffened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, but he said nothing.

BANG! The building shook violently.

"What was that?" the Obsidian snapped.

A data analyst quickly picked up on the tremors. "Sir, the defenses have collapsed, and the men have retreated into the lower floors of the Thermus."

"WHAT?!" the Obsidian snarled. "Those baffoons can't even keep a straight defense!"

The data analyst chimed in again, his tone urgent. "The Steel Knights are the ones causing damage to the structure. At this point, if this goes on, it won't hold."

The Obsidian stood in tense silence for a moment, his piercing gaze fixed on the corrupted data streams. The walls of the Thermus shuddered again as distant explosions echoed through the structure. He clenched his fists, forcing his frustration into a cold determination.

"Divert all remaining troops to fortify the lower levels," he commanded sharply. "We're not leaving this place until I get what I came for."

One of the soldiers hesitated before speaking. "Sir, if the Steel Knights breach the lower levels, we'll lose everything—"

"Do not test me," the Obsidian interrupted, his voice as sharp as a blade. "Send word to the squads on the ground. Delay the Steel Knights at all costs. Use explosives, collapse corridors if you have to, but hold them back!"

The soldier saluted stiffly, turning to relay the orders. The Obsidian turned back to the terminal, his thoughts racing. His plans couldn't end here, not when they were so close to unlocking the Thermus' secrets.

"Sir," the junior officer monitoring the data chimed in nervously. "We've decrypted part of the mainframe. It's… coordinates. Locations across multiple star systems."

The Obsidian's brow furrowed. "What kind of locations?"

"Unknown," the officer admitted. "But they're flagged as high-priority sites. Some are marked with warnings… restricted access."

The Obsidian leaned in, his frustration momentarily replaced with intrigue.

"Download everything. If these coordinates are what I think they are, we may still turn this disaster into an opportunity."

The Obsidian leaned in, his frustration momentarily replaced with intrigue.

"Download everything. If these coordinates are what I think they are, we may still turn this disaster into an opportunity."

Suddenly, the screens lining the room flickered and came to life, casting an eerie glow. A familiar face appeared—a hardened visage framed by the insignias of the Mech Command.

Commander Kaelen Stroud's steely eyes bore into the room as he addressed the Obsidian directly.

"Ah, yes, Commander," the Obsidian began, his tone sharp and dismissive. "Just in time. I need you to—"

"I shall not heed your command, Mr. Obsidian," Kaelen interrupted, his voice firm and resolute.

The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. The Obsidian froze, his jaw tightening as if the words physically struck him.

"WHAT?" he roared, his composure cracking like ice under pressure.

Kaelen continued, unflinching. "Leaving the men to fend for themselves while you scavenge for glory does not make you fit to lead. Though you may have the CryTech Corporation and the Government backing you, you do not have ours."

Kaelen's words were delivered with the fury of a commander who had seen too many lives wasted.

His clenched fist slammed onto his desk with the force of a thousand legions, the sound reverberating through the room and silencing any attempt at rebuttal.

The Obsidian's gloved hands trembled with rage, his eyes narrowing into slits. "You dare—"

"I dare, because someone must," Kaelen snapped, cutting him off. "Your obsession with whatever lies beneath the Thermus blinds you to the lives you're throwing away. The men and women on the ground—they're not pawns in your twisted game."

Kaelen leaned closer to the screen, his presence commanding even through the digital interface. "You want to dig deeper? Do it yourself. But you will not sacrifice another soldier for your ambitions. This is not a negotiation, Obsidian. This is a warning."

With that, the screen abruptly cut out, leaving the Obsidian staring at the blank monitors. His breathing was heavy, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. For a long moment, the room remained silent, save for the hum of machinery and distant echoes of battle.

The officer at the terminal hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Commander...what are your orders?"

The Obsidian straightened, his cold fury now channeled into a dangerous calm. "Deploy the drones. Tighten the perimeter. No one leaves this place without my permission."

"But sir," the veteran soldier began cautiously, "if Commander Stroud—"

"Commander Stroud," the Obsidian spat, "is a fool who does not understand the stakes. He will not stop me. No one will."

