The Final Charge

The ground trembled beneath them. The sky darkened, not from clouds, but from dust, fire… and blood. The jungle’s drums beat their last rhythm—the cadence of a final battle.
Sehr’mana’s plan took shape swiftly.
— "Now!" she shouted, leading the charge into the heart of the Drakomite forces.
She leaped forward, a storm of enraged Voskovians and determined Shivenars following in her wake. Even the jungle’s creatures, the spirits of the forest, seemed to answer the call.
Matt, still wounded, leaned on Sébastien as they pushed through the tall grass, eyes locked on their target—a mobile command outpost, heavily armored, still glowing with technological power. It had to be destroyed.
— "Isa!" he shouted. "Where are you?"
— "Here!" she answered from the right, gravity sniper rifle at the ready. "Covering your flank."
Chaos reigned. Explosions flared, blinding the battlefield. Screams cut through the noise. The remnants of human technology—the Drakomites’ weapons—still tore through their ranks. A shot skimmed Matt, scorching his clothing. Sébastien nearly toppled.
— "We’ll never get through…" he muttered.
Another shot. A Voskovian was struck head-on, his body flung into the air.
For a moment, everything froze.
For a moment, failure loomed like an insurmountable wall.
— "We’re going to die here," Isabella breathed, voice hoarse. "It’s too late."
Enemy soldiers closed in. Defenses were dwindling. Even the jungle seemed weary.
Matt shut his eyes. His breathing was shallow.
Then… a sound.
Not the clash of war. Not the cries.
A rumble, steady like thunder.
Rotors. Engines. Powerful vibrations.
A whistle in the sky.
And suddenly… light.
Ships descended from the clouds, piercing through the ash-laden air. Supersonic jets. Armored cargo carriers. Massive ground vehicles.
— "This… this can’t be happening," Sébastien stammered.
— "The base’s army…" Isabella murmured.
A storm of precision missiles rained down, neutralizing the last active weapons. Exoskeletons erupted. Command posts crumbled. The Drakomites screamed.
A ground battalion emerged, led by soldiers clad in midnight-blue armor, visors down, shoulders lined with insignias.
— "Formation! Secure the perimeter!" a commander bellowed.
Matt collapsed onto his knees, gazing at the sky.
— "They came…"
Sébastien dropped beside him, hands trembling.
— "We’re not alone."
Isabella let her rifle slip from her hands, laughing softly.
— "At this rate, I’ll die of a heart attack before a bullet gets me."
Sehr’mana, standing tall, kept her eyes fixed ahead.