Ezra slumped against the cold, jagged wall of the tunnel, his breaths coming in shallow, labored gasps.
Blood oozed steadily from the gaping wounds in his chest, pooling beneath him and soaking into the gritty earth. He pressed his trembling hands against his bleeding side, trying in vain to stanch the flow.
Carina skidded to her knees beside him, her heart pounding as she tore off her blazer. The fabric, dampened with sweat and soot, felt rough against her fingers as she hastily wrapped it around what was left of his arm.
“What the hell...”
She whispered, her voice trembling as she caught sight of the twin punctures on his chest. Blood seeped from them in sluggish rivulets, dark and unrelenting.
“Orion rammed me with his horns…”
Ezra rasped, his voice barely audible over the faint crackle of distant fires. He winced as he shifted slightly, his face pale and drenched in sweat.
Carina swallowed hard, her jaw tightening. She pressed down on the blazer, her hands shaking as she applied pressure to slow the bleeding of Ezra's arm.
The damp heat of his blood seeped through the cloth, sticky and unyielding.
“Keep good compression on it until you heal.”
She said.
Carina glanced up to see a soldier approaching, his footsteps caught her attention.
His face was smeared with soot, his uniform torn and dust-covered.
From his side, he pulled an 18 inch barreled M4. The rifle was equipped with nothing but iron sights, fresh from production.
“This is for you.”
The soldier said.
Carina accepted the weapon, pulling the charging handle back and set the safety to OFF.
“And this.”
He added, pulling a flare gun from his belt. Its bright red grip stood out like a lifeline in the dim chaos of the tunnel.
“Fire this flare, and we’ll zero in on your position.”
She nodded, her voice tight.
“Thanks.”
“But we’re reloading.”
The soldier warned, his gaze firm.
“You’ll need to hold your ground for about five minutes before we can fire another shell.”
“I see. Please look after this guy for me.”
She said, her voice steadier now.
Carina sprinted away from the arsenal, her boots pounding against the cracked ground as she navigated through the thick haze of smoke and residue.
The acrid scent of explosives lingered in the air, stinging her nostrils with every breath.
The tunnel was eerily quiet now, save for the faint creak of settling rubble and the distant echoes of shouting soldiers.
She descended the staircase alone, her footsteps muffled by the layer of dust and debris coating the steps.
Each step was precarious, the air thick and oppressive, and her lungs burned as she drew in the tainted air.
The faint glow of scattered fires barely illuminated her path, casting long, flickering shadows across the walls.
At the bottom, the sight that greeted her was both baffling and unsettling.
The boulders that had been hurled by the explosion—massive, jagged chunks of rock—were somehow already shattered.
The destruction was absolute, the remnants slick with fine dust that clung to her hands as she reached out for balance.
She carefully climbed over the uneven terrain, her boots skidding slightly on the loose rubble.
As she crested the last of the boulders, her eyes caught a glint of something amidst the destruction. It lay at the very center of the devastation, untouched by the chaos that surrounded it.
Her brow furrowed as she descended towards it, her heart pounding in anticipation.
The object became clearer with each step: small, unassuming, yet wholly out of place.
It resembled a telegraph, but there was something unsettlingly alien about its design. The material was unfamiliar—neither metal nor plastic—its smooth surface glinting faintly under the dim light.
Its size was modest, no larger than an A5 sheet of paper, but its presence commanded attention.
A calculator?
No. It could be the Obsidian Compass.
Carina’s eyes locked onto it, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.
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She surged forward, ready to claim it.
Suddenly, a flicker of motion in her periphery froze her mid-stride.
Gunfire erupted, deafening in the confined space.
Carina barely had time to react, instinctively raising her arms to shield her head as she buckled.
Seven rounds shot out from a Colt 1911.
Four punched into the walls, sparking off stone. The other three slammed into her left ribs.
Pain tore through her body as blood bubbled up in her throat.
She staggered but forced her head up, locking eyes with her attacker.
Orion.
His body was an abomination—shredded flesh hanging loose, his face mangled beyond recognition.
But the unbroken horns, those damned horns, stood tall like trophies of his defiance.
He had been crawling in the darkness, dragging himself over broken ground, inching toward the Compass like a predator stalking its prize.
Now he hauled himself upright, his movements fueled by sheer willpower, and broke into a desperate sprint.
“You Fucking Motherfucker!!!”
Carina didn’t hesitate.
She ripped her M4 off her side and pulled the trigger, spraying bullets at his legs and chest as she screamed.
Orion ducked behind a jagged chunk of Irfan’s armor, hoisting it as a shield.
The bullets sparked against the metal, some ricocheting wildly into the tunnel. Her shots that found flesh barely slowed him down.
Carina’s ribs screamed with each movement, her hands trembling as the pain grew unbearable.
Both hands were trembling. Her shots turned erratic, grazing the walls, the ceiling—anything but Orion’s exposed parts.
As the magazine was empty, she ejected it and passed the entire gun onto her left hand.
At the same time, snatched the flare gun off her side, raising it with her remaining strength.
She aimed the flare gun skyward and fired.
A fiery-red flare ripped into the black void of the tunnel, lighting it in a searing glow.
Outside, the Gustav crews saw the signal.
“FIRE!”
The order boomed through the tunnel.
The Gustav fired, 16 tons of recoil force pushed the barrel backwards.
Dust and steam erupted from the breech and the ground, followed by the boom of the 800mm shell streaking down the tunnel.
Carina could barely register the sound before the shell slammed into the ground just meters from Orion.
The shockwave hurled her off her feet, slamming her into the rubble like a rag doll.
The tunnel vanished in fire, dust, and obliterated stone.
