High above the city, in the private summit chamber of the Shadow Clan's command tower, Olivia stood before a wide tactical display, the light of floating maps and threat indicators painting her face in cold hues. Beside her stood Abel, quiet and steady, his eyes scanning the data with trained discipline.
They had been speaking softly—of Sunny, of Rain, of shadows that stirred deeper than the city realized—when the wall console flared red.
A piercing alarm followed.
[CATEGORY III NIGHTMARE GATE BREACH DETECTED]
[LOCATION: NSQC GRAND PLAZA DISTRICT – URBAN MALL SECTOR]
Olivia froze.
Her breath caught in her throat before she exhaled, sharp and cold.
She turned toward a communication terminal, fingers already keying in the call. It connected instantly.
The face of Broken Sword appeared, stern as ever, framed by the soft firelight of his office.
She didn't waste a second.
"Broken Sword," she said, voice clipped with urgency. "The gate opened—Category Three. Mall district."
He frowned faintly, sensing something in her tone. "…What happened?"
Her eyes met his, storm-dark and unflinching.
"Sunny and Nephis are there."
A silence hung between them.
Then he stood without a word, already reaching for the sword leaning against the wall beside him.
"They were just supposed to have a simple day," Olivia said, her voice softer now—strained beneath the weight of command. "A day to be children."
The pain was there, just under her surface—controlled, but present.
"I should've known the peace wouldn't hold."
Broken Sword's jaw tightened. "She's strong."
"So is he," Olivia said. "But they're still children. And they're mine."
She didn't hide it—the way her voice trembled slightly on that last word. Her title meant nothing in that moment.
Not the war-leader of the most feared clan in the Inner Territories.
Just a mother whose child was in danger.
Abel stepped forward. "Orders?"
"Mobilize the Black Rings. Two suppression teams, one fast extraction. Gate containment protocols."
She looked back to the screen.
"Broken Sword. I'll retrieve them. But if you can get there faster…"
He gave a nod sharp enough to draw blood.
"I'm already gone."
The screen went dark.
Olivia's gaze swept across the chamber as masked warriors of the Shadow Clan emerged from the depths—silent and swift, cloaks rustling like whispers.
She turned to them, her command voice returning.
"No mercy. No delay. We move now."
But as she led them out, her heart wasn't thinking of strategy or battlefield formations.
It was on a boy with dark onyx eyes and a baby sister who always reached for him when he returned home.
And on a single, unrelenting thought pulsing through her mind:
Hold on, Sunny. I'm coming.
————————————
Smoke curled in from the fractured street. The night's quiet had been shattered—sirens screamed faintly in the distance, but the real terror was closer.
Much closer.
From the jagged crack in the center of the road—where the earth had torn itself apart—something was rising.
Sunny stared in disbelief.
A massive figure was slowly unfurling from the breach, its immense form shifting with grotesque elegance. It was shaped like a colossal worm, but covered in layered reptilian scales that shimmered like oil in the light. Segmented muscle rippled as it pushed through the shattered road, dragging its impossible weight behind it.
Its head—if it could be called that—split open like a flower of blades, inside which glowed several vertical rows of soul-hungry eyes.
A Fallen Titan.
A creature from a Category Three Nightmare Gate.
Nephis drew in a sharp breath beside him. "That's…"
"…a gate titan," Sunny finished, stunned. "I've only seen drawings…"
But this was no drawing. It was real. And it was here.
The rear door of their transport slammed open.
"Out! Now!" Julius's voice cracked through the tension like a whip.
He was already outside, long coat flaring behind him, twin pistols in hand—sleek, black, engraved with faint shimmering lines that pulsed with pale blue light. They weren't just firearms.
They were part of him.
Sunny and Nephis jumped out of the PTV just as a grotesque screech rang through the street—metal and concrete being devoured. Something large skittered across the edge of the vehicle's undercarriage.
"There's more," Julius growled, stepping in front of them. "Hollows. Dozens."
