But it wasn't just Kadmon. Clara knew the magnitude of what they were facing. "I'm alerting Ariane. The SCD will move as well. We're not taking any chances."

A large-scale operation—one that hadn't been seen in years—was underway. Forces were mobilizing across every sector. Kadmon agents, SCD operatives, and every available resource were being thrown into the fray. This was no longer just a rescue mission; it was a race against time. If Luther's plan succeeded, those old gods would rise, and the consequences would be catastrophic.

Gerald, ever the tactician, surveyed the room. "This isn't just about saving the kids," he said gravely. "This is about stopping the end of everything. We're going into hell to pull them out—and we can't afford to lose."

Celine's heart pounded as she nodded, adrenaline coursing through her veins. The clock was ticking, and the stakes had never been higher.

Ariane moved swiftly through the corridors, her pace unyielding as two figures followed closely behind—Peter Wingates and Seras Fairbrook, the Command Unit Leaders of the SCD. These were her most trusted allies, and the situation demanded nothing less. As they walked, Ariane briefed them with precision, her voice carrying an undercurrent of restrained fury.

Clara had reached out under the guise of requesting assistance, but Ariane knew better. This wasn't just about helping Kadmon—it was Clara's way of tipping them off. The SCD had been tasked with investigating the recent surge of hybrid machine experiments, and Clara's call was a warning: Sigdra was behind it all. It wasn't just an opportunity to rescue Ariane's children; it was a chance to take down the very organization responsible for unspeakable crimes.

As Ariane relayed the information, Peter and Seras exchanged grim looks. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. This mission wasn't just personal for Ariane—it had become a matter of justice. Peter's jaw tightened, his mind already working through the logistics of leading their best units into a battle that could very well turn into a nightmare. Seras, ever calculating, was mentally reviewing every asset they could deploy, already strategizing the most efficient way to handle what was sure to be a hellish fight."They're using the ruins," Ariane said sharply, her voice cutting through the tension. "Not just as a staging ground, but as a sacrificial altar. My children are there. And whatever Luther and Sigdra are planning—it's far worse than we thought."

Peter nodded, his eyes steely. "We'll go in with everything we've got. No one gets left behind. Sigdra will pay."

Seras, her voice cold and composed, added, "We'll make sure they never do this again. Not to anyone."

The three of them strode forward with grim determination. Ariane's heart pounded, but her focus was clear. This was no longer just about rescuing the children. It was about confronting an evil that had been lurking in the shadows for too long. And they were about to bring the fight to its doorstep.

As they mobilized the SCD's best units, one thought pulsed through the air like a war drum: There would be no turning back.

Everyone involved in Gerald's incursion into the ruins understood the stakes. They were heading straight into the heart of darkness, where ancient gods and hybrid monstrosities awaited. This would be a battle unlike any they had ever faced, and they were ready to fight with everything they had.

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Back at the ruins, Vas and Anya sprinted toward the temple's center. Their footsteps echoed in the eerie silence, their breaths shallow with fear. Ahead of them, rows of people knelt, completely still, heads bowed as if in deep, unbroken prayer. They moved like shadows, darting past the lifeless bodies, but something about the stillness gnawed at them.

"Why aren't they reacting?" Anya whispered, her voice barely audible.

Vas shook his head, his heart hammering in his chest. "I don't know. Just keep moving."Then, without warning, a ripple of dark energy coursed through the air, raising the hairs on the back of their necks. Their blood ran cold as eight ghostly figures materialized in front of the ancient pillars. The scene was horrifying—a strange, naked figure, thin to the point of grotesqueness, appeared alongside them. Its skin was covered in disturbing tattoos, writhing as if alive. The creature wasted no time, binding the eight figures to the pillars with sinewy, black cords that twisted like snakes around their bodies.

Vas and Anya skidded to a stop, frozen in place by the sheer horror of what they were witnessing. The air grew colder, thicker, as if the very temple was coming alive with malevolent intent.

The strange figure turned, its hollow eyes locking onto them. A sickening smile curled across its face as it acknowledged their presence. "Ah… you," it rasped, its voice like nails scraping against stone. "If I could've disposed of you sooner, I would have. But you… you've proven annoyingly resilient."

Vas's stomach twisted. The creature had never once uttered his name, but its words dripped with venom. It had been watching him, toying with him all along. "You survived my hybrid creations three times. Impressive… but it won't matter. Once the true gods descend, you'll be erased entirely, like the rest of them."

Anya took a sharp breath. "Those figures..."

Vas's eyes widened in horror as he recognized the bound figures: Aleara, Beck, Amy, Lily, Zola, Kairo, Victor, and Carmilla—one to each pillar. They hung there, motionless, like sacrifices waiting for the inevitable.

"He's going to kill them all," Anya whispered, voice shaking.

Vas lowered his head slightly, the hood Madelina had given him hiding his face, protecting him from being recognized by the creature. He tightened his grip on his weapon, forcing himself to remain calm. "Not if I can help it."

The ritual began, a low hum vibrating through the ground. Dark energy flowed through the ruins, converging at the pillars where the eight were bound. The creature stood in the middle of the ritual, a smug grin plastered across its face as it anticipated the return of the Hekatonkheires. It believed everything was going according to plan.

But Vas knew better.

He glanced at Anya, who gave a slight nod. They had made sure the ritual wouldn't unfold as intended. The energy wasn't flowing to the pillars as the creature expected. It was being redirected.

Vas smirked beneath his hood, his heart pounding in anticipation. Activating his Vision del Velo, he saw it clearly—the energy was no longer feeding the pillars. Instead, it swirled, like a dark vortex, gathering at the center... right where the creature stood.His suspicions confirmed, Vas felt a twisted satisfaction. "You're standing in the eye of the storm, you fool," he muttered to himself.

The creature's smugness faltered as it felt the shift, looking around in confusion. "No… this can't be!" it hissed, realizing too late what was happening.

"Vas," Anya whispered urgently, her eyes wide, "the Hekatonkheires... they'll be drawn to him now."

Vas nodded, his smile growing grim. "And if I'm right, all three of them will be forced into that weak, fragile body of his."

The creature's panic was palpable as the energy intensified, swirling faster, its once-victorious posture crumbling into desperation. It could sense it now—the ancient gods weren't being drawn to the pillars. They were coming for it.

The air became electric with tension, the ground shaking violently as the ritual spiraled out of control. Vas and Anya could only watch as the creature screamed in horror, the realization dawning in its eyes: it would be the vessel for the return of the Hekatonkheires, a body far too weak to contain such monstrous power.

The very thing it had worshiped was now going to tear it apart.