[This is an apologise from the Jack Bravestorm-
Sorry from me, for delaying the chapter for 2 days. I was trying to inprove the quality and quantity of chapter. So, please i request you . And enjoy this chapter]
Beneath Yellowstone, inside the burning steel cavern that was Founders Inc. Squad 5's headquarters, silence fell like the drop of a guillotine. The walls pulsed faint red as the underground vents exhaled hot, recycled air. The agents—deadly, precise—stood still in a half-circle, eyes forward.
But all attention was fixed on the girl who had walked through their flames.
Her black coat was torn near the collar. Her black hair hung uneven across her shoulders. And in her brown eyes: a storm.
Vargara stepped forward.
The echo of her boot struck the floor like a war drum.
"You haven't changed."
Her voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It was too sharp for that—like a blade that had been waiting for this moment.
The man before her—broad, armored, a commander with a name so heavy it felt unnatural—said nothing. He stood with his back half-turned, unreadable.
Vargara took another step.
"You were in Moscow."
"Winter, 2007."
"You visited my grandmother."
"You left behind an antique compass."
Still, he didn't speak. But in his silence—something cracked. Not in him, but around him. In the stillness of the room, in the atmosphere pressing down on every agent.
"She never forgot you."
That made him turn his head. Just slightly.
Pentagon finally spoke, voice rough like stone scraped against metal.
"You're mistaken."
Vargara tilted her head, calmly. Her fringe slid across her eye.
"She said the man who gave her that compass had eyes like a battlefield."
"Eyes that never left the war."
"I see them now."
A slow breath moved through the room. One of the agents shifted their stance, uncertain.
"Tell me you're not my grandfather."
No reply. Just the subtle shifting of weight as Pentagon turned fully away.
"Say it."
He stopped.
The red lights flickered low above them, casting long shadows beneath his feet.
Then—
"…I told her I'd come back if the storm returned in our bloodline."
The room held its breath.
Rouxie took an unconscious step back.
Her voice came out barely a whisper.
"…He's really your—"
Vargara didn't take her eyes off him.
"So... it's you."
He turned around again. This time his eyes didn't hide. They didn't threaten either. They just… accepted.
But his gaze shifted. Not to Vargara—to Rouxie.
"…Who is this girl?"
Vargara stepped slightly to the side, placing herself just in front of Rouxie.
"She's Rouxie."
Pentagon's voice came low. Flat. Cold again.
"Where is the rest of your family?"
"My parents went to Paris."
"Three months ago."
"My grandmother is still in Russia."
"She'shome."
Something changed.
Not in his face—but in his posture. Like some invisible weight had landed on his shoulders.
Pentagon turned.
And began to walk away.
Each step heavier than the last.
"Wait—!"
Rouxie threw out her hand.
A soft pulse of purple energy flickered from her palm and wrapped around his ankle. It wasn't hostile—just a pull, just enough to stop him.
But she had crossed a line.
Click.
The sound of a safety being flicked off echoed like a gunshot.
XavierDeals had his weapon drawn before anyone even saw him move.
The barrel was pressed against Rouxie's temple.
"Let him walk."
In less than a second, every agent in the chamber turned their weapons on her. Dozens of red dots—laser sights—painted her chest, her shoulders, her throat.
The air turned thick. Like gunpowder. Like heat. Like blood.
Rouxie froze, wide-eyed, breath trapped halfway through her lungs.
Vargara did not flinch.
She stepped between them.
Her voice was quiet.
"Don't."
No shout. No scream.
Just one word.
But it hit harder than every rifle in the room.
Behind them, the flames along the walls flared. The heat surged up from beneath the Earth—as if something ancient had awakened.
The silence didn't return.
It was waiting to explode.
For a long second, no one moved.
Dozens of guns stayed locked on Rouxie's chest. The air burned. Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Then—
Pentagon lifted one hand.
A single, silent wave.
Click. Click. Click.
One by one, the agents lowered their weapons.
No one said a word.
XavierDeals brought his walkie-talkie up to his mouth. He turned his back to the girls as he spoke into the static.
"Doctor. Open the gate for дом."
(The final word—spoken in Russian—hung heavy. It means Home.)
Vargara blinked. Her eyes narrowed slightly. She said nothing.
Beside her, Rouxie exhaled for the first time in a minute.
Then Pentagon glanced to Xavier, giving him a sharp nod.
Without hesitation, Xavier turned, stepped forward, and—
"H-Hey! What are you—?!"
"W-Wait!"
—grabbed Rouxie under one arm and Vargara under the other.
He hoisted them up like luggage. No resistance was accepted.
Vargara:
"Tch… Let me go."
Xavier:
"Not my call."
The floor trembled. Not from footsteps—but from something else.
Pentagon raised his voice.
"Darling."
A click of heels.
From the shadows behind the agents, a woman stepped forward.
Curly ginger hair framed her sharp face, and her black suit was flawless—stitched with red thread and clean as glass.
Without a word, Darling lifted a sleek, metallic briefcase from a small console and carried it forward.
The walls of the room shifted.
Lights dimmed. Red faded into violet.
The briefcase clicked open.
Inside was nothing.
And then—
Everything changed.
FWOOOOOM—!
The air tore open.
A space tunnel—a wormhole of spiraling white and violet light—ripped into existence before them.
It stretched forward like a long throat of stars and wind.
Pentagon walked in without waiting.
Xavier followed with the girls, one under each arm.
Darling walked last, her steps sharp, controlled.
As they stepped through the tunnel—
The light swallowed them.
SPLIT.
They landed hard.
Dirt.
Wind.
Snow barely melting into soil.
Birds flying overhead.
The scent of trees.
Open sky.
A village… standing in time.
[Verkhniy Bereznik, Russia]
A small field lay before a quiet house with blue shutters and a crooked chimney.
Rouxie:
"…Where are we…?"
Vargara:
"…This… This is my house."
Zombie looked around, stunned.
Zombie (Xavier):
"Is this even real?"
Darling stepped forward, shielding her eyes from the sun with one gloved hand.
Darling:
"…Beautiful."
Pentagon froze.
His boots sank slightly into the earth.
His eyes scanned the house… the trees… the old fence line…
His skin went pale.
His lips parted slightly.
And then—
Pentagon:
"RUN!!"
His voice tore through the village like a war siren.
To Be Continued.