Rise Of Hades' Hellborn: Trumpets Of The Damned

The First Trumpet Sounds

The night at the Paragon base was unnervingly quiet. Security lights pulsed dimly along the sterile halls, casting long shadows that crawled across the floor like restless spirits. The reinforced boarding rooms were filled with the heavy breathing of off-duty soldiers lost in deep, dreamless sleep. Exhaustion had taken them like a lullaby.

All except two.

Myles sat on the edge of his bunk, drenched in sweat, shirt clinging to his back, breath uneven. The vision from Hades still burned behind his eyes—ash falling from a dead sky, the black columns, the cracked hourglass. And Sorran. The name felt like poison in his throat.

He hadn’t moved since waking up. The digital clock blinked steadily on the wall: 3:12 AM. The hum of the suppressor field gnawed at his nerves.

“The Black Flame walks again,” he whispered to himself. “And Hades is conveniently bound by ‘cosmic law.’ Figures.”

He stood abruptly, pacing. The room felt smaller than usual. Tighter. Like the walls were leaning in to listen.

He needed air.

Meanwhile, Anna was in the Paragon gym, alone. She was the only Paragon elite available, the others had escorted Director Sandlers and Dr Winfield to their subaquatic base.

Punches echoed off the walls in rhythm. Her fists slammed into the sandbag with practiced fury, sweat dripping down her temples, soaked into her tank top. The gym lights flickered as if struggling to keep up with her.

She couldn’t sleep. Not after the last mission. Not after what she saw Kaelin do.

She paused, letting the bag swing slightly. Her fingers curled tighter into the gloves. Every muscle in her arms twitched with barely-contained tension.

Suddenly, the room’s temperature dropped. Just slightly. Barely noticeable, but wrong. Like the kind of chill you feel before lightning strikes.

Her breath fogged.

She froze, instinct kicking in. She turned slowly, eyes narrowing. Nothing. Just mirrors, weights, punching bags. But something wasn’t right.

The Paragon base was too quiet.

Too still.

A faint tremor ran through the floor. Barely a whisper.

Then came the sound.

Booooom.

Distant. Muffled. Like something had hit the outer walls of the base.

Anna snapped to attention. She ran to the comm unit on the wall. Static.

“No, no, no…” she muttered.

Then the alarms screamed.

INTRUDER ALERT. ALL UNITS TO DEFENSIVE POSITIONS. CODE: EBONY.

Her stomach dropped.

She was already sprinting down the hallway when the second explosion came. The shockwave blew out the lights. Sprinklers activated, showering sparks from shorted circuits. Flames licked through the ventilation grills as Anna skidded to a halt, narrowly dodging a falling support beam.

Down the east wing, the security corridor disintegrated in a blast of black fire.

And from the smoke, he emerged.

Sorran.

His body was wrapped in fire darker than void. His presence was silence and decay. Paragon soldiers screamed as their weapons malfunctioned, their gear melting from their bodies before they could even fire. Sorran walked through the chaos, untouched.

Every step he took left a scorch mark that hissed with ghostly wails.

Anna ducked into a side hallway, heart pounding. She pulled out her sidearm and tapped her earpiece.

Static.

“Dammit, where the hell is Myles?

***

Myles hadn’t moved.

Not until the base shuddered.

A violent, shivering lurch ran through the walls like a giant had gripped the building and shook. Lights burst. Sirens flared—red, circular, blinding.

The suppressors in his room sparked and died.

The door blew open.

Smoke poured into the corridor, thick with ash and... something else. Something alive.

Myles stood, grabbing his jacket and the black case beneath his cot. His fingers opened it without thought—inside, his twin arc pistols gleamed under the emergency red lighting.

"Showtime," he muttered.

He stepped into the hallway. He was halfway to the command deck when the first explosion rocked the compound. He slammed into the wall, bracing as dust and debris rained from the ceiling.

The emergency lights went red.

CODE: EBONY.

The color drained from his face.

“It can’t be him… not this fast…”

He pushed forward, sprinting. As he rounded the corner to the central atrium, a bolt of black fire cracked through the air and blew the floor open a few meters ahead of him. The blast sent two soldiers flying, their bodies charred mid-scream.

Sorran stepped through the breach like a god returned to Earth.

Myles stumbled back. For the first time since his resurrection, he felt true fear.

The figure before him stood tall, inhuman. His face obscured beneath a skeletal mask etched with unknown runes. His voice echoed before his mouth moved.

“You wear his mark.”

Myles blinked. “Hades?”

“The coward who fled the throne of silence. Yes.”

Sorran raised a hand and the temperature dropped again, violently. Frost coated the hallway walls as Myles’ breath became visible.

“You won’t take this place.”

“I already have.”

Black fire surged from Sorran’s hand, roaring down the hallway like a sentient wave. Myles leapt sideways, rolling through a shattered doorway as the fire consumed the corridor behind him.

Sorran walked slowly. Deliberately. The floor cracked beneath him with each step.

Myles activated the emergency beacon in his glove. No signal. It had been neutralized.

He was cut off.

On his own.

***

Anna reached the central junction just in time to see Myles duck into cover. Sorran was approaching like death incarnate.

She didn’t hesitate. She pulled a pulse grenade from her belt and lobbed it.

The blast detonated near Sorran’s head. A brilliant flare of light and EMP energy engulfed him.

Silence.

Then the smoke cleared. Sorran stood, untouched.

He turned his gaze toward her.

Anna’s blood ran cold.

“Oh hell,” she whispered. “That didn’t even scratch him.”

She dashed toward Myles and grabbed his arm. “Up, now! We don’t get a second shot.”

Myles staggered to his feet. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“You’re welcome, too.”

They ran.

Behind them, the walls melted, and black lightning carved holes through the ceiling. Sirens howled. Fires erupted as containment units exploded. They leapt over collapsed bulkheads and slid under severed support beams.

“I thought we had time,” Anna said, breathless. “I thought we had time to prepare.”

“There is no time,” Myles said. “Not anymore.”

They reached the command corridor—burned, half-collapsed, but still intact. Myles pounded on the override panel. The door opened with a groan.

Inside, the surviving officers were rallying around the central display.

When they saw Myles and Anna, their faces lit with desperation.

“Where’s the threat?” someone shouted.

Myles didn’t answer.

Because the screen already showed it: a figure walking calmly through the fire, every camera glitching as it tried to capture him.

And then came the sound.

A horn. Faint. Ancient. Echoing from nowhere—and everywhere.

A trumpet.

The first.

Anna looked at Myles, voice barely audible.

“What the hell was that?”

Myles closed his eyes.“The beginning.”The room fell silent.The war was no longer theory.

It had begun.