Lukas' gaze locked on the creature. He was receiving precise feedback from Chiara, who was processing visuals relayed by Mei and Jun's squad, comparing its performance against their earlier estimations.

The Xok'al in question was markedly different from the rest. Beyond its five tails, it had an additional upper set of limbs sprouting from its shoulders. The upper arms ended in axe-like blades, while the lower appendages curved into scimitar shapes. Its body maintained the signature Xok'al form—arched legs, a humanoid lizard-like frame covered in natural chitin armour—but this one was slightly larger than the others, standing over 2.3 metres tall.

And then there was its back. Like the four-tailed variant, it bore bladed protrusions—but instead of one, there were two.

Judging from all these traits alone, its offensive potential was far greater than the others. Four arms made it a nightmare in close combat—one Lukas would never want near any of the Climbers—while the five tails and dual boomerang-like protrusions on its back granted it a dangerous ranged arsenal.

Seconds passed in silence as he observed it. The Sun Bearers of the Ajnal were falling one by one, but Lukas felt only limited sympathy. Beyond their numbers, they were just… pieces. As Chiara suggested, they were likely creations of the Tower itself, designed solely for the challenge. In his old gamer terms: NPCs.

After what was only a few seconds, Chiara finished the calculations.

Lukas took a deep breath.

"Let's start."

His voice was steady, almost quiet—but the world moved.

Coordinates rippled outward, threading through the invisible lattice of the battlefield's EM network.

Then he turned—his eyes found Chiara's, and with a silent nod, it began.

Behind them, a faint shimmer distorted the cave's air as half a dozen matte-black fragments lifted from the snow-dusted rock. They hovered at odd angles for a moment, then twitched—snapping into motion as if pulled by gravity that didn't exist.

One by one, the curved segments spun and slid into position, locking together in mid-air with microscopic precision until they formed a perfect ring over 3 meters in diameter.

Conductor lines ran along its surface like veins beneath skin, each one humming to life with a rising harmonic thrum as electromagnetic fields aligned and stabilized. The entire loop floated with flawless stillness, a suspended structure held in check by EM force alone.

And at its centre—stood Chiara.

A bloom of pale light rippled across the entire loop. Her EM domain pulsed outward in a tight, rhythmic wave, syncing with the embedded conductor-magnets. The field tightened, twisted, then rotated, like a storm caught in orbit.

Lukas was processing the data, numbers flickering through his mind like sparks. Everything was tracking—wave syncs, enemy movement, cannon recharge, relay loop integrity.

All was going well.

He watched as the final segments of the cyclotron snapped into place, each locking movement precise. Then the second part of the weapon slid into position—an extended barrel just under 2.5 meters long, shaped from dark alloy and magnetically suspended beside the orbit ring.

Controlled by Chiara's domain, it aligned tangential to the loop with silent, fluid motion. Embedded conductor rails and polarity-tuned coils along its spine hummed low as Chiara threaded her field through them, feeding them her pulse rhythm like a living current.

And less than a second later… it was finished.

"Jun, Mei—prepare on command," Lukas pulsed calmly. "Shot initiation timer adjusted."

He blinked once, eyes steady.

"Imani, Wang, Maurice—we've got permission from the fort commander. Take full control of the EM cannons. Stand by for firing order."

A soft hiss escaped as the metal case opened at his feet—its latch responding instantly to Lukas' pulse command. A thin wave flickered from his mind, and the bullet inside stirred.

Lukas guided it upward with a single thought, his field wrapping around the round until it hovered just above his open palm.

Roughly seven inches long and forged from the best this stage had to offer, the bullet was matte grey, its surface etched with a faint spiral groove around the base—meant to stabilize spin and enhance aerodynamic grip.

He tossed it toward Chiara.

She never touched it.

Her domain took hold instantly—threads of invisible force wrapping around the bullet as gently as silk, guiding it forward until it hovered at the ring's outer port. A silent click pulsed through the field as it entered the loop's chamber, locking into the magnetic groove and beginning its slow orbit.

Lukas exhaled as he did a final sweep across the battlefield's network. Position updates, enemy flow, bio-signature clusters—each one flickered, tracked, calculated. Then, without waiting, he drew in a sharp breath and let his mind reach towards her.

"I'm linking."

