Celia’s grip on Michael’s arm tightened slightly as they stepped back into the medical room. The tray beside the doctor gleamed under the lights, syringes prepared with precise measurements. She instinctively moved half a step behind him. Michael felt it immediately. He turned slightly, lowering his voice. “You’ll be fine.” She nodded, though her fingers still held onto his sleeve. He gently guided her to sit on the edge of the bed. The doctor cleared her throat. “The compound has been refined and stabilized. However, we’ll inject it in controlled doses. Too much at once could overwhelm her system.” “I see.” Michael nodded. “I’ve also added a mild sedative.” The doctor continued. “It will help your body process the purge while you’re asleep. Being conscious during the reaction… Wouldn’t be ideal.” Celia gave a weak smile. “That bad, huh?” The doctor didn’t sugarcoat it. “Yes.” To reassure them, she prepared another small slide. She drew a sample of Celia’s blood again and adde

Medical Room. Celia’s eyes fluttered open slowly. For a moment, she simply stared at the ceiling, waiting for the familiar pressure behind her eyes. It didn’t come, there was no splitting headache, no violent pulse in her veins. She felt… Light, clear, stronger and stable. Her fingers twitched experimentally against the bedsheets. No tremor of any sort and no resistance under her skin. She turned her head. The first and only person in the room was Max. He stood beside the small table near her bed, awkwardly arranging a small bunch of freshly picked flowers in a glass container. “Hello.” She said weakly. Max nearly jumped out of his boots. “Oh, damn.” He blurted, spinning around. “I wasn’t expecting you to wake up. I mean… Did I wake you?” She shook her head slowly as she pushed herself up into a seated position. “No. I think I was meant to wake up at this time regardless.” She flexed her fingers again, then rotated her wrist. No pain. “Wow… I can’t believe it worked…” She mut

The shot cracked through the clearing like thunder. For half a second, nothing happened. Then, a sharp, violent ripple spread across the trunk of the massive tree Adrian had aimed at. The bullet didn’t just pierce the bark, it detonated inside it. A deep, concussive boom followed as a surge of compressed kinetic force burst outward from within the wood. The trunk split down its core, splintering in a perfect vertical fracture line. The impact point glowed faintly for a moment, residual energy from the enhanced round reacting against the tree’s dense fibers. The upper half of the tree trembled, cracked, then gave way. It toppled with a heavy, ground-shaking crash. Birds scattered violently into the sky, screeching in alarm. Adrian threw his head back and whooped. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” He spun toward Barry and Richard, grinning like a child who had just discovered fireworks. “What do you think? A few more of this bad boy and we might just win this war sooner than we t

Meeting Room. Maps were already spread across the long table, regional layouts, satellite scans, supply routes, and recently intercepted movement patterns from Mira’s forces. Red markers dotted key zones. Blue markers indicated their own strongholds and allied safe points. Michael stood at the head of the table, hands resting on its edge, eyes fixed on Terra’s perimeter lines. “We don’t rush Terra…” He began calmly. “Not yet.” Barry leaned forward, tapping one of the red-marked tunnel exits. “With the underground routes gone, she’ll compensate. Probably reroute through surface convoys.” Isaac nodded. “Which means we pressure mobility.” Barry slid three markers across the map. “Bridges here, here, and here. If we disable these, her transport capacity drops by at least forty percent.” “We don’t destroy all of them,” Michael added. “Just enough to bottleneck movement. Let's force her into predictability.” Isaac shifted the discussion. “While we’re tightening external pressure, we

Adrian and Richard had made it into the heart of Terra, wearing stolen uniforms that fit perfectly. The two moved casually, carrying crates along the streets like the soldiers around them, heads slightly bowed, eyes scanning, and arms holding their burdens naturally. Every step had to be measured, not too fast or too slow or they would be noticed. The streets were dimly lit, the shadows playing tricks with their eyes, but they kept calm. Richard leaned toward Adrian as they walked past a small group of soldiers carrying supplies. “Let's keep our voices low and observe their habits. Every word could help.” Adrian adjusted his helmet, “Right. We’re just another set of hands here. Act normal, carry crates, don’t look around too much.” They fell in behind a group hauling wooden boxes, mimicking their posture. Adrian whispered, “See? Bend at the knees, tight grip, minimal eye contact. I think I can pull this off.” Richard nodded. “Yeah, but don't get too carried away. They’re goin