As he turned back to the terminal, the flickering lights cast jagged shadows across his face. "Prepare the team. We're going to the lower levels."

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This time, the fury driving him was matched by a grim resolve. If Kaelen Stroud thought he could defy him, the Obsidian would ensure that his name became synonymous with victory—no matter the cost.

-----------------

Harold's breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving beneath his armor. His heart thundered as he stared at the skeletal glowing knight before him. The light from the creature's sword and skull burned through the air like the final blaze of a dying star. It was impossible to look away. Every pulse of the light seemed to draw him deeper into a trance—into something older, darker, and beyond human comprehension.

Two of his squadmates lay sprawled on the ground, their faces twisted in terror. The echoes of their final screams still rang in his ears, a haunting reminder of how fragile their lives were in this forsaken place.

Harold swallowed hard, his grip tightening on his rifle. He had known fear before. It was a soldier's constant companion. But this—this was something else entirely. Something that twisted the very essence of his being. The knight was no mere warrior, no ancient relic. It was a force of nature, a manifestation of something older than time itself.

The knight's hollow eyes fixed on him, its head tilting slightly as if appraising him, a sickening, knowing gaze that sent chills crawling down Harold's spine.

"You will burn, mortal," the knight's voice rumbled, as if the very words were carved into the fabric of reality itself. "The flames of ███████ will consume all."

Harold's hands shook as he steadied his weapon, aiming for the glowing figure's chest. He could hear his comrades' desperate shouts from the shadows, but it felt like they were a lifetime away. The knight's presence was suffocating, like the weight of an entire universe collapsing in on them.

"Take the shot!" Ryan shouted from behind, panic creeping into his voice.

But Harold hesitated. He knew it was a futile move. The bullets had done little to slow the knight before, and the figure was only growing stronger with every passing moment. He glanced over at Ryan, whose face was pale as a ghost, but there was no turning back now.

"Fall back!" Harold ordered, his voice a strained command. "We need to regroup. Now!"

The squad hesitated, but the gravity of the situation broke through. They began to move, but the knight's unnerving silence made it feel as though the world had stopped breathing.

In an instant, the knight raised its sword, and the air around them seemed to crackle with a power that made the floor tremble beneath their feet. Before Harold could even react, the knight's weapon was raised high, and the room was flooded with searing light.

"Harold, MOVE!" Ryan screamed.

But it was too late. The light engulfed everything, and for a moment, there was nothing but blinding brilliance. A roar of power split the air, and the world around them crumbled to ash.

Cough Cough

Harold pushed the rubble off himself, every breath ragged as the dust clouded the air. He tried to push past the overwhelming weight of pain and exhaustion, but it was hard to focus. His body ached, and the air tasted like metal and smoke. But there was no time to rest.

"Ah, fu*k," he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with frustration and disbelief. The weight of the destruction settled on him like a physical force.

His eyes searched the wreckage for Ryan. Through the haze of dust and debris, Harold spotted the outline of his fallen comrade, half-buried beneath twisted metal and shattered concrete. Without hesitation, he rushed over, heart hammering in his chest.

"RYAN!" Harold called out, his hands moving frantically as he pushed aside the jagged metal covering his teammate. The wreckage groaned in protest, but Harold wasn't about to stop. He needed to make sure Ryan was alive.With a final shove, the metal gave way, revealing Ryan's still form. Harold's breath caught in his throat.

"Ryan..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. The pale face of his squadmate stared up at him, eyes vacant and lifeless. There was no sign of the fight that had once burned in his eyes. The faintest hint of blood stained his lips, and his hand was still clutched around his rifle.

Harold fell to his knees beside him, a knot forming in his chest. Without thinking, he reached for Ryan's dog tags, his fingers trembling as he unclasped them and held them close.

"Sh*t," Harold muttered, pressing the tags against his chest. There was no time for a moment of mourning, not now. Ryan had given everything he had, and Harold would make sure it wasn't in vain.

He stood, wiping his face, and quickly scanned their surroundings. His eyes locked onto the panel he needed to activate—the only thing standing between them and restoring some power to the failing system. The cores that powered it flickered ominously, a reminder of how close they were to failure.

