The world looked different now.
Kirion stood at the edge of the rebel outpost, eyes scanning the mountains like a hawk. His vision, newly restored and enhanced, sliced through fog and distance like blades through silk. Every movement, every shadow, every whisper of wind carried new meaning. His senses were weapons, and he had no intention of letting them go to waste.
He tightened the gloves over his hands and adjusted the high-collared tactical coat his daughter had modified for him—wool-lined for the mountain cold, but reinforced with nanoweave armor beneath. It felt like war. And Kirion was ready to give it war back in full.
Inside the strategy chamber, a ring of resistance leaders debated maps and intel. The walls were crowded with flickering screens, satellite feeds, troop locations, and decrypted enemy communications. But when Kirion entered, the room fell silent.
He didn't waste time.
"We move at dawn. They've scattered their elite units across three strongholds, each one guarding access points to the central detainment complex. That's where they're holding her. That's where we hit."
One of the commanders, a grizzled veteran named Vos, cleared his throat. "We're short on manpower. If we spread ourselves across three targets—"
Kirion cut him off. "We won't spread. I'll take the first stronghold solo."
Vos blinked. "Alone?"
Kirion turned toward him, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "They won't see me coming."
A ripple of unease moved through the room. Even among hardened rebels, Kirion's newfound intensity shook them. But it wasn't madness. It was purpose, distilled to its most dangerous form.
He turned to his daughter's encrypted map again. Every layer of the regime's security was calculated, cold, and methodical. But Kirion was no longer playing defense. He'd given mercy once. Lost years trying to be noble.
Not anymore.
This was war.
"I want sonic silencers on all units. EMP charges on standby. And no one engages unless I call it. I'm not negotiating this time. I'm not playing fair. We burn through the iron gates and we leave a message in fire: No more running. No more fear."
Needle, standing nearby, nodded slowly. "You're becoming what they always feared."
He didn't flinch. "Good."
As the others moved to gather gear and coordinate timing, Kirion stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the valley. The moon glinted off the snow, a quiet contrast to the storm he intended to unleash.
His earpiece crackled.
"Dad?" It was his daughter.
"I'm here."
"You… sound different."
He paused. "I am. But it's still me."
Silence.
Then her voice came softer. "Just promise me—when you find her… don't lose yourself."
He closed his eyes for a moment. The old him might have promised to show restraint. But he had seen too much. Lost too much.
"I promise to bring you both home," he said. "And if I have to become a monster to do it… then that's the price they'll pay."
He cut the line.
And with that, Kirion descended into the darkness—one man carrying fire, vengeance, and resolve sharp enough to tear down an empire.