The trainees lined up on the wall, their Wardens shuffling carefully across the vertical surface. Guren barked into Rhys’ intercom.

  “Focus, you’re making a fuss again! Eyes on the wall, not the ground!”

  Rhys gritted his teeth, his Warden’s legs grinding against the wall, his palms slick with sweat. Elias beside him stammered, eyes wide, gripping his own controls as the Warden trembled with every step. Amélia, already near the top, called down encouragement.

  “Come on, you two! Don’t embarrass me!”

  Rhys groaned. “I-I’m trying, okay!”

  Suddenly, a massive Warden clattered into the training field from the courtyard, Kael standing tall in its cockpit.

  “Guren! Something’s wrong at the main gate!” Kael shouted through the comms, urgency in his voice.

  “What do you mean?” Guren replied, frowning.

  “I don’t know,” Kael said, voice tight. “Just… come, check it out.”

  Guren’s brow furrowed. “The main gate? That’s—” He cut himself off. Without another word, he vaulted onto Kael’s Warden, strapping in as the machine’s legs flexed to lift him into motion.

  “Stay with them!” Guren barked at Mara and Loran, his voice tight over the comms.

  Mara and Loran blinked, staring after him. “Wait… what’s going on?” Mara asked, her tone confused.

  “I don’t know,” Loran said, watching the huge machine stride forward. “Something’s wrong, apparently. Kael sounded… worried.”

  Mara’s eyes flicked toward the trainees. “Then stay focused. Don’t lose them. Nothing else we can do from here.”

  From the dizzying height of the forty-meter training wall, Rhys froze. His Warden’s legs flexed slowly against the vertical surface, but his eyes were glued to the far distance—toward the main gate of Ironford.

  Sparks danced in the distance, tiny flashes that didn’t belong to training exercises. He squinted, trying to make sense of it, and his stomach dropped. “Gunshots…” he muttered under his breath, voice trembling.

  Elias, just a few steps below him, followed Rhys’ gaze. “Wait… I see it too!” he exclaimed, gripping his controls tightly. His Warden trembled slightly as the realization hit him. “Why would anyone be firing at the gate?”

  Amélia, closer to the top, shifted her stance. Her eyes narrowed. “Something’s wrong,” she said sharply. She turned her head, trying to gauge the chaos from their height. “Those aren’t just stray sparks… that’s someone shooting!”

  Callen, standing at the edge of the wall in his Warden, raised a hand. “Mara!” he called, urgency creeping into his voice. “There’s something going on at the main gate. That’s not normal.”

  Mara’s gaze snapped toward them, her mouth opening in surprise. “What do you mean?” she demanded, her tone cutting through the wind and the hum of the Wardens.

  Rhys, feeling his hands tighten around the controls, pointed toward the distant gate. “Gunshots… there are gunshots at the main gate!”

  Mara’s eyes widened, her calm training demeanor breaking just for a heartbeat. She could feel the tension radiating from the three pilots. “Everyone—stay focused, but…” She hesitated, her voice trailing as her instincts screamed that this wasn’t a drill.

  The training field suddenly felt smaller, quieter—the distant sparks of gunfire a stark, alarming contrast against the structured order of the UF base. The realization hung over them like a storm: something was very wrong, and it was happening fast.

  Kael’s Warden staggered forward over Ironford’s shattered cobblestones, its four legs groaning under the strain. Smoke and Magitium fire mixed with the acrid scent of burned metal and blood. The streets were a massacre—UF Soldiers struggling against Harbingers, some falling to the ground, others firing wildly into the chaos.

  Guren Veyr gripped Kael's seat tightly, his knuckles white. “How… how is there this many?” he muttered, staring at the carnage below.

  “I don’t know. There weren’t this many inside the gate. Something’s… off.”

  A gunshot tore past the Warden’s head, forcing them both to duck instinctively. The Warden’s sensors tracked multiple hostile movements across the street.

  Then Guren saw her.

  A lone figure skipping through the chaos, her white school uniform incongruously bright against the ruin. Dark blue hair catching the light, flowing behind her as she moved with eerie grace. Her face… impossibly familiar. Calm. Smiling.

  She paused and spoke clearly, her voice cutting over the gunfire. “Dear brother.”

  Guren’s chest tightened, his heart hammering. His breath caught. That voice… that smile… It was Sera. His sister. His mind screamed at him, disbelief and longing twisting together.