In the smoke behind the titan's towering body, a swarm of shapes began pouring out—horrors made of nightmare flesh and shadow. Their forms were twisted, some vaguely human, others insectile or reptilian. All of them radiated that sickly, soul-draining hunger , they were awakened nightmare creatures.
Nephis's hand tightened around Sunny's. Her blade was halfway drawn—but Julius threw out an arm.
"No." His voice was iron. "You run. Now. Both of you."
"But—" Sunny tried.
Julius turned, his face lit by the gleam of his Aspect.
"I'll hold them. That's what I was made for."
In a single, fluid motion, Julius raised both pistols and fired.
The bullets weren't ordinary.
Forged from ascended soul shards, each round sang with ancient power—and when they left the barrel, they moved impossibly fast.
That was his Aspect: Acceleration Domain. Within a short radius, he could amplify the velocity of any object he launched—equal to the speed of sound
The first bullet blurred through the air, a streak of black and silver light.
It struck the charging Hollow dead in the center of its face.
The awakened nightmare creature didn't fall.
It detonated, the force of the impact reducing it to a mist of blood and bone.
Another round. Another monster fell.
Then a third. Then five more. Julius became a living turret, his limbs barely seeming to move, his expression cold and calm. Each shot was a precise execution.
But there were too many.
He knew it.
Still, he stood between the horde and the children without a second thought.
Sunny pulled Nephis's hand. "We have to go—now!"
She hesitated—just for a second—before nodding. They turned and sprinted into the smoke-cloaked alleyways.
Behind them, Julius stood his ground, pistols roaring with otherworldly speed, each shot a promise that the young would survive.
Even if he didn't.
The sounds of battle roared behind them—gunfire like thunder cracks, the shrieks of nightmare creatures echoing through the smoke-filled street.
Sunny ran.
He held Nephis's hand tightly in his own, weaving through debris, broken glass crunching underfoot. His breath came hard and fast, but his grip never loosened. His eyes—dark as shadow—didn't flicker. Not once.
He didn't look back.
Nephis glanced sideways, her silver-white eyes sharp despite the panic. "Why aren't we going back?" she asked, her voice breathless but steady. "We can help him—he's fighting alone!"
Sunny didn't answer at first.
He kept running, weaving between fallen signs and half-crushed cars, the distant roars of the Titan chasing their heels like thunder in a dream.
"Sunny!" she snapped, pulling slightly at his arm.
Finally, his voice broke through the haze—low, cracked, barely holding itself together.
"We can't."
Nephis stared at him.
"We're not awakened," he said. "We're just… mundane. Humans. We can't even leave a scratch on those things. If we go back—"
His voice wavered. His jaw clenched.
"—we'll die. And then Julius will have died for nothing."
Tears rimmed his eyes, but none fell. He didn't have time to cry.
"That's the truth," Sunny muttered. "We can't help."
For a moment, only their footfalls filled the silence.
Then Nephis, her breath tight in her chest, turned to him with a solemn look. "Then let's run," she said softly. "Run as fast as we can. If we get far enough—Julius can escape too."
Sunny swallowed hard.
Then nodded.
And together, still hand in hand, they ran.
Ran through the city of smoke and lights and monsters.
Ran like children.
Ran like warriors with no weapons but hope.
——-
NSQC Grand Plaza District
Smoke billowed like black thunder from the shattered heart of the mall. Sirens wailed in the distance, echoing through the panic-choked air. Civilians screamed as they fled down cracked streets, clutching loved ones, stumbling through shattered glass and scorched concrete.
The Category III Nightmare Gate had ruptured the very ground.
And from it… monsters had emerged.
Twisted things.
Some bore the faint silhouettes of what had once been human—bodies bent the wrong way, limbs too long, mouths filled with teeth that didn't belong. Others were hulking insectile horrors, with glistening carapaces and stingers that twitched hungrily. Still more were scaled, reptilian nightmares with eyes like molten coals and claws like sickles.
They descended upon the crowd like famine.
And through that chaos, cutting through fire and shadow like a blade of legend—
Broken Sword arrived.
He descended from the rooftops in a crack of impact, his black-red battle armor gleaming under the falling embers. His massive blade unfolded in one motion, pulsing faintly with heat—older than most remembered, forged for war, not mercy.
