Zenithar – Safehouse | Shortly after the decryption
The glow of the screen still pulsed red with the words:
PROJECT AEGIS
Classified – Omega Protocol – Eyes Only
Liara hadn't moved for several minutes.
Finally, she turned to Raiga, her expression caught between awe and disbelief.
"Whatever this is… it's not just military. It's something else."
Raiga raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
She hesitated, then whispered:
"This isn't futuristic, Raiga. This is beyond that. We're talking about tech that shouldn't even exist."
She spun the screen around, scrolling through lines of data.
"They have transport logs for the entire central region. All of it. If we get our hands on that data, we could reroute shipments, ambush convoys, disrupt supply lines—everything. It would change the game."
Raiga leaned back, arms crossed. "Or it gets us killed. Dominion doesn't just guard that kind of data—they bury people for looking at it."
Liara frowned. "You're saying it's not worth the risk?"
"I'm saying it's not our fight. Not like this."
She stood and paced the room, frustration crackling in her voice.
"Come on, Raiga. You saw what was in that file. There's something massive going on. If we ignore this, we'll regret it. I know it."
He didn't answer.
Liara stopped, then softened.
"What if… what if those files contain more than logistics?"
Raiga looked at her, eyes narrowing.
"What do you mean?"
She swallowed. "I mean… maybe they have classified Dominion records. About people. About you. Me. Us. I'm just saying—what if the reason you don't remember anything before Wolven isn't random?"
Silence.
Raiga's fingers twitched.
He'd never told her everything. Not really.
Only that his memories began at five years old. Only that he remembered his grandfather. The man who raised him in the snow-covered valley of Wolven. Nothing before that.
Just cold.
And fire.
"You think they know something about me?" he asked, voice low.
Liara nodded.
"I don't know. But there's only one way to find out."
Raiga stared at the floor for a moment, jaw tightening.
Then he looked up.
"Fine. We go after it."
Liara's eyes widened. "Wait—really?"
"But under one condition."
His voice was sharp. Final.
"Garret doesn't get involved. No Resistance. Just us."
She blinked, stunned. "What? Raiga, we can't do this alone—"
"Then we don't do it."
He turned away, grabbing his jacket from the chair.
"If Garret finds out, he'll try to use it. Just like everything else."
Liara hesitated—then sighed.
"Alright. No Resistance. Just us."
Then, a spark in her eyes.
She clenched her fists, voice rising with excitement.
"Okay then. I'll squeeze my brain until it bleeds if I have to. I'm gonna build the perfect infiltration plan—and I'm upgrading your gear. Big time."
Raiga smirked faintly. "You're enjoying this way too much."
She grinned.
"You have no idea."
Raiga leaned against the wall, watching her pace like a strategist at war.
For a moment, he felt something he hadn't in days.
———————————————————————
Aetheria, Capital of Yuron – Military Command – 11:10 AM
The silence in the operations room was thick with tension.
Five officers sat around the steel table, the holographic images hovering before them casting a cold glow over their incredulous faces.
Eight soldiers massacred.
Vehicles reduced to wreckage.
No survivors.
One of the officers swallowed hard, his breathing slightly unsteady.
"We've found another one."
The words hung in the air, heavy as a sentence.
No one responded immediately. One of them, a man with a tense expression and eyes hollowed by exhaustion, slowly shook his head in disbelief.
"…After all this time…"
Silence.
A thought, unspoken yet undeniable, lingered in the room.
Another officer—the oldest among them—ran a hand over the printed report before him, as if to reassure himself that it was real.
"If his strength is even half that of the other, we have a serious problem."
No one dared to comment.
A metallic sound echoed through the room.
The door swung open.
Everyone snapped to their feet as a figure entered with heavy steps.
A towering figure stepped in—his face a battlefield of scars, his gaze cold, unreadable as steel.
Commander Varos.
He strode forward without a word, studying the images before him. Then, in a firm, commanding voice, he gave a single order:
"Prepare yourselves. We leave for Zenithar."
⸻
[To be continued.]