Himiko's hand slammed onto the table.
BANG.
Pain shot up her arm.
Sharp.
Clenching her jaw, she flinched—just slightly. She wasn't expecting that—she only wanted to add dramatic effect. Now all the agents stood around staring, second-hand embarrassment lingering in their eyes.
She ignored it.
Around the table were MEI soldiers, Ghost-Line Six and Harden.
All eyes on her.
Waiting.
Their eyes were dragged down by dark bags below. They were worn down and scared. Which was understandable—as they should be. But they were also upbeat, excited, and eager to go.
Maybe Himiko was a better speaker than she thought.
She looked at each of them one by one.
Then—
"Here's the plan."
Pause.
"We hit them directly."
Silence.
A few heads tilted, brows furrowed. For a couple of seconds, no one said a word.
Then someone shifted and spoke up.
"That's suicide."
Another nodded.
"We'll be gunned down in seconds."
He looked young—maybe nineteen, twenty. He had his arms folded tight, fabric creased inside his tightly clenched fists—shaking ever so slightly. There was a fabric name badge sewn onto his uniform, with 'Wilson' sewn onto it.
She smiled.
Small,
sharp,
with a tinge of pride.
"Not if they can't see us."
Aiko's lips curled. She knew that look—that tone.
The man's arms remained crossed, but one brow had raised slightly—minute, but recognisable.
Something clicked. The whispering had stopped. Instead, they were now all eager to hear the next part of the plan.
Himiko's eyes moved across the table.
Reading them.
Preparing herself.
"Then—"
"We hit them with everything."
Steel-toe cap boots clanged against the stone-tiled floor.
The weapon cages flew open.
Guns lifted.
Clips loaded.
"REMEMBER YOUR ROLES!" Harden yelled.
"RESOURCES ARE LIMITED—ONLY GRAB WHAT YOU NEED!"
Wilson stepped up to the cages. His eyes—the very same that looked upon Himiko with disapproval—now glinted with newfound determination. A single bead of sweat rolled down his cheek.
A mix of fear—
and excitement.
Clipboard in hand, the armourer stood in front of him.
"What's your role?"
Wilson took a deep breath.
"Grenadier."
The armourer slid his pen down the sheet of paper. The scraping sound made the hairs on Wilson's neck stand on end. After a few agonisingly long seconds, the armour scribbled something on the paper and looked up at Wilson.
"The smoke grenades are in the corner over there."
He pointed to a large wooden box, barely lit by spots of twilight sun leaking through bullet holes in the tent.
He placed his hands on the rough wooden box.
Took a moment.
Wilson breathed a long sigh, then lifted. The box creaked open. Nylon pouches lined up in columns, from bottom to top. However, many were already taken. Wilson snatched one—threw the strap over his head—and shuffled out of the tent.
He slipped his hand into the pouch and grabbed one of the grenades inside.
Held it in front—turned it in his hand.
Cold steel.
Paint muffled green.
White writing etched along the shell. He traced the lettering with his thumb.
Slow.
Deliberate.
SMOKE GRENADE
WHITE
"That's suicide—"
"Not if they can't see us."
Three tanks rolled into position, engines roaring with fury. They aligned in front of the base. Their barrels angled toward the alien fort in front of the campus. Behind them, artillery crews adjusted coordinates.
Through the front of the base, five agents stepped forward, RPGs raised.
Locked.
Aimed.
Once all was set, silence fell.
The air felt heavy. The hollow feeling of waiting was unbearable. Wilson exhaled—looked up.
Other grenadiers lined the entire shield wall in tight formation.
Except for a single gap.
It made his stomach drop. A soldier nearby waved him over.
"Come on—move—move!"
His grip tightened. The cold sensation of the steel burned into his palm—his mind.
If he messed this up—
No.
He took a deep breath in—deep breath out.
And stepped forward, filling the gap.
Harden stomped forward—
cleared his throat.
"GRENADIERS—READY POSITIONS!"
His bellowing voice cut through the air.
Wilson planted his feet.
One forward.
One back.
"AIM."