  Kael’s voice broke his frozen state. “Guren… is that—your sister?”

  Guren didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

  Sera tilted her head, skipping closer atop the rubble. “Step outside, brother,” she called. “You won’t get shot, I promise.”

  Kael’s Warden thudded over the debris, his stomach twisting. “Who… who are you?!” Guren shouted into the speaker, voice cracking with anger and confusion.

  Her smile widened, sweet and mocking at the same time. “Sera… Sera Veyr.”

  The words hit him like a physical blow. Guren’s knees weakened in the gunner seat. The battlefield, the screams, the burning streets—all of it faded away. All he could see was her. Alive. Smiling. Impossible.

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  Kael’s voice, tinged with worry, cut through the static. “Guren… are you okay?!”

  Guren swallowed hard, voice barely a whisper. “She… she’s… alive…”

  Guren Veyr’s hands gripped the edges of the gunner seat. His pulse thundered in his ears as Sera’s figure skipped between fallen soldiers, her school uniform pristine amid the carnage. The dark blue of her hair shone almost unreal against the smoke and fire.

  “Kael,” Guren rasped, voice tight with barely contained emotion, “you go. Inform the others. Take out the infected. I… I’ll handle this.”

  Kael’s eyes widened, his Warden teetering slightly on a pile of rubble. “Guren, you can’t—that isn’t her. She’s not Sera. Whoever that is—she’s infected, she’ll kill you—”

  Guren cut him off, voice low, unwavering. “I don’t care. I have to know.”

  Kael’s jaw tightened. “You shouldn’t step out there!”

  Guren didn’t reply. He twisted in the gunner seat, planting his feet on the floor, and swung open the hatch. The metal groaned as it sealed behind him. Dust swirled around his boots as he landed on the shattered street, the heat of gunfire and cries all around him.

  Sera tilted her head, as if amused by his hesitation. “Brother… you finally came.” Her voice was soft, almost teasing, but the tone was too precise, too controlled.

  Guren’s eyes never left hers. He took a step forward, fists clenched, feeling every nerve screaming, yet somehow steady. “Step back,” he said. Not a plea, not an order—just a statement.

  Kael’s voice crackled faintly through the comms. “Guren! Don’t—please, get back inside! You’ll die out there!”

  Guren’s hand shot up, signaling. “Go! Move!”

  Kael hesitated for a heartbeat, the Warden’s legs trembling on the uneven ground. Then, with a sigh and a clenched jaw, he obeyed. The Warden lurched forward, carrying Kael away toward the main gate, leaving Guren standing alone.

  The roar of gunfire faded behind him as Guren’s gaze locked on Sera. She took a small, elegant step toward him, spinning lightly, skipping over a pool of black fluid and the bodies of infected soldiers as if it were a dance.

  “Guren… it’s been so long,” she said, her smile unchanging, her voice unnervingly calm.

  Guren swallowed hard, the weight of eighteen years crashing down on him. Every memory, every betrayal, every loss. “Sera… you—how…? No, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I need to know who you are.”

  She tilted her head again, dark blue hair brushing her shoulders. “I’m still your sister, brother. But not like you remember. And you… you’re still the same fool I’ve always known.”

  Guren’s fists tightened at his sides, the heat of the battlefield around him fading into the storm inside. He had stepped out of the Warden, leaving his squad behind. And now, it was just him and her.

  “Tell me! Who are you?" His voice cracked with a mixture of grief and fury, carrying over the chaos.

  Sera tilted her head, the dark blue strands of her hair glinting in the pale morning light. Her lips curled into a smile that was almost innocent, almost playful. “I… I’m the one who died,” she said softly, almost as if recalling a long-forgotten memory. “The one you let a UF Soldier shoot in the head.”

  Guren’s teeth ground together. “I couldn’t have done anything!” His voice roared, echoing against the walls of Ironford’s main gate. “I begged him—he had the orders! It was too late!”

  Her smile didn’t falter. “I don’t hold a grudge,” she said, her voice eerily calm, almost ethereal. “I was given a… second chance.”

  Guren’s brow furrowed, disbelief twisting his features. “Second chance? How… how are you even alive?"

  Sera stepped closer, her movement fluid, unnatural. Her presence pressed on him like a suffocating weight. “God,” she whispered, tilting her head, her voice soft but commanding, “gave me one. Told me to free as many humans as I could. And once my service is done… I’ll be granted access to Heaven.”