Behind him came his Immortal Flame Clan retainers, crimson and steel-clad, fanning out in practiced formation to cover the civilians.
"Push the crowds west! Away from the Gate!" one barked.
"Keep your lines tight! Watch the rooftops!"
Broken Sword didn't speak. He was already moving.
A hulking nightmare creature—a fused mess of insect and man—lunged toward a fleeing family. In a flash of red light and steel, it was cleaved in half, burning away to smoke before its body hit the ground.
Another came from above, shrieking—
He spun and caught it with the flat of his blade before driving it into the pavement, cracking stone and bone alike.
He moved like fire incarnate. Precise. Relentless.
But behind that unshakable mask, his thoughts raced.
Nephis. Sunny.
He searched every shadow, every flicker of movement. He didn't let it show, but his heart was beating too fast. He'd told himself she'd be safe. Just one day outside the estate. One moment to breathe. Now—
A flash of gunfire cracked from across the smoke.
Julius.
The butler stood with a collapsed civilian barrier shielding him, both arms extended, firing twin pistols with deadly accuracy. He was moving with the calm focus of a trained operative, placing each shot exactly where it needed to land—eyes cold, coat torn, hair a mess of soot.
Broken Sword strode through the chaos, slicing a crawling nightmare in half on his way to him.
"Julius!" he called, blade lowered only slightly.
The butler didn't stop shooting.
"They were with me," Julius said over the sound of fire and screams. "I told them to run—away from the gate—as far as they could. That direction—" He pointed to the northeast, toward a line of half-collapsed shops and smoke-blurred alleys. "They're smart. They'll stay hidden."
"Are they hurt?" Broken Sword asked, voice low but tight.
"No." Julius finally looked at him. "Not yet."
That was enough.
Broken Sword gave a sharp nod and turned toward the smoke-veiled path Julius had pointed out.
Then he broke into a run.
Each step was thunder, his armor hissing heat with every movement.
Behind him, more nightmares surged. Julius held his ground.
And ahead, in the smoke and shadows—
Two children ran through a battlefield.
One a legacy of flame.
The other… the heir of the shadows.
And both in the path of monsters.
——————-
Elsewhere… far from the crumbling ruins of the mall…
The wind stilled. The sky dimmed.
And in the distance—
the shadows moved.
Not natural ones. Not the kind cast by buildings or trees.
These ones slithered along the ground like water, curling and rising like smoke. Each one shimmered with a strange, cold darkness that seemed to resist the light of the Nightmare Gate.
Then—figures emerged.
Dozens of them.
Cloaked in silence, armor the color of midnight, weapons forged from abyssal ore. Their eyes gleamed faintly behind masked helms, and their footsteps made no sound.
The Shadow Clan had arrived.
At their front, a woman stepped forward—her cloak long, edged in silver thread that pulsed softly with command.
Olivia.
Queen of Shadows.
Her face calm, yet her eyes burned with focus and fear too carefully masked.
Beside her, a taller figure marched—Abel, her husband. His expression unreadable, hands clenched at his sides. They moved as one, a wall of discipline and deadly purpose.
Behind them, a battalion of elite shadowborn warriors spread out—ready to contain what should never have awakened.
Olivia raised a hand, speaking into her comm-line, her voice clipped but urgent.
"They're near the mall. My son. Nephis." A breath. "They were right in the middle when the Gate opened."
Abel's eyes narrowed.
"They're alive," he said lowly, with iron certainty.
"They have to be," Olivia answered. But the tightness in her throat gave her away.
The wind picked up—carrying the scent of smoke and blood.
All around them, the shadow warped and stretched, bending toward their leader as if recognizing its master.
And then—
a roar split the air.
Far in the distance, something massive rose behind the skyline.
The Fallen Titan.
Still waking.
Olivia's hand curled around the hilt at her side.
"Move," she said.
And the Shadow Clan surged forward—silent, swift, unstoppable.
Their silhouettes disappeared into the growing dusk.
And the darkness followed them.