Inside the belly of the heavy transport aircraft, the air was thick and tasted of jet fuel. John and Victoria sat bathed in dim, red tactical lighting, the violent vibration of the engines rattling their armor against the metal hull. The silence between them was heavy, a physical weight in the cramped space, but it was pierced by the booming voice of General Leah over the comms. Her speech crackled through the speakers, fueling a desperate fire in the hearts of the soldiers lