Ethan climbed out of the hatch and immediately spotted Jason crouched low against a stone wall. Jason was frantically gesturing toward his own ear, then pointed sharply at the ground, signaling for Ethan to stay down.

Ethan reached into his pockets, realizing he'd left his earpiece out after giving the spare to Kira. He quickly jammed it in.

"Boss, you're back. We saw the jets pass over a minute ago. They're circling for a vertical descent right into the village center," Jason said through the comms.

Ethan looked up, squinting against the glare of the snow. Two F-16 fighters, modified for STOL (Short Take-Off and Landing), were banking hard, their engines roaring like thunder as they prepared to land.

"Tell the Falcon teams to move back in. Those jets are going to land, but they cannot be allowed to take off again, or we're finished. The moment their wheels touch the ground, they belong to us," Ethan said.

"We're ready. Once they touch down, we're three minutes out. We'll disable the engines before they can even think about a scramble," Falcon 3 said over the link.

The two fighters descended, their powerful thrusters kicking up massive, blinding clouds of snow and ice that blanketed the village square. As the turbines began to whine down, the cockpits hissed open. Two figures Ethan recognized all too well stepped out onto the wings.

It was the young man with the sharp glasses, Alistair, and the gothic woman in the leather jacket with silver studs, Spike.

Ethan's lips curled into a predatory smile. "I know exactly who they are. Let's go say hello. Falcons, hold your fire for now. Just close the distance and prepare to destroy the airframes if they even twitch toward a getaway," Ethan said.

"Understood, moving into flanking positions," Falcon 2 and 3 said.

Ethan stepped out from behind the stone building, walking casually toward the center of the square. Spike jumped down from the wing, her boots crunching on the frozen ground. She looked around at the eerie silence of the town.

"Where the hell is Torin? Where the hell is everybody?" Spike said, her hand hovering over a suppressed submachine gun at her hip.

Then, her eyes locked onto Ethan. She froze. Alistair, still adjusting his glasses, stopped in his tracks. They both stared at him as he approached with his hands in his pockets, looking like he was taking a morning stroll. Spike glanced back at her jet, her instincts screaming at her to flee.

"Shouldn't you say hello to your friends, you bitch?" Ethan said.

Spike's face went pale, her eyes darting between Ethan and the empty cockpits of her planes. "How is it possible that you are here? You should be at your estate... Dylan said no one had left your headquarters! We've been watching the feeds for days!" Spike said.

Ethan let out a dark, mocking laugh, the sound carrying over the cold wind. "A bunch of idiots who think too much of themselves... you damned Scavengers are just a pile of trash. Did you really think a few cameras and a bottom-tier spy could track me?" Ethan said.

Alistair pushed his glasses up his nose, his frame tensing. He could feel the overwhelming Qi radiating from Ethan—it was far greater than last time. "We can't win this. Spike, take the jet and get out of here! I'll hold them off!" Alistair said.

Spike didn't hesitate; she turned and sprinted toward the wing of her F-16. But before her hand could reach the cockpit grip, a violent burst of tracer rounds shredded the snow inches in front of her boots. The deafening roar of rotors filled the square as the two helicopters rose over the rooftops, their nose cannons swiveling to lock onto the jets.

"Don't even think about it," Ethan said.

Alistair whirled around, distracted by the sudden appearance of the air support. In that split second of hesitation, Ethan moved. He was a blur of motion, covering the distance in a heartbeat.

Alistair reacted by instinct, throwing his hands forward as a shimmering translucent barrier—his high-tier kinetic shield—snapped into existence. But Ethan didn't slow down. He channeled his Qi into a single, concentrated point in his fist.

The impact sounded like a sledgehammer hitting a sheet of glass. Ethan's fist shattered the genetic shield instantly, the fragments of energy dissolving into the air. Before Alistair could even gasp, Ethan's hand plunged through his chest cavity, his fingers closing around the pulsating organ within. With a brutal yank, Ethan tore the heart clean out.

The system interface flickered in Ethan's vision:

[High-Class Genetically Modified Soldier Slain: 1,000 SP Attained]

Ethan looked down at the lifeless body of the Scavenger elite as it slumped into the red-stained snow. He tossed the heart aside like it was nothing more than a piece of gristle.

"So, you're just like Alpha and those other freaks, just the 'premium' version... still too weak to matter," Ethan said.

Spike froze, her back against the fuselage of her plane, staring in horror at the hole in Alistair's chest. She had never seen a modified soldier of his rank killed with a single physical blow.

"It can't be... you weren't this strong... not last time. You shouldn't be able to shatter a Class-A kinetic barrier with a bare hand!" Spike said.

Ethan wiped a stray drop of blood from his cheek, his expression as cold as the surrounding tundra. "Last time, I was being gentle. I wanted to see what you were capable of. But today? Today there's no room for games. I'm done playing with the Scavenger's toys," Ethan said.

He took a slow, deliberate step toward her, the snow crunching under his boots like breaking bone.

"On your knees, bitch. Or I'll rip your head off right here in front of your precious ship," Ethan said.

Spike glanced toward the docks. The icebreaker was still finishing its final mooring maneuvers, its massive ramp only seconds away from dropping. She knew she was trapped, but the genetic conditioning in her blood overrode her fear of death with a surge of suicidal aggression. She reached into her leather jacket and whipped out a coiled, matte-black lash tipped with jagged obsidian shards.

She snapped the whip, the sound cracking like a pistol shot in the frozen air.

"Even if I die, I'm dragging you to hell with me!" Spike said, her voice rising into a frantic, jagged scream.

Ethan didn't even flinch. He didn't reach for a gun or a blade. He simply stood there, his Qi swirling around him in a visible, predatory distortion of the air.

"Hell is where I live, Spike. You're just a visitor," Ethan said.

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