Every surface seemed to crumble, every breath stolen by the violent inferno.
And yet, through the chaos, something emerged.
Carina’s ears rang as she struggled to lift her head, vision swimming.
Carina could barely see through the thick, suffocating smoke, but the hulking, broken figure of Orion was unmistakable. He was moving—barely—but with singular purpose, dragging himself toward the Obsidian Compass.
A surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins. Without hesitation, Carina shot to her feet and sprinted toward him, her ribs screaming in protest, blood trailing in her wake. Orion, sensing her approach, clawed the ground with desperate strength, trying to close the final distance to the Compass.
Carina reached him first. With a guttural roar, she swung the M4 rifle, slamming its buttstock into the side of Orion’s head. His skull cracked against the ground, dust and blood mixing beneath him. But he wasn’t finished—not yet.
Seizing the moment, Carina dropped onto him, using the rifle like a lever. She pressed it hard against his throat and pinned his head to the ground, throwing her full weight behind it.
“Ahhhhhhhh!!! Someone help!!!”
She screamed, her voice raw and echoing through the tunnel.
But the distance and the structure of the tunnel swallowed her cries.
Nobody could hear her.
Beneath her, Orion growled like a cornered animal.
With a Herculean effort, he planted his mangled arms on the ground and pushed upward, his muscles trembling under the strain.
Carina’s weight faltered as his sheer strength lifted her off his back.
Carina gripped the rifle tighter. But Orion twisted violently, throwing her off.
She hit the ground hard, the rifle flying from her grasp.
Before she could react, Orion’s hand shot out, grabbing the rifle. With a savage yell, he hurled it at her face.
The stock struck her cheek, sending her sprawling backward.
Carina gasped, her vision blurring as blood dripped down her face. But she forced herself to move, scrambling to her feet.
Through the haze of smoke and pain, she saw Orion flopping closer to the Compass, clawing his way across the debris like a wounded beast.
Carina launched herself at him again, her feet pounding against the fractured stone.
She reached him just as his trembling fingers brushed the edge of the Obsidian Compass.
She tackled him with everything she had, her shoulder slamming into his ribs.
The force sent them both tumbling sideways, skidding across the ground as a cloud of dust and smoke burst around them.
They hit the ground hard, rolling and grappling blindly in the choking haze.
Carina staggered to her knees, her lungs burning as she coughed out the choking dust.
Her vision swam, but through the haze, she saw him—Orion, just meters away.
In his mangled, bloodied hand, the Obsidian Compass gleamed like a malevolent star.
Its dark surface pulsed faintly, as if alive, as if mocking her.
Orion stumbled forward, his broken frame barely holding together. His horns were cracked, his face unrecognizable, and his body swayed with every step.
Yet his grin—a triumphant smirk—was unwavering.
"You think I’d let you win?"
He rasped, his voice barely more than a guttural snarl, thick with malice.
He raised the Compass higher, its faint glow illuminating his bloodied hand.
"Let’s see how you handle this!"
He bellowed, his voice echoing through the desolation.
Before Carina could take another step, Orion pulled out the Colt 1911 from his side.
He pressed the muzzle against his temple, his bloodstained fingers trembling around the trigger.
"No!"
Carina screamed, lunging forward, but she was too far.
Bang.
A gunshot echoed through the tunnel, sharp and final.
Blood sprayed, Orion’s body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
The Obsidian Compass, still clutched in his hand, flickered once before it vanished. The glow snuffed out as if it had never existed.
Carina fell to her knees, staring in stunned horror at Orion’s motionless body.
The Compass was gone—just like that.
***
The basement of the school felt oppressive, the air thick with the scent of damp and decay.
The once-clean trapdoor that had provided a path underground was now unreachable, buried under collapsed debris.
Instead, Carina and Pungkas waded through knee-deep, murky water, the liquid swirling with grime and debris, reflecting the flickering beams of their flashlights.
“This could be your new base.”
Carina said flatly, gesturing toward the darkened expanse ahead.
Her voice lacked its usual confidence, replaced with a heavy undertone of resignation.
Pungkas surveyed the space, his boots squelching against the flooded floor as he moved.
“It’s workable. A pump should handle the water. As long as the foundation holds, I can build something here.”
“I’ll get someone to install top-notch security.”
Carina replied quietly.
Pungkas offered a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Yeah. Do that.”
Carina trailed behind him, her gaze fixed on the rippling water. The quiet lapped against her nerves.
“You’ll make good weapons here, right?”
He chuckled lightly, and pulled a set of blueprints from his pocket.
“Always.”
The first sheet was a detailed layout of a B-52H Stratofortress, the intricate lines marking its bomb bays and electronic systems.
The second blueprint displayed the sleek design of an F-16V, focusing on its cockpit and missile configurations.
Carina examined them in silence, her fingers running over the precise lines.
Her eyes lingered on the B-52H.
“Do you have the bombs for these?”
She asked, though her voice carried no real enthusiasm.
“Not yet.”
Pungkas admitted, his smile faltering.
“Why do you ask?”
Carina tilted her head, forcing a small grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“No reason. I’ll wait for them. You’ll make them happen, right?”
“Of course.”
Pungkas said, but his tone carried doubt. He glanced at her.
“By the way, where’s your new friend?”
Carina’s grin vanished. She hesitated, then replied with a hollow laugh.
“He walked to the sickbay by himself.”
Pungkas paused, his brows furrowing. He chose not to press further.
“You should rest. I can handle the pump and setup here.”
Carina nodded without argument. Her usual fire seemed dimmed, her steps sluggish as she left the basement.
The school corridors felt eerily quiet as she ascended the stairs, the faint light of dawn filtering through windows.