- Oliver -

Katherine sprinted toward her brother, embracing him tightly. John held her against his armored chest as if he would never let her go again. He gently cupped her face, gazing deeply into her eyes, as if assessing her well-being. "Can you run?" he asked with concern.

She nodded slightly.

Oliver stood at the cell door, watching the reunion but also anxious about the possibility of more Orks appearing at any moment. As Oliver and Isabela began to step out of the cell, the Golden Ranger raised a hand to halt them. The trio didn't quite understand why they needed to wait.

"One moment," John said. He stepped away and moved toward the fallen Orks, tearing off pieces of their clothing and ragged fabrics. Returning, he handed the makeshift garments to Katherine. "Maybe these will help," he suggested.

"Ah! One moment," Katherine replied, suddenly remembering their disheveled state. Quickly, she distributed the pieces of cloth to Oliver and Isabela, who took the opportunity to cover themselves. Although the fabrics were nothing more than tattered rags, it was better than nothing.

Once the three finished dressing, they finally stepped outside the cell. For all of them, the sensation of freedom was overwhelming—a feeling that would only be surpassed when they finally stepped into the sunlight.

"You three. We are conducting a rescue operation at this moment," John clarified, seeing that the three were relatively well, although extremely thin. You will accompany General Quinn to the surface," he explained, pointing to the Red Ranger beside him.

Quinn wanted to deny his command; this was supposed to be her operation. However, after what she saw him doing in the center of the Fortress, she preferred not to provoke his wrath.

Oliver was surprised to learn that Quinn was a General. She was the highest rank a Ranger could achieve and was responsible for all the other Red Rangers. The surprise wasn't just his; when Oliver glanced at Isabela and Katherine, they both had the same expression of surprise as him.

"Quinn, I will continue exploring the ruins. We'll meet at the center of the Fortress at the time of extraction," John explained to the General.

"Right. You, follow me," she called to the group.

Oliver saw, John giving one last glance before advancing deeper into the fortress.

As the boy watched him leave, he wanted to tell the Golden Ranger there was nothing valuable in the place. They had explored the area during their second escape attempt; however, he didn't know what the Ranger was searching for. Maybe it was something they hadn't noticed.

As soon as they separated, Quinn took the group's lead, guiding them through the corridors of the ancient fortress. The stone walls were, in several places, covered with moss and marked by scars of past battles. However, even so, wherever they went, the signs of recent combats were undeniable—more than undeniable. Mutilated bodies of monsters and Orks lay scattered on the ground, their weapons abandoned beside them, still stained with the blood of their last fights.

The air was heavy with the metallic smell of blood and the acrid odor of death. Drops of green blood dripped from the ceiling, occasionally mixed with pieces of entrails that detached and fell silently, creating macabre patterns on the floor.

Following right behind, Oliver couldn't help but wonder how those creatures had met such a terrible end—or worse, which of the two Rangers had created that scene. The evident brutality suggested they wanted to cause the maximum amount of pain to their enemies before they were permitted to die.

The boy felt a slight chill at the thought.

A little farther ahead, they found the long staircase that connected this floor to the dungeon gates.

'It was the same one we used in the first escape,' he thought.

"Alright, let's keep going up here. It will lead us to the center of the fortress," Quinn explained.

The group could see the work done by the Rangers on each floor they passed. Some of them were still exploring the corridors when they saw the General returning.

"General." One of the Red Rangers saluted upon seeing her. "We couldn’t find any documents, information, or useful technology. Seems like more of the same we obtained on GL-581."

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"Understood. Inform the others to initiate the retreat. We'll return to the center and establish a secure area to board the extraction ship," Quinn instructed the Ranger.

"Yes, ma'am." Again, the Ranger saluted and quickly returned to gather the rest of the team.

"Alright, our turn to get out of here," she told the group.

Climbing the stairs was the simplest part; there was no sign of any living opponents inside the fortress.

Oliver's heart beat faster each time they began to approach the dungeon gate.

After six months of continuous suffering in the dark depths of the dungeon, Oliver felt once more the rough texture of the steps that would lead him to freedom.

