The shot wasn't just loud. It was deafening.
A glowing round tore through the air like a falling star, a streak of radiant energy slamming into the creature's cocoon with a thunderous, earth-shaking blast.
The spiraling bones shattered on impact, fragments scattering like burning ash across the battlefield. The explosion's shockwave rippled outward, shaking the ground beneath them as the creature's shriek cut through the dust and smoke—a sound both monstrous and pitiful, its desperate attempt to recover utterly destroyed.
As the light faded, silence fell.
Through the settling debris, Eli moved forward. Calm. Unhurried.
His last sword dragged behind him, the blade carving a faint line in the dirt, its edge glowing faintly from the heat of the fight.
The creature lay sprawled in the rubble, half of its face obliterated from the blast. One wing shredded. Bones and raw flesh hung from its gaping wounds, black ichor pooling beneath it.
And yet, somehow, the creature smiled.
That same wide, hollow grin.
"I—I can't hear you…"
It rasped in a broken whisper, mocking Dane's voice from earlier, as though still trying to cling to its twisted mimicry, even as life bled from its ruined body.
Eli didn't hesitate.
He raised his sword in one fluid motion—
And brought it down.
The blade passed cleanly through what remained of the creature's neck.
A dull, wet thud as the severed head hit the ground, rolling to a stop beside the wreckage.
And just like that—
The Rift closed.
No more mimicry.
No more sound.
Only the faint crackle of embers from the broken earth.
Eli turned away without a word, wiping the black blood from his blade on the torn fabric of his coat before sheathing it.
"Clear," he said simply.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then—
Dane whooped in excitement, sprinting forward before launching himself at Eli, nearly tackling him to the ground.
"That's what I'm talking about!" Dane shouted, shaking Eli by the shoulders before tossing him into the air like a ragdoll.
Irene laughed, following close behind, her usual sharp demeanor softened as she joined in the celebration. Around them, the soldiers and crew erupted into cheers, tension finally breaking like a storm passing.
Behind the tank, Rook let out a low hum of approval—the closest thing to a victory yell he ever gave.
Tess stirred weakly in his arms, blinking as the noise reached her ears.
"What happened?" she mumbled sleepily, her voice small, gaze dazed as she looked up at him.
Rook glanced down at her.
"Damn it… I missed it," she sighed with a faint, breathy laugh.
Still half-conscious, she reached up, fingers brushing against Rook's face before letting her arm fall back.
"You can put me down, you know," Tess murmured.
Rook rolled his eyes but didn't budge an inch, still holding her like it was his duty and his right.
Then Tess's gaze shifted to Ezra.
"Thanks… for earlier," she said softly, offering him a tired but sincere smile.
Ezra just nodded, unsure what to say as his eyes bounced between them.
He still wasn't sure exactly what Tess and Rook were…
But whatever it was, he didn't really care.
Ezra glanced back toward the group, watching as Dane tossed Eli into the air again like they hadn't just fought for their lives.
Irene was laughing beside them, her usual smirk replaced with something lighter, freer.
Amara leaned against the side of the tank, exhaling deeply, wiping sweat from her brow as the dust finally settled.