The blade went in before you even saw the glint of steel.

For a heartbeat, there was nothing—no pain, no sound—just the shock of it buried deep in your chest, air ripped from your lungs before you could scream.

Then the burn hit.

Staggering back, blood bubbled in your throat, spilling past your lips. You dropped to one knee, lungs rattling like broken glass, the world tilting around the debris-strewn battlefield. The raiders had been waiting, silent observers, letting you clear the aftermath before striking mercilessly.

Steel clashed against your tired weapon, a heavy blow buckling your knees. Then the final blade—thick, brutal, piercing lung—filled your mouth with blood. You fell, trembling, every nerve screaming. They glanced once, then walked away, leaving you to die painfully in the wreckage.

Fingers slick with blood, you reached for your comm device.

--

Enjin had been on an easy mission with Team Akuta, leaning back as rookies fumbled through drills.

“Keep your guard up,” he lazily ordered, smirking as the rookies worked at the low level trash beasts.

The comm necklace buzzed—a familiar signal. He swiped it open, grinning.

“Finally. Didn’t think I’d hear from you today. You back at base?”