Chronos HQ. Inner perimeter. Early Summer.
Two months of siege had reshaped Chronos HQ from an icon of technological perfection into a withering fortress of survival. The one-pristine interior corridors were now a labyrinth of cracked walls, blackened steel, flickering lights, and blood-stained tiles. Dust lingered perpetually in the air, drifting in soft cascades from shattered ceiling panels as each distant artillery shell took the foundation with groaning defiance.
The inner perimeter was the last true buffer between the enemy and the building. Metallic groans echoed faintly from those fighting, buried beneath those louder, more urgent sounds—cries of pain, shouted commands, and the thunder of shells.
Isabelle's medical corps had taken over the entire floor level of the tower. Blankets lay over rows of barely breathing bodies, while a soft, constant hum from portable surgical equipment buzzed through the haze. Screams came and went, sharp and sudden. Blood pooled around tables.
A young medic was vomiting quietly in a corner—shaking, overwhelmed by the destructive nature of war.
Isabelle moved like a ghost through the chaos, her uniform stained, sleeves rolled to her elbows, face pale beneath the flicker of failing lights. She checked pulses, adjusted IVs, comforted the dying with gentle touches and quiet words. Her voice, once radiant in command, was now a whisper of determination. She was every and nowhere all at once.
Outside, in the shadow of the inner barricade, Kieran stood tall among a line of hastily recruited officers. He didn't speak when he passed the bodies of the fallen—just knelt, pulled the polished insignia's from their collars, then walked over to the young, pale recruits still trembling with rifles in hand.
"You're in command now, soldier! Take charge," he shouted at a boy—no older than twenty—as he pinned the insignia to his lapel. "You keep them alive! Don't make this for nothing!"
The boy didn't answer. He just nodded, eyes wide, lips pressed tight to keep from trembling.
Max paced the panic rooms, boots crunching on the scattered debris. He looked worse than he let on—coat unbuttoned, gloves missing, a trail of ash on his neck. He ran a hand through his hair and approached Lucien, who stood before a dim console.
"Morele is dying," Max said, voice raw. "We're rotating food at quarter rations, we won't last another week. We need something!"
Lucien said nothing.
The screen before him glowed dimly, displaying schematics of the HQ. Entire layers had already collapsed.
"Lucien!" Max pressed, stepping closer. "What are we going to do?!"
Lucien raised a single hand to adjust the display in-front of him.
Max opened his mouth, then closed it. He exhaled and stepped away.
In the display, Julian walked alone in the outer perimeter. His armor—once polished, now bore deep gouges and dried blood. His eyes were hollow, skin drawn tight over cheekbones.
Suddenly—a tremor rocked the ground. Dust flew in the air, then started falling slowly like snow.
Julian didn't react to it, no one did.
They were used to it now.
***
It was midnight—outer edge of the inner perimeter.
Sirens howled through the dead of night, bouncing off concrete and steel. The last thread shielding Chronos HQ trembled beneath distant thunder—boots, engines. War.
Then—
Floodlights snapped on, cutting through snowfall like blades. Cameras along the perimeter walls flickered violently, catching a horde in motion—massed breach forces tearing across the landscape. Vehicles mounted with heavy guns. Foot soldiers in layers of scavenged armor. Militias. Militaries. Civilians. Markings painted over their faces—hastily, to show their unity.
Explosions tore open the gates—multi-pronged detonations that punched through steel like paper. Debris launching upward in a geyser of smoke.
They had breached the inner perimeter.
Inside the panic room, Lucien stood in-front of the live feed. Silent.
Kieran was already moving. A squadron marching with him
Chaos took form.
Kieran's squad stormed through the blast. Muzzles flashed. Mortars screamed. Bones cracked. Chronos' soldiers were holding, but barely. Many were young, and dead by the dozens.
Kieran didn't retreat. He surged ahead, leading from the front, blade drawn—a thread-light forged longsword, given to him by Lucien.
He cleaved a path into the oncoming tide, cutting down soldiers with ruthless precision. For a moment, he became a storm—every strike echoing like the last stand of some ancient knight.
But it didn't last long. Kieran dropped to one knee, coughing blood.
A sniper's round caught him just beneath the shoulder. Then a second pierced his thigh. He faltered—sword skidding across the blood painted floor.
His squadron rushed in. Two soldiers pulled Kieran back while the rest laid cover fire, retreating toward the main entrance to the building. A medic rushed over, wrapping a quick tourniquet.
Kieran was lowered onto a stretcher, blood pooling under his armor.
And once he was brought inside. All entrances to Chronos HQ were sealed.
Max stood near Kieran's operating table, jaw clenched. Julian arrived moments later, face ashen. He looked at Isabelle—she was the one doing the operation. Then asked, "Is he going to make it?!"
Max opened his mouth, but before he could answer.
An artillery shell broke through the main entrance, landing near a line of wounded soldiers.
Then it exploded
***
The world collapsed in seconds.
The explosion lit the entrance in a savage flare—smoke, debris, and bodies flung through the air. The shockwave sent Isabelle into the nearest column. She slammed into it shoulder-first, gasping in pain.