  Guren’s lips parted, caught between horror and confusion. “Heaven… what is that?!”

  Her gaze hardened, dark eyes glittering with an unnatural light. “A place without war. Without bloodshed. Without hatred. A world where humans can finally accomplish their humanity.”

  She spun, her motion impossibly fast, circling around him like a predator admiring her prey. Guren’s heart thundered in his chest as the motion made him dizzy, hypnotized by her presence. Her uniform fluttered with her movement, pristine and untouched despite the destruction around them. Her dark hair whipped around, brushing his shoulders as she whispered, “You’ve grown so much, brother. Look at you… strong, yet still the fool I’ve always known.”

  Guren blinked, his mind straining to reconcile the girl in front of him with the memory of the sister who had died. For a moment, all the bloodshed, all the years, all the grief—he forgot.

  Then her voice cracked, distorted, as if multiple tones overlapped unnaturally. “But this body… this life… is not yours to hold…”

  The sound made Guren flinch. Her smile twisted, a grotesque mockery of innocence, her words now chilling and fragmented. The black micromachines under her skin shifted subtly, visible as they swirled beneath the pale surface. Her eyes gleamed with something no human should possess.

  Guren’s fists tightened so hard the knuckles whitened. Every instinct in his body screamed to lash out, to strike, to end the nightmare before him. His sister—or what she had become—stood a few meters away, her white uniform pristine, her dark blue hair glinting like midnight silk, untouched by the chaos around them.

  “You… you joined them,” she said, her voice calm, almost taunting. “After what they did… after they killed me.”

  Guren’s jaw clenched. Rage, grief, and disbelief warred in him, threatening to consume him. “I… I didn’t—” he started, but she cut him off, spinning in place, her movement too fluid, too fast, like she didn’t quite obey gravity.

  “Do it!” she cried suddenly, arms wide open as if inviting him in. Her voice twisted, the pupils of her eyes black and tilting unnaturally. “If you have the heart… to do it!”

  Guren froze. The world seemed to constrict around him, the hum of the infected and the distant gunfire fading away as he stared at the sister he had buried in memory, now a monstrous echo of the girl he loved.

  She twirled gracefully, the black fluid under her skin shimmering subtly in the sunlight. Her voice returned to normal, soft and teasing, almost childlike. “You idiot… joining the UF. There’s no one who lies better than them. No one. Do you even know what you’re fighting for?”

  Guren’s teeth ground together. “What are you talking about?”

  Sera’s eyes narrowed. “You’re fighting for a few people who want to survive, even if it costs everyone else. And if you keep serving them… you will be sacrificed too. Eventually.”

  Guren’s chest tightened, and for a brief moment, he thought of Rhys, of the boy who believed in doing the impossible, who refused to abandon others. His voice was steady but cold. “I don’t mind. I’m not a hero. I’m not someone who can change the war. I fight until I fall, and when that comes… I’ll pay for my sins.”

  Sera tilted her head, her smile returning—but this time it was different, crueler, tinged with sorrow. “I… feel bad for you,” she murmured, and for a heartbeat her voice warped, distorted with a hollow resonance. “You didn’t feel bad when they shot me in the face.”

  Then, almost as if nothing had happened, her voice softened again. “Join me… Guren. Just the two of us, like we used to. In Heaven.”

  She stepped closer, slowly, deliberately, her movements unnervingly calm. One arm began to dissolve at the edges, melting into a black, liquid-like substance that twisted and writhed as if alive. She raised it, the fluid dripping and coiling as she reached toward Guren’s cheek, a mockery of affection.

  Guren stepped back, his boots scuffing the pavement. His eyes never left hers, filled with a mixture of fury, grief, and heartbreak. The smell of ozone and burnt metal from the battlefield hung around them, but in that instant, it all vanished, leaving only the sister he had lost, and the horror she had become.

  “Step back,” he said, voice low but unyielding, a steel edge beneath the words.

  Sera’s black pupils blinked, the liquid at the end of her arm writhing like it wanted to consume him, but she stopped. A soft laugh escaped her, one that made Guren’s stomach twist. “Coward… always the coward, even now.”

  Guren’s chest heaved, but he didn’t move closer. He didn’t strike. He simply stood, remembering everything, hating what the UF had done, hating what this war had done to his family. And most of all, hating that the person he had loved most now stood before him, no longer human, no longer his sister, and yet so impossibly familiar.