But his attention was soon drawn back to the knight. The creature, its glowing sword still radiating a fierce light, seemed to loom even larger in the aftermath of the explosion. Its hollow gaze turned toward Harold, and a voice boomed out from the depths of the knight's skull.

"Foolish little rats," it growled, its voice like an ancient storm. "Come, face judgment."

Harold's hand tightened around his rifle as he looked between the knight and the control panel. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to escape the looming monstrosity before him, but Harold knew better. There was no escape—only a path forward.

He clenched his jaw, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he muttered, "Over my dead body."

The skeletal knight raised its glowing blade, the light from its weapon casting long shadows across the rubble-strewn chamber. Its hollow, judgmental gaze locked onto Harold as if weighing his very soul.

Harold didn't wait. He bolted forward with all his might, each footfall shaking the ground beneath him. The knight moved with eerie precision, lifting its sword for a decisive strike.

"Muscle power, fifty percent," Harold barked.

The Type-305 exosuit obeyed instantly, its servos humming to life. The joints of his armor lit with a bright blue hue, crackling with stored energy. His sprint turned into an unstoppable charge, dust and debris flying in his wake.

The knight swung its blade downward in a deadly arc. Harold threw himself to the side at the last second, the glowing sword carving deep into the ground, sending molten sparks spraying into the air.

"Missed me, you glowing bastard!" Harold growled, raising his rifle mid-roll. He fired, a stream of plasma bolts lighting up the dim chamber. The shots struck the knight's skeletal frame, sending shards of molten bone scattering, but the entity didn't even flinch.

"Insignificant worm," the knight bellowed, its voice shaking the air like thunder. With unnatural speed, it raised its blade again, the sword glowing brighter with every second.

Harold didn't stop. His eyes darted between the knight and the control panel. He knew he couldn't take the creature down—not like this. The mission was clear: activate the cores, no matter the cost.

"Come on, Harold, think!" he muttered to himself. As he sprinted past a crumpled support beam, an idea struck.

"Let's see how much you like this!" Harold veered left, skidding on his heels as he ducked behind the beam. The knight lunged, driving its sword into the structure. The blade cleaved through, but the delay gave Harold the opening he needed.

He rocketed toward the control panel, the exosuit propelling him faster than the knight could recover. The console loomed ahead, flickering with dying power. His hands worked quickly, slamming switches and inputting commands. The hum of the cores grew louder, their lights surging with energy.

"Core activation at sixty percent," a robotic voice announced from the console.

The knight roared, ripping its sword free and charging toward Harold, its skeletal frame moving like a hurricane of death.

"Core activation at eighty percent," the robotic voice continued, oblivious to the chaos around it.

Harold turned to face the charging knight, sweat dripping down his brow. He had one shot to buy enough time. Raising his rifle, he aimed for the creature's glowing chest.

"Eat this!" he shouted, pulling the trigger.

A single plasma bolt struck true, detonating with a burst of energy. The knight staggered, its movements faltering for the briefest moment.

"Ninety percent," the console reported.

Harold didn't hesitate. He dove for the final switch, slamming it down as the cores roared to life. A blinding light filled the chamber, and Harold could feel the power surging through the facility.

The knight let out an unholy scream, its glowing sword raised high as it advanced toward him. Harold's vision blurred, but he stood his ground, gripping Ryan's dog tags tightly in one hand.

"No turning back now," he muttered, bracing for the inevitable.

Harold's hand tightened around his rifle as he looked between the knight and the control panel. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to escape the looming monstrosity before him, but Harold knew better. There was no escape—only a path forward.

He clenched his jaw, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he muttered, "Over my dead body."

The skeletal knight raised its glowing blade, the light from its weapon casting long shadows across the rubble-strewn chamber. Its hollow, judgmental gaze locked onto Harold as if weighing his very soul.

Harold didn't wait. He bolted forward with all his might, each footfall shaking the ground beneath him. The knight moved with eerie precision, lifting its sword for a decisive strike.

"Muscle power, fifty percent," Harold barked.

The Type-305 exosuit obeyed instantly, its servos humming to life. The joints of his armor lit with a bright blue hue, crackling with stored energy. His sprint turned into an unstoppable charge, dust and debris flying in his wake.