Coalition forces surged through the breach—dozens of them, pouring in like a flood of steel and fury. Gunfire echoed through the halls. The walls trembled under the relentless shelling.
Julian's voice cracked across the chaos. "MOM!"
He sprinted through the dust, diving over debris. Blood was streaming down from the side of her head, a jagged gash across her cheek. She was dazed, but her hand was tightly pressed on her side—wounded by the flying debris.
Julian crouched beside her, lifting her up with trembling arms. "I've got you—I've got you—"
She groaned softly. "Kieran…"
Max shouted. "The passageway is still open! Go!" pushing Kieran's stretcher, with a set of nurses and doctors following him.
Alarms wailed across the interior—deafening. Emergency lights bathed everything in a pulsing red glow. Every corridor was a war zone now.
From the panic room, Lucien watched it all.
Surveillance feeds bloomed and shattered one after another—camera after camera blinking into static. Distant roars, gunfire, screams—filtered through the speakers. The outer perimeter was gone. They had breached the building.
Magnus rolled his wheelchair next to Lucien, breath heavy, watching one of the feeds.
"This is it," Magnus said quietly.
Lucien didn't respond.
Magnus turned toward him. His voice softened. "But you knew. From the beginning."
Lucien finally looked away from the screen.
He offered Magnus a slight nod.
Magnus offered one back. He looked at the static screens. "I'm sorry you have to carry this alone."
Lucien walked to a panel near the entrance of the panic room and entered a code.
The panel blinking red now, with a giant red digital button waiting to be pressed.
The rest of his companions dove into the room.
Lucien said nothing as they all entered.
Julian's face was pale, lips tight. Max barked orders to the soldiers inside to go help those in fighting. Isabelle—in Julian's arms, looked up at Lucien—her eyes dazed, unsure.
Another shockwave thundered through the halls. Lights flickering violently. The panic room's door began to close.
Lucien stood still near the panel.
Watching it all.
***
The siege outside thundered like an unending storm—walls of Chronos HQ shuddering beneath the weight of it. Explosions cracked the air like distant lighting. Dust drifted like fine snow form the ceiling. The corridors leading to the panic room were chaotic—barely held together.
Max helped Julian ease Isabelle to the ground, laying her beside a crate of supplies as gently as they could. Julian brushed her hair from her hace, hands trembling.
A nurse rushed from Kieran's operating stretcher toward Isabelle.
"I'm F-fine," Isabelle managed, breath shallow. "F-focus on Kieran. H-he needs you m-more."
The nurse hesitated—then obeyed, returning to the corner where the medics scrambled to keep Kieran breathing.
Suddenly—A deep, seismic hum reverberated through the room as steel walls began to seal it—layer by layer. Lucien had pressed the flashing red button on the panel next to the entrance. The process was equal parts mechanical and miraculous. The panic room had turned into a vault—secure, and absolute. No force of this era's design could break it. Not even the Chronos weaponry he had created.
Lucien's gaze swept over them—one by once. Slow. Measured. Memorizing them like a man at the edge of eternity.
"We can't wait this out!" Max asked.
Lucien didn't answer.
Magnus stared at him for a beat, then nodded.
Max stepped forward, fists clenched. "Luvien—What is your plan?!"
Lucien's silence dragged for a breath longer.
"I'm sorry." He finally spoke. Voice trembling.
"For now. Just stay here. Nothing human can break this vault."
"But I… I have to say goodbye."
He turned to face Max—the faintest smile on his face, barely there.
"You were right."
"That day. In the desert. I started something I wouldn't be able to control."
He paused for a second. Then continued.
"I knew it. Yet I did it anyway."
"A selfish decision. It's not fair to you. Any of you."
They all fell silent. Shocked by the realization of what's going to happen.
"So… this is it." Julian broke the silence—tears welled underneath his eyes, drips mixing with the grime on his face.
Lucien offered a soft nod, eyes reddened with grief.
Julian stepped forward, biting his lip. "I'm… not ready to say goodbye…"
Lucien pulled him closer, comforting their final moments.
"I know," he said—voice quieter now. "I've been dreading this moment since the beginning"
Isabelle reached out with her uninjured arm, grasping for Lucien's hand.
Max had fallen to his knees, eyes glossed with restrained emotion.
Lucien moved to Kieran's side—he was still unconscious. He stood on-top of him for a few seconds—silent.
He finally broke his silence, and said quietly, "Thank you. For being the shield I never deserved."
Then he turned and walked over to Isabelle. She winced as he lowered to her side. Their eyes locking.
He wrapped his arms gently around her. She held on tightly—releasing the hand that was pressed at her wound.
Their embrace lasted a few seconds—silent, comforting.
Green light pulsed around her wound—healing it with one last act of thread-light.
Then, slowly, Lucien stood. Eyes sweeping over his companions one last time.
A final glance, as if to remember it all.
His final gaze remained on Magnus as he blinked out of sight.
Outside, the siege roared.
And Lucien stood alone against it all.