His unique, non-EM wave pattern—born of his Awakening—threaded outward, brushing gently against the edge of Chiara's inner mind. He pressed further, not with force, but with precision—guiding, aligning, reinforcing. The boost followed instantly—her primary Pillar output climbing by over 40.2%.

And then… it started.

The ring lit up.

A faint electric tone shimmered through the cave as the field intensified. The bullet began its first loop. Slow. Measured. Barely audible.

Then faster.

And faster.

Each orbit pulled more speed from the field. The coils realigned in real-time, driven by Chiara's triple-threaded focus—one mind locked on stability, one tracking velocity curves, one adjusting conductor intervals by the nanosecond. The bullet blurred. Then vanished. By the fifteenth rotation, it no longer had shape—only trail.

Below, Lukas clenched his jaw as the shared strain settled in. The link was stable, but taxing. His own mind bore the weight of network oversight and combat strategy while tethered to the raw mathematical pulse storm of Chiara's output. Still, he endured it.

The Warden was moving—confident, composed, and drawing closer to the base with every passing breath.

"Yun," he pulsed. "Prepare the EPM drone discharge. Sync to the timer. No delays."

He reached further. "Mei—follow pattern C6. Match coordinates and execution timing exactly."

Next, the base. "Begin charging all EM cannons. Target locks will be synced with the main discharge. Fire only on command."

And then, lastly, to Arjun. "Get ready."

Around Chiara, the ring screamed now—a high-pitched harmonic tremor that cracked faintly against the walls of the cave as the projectile broke its previous record again. Each loop lasted microseconds now. Velocity was nearing critical. Chiara's mind wavered—just for a beat—and nudged him.

That was her limit.

She couldn't push it any further—and he felt it too, the pressure spiking behind his eyes as the headache bloomed sharp and deep, a hot line of blood slipping from his nose.

But there was no pulling back.

Failure wasn't an option.

Lukas' breath caught, his teeth clenched against the pain.

"NOW!"

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***

Culling phase progressed.

Organic disarray confirmed. Patterns shattered. Echoes of dying units resonated across the white terrain.

Multi-limbed torsos collapsed in erratic trajectories, bleeding fluid in red spirals over the snow. Their fractured formations exhibited no spatial resilience, no nested hierarchy, no adaptive fallback. What had begun as resistance now degraded into noise. An operation of efficiency followed.

Upper projectiles deployed from higher ground—predictable arc, timed wrong, intensity too low to threaten.

His internal lattice swelled, field harmonics blooming from his core as an EM pulse rippled outward in a dome of assertive modulation. Energy rerouted, bent through the curvature of his defense net, and returned to sender—metal groaning above as their own strike fractured scaffolding.

Not for preservation. For data. For pattern study. They were readable—loud in the spectrum, jagged in sequence, and slow between volleys. No complexity. No creativity. No threat.

He had discharged few emissions of his own—initially, when chaos favored maximum entropy. But blade work sufficed now. It yielded superior feedback. The kinetic feel of soft resistance parting. The biological halt between impact and expiration. The transfer of warmth into the frozen air, like an offering. That was signal enough.

One unit terminated—bladed from rear access, spinal intrusion completed. Pause. Pulse counted. Flicker ceased. Body discarded, flung across a shallow vector to disrupt a nearby regrouping cluster. They scattered before contact.

Necessary. Correction. They had killed bonded extensions—his limb-nodes, mind-slaves of the greater whole. Sensory memories severed. Echoes muted. A portion of thought erased. This could not go unaddressed.

"!"

Anomaly initiated.

Background resonance shifted—a slow lifting in density, subtle only if attention wavered. Energy output climbed from the base. A signal. Familiar. EM artillery. Primitive. Disruptive if ignored.

His form condensed. Snow displaced in bursts as he launched, pierced another body—soft-shell chest penetration, rapid collapse—then redirected the corpse into fortress plating.

But the field changed again. Not in strength. In shape. Widened. Unclean. Overlapping tones. Interference nets. Not one pulse—dozens. Cascading. Offset by micro-intervals. Disruption design.

He staggered—not from damage but from blankness. A sensory silence within his perception field. A moment of disconnection. Enough to unbalance. Enough to trigger instinct.

He retaliated.

