The song of a Quetzal

The howl of the "CARMESI CODE" alarm was deafening, an agonizing wail that echoed in the bones. Red strobe lights bathed the Reliquary in a hellish pulse, each flash freezing instants of chaos: running shadows, flashes of weapons, the metallic gleam of alien artifacts on their pedestals.

"We could have questioned him, Airen!" shouted Lion above the din, as they both ran down the hallway they had come from. The air smelled of burning and blood. "He was a source of information, not a target! Now we don't know what else they were planning!"

"He was a monologuist," Airen replied with a coldness that cut like a knife, without missing a beat. His eyes, always so serene, now glittered with fierce determination. "The time for talking was over. Every second we gave him was a second he used to seal our grave."

Lion clenched his jaw, frustration boiling inside him. He knew Airen was partly right, but the man's impulsiveness could cost them dearly. However, there was no time to argue. A squad of cult guards appeared at the end of the corridor, raising their rifles with a guttural shout. Lion did not break the run. His own gun went up with a practiced fluidity, almost a reflex. Three shots, they were three muffled shots, three almost invisible flashes. Three bodies fell to the ground with three perfect holes in the center of their hulls, without having expended a single extra bullet. The efficiency was terrifying.

As Lion reloaded with a dry snap, Airen paused for a moment next to one of the structural pillars and pressed a detonator to his wrist. "Signal sent," he said, his voice barely a whisper, but laden with meaning.

On the outside, Kalisto's silent night was shattered.

A series of coordinated explosions shook the foundations of the fortress, toppling one of the watchtowers and breaching the perimeter wall. The chaos was instantaneous. Shouts of alarm, contradictory orders, the crackle of fires starting.

"Green light! Open fire!" commanded Prince of Vael over the communicator from his sniper's nest, his voice unflappable as ever.

For the Quetzal Unit, chaos was their element. The sudden explosion had thrown the cult guards into confusion, making them sitting ducks. From the top of the hill, Hood smiled, his finger on the trigger. "That one was mine," he whispered as an enemy sniper collapsed from his post. Beside him, Prince of Vael adjusted the sights on his electromagnetic rail rifle. "I give it to you," he replied, and another guard disappeared in a flash of blue energy. The contest had begun, a deadly duel between two masters of ranged combat.

Down below, the real storm broke out. With impeccable coordination, the assault team moved forward. Eldrinch was a whirlwind of movement at close range, his two assault submachine guns spitting death in controlled bursts, mimicking the close combat techniques he had learned from Lion. "Covering!" he shouted, clearing a path. Beside him, Corinelle was a vision of graceful fury. Her white energy sword buzzed, cleaving rifles and armor with terrifying ease, until, in the midst of battle, she activated a second sword, turning into a lethal dance of white light that left a trail of mutilated bodies in its wake. And covering them both, Lynel, the heavy weapons expert, rained down hell, first with a grenade launcher that shredded enemy cover, then switching to a heavy machine gun whose roar dominated the battlefield. "Come and get me, you cowards!" he roared, defying the waves of enemies.

It wasn't just a fight. It was a symphony of violence. They were used to this. More than fighting, they seemed to be having fun, each in his element, dancing on the edge of the abyss with a wild grin.

Back inside, Lion and Airen arrived at the hangar. The huge hatch leading to the landing pad was in front of them. Their freedom. The cold air from outside seeped through the cracks, a reminder of the survival that awaited them.

But the exit was blocked.

De pie, en el centro del hangar, estaba el líder encapuchado. Un agujero humeante en su frente goteaba un líquido oscuro y espeso. La mitad de su rostro estaba contraída en una mueca distorsionada, un ojo caído, el otro ardiendo con una luz fanática. A pesar de la herida mortal, se mantenía en pie, sostenido por una fuerza antinatural.

He had arrived earlier upon learning more deeply about the facility, expecting them with a great surprise "Fools," he hissed, his voice a guttural croak, as if something was breaking inside his throat. "They think they can kill the truth, the chip has shown me what is coming! A god of monstrous power who will purify this solar system of its lies!"

He showed the palm of his hand. There was the dark, geometric object, pulsing softly with an ominous violet light. "And now, I will be the first to receive your blessing!"

With a quick, horrible movement, he buried the object in his own chest. The flesh gave way with a wet, sickening sound.

Lion and Airen watched, transfixed for an instant, as the man screamed. A wet crunch of bone echoed through the hangar, a sound that would be etched in their memories forever. His body elongated, skin stretched like hot wax, limbs bent at impossible angles. Black, pulsing veins spread from the chip, covering her body like a spider's web. His clothes tore, his muscles swelled and mutated, taking on a grayish, amorphous hue.

The man, or what was left of him, stood almost ten feet tall. His arms were long and thin like an insect's, ending in sharp claws that flashed under the emergency lights. Its face was no longer human, a mass of distorted flesh with a gaping mouth from which emanated a violet light and a stench of rot and corrupted energy.

The creature let out a scream. A sound that did not belong to human biology, a mixture of static, torn metal and the howl of a lost soul that shook the facility to its foundations. The entire hangar seemed to shake, and Lion and Airen looked at each other, knowing that this battle had just become something far more dangerous.