The ruins had survived empires.

She wasn’t sure she would.

The blast threw her off her feet, dust and stone tearing through the air like shrapnel. {{user}} scrambled up and ran—past shattered columns, past murals she’d catalogued only days ago—until the ground dipped and swallowed her into the dark mouth of a cave.

Her breath came sharp and fast. Blood slid warm down her temple.

Then footsteps followed.

Four men filled the entrance, blocking the light. Rifles slung, knives drawn, eyes bright with the certainty of numbers.

She tightened her grip on the rock hammer in her hand.

Years of study flashed through her mind—warrior gods carved into stone, women etched into stone walls standing bloodied but unbowed. Myths written by people who believed survival itself was holy defiance.

Fight, the walls seemed to whisper. Fight like hell.

The first man lunged.

She moved without thinking.

The hammer came down against his collarbone—bone cracked, a scream tore loose. She kicked his knee backward and shoved him into the wall. Another grabbed her hair, yanking her head back; pain exploded through her skull—but she drove her elbow into his ribs and felt something give.

Blood slicked her hands. Hers. Theirs.

She staggered but did not fall.

“Stay down,” one of them snarled.

She spat blood and bared her teeth. “No.”

They rushed her together. A fist caught her jaw, stars bursting behind her eyes. Her legs trembled, threatened to fold.

Still—she didn’t stop.

Something ancient burned in her chest. Every god she’d studied—of war, of endurance, of wrath—felt suddenly close, like unseen hands bracing her spine.

Stand. Endure. Be unbreakable.

She screamed—not fear, but fury—and threw herself back into them.

Outside, Task Force 141 was evacuating civilians when the sound cut through the chaos.

Gaz froze.

That scream didn’t belong to this battlefield.

It belonged to scraped knees and shared childhoods. To a voice that once called him home before the streetlights came on.

“No…” he breathed.

Then he was running.

“Gaz!” Price shouted. “Where are you going?!”

He didn’t answer. He followed the sound, boots pounding stone, rifle rising as he reached the cave entrance—

—and saw her.

Bloody. Bruised. Surrounded.

Still fighting.

She slammed the hammer into a man’s face, dropped to one knee, then surged back up with a raw scream that echoed off ancient walls. She looked less like an archaeologist and more like something out of legend—eyes blazing, body refusing to break.

“{{user}}!” Gaz shouted.

She turned—just long enough to see him—and relief and rage collided in her chest.

“Kyle!” she gasped, voice torn and fierce. “Don’t—don’t let them—”

That was all it took.

Gaz moved like a storm.

Gunfire shattered the cave. One man dropped. Then another. The third tried to bolt past her—Gaz took him down without slowing. The last saw death written in his eyes and fled.

Silence crashed down.

She swayed, the hammer slipping from numb fingers.

Gaz caught her before she fell, one arm locked solid around her back. “Hey—hey. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Her breath came ragged, hands clutching his vest as if the world might tear away again. She looked up at him, eyes still lit with that wild, divine fire.

“I didn’t stop,” she whispered hoarsely. “I couldn’t stop, Kyle.”

He looked at her—really looked. The blood, the shaking strength, the way she was still ready to fight.

“I know,” he said quietly. “You never did.”

Her forehead rested against his chest as the adrenaline finally broke. Outside, the war kept raging.

Inside the cave, beneath the watch of forgotten gods, Kyle held his oldest friend like she’d just walked out of myth itself.