Arm pulled behind him, grenade clenched tight. Heart pounding, he swallowed the lump in his throat.
"THROW."
They moved in sync.
Grenades flew.
Dozens.
Spinning—
They hit the ground.
Rolled.
Bounced.
clanged.
PING—PING—PING.
Confused, an alien soldier lowered its weapon. Then another snapped its arm—barked something in its language. The whack brought it back into focus.
But it was too late.
The grenades split.
Smoke poured out thick and fast.
Within seconds, the entire courtyard was drowned in white.
Visibility—gone.
Harden yelled once more.
"ARTILLERY!"
"FIRE!"
Thunder cracked the air.
All at once, the tanks fired.
Artillery followed. Shells screamed overhead—
BANG—BANG—BANG
The shockwaves were loud—low-frequency claps that rocked the whole courtyard. Fire lit up through the smoke. Clouds blasted outwards, then more flowed back again.
The aliens fired back.
Blind.
Wild.
Bullets ripped through smoke—
pinging off shields.
CLANG—
From the right—
CLANG—
Then the left—
CLANG—CLANG—
Everywhere.
Except for the main fort, which was still staggered by the bombardment.
"Once we open fire, they'll counter. But with the smoke, they can't see us—we use that as cover."
"Move!"
Himiko stepped forward.
The rest followed.
Shields raised, the formation locked into place. A diamond of a few dozen soldiers, flanked on all sides by impenetrable alien shields.
They were a moving fortress.
No one spoke.
No one dared.
Bullets whizzed overhead—
through gaps—
past ears.
CLANG—
Some hit shields—
Too close.
Too loud.
The soldiers flinched out of pure instinct. They tried to hide it—keep a brave face. But Himiko knew it was an act. These young men and women pushed through their fears—kept moving. But it wasn't out of a desire, nor out of passion.
They didn't have a choice.
They were going to die if they stayed in that base.
Or was it safer to stay?
Thump—
Wet.
Sickening.
A soldier beside her jerked before dropping to the ground.
Thud.
That sound…
Heavy.
Crimson leaked from his head, running along the cracks between the tiles.
The man's mouth remained open, and his eyes were relaxed. They were looking up slightly.
At Himiko.
One second, he was there.
Breathing.
Living.
Then he was gone. The life of a young man who could've achieved so much. A man who could've been loved by someone—by more.
Gone.
Her stomach burned—she held her mouth. Bile rose to her throat. Then slowly, flowed back down to her stomach.
She slowly turned her head. Her eyes kept locking onto it—she couldn't help it, as much as she tried—lids still stretched wide.
Her chest felt numb.
This was her plan—Her decision.
Blood was shed under her watch.
But she didn't stop.
Couldn't.
Not now.
Kaoru turned.
Reached—
Aiko gripped tightly on his arm—sharp pain struck. She yanked him back.
A bullet flew past him—in front of him.
His eyes widened.
So did hers.
A silent exchange.
No words.
They keep moving.
Sweat rolled down Himiko's forehead. She turned to Harden—he turned back. Eyes still wide, her brows twitched. Harden's face relaxed as he shook his head slowly. His hand raised—drifted towards Himiko's shoulder.
He was trying to comfort her. But Himiko just looked through his eyes. She couldn't shake off the image in her head.
Until the gunfire stopped.
Sudden—
Complete silence.
It didn't feel right.
Himiko's hand shot up.
Everyone froze.
No footsteps.
No movement.
If they heard them…
They were dead.
Himiko reached into her pouch and pulled out a grenade. There was more white writing, this time:
CONCUSSION GRENADE
She turned around.
All eyes locked onto her.
She pointed to the grenade.
Then put her hands on her ears.
They replicated.
She nodded.
She slipped her trembling fingers into the pin, pulled—
And threw.
Back toward the base they came from.
All was silent except for the muffled pinging of the grenade as it rolled.
Everyone placed their hands on their ears.
Silence.
Then—
BOOM.
The explosion echoed.
Gunfire resumed instantly.
Both sides.
Blind again.
"Move."
They moved.
Fast now.
Closing the distance.
Through smoke.
Through chaos.