The knight swung its blade downward in a deadly arc. Harold threw himself to the side at the last second, the glowing sword carving deep into the ground, sending molten sparks spraying into the air.

"Missed me, you glowing bastard!" Harold growled, raising his rifle mid-roll. He fired, a stream of plasma bolts lighting up the dim chamber. The shots struck the knight's skeletal frame, sending shards of molten bone scattering, but the entity didn't even flinch.

"Insignificant worm," the knight bellowed, its voice shaking the air like thunder. With unnatural speed, it raised its blade again, the sword glowing brighter with every second.

Harold didn't stop. His eyes darted between the knight and the control panel. He knew he couldn't take the creature down—not like this. The mission was clear: activate the cores, no matter the cost.

"Come on, Harold, think!" he muttered to himself. As he sprinted past a crumpled support beam, an idea struck.

"Let's see how much you like this!" Harold veered left, skidding on his heels as he ducked behind the beam. The knight lunged, driving its sword into the structure. The blade cleaved through, but the delay gave Harold the opening he needed.

He rocketed toward the control panel, the exosuit propelling him faster than the knight could recover. The console loomed ahead, flickering with dying power. His hands worked quickly, slamming switches and inputting commands. The hum of the cores grew louder, their lights surging with energy.

"Core activation at sixty percent," a robotic voice announced from the console.

The knight roared, ripping its sword free and charging toward Harold, its skeletal frame moving like a hurricane of death.

"Core activation at eighty percent," the robotic voice continued, oblivious to the chaos around it.

Harold turned to face the charging knight, sweat dripping down his brow. He had one shot to buy enough time. Raising his rifle, he aimed for the creature's glowing chest.

"Eat this!" he shouted, pulling the trigger.

A single plasma bolt struck true, detonating with a burst of energy. The knight staggered, its movements faltering for the briefest moment.

"Ninety percent," the console reported.

Harold didn't hesitate. He dove for the final switch, slamming it down as the cores roared to life. A blinding light filled the chamber, and Harold could feel the power surging through the facility.

The knight let out an unholy scream, its glowing sword raised high as it advanced toward him. Harold's vision blurred, but he stood his ground, gripping Ryan's dog tags tightly in one hand.

"No turning back now," he muttered, bracing for the inevitable.

Harold let out a breath of relief, gripping Ryan's dog tags in his hand. His chest heaved with exhaustion as he stared down at the glowing fragments of the knight scattered across the floor. "Told you it wouldn't be enough," he muttered under his breath, a hint of grim satisfaction in his tone.

Then, out of nowhere—

SHANK!

Harold froze. A cold, searing pain shot through his chest. Slowly, his gaze lowered to see the tip of a glowing blade protruding from his armor, slick with blood.

"What the fu—" he choked, his breath catching.

Before he could finish, the blade jerked violently, pulling him forward. He staggered, struggling to remain upright as his blood dripped onto the ground.

The fragments of the knight had begun to coalesce, reassembling into its skeletal form. Its hollow eyes burned brighter than ever as it loomed over him.

"As I said," the knight rasped, its voice dripping with malice. "It's futile."

Harold coughed, crimson splattering his lips as the knight twisted the blade. Pain lanced through his body, but he gritted his teeth, refusing scream.

The knight's hollow gaze bore into him, the sockets brimming with eerie light. Harold let out a ragged sigh, a crooked smile tugging at his lips despite the blood that seeped from them.

"I guess… I did want to be a poet," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

The knight tilted its head, puzzled by Harold's words.

Behind them, the cores that Harold had fought so desperately to reach pulsed with a blinding fury. The hum of energy grew deafening, and the panel shuddered violently under the strain.

The knight's attention flicked toward the glowing cores, its grip on Harold faltering for just a moment. But it was too late.

A brilliant flash consumed the room as the cores erupted, the force of the explosion tearing through the metal and stone. The ground beneath them cracked and gave way, a deep abyss opening below.

Harold and the knight plunged into the darkness, their forms swallowed by the chaos. The light of the cores flared one last time, then extinguished, leaving the chamber in silence.

Above, faint sparks flickered from the ruined panel, signaling the power had been restored.