2025-07-23 14:00:33The Paragon Training Dome was empty save for one man and one blade.
It was past midnight. The halls above slept, the command centers dimmed, the Alpha team scattered in debriefings and diagnostics. But here, beneath layers of steel and synth walls, Myles moved through darkness lit only by the cold gleam of his weapon.The Oblivion Requiem pulsed in his grip like a living thing—smoky black steel veined with cracks of molten purple lava. Each breath he took synced with its silent hum. It was more than a sword. It was a storm waiting to be named.He inhaled. Pivoted. Struck.The training dummies—high-grade, impact-resistant alloys—crumbled like wet ash under a single swing. He spun low, sliced upward, the blade arcing in a trail of violet light that split the air with a hiss. Sparks burst off the dome walls where his strikes missed by fractions.His coat—a long, charcoal trench lined with hidden plating—billowed with every motion, as if even
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Through The Veil
The alarms blared through Paragon like war drums.Lieutenant Anna was the first to the command deck. Surveillance feeds flooded the holoscreens, broadcasting chaos erupting across Manhattan’s Upper East Side. Fires roared across rooftops. Power lines danced like live serpents. The skyline shimmered with a sulfurous haze, as three distinct figures carved a path of destruction through traffic and concrete."Feed stabilized," Melissa called out, fingers flying across the data console. "Visual confirmed. Demonic trio inbound."The Alpha Team gathered quickly. The footage zoomed in.Sorran—a towering demon of blackened steel and flame, swept a claw through a delivery van like paper. Infernox trailed behind, his bull-like horns wreathed in shifting fire, laughing as he melted a row of cars with a single wave. Floating above it all was Nixx—formless and shimmering, its silhouette warping like smoke trying to remember how to be human.Jack slamme
Blade Born In Silence
The Paragon Training Dome was empty save for one man and one blade.It was past midnight. The halls above slept, the command centers dimmed, the Alpha team scattered in debriefings and diagnostics. But here, beneath layers of steel and synth walls, Myles moved through darkness lit only by the cold gleam of his weapon.The Oblivion Requiem pulsed in his grip like a living thing—smoky black steel veined with cracks of molten purple lava. Each breath he took synced with its silent hum. It was more than a sword. It was a storm waiting to be named.He inhaled. Pivoted. Struck.The training dummies—high-grade, impact-resistant alloys—crumbled like wet ash under a single swing. He spun low, sliced upward, the blade arcing in a trail of violet light that split the air with a hiss. Sparks burst off the dome walls where his strikes missed by fractions.His coat—a long, charcoal trench lined with hidden plating—billowed with every motion, as if even
Betrayal And Damnation
Darkness.That was the first thing I felt.Not pain—no, pain would have been a mercy. This was something deeper. Something that made pain seem like a distant echo. My body lay shattered in the ash of the Citadel, my lungs filled with embers, my blood evaporating into the scorched air. The world grew cold around me, but inside—inside, there was fire.I was supposed to die. Not as a hero. Not even as a soldier. Just another mission gone wrong. Another ghost swallowed by the Paragon files. I had served them, bled for them, obeyed without question. And still, when the end came, there were no medals, no eulogies. Only betrayal.Gregory Sandlers' voice still rang in my mind. "I need you dead."I thought that would be it. The silence. The end. Oblivion.But the void did not take me. Something else did.I remember the moment the air shifted. The ashen earth split beneath me, veins of obsidian tearing open like old wounds. And th
Echoes Of Stephen
Kaelin stood alone in his room while he inspected the coin over and over again, his mind was already racing with ways of activating it efficiently.Infernox materialized in the room with a burst of hellfire. The large man-size upright bull demon made a bow.“ Lord Kaelin, we're ready to proceed with the trumpet activation and next trumpet retrieval”“ Hold on, I'm still formulating a plan but have sorran and Nixx on standby then await my orders.” Kaelin ordered. His thoughts drifted off to other events as soon as Infernox left the room, he recollected a time when he was still completely human…Before he was Kaelin, he was Stephen Spector—a legend among Paragon’s Alpha Division, a soldier whose reputation preceded him like a war chant. His every mission was a clinic in precision, his leadership style sharp and uncompromising. Stephen wasn’t just the best among the elite; he was the measure by which all others were judged.
Echoes In The Archives
The Paragon Archives hummed with the weight of forgotten history. Flickering screens cast pale blue light across Lieutenant Anna Storm's face as she sat alone in Sublevel 12, surrounded by data towers stretching like frozen stalagmites into the darkness. The air was dry, cold, and stank faintly of ozone from ancient machinery running on life support. She’d barely slept since returning from the Siberian mission, haunted not by what they had found—but by what they hadn’t.The second trumpet was destroyed. That was the official line. A mission success, signed off by Director Sandlers himself. The Alpha Team had fought a guardian of ice and darkness, survived an ambush by abyssal creatures, and buried the artifact beneath layers of controlled detonation. It should have felt like closure.But it felt too clean. Too convenient.Anna's eyes, sharp as ever, flicked from line to line of ancient Paragon code, her fingers dancing over the custom keyboard. Every keyst
The Blood Forged Coin
The Arctic night in Siberia was a pale void—moonlight striking ice with a dull flash, creating a realm of silver and shadow. Debris from the Guardian’s collapse scattered across the glacier, its shattered armor and cracked crystalline shards glinting like frozen stars beneath Kaelin’s boots.He walked calmly, eyes narrowed. The scorched, frost‑chilled air filled his nostrils with antiseptic cold and metallic smoke. Beside him, Sorran’s black flame danced across the wreckage, melting ice into steam that hissed and carved small rivulets through the frozen ground. Nixx drifted ahead in a formless blur, darting among splinters of obsidian armor and fragments of demon bone.Kaelin paused mid‑step as his breathing slowed into measured control. He raised a gloved hand, the shape‑shifting silhouette of Nixx folding back into darkness. Behind him, Sorran hacked at a frozen mound with his Hellthorn blade, sparks exploding across the ice with every forceful swing.
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