As he set his first foot outside the prison, the hot desert wind enveloped him like a long-desired embrace.

The arid breeze, laden with sand particles, caressed his face. Despite the harshness, it was as if a soft feather had touched his skin, awakening long-forgotten senses. His eyes, accustomed to darkness, blinked rapidly as they adjusted to the intense brightness of the sun shining high in the sky.

Tears filled his eyes; he would undoubtedly have cried if he were more hydrated. During his captivity, the only indication of passing days were small slits of light that barely illuminated.

Oliver inhaled deeply, letting the warm air fill his lungs. Each breath was a mixture of pain and relief, a reminder that he was still alive.

Around him stood a massive fortress with three enormous towers and a gigantic protective wall. However, the signs of battle were evident. One of the towers was utterly destroyed, and the walls were cracked.

The structures that were still standing were riddled with cracks.

In addition to the hundreds of Ork bodies scattered on the ground.

"Yes. We are at the center of the fortress," Quinn said, one of her hands holding the communicator. "You're being followed by vessels? Alright. No problem."

As soon as she finished communicating with the ship's captain, the General tried to use the gauntlet communication to talk to the Rangers on-site.

"Is anyone listening? Full retreat. There are signs of Ork ships approaching; the extraction ship is on its way. Estimated arrival in ten minutes." The General repeated the message; however, there wasn't any response.

As she finished the message, some Rangers emerged from the dungeons and began to position themselves in formation, protecting the fortress’ center. A few minutes later, all 23 Rangers were already in the fortress's plaza.

Only John remained in the dungeon, still exploring whatever was down there.

Oliver, Katherine, and Isabela sat on the ground in one of the areas that seemed cleaner, with fewer Ork bodies nearby.

“When I was little, I’ve only lived in Area 55. It was always so hot and dry; I hated being outdoors.” Isabela commented. "I thought I'd never miss feeling the sun and wind on my face."

Oliver smiled upon hearing their friend; he felt the same way.

"We're almost done," Katherine said. "Just get on that ship, and our nightmare is over."

Their chat was suddenly cut off by the arrival of one of the Red Rangers running towards Quinn.

"Ma'am. Ma'am. We need to expedite the extraction," the Ranger warned. "There are signs of a huge mass of Energy coming in our direction."

Oliver could faintly feel the ground shaking. Every second, the sound of something hitting the ground grew louder.

Just as the first Ranger finished speaking, another one approached. "Madam Quinn, we just received a notification. There's a Titan on the way to the fortress. It should arrive in the next min—"

Before the Ranger could finish his words, the group was taken aback by the sight.

On the scorching horizon of the desert, a colossal silhouette emerged, distorting the air with its presence.

The creature loomed like a nightmare dragged from the depths of a fever dream, its form a chaotic amalgamation of pulsating flesh and bones. Standing impossibly tall against the vast, golden expanse of the desert, it moved, each step sinking deep into the sand and leaving behind a trail of red-streaked craters.

Its body was a patchwork of torn muscle and glistening viscera as though it had been violently stitched together. Dark veins bulged grotesquely across its surface, pumping a viscous, crimson liquid that oozed and dripped to the ground.

Spines sprouted erratically from its torso, whipping and writhing as though they possessed a mind of their own. The creature’s “head,” if it could be called that, was obscured by a tangle of organic growths.

"Titan sighted. Titan sighted," Quinn repeated into the communicator with the ship. "I repeat, the Orks have summoned a Titan. We need to evacuate immediately."

Despite its immense stature, the creature moved with unsettling speed. Its long strides covered great distances in mere seconds, reducing dunes to dust in its wake.

Oliver watched incredulously as the monster advanced, his heart beating erratically in the face of such an infernal sight. He had read that a Titan was one of the ultimate weapons the Orks used in extreme situations; however, he had never imagined that he would meet one face to face.

“There must be something precious here for them to use a Titan,” Quinn murmured.

Suddenly, without warning, the massive arms of the living flesh of the golem raised and stretched over the wall with devastating force.

Soon, the Titan was no longer outside the fortress but inside it.

"Attack! Hold off the Titan until the ship arrives!"