The air over Shambhala was different now.
The sky was slate-blue, streaked with charcoal clouds that dragged across the heavens like torn banners. The moon hung pale, veiled behind drifting smoke that ascended from the ruined outskirts of Bhutala. A silence rested over the land, one that did not belong to peace—only aftermath.
Their footsteps echoed on old stone.
Ahaan, Aryan, and Abhi moved through an empty valley road, their silhouettes cutting through dust-laden wind. The air smelled of burnt sap, broken metal, and scorched earth. Abhi's hand unconsciously brushed the bracelet—a dull shimmer pulsed faintly beneath the grime—almost as though it sensed what lay ahead.
At the end of the valley, the colossal structure appeared.
A fortress-gate crowned by obsidian archways—The North Gate of Shambhala.
Two massive guardian-pillars rose on either side, carved with spiraling scripts that glowed faintly. A bridge connected to the main gate, suspended over a chasm so deep that even daylight could not reach its bottom.
This was the frontier.
And standing there, waiting…
AlphaTech.
Not scattered, not unprepared—
arrayed in full formation.
Six dense infantry blocks stood behind towering armored gates—almost four hundred soldiers—each with matching insignia across their chestplates. Three platoon leaders stood front-center, holding their weapons downward, as though waiting for permission to rise.
At their head, stationed on the upper ramparts, were the ones responsible for Bhutala's extinction.
The Generals.
Hero, Cairo, and Zane.
Hero stood at the center, long coat fluttering with the wind, knuckles wrapped in reinforced kinetic gloves. His eyes carried no memory of hesitation, no remnant of humanity.
Cairo stood beside him, war-trident anchored to stone, its blade vibrating faintly—like a muted storm waiting to scream.
Zane leaned against the railing, twirling twin short-scythes lazily between his fingers.
They were not surprised.
They were not intimidated.
They were… expectant.
Hero stepped forward, voice amplified by embedded arc-bands in his gear.
"So you came back. Bhutala was nothing personal. Just correction."
That was all he said.
Just correction.
Nothing more—no remorse, no apology, no justification.
Ahaan's jaw tightened. Aryan's silence sharpened. Abhi's pulse visibly trembled beneath the bracelet.
The soldiers behind raised formation spears, aligned edge-forward.
Aryan walked ahead and spoke, calm but cold-cut:
"Correction… would be when the three of you fall."
Cairo chuckled under his breath.
Zane grinned like a wolf meeting prey.
Hero simply shifted stance.
There was no banter.
No extended theatrics.
Only inevitability.
AlphaTech's second platoon marched down from the ramp, halting ten meters away. Shields locked, spears lowered, arc-batteries glowing behind their plating.
One forward unit.
One single obstacle before reaching the wall.
The last checkpoint.
Wind passed between the two groups, brushing dust from shattered stone.
Ahaan whispered under his breath:
"We clear them… and then the war truly begins."
Abhi exhaled slowly.
"This time… we don't hold back."
Aryan simply nodded.
Behind the trio, silence thickened.
Before them—rows of soldiers preparing full engagement protocol.
And above…
Three generals waiting, hands already drifting toward weapons.
Shambhala's gates trembled—not from impact,
but from what approached them.