Five tails arched and launched simultaneous spread-fire in scatter formation, each bolt carving randomized disruption across the snowscape. Not to destroy. To suppress. To expose hidden motion. A calculation. A trap-screen.

But just as the pulse exited his tails, a sharp vertical spike hit his lattice. High EM charge. Density increase. Cannons. Syncronised. Activated.

But trajectory—wrong.

Not impact-aligned.

Envelopment.

He lunged—field forcing through his limbs, core energy cycling. A lateral arc, clean through snow, tracing a warped escape path. He anticipated convergence.

But the convergence was not the strike.

It was the stage.

A trap—calculated spatial tension.

Mid-air, he twisted, blades crossed, intercepting the first strike. Sonic wave vibrated through alloy, metal screeched against energy, and his path warped as force displaced him.

Recovery began.

Then… error.

Flicker of light—denser, sharper, unannounced.

One projectile pierced upper joint—through plate, through mass. Exit clean.

Secondary—through thigh. Stability failed.

Tertiary—through tail cluster. Segments severed.

Pain flooded neural fibers. Alert.

Core surged. Warform Uplift protocol initiated. Five dozen node-streams activated in sequence. EM field crackled with white arcs. Reflex velocity doubled. Reaction latency halved. Internal timing loops recalibrated.

Lightning crawled across exoskeletal ridges—snapping through limbs, across joints, down tail-spines. Movements accelerated, bursts sharp and unnatural. Energy consumption increased.

Internal stitching commenced. Damage isolation began. Sensory overdrive engaged. Ground anchored by tail-ends as he launched backwards—escape pattern rerun, trajectory refined in real time.

Pursuit sequence loading.

He would locate source.

Obliterate it.

Swarm would be avenged.

Then—

Null.

Absence.

A silence not of ears or sight—but of frequency.

An EM void bloomed behind him.

No source.

Only effect.

He could not react.

But he sensed the result.

A blur. A thermal distortion. A strike without signature.

Impact.

Then came the sound.

Not at once.

Delayed. Distant.

BOOM!

First explosion low—second high. Separated. Altitude variance confirmed.

And then—

Instability.

Legs collapsed inward.

Damage beyond critical.

EM lattice decayed. Nodes flickered. Vision haze. Central current lost.

A fail-state.

Knee contacted snow. System rerouted. Ineffective.

He finally observed.

Cavity—circular. Core-mass erased. Not ruptured. Not scorched. Missing. An absence within form.

He had been struck by a large, unidentified projectile in the chest. Velocity exceeded all known reaction thresholds—impact delivered faster than maximum processing speed.

Mandibles quivered.

Query surfaced.

Who… how?

The swarm must know.

He compiled final reserves, turned his head—slow—computational delay increasing. Mind rebuilt vector. Path: backward. Layers pierced—snow, field, interference previously unregistered.

And then—sighting confirmed.

Two human eyes.

Still.

Unblinking.

Locked.

He transmitted final data burst to the swarm.

Then—collapse.

Unit: terminated.

***

Lukas watched as the last flickers of light faded from the creature's body.

The Warden… was dead.

Behind him, the cyclotron cannon dimmed and began to descend, hovering lower until its components slowly disassembled mid-air. Without Chiara's field sustaining it, the magnificent structure unraveled piece by piece, conductors and coils drifting apart in silence.

The toll it had taken on her was clear—sweat traced down her temple, her breathing shallow and uneven.

Lukas felt the sting behind his eyes intensify, a sharp spike of pain from the strain of the link. Perhaps they'd pushed further than necessary—but in a moment like this, it was always better to exceed than fall short.

He stepped toward her and caught her as she swayed, guiding her weight gently onto his shoulder before lowering them both to the ground.

"Take a rest. We won."

Chiara gave a faint smile and nodded, her eyes fluttering shut almost immediately. He knew the signs—she had slipped into her deep recovery state, two of her minds shutting down while the third remained quietly alert.

Lukas ran his fingers softly through her hair as he held her close.

She wasn't a fighter. She was a scientist. A mind meant for solving the universe's questions, not for battlefield miracles. And yet, The Tower left no room for what they were meant to be.

It twisted them all into weapons.

And him… he had no choice but to use everything he had.

He pulsed a transmission across the EM network, voice steady.

"Good job, everyone. The boss is down."

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