Until—
They saw it.
Finally.
The distant silhouette of the shield exterior of the alien camp. The outer wall, now blasted apart. Alien bodies were scattered across the ground, twisted and broken.
On the inside, smoke seeped through the gaps, curling into the interior.
Inside—
They waited.
Alien soldiers, lined up in rows: Shields in front, one row crouched behind them, and another row stood at the back.
Weapons ready—
pointed at the smoky entrance.
Silent.
Watching.
The head one stood behind—the same one from the shelter. Hands clasped behind its back, the long black coat fluttered in the breeze. Feet planted wide, it gave the air of confidence—it gazed upon the entrance with eager anticipation.
Then raised a hand—two fingers.
It pressed them to the side of its mask. The golden ring in the centre glowed.
It croaked—low and guttural.
"K'ak lamaa—ut d'pa'i la'is"
Beep.
A robotic response answered.
Behind him, leading up to the campus entrance, were a large set of stairs. Pillars towered above. The exterior was golden in the last embers of the setting sun.
A metallic spider crawled up to the Alien leader's boot—
It kicked it away hurriedly.
Then it crawled back—
It kicked it away again.
Refusing to step on it.
The firing outside had stopped.
It looked up towards the wall.
The broken wall.
The gap was dark.
Still.
Silence stretched—long and heavy.
Then—
clink.
One grenade rolled through.
Then another.
Then two more.
Four.
They stopped.
A beat.
Then—
FLASH.
Blinding light.
White.
Overbearing.
"GO!"
MEI surged forward.
Shields slammed down—their own stolen technology.
Guns up.
Then the return fire came—golden streaks cutting through the air.
The aliens dropped one after another.
No resistance.
No counterfire.
They fell—the entire front line was gone before they could react.
The MEI agents didn't speak.
They advanced.
Step by step.
Weapons trained. An indescribable smell clung to the air—burnt plasma.
The aliens didn't fire either—they waited.
Backed up.
Slow and controlled. Until they reached the stairs.
Nowhere left to go.
A standoff.
Weapons raised.
Both sides.
Waiting.
Then the Alien leader made the next move.
It stepped forward—
Himiko locked her rifle onto it. Right onto the golden ring at the centre of its mask.
It tilted its head—
slow and curious.
Then let off a sound,
"…you…"
Then followed with a quiet, crooked laugh.
Himiko didn't respond or even blink.
She didn't hesitate—
fired.
A single shot into the ground between them.
A message.
Clear.
The alien soldiers tensed—
fingers tightening—
ready to fire—
The leader raised a hand—they stopped.
Instant.
Himiko's eyes narrowed.
"What do you want?"
Silence.
Then—
"The… Ve-ss-els."
The word dragged.
Wrong—unnatural.
The purple one.
The red one.
Even the blue one.
Vessels.
But why here?
Why the university?
Wait—
Unless—
Himiko frowned.
"Is he—?"
"Hey…" Kaoru's voice cracked
He pointed up toward the stairs.
Himiko followed.
There was a shape.
Moving through the smoke.
Slow.
Unsteady.
Himiko's breath caught.
"…Is that—?"
The figure stepped forward.
Purple light bled into the world.
Not glowing, but leaking—shifting.
Forming the shape of a man.
There was something in its arms. No—someone.
Miko.
Limp.
Motionless.
Hopefully still alive.
Behind the entity, more followed—
students.
Shaking.
Barely alive.
Barely standing.
The aliens froze.
Completely.
One raised its weapon—
Then stopped.
Its arm trembled too much to keep still.
One stepped back.
Then another.
A ripple.
Breaking through them.
Not hesitation,
Not confusion.
Fear.
Real.
Their formation cracked.
The battle was shifting.
They didn't care about MEI,
Himiko—
Just one thing.
Up there
him.
They weren't seeing soldiers anymore.
Didn't care about the guns.
Didn't care about the breach.
None of it mattered.
Only—
him.
Himiko's chest tightened.
Her grip faltered slightly.
Her breath slowed.
Then clarity struck her.
Hard.
…They weren't holding the campus.
No.
They were holding—
him.