Smoke curled gently from the rubble of an old tower as Jarek crouched behind a rusted scaffold, his rifle balanced across one knee. The skyline of Ashalara loomed in the haze, punctuated by the jagged silhouette of the Black Ring—still silent. Still sealed.

  Too silent.

  “Any second now…” he muttered.

  Pepe hovered above him, blinking softly. “Would now be a bad time to remind you of the simulations?”

  “You mean the ones where everyone dies?”

  “Technically, only most of you.”

  Jarek sighed and flexed his gloved fingers. Around him, the rebel strike force stirred—roughly two thousand fighters in scavenged armor, light mechs repurposed from mining rigs, and more nerve than sense. They weren’t ready. No one ever was. But they were here.

  A short beep crackled through his comm.

  Pepe’s display flashed green. “That’s the signal.”

  Jarek’s eyes snapped up to the Black Ring. A faint ripple of light shimmered across its lower defenses, and then—click.

  A massive groan echoed as the front gates began to open.

  No alarm. No response. Just quiet permission.

  “Time to move,” Jarek said.

  He stood and raised one fist. The rebels surged forward like a tide breaking its dam.

  Inside the Black Ring, the silence shattered.

  An emergency klaxon blared across the central halls. Lights snapped red. A dozen internal gates slammed shut with heavy thuds—but the outer defenses had already been breached.

  Ramm stood frozen, one hand still on the hacked terminal.

  “I think I did it,” he said.

  Brinn didn’t wait. He hauled Ramm away from the console just as a barrage of gunfire laced down the corridor. “Correction: you definitely did it.”

  Sai melted into the overhead shadows, veil shimmering faintly as he moved toward the blast doors above the atrium.

  Troopers spilled into view below them—Weaver soldiers in black and silver armor, scrambling to respond to an attack that wasn’t supposed to happen.

  “Two minutes before they realize how deep we’re in,” Sai whispered.

  Brinn pulled his helmet tighter. “We get to the general and we take the lift down.”

  “And if the general’s not where he’s supposed to be?” Ramm asked.

  “Then we improvise,” Brinn growled. “Again.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  From outside, the rebels struck like lightning.

  Jarek charged with the front wave, dodging blast bolts and returning fire with sharp, practiced bursts. Explosions rocked the outer wall. Rebel mechs smashed through secondary barricades while drone swarms buzzed overhead, jamming sensors and mapping enemy positions.

  Pepe weaved through the smoke like a glowing bee of chaos, broadcasting enemy positions and making commentary that no one asked for.

  “Right flank collapsing,” he chirped. “Left flank holding. Middle… dramatically on fire. Classic symmetry!”

  Jarek rolled behind a barricade and checked his ammo. "Tell Brinn they have about ten minutes before this place becomes a death box."

  “Already pinged him. He says thanks and that you’re still a grumpy bastard.”

  Jarek smirked. “Good. That means he’s fine.”

  Back in the Ring, Brinn and Ramm shoved through a sealed checkpoint—Ramm disabling the door with a modified datapad and about three inches of desperate hope.

  Sai reappeared from a vent above them. “Target location—Command Hall. East tier. Thirty seconds walk. Ten if you run.”

  Brinn started running.

  Ramm huffed behind him. “I’m not built for cardio! I’m built for keyboard kung fu!”

  “Then don’t fall behind,” Brinn barked.

  They burst into the Command Hall just as an officer barked orders to a squad of armored troops. One look at Brinn, and the officer drew his weapon.

  Too slow.

  Sai dropped behind him like a ghost. A single motion—silent, final—and the officer hit the ground.

  “Tag secured,” Sai said, holding up the officer’s clearance badge.

  “General?” Brinn asked, panting.

  Sai shook his head. “One floor up. Final override needed.”

  Ramm checked the stolen ID and wristed into the terminal. “Okay, good news—I can spoof the general’s signal with this guy’s ID, but we only get one chance.”

  “Make it count.”

  Alarms intensified. From above, ceiling turrets rotated and scanned the hallway—then went dormant.

  “Gate override’s failing,” Sai muttered. “Their defense AI is catching up.”

  Brinn grabbed Ramm by the collar. “Then we get down before it locks us out.”

  They sprinted toward the central lift platform.

  Outside, the rebel push was slowing.

  Jarek ducked under a beam as enemy fire scorched past him. Pepe circled in frantic loops overhead.

  “They’re flooding reinforcements from the upper decks! It’s gonna turn ugly in thirty seconds or less!”

  “It’s already ugly,” Jarek muttered. “We need those doors—now.”

  Pepe blinked. “Then you’re gonna love this next part.”

  Inside, the team reached the central lift.

  Two guards stood between them and the controls.

  One had just enough time to yell before Brinn slammed into him like a battering ram. The other tried to raise an alarm—until Sai’s dagger found the joint in his helmet.

  Ramm skidded to the terminal and jammed in the clearance ID.

  “Alright, here we go. Down into the void, kids.”

  The platform hummed.

  And began to descend.

  “We’re in,” Brinn said, voice calm but low.

  “Copy that,” Jarek replied over comms.

  A pause. Then the screech of metal echoed faintly through the channel.

  “...Jarek?” Sai asked.

  “Just locking the door behind us.”

  From above, Pepe buzzed in a panic. “YOU’RE SMASHING THE CONTROL PANEL!”

  “Yup,” Jarek grunted. “No sense making it easy for them to follow.”

  “Then how are you getting down—wait, wait, wait—”

  Jarek sprinted and jumped.

  A thud rang out as he landed hard on the descending platform beside the rest of the crew, a little out of breath but grinning.

  “—aaand we have arrived,” he said.

  Brinn gave him a long, unimpressed look. “You destroyed our way back up.”

  “Correction,” Pepe buzzed from the edge of the shaft. “He destroyed everybody’s way back up.”

  “I didn’t plan on retreat,” Jarek muttered.

  “Well,” Ramm said, holding up his wristpad, “I was planning on retreat.”

  Sai didn’t say a word—but he looked at Jarek with something between grudging respect and exhausted disbelief.

  The lift sank deeper into the Black Ring, shadows thickening as steel gave way to older alloy—untouched, unwatched.

  No turning back now.

  Darkness swallowed the light above.

  As they dropped, the sounds of battle faded. The lights grew colder. Quieter. The air changed—less recycled, more ancient.

  Sai stood near the edge of the lift, his eyes narrowing.

  “Whatever’s below,” he said, voice low, “it wasn’t meant to be found.”

  Brinn checked his weapon. “We’re already here.”

  Ramm grinned, adrenaline humming through him. “And we’ve got the weirdest team in the galaxy. What could go wrong?”

  chaotic energy and I ran with it. (He calls it tactical. Pepe calls it dumb. Both are correct.)

  beneath is something far older, stranger, and more dangerous than anyone (even Sai) is prepared for. Volume One has been building to this moment—and from here on out, we’re playing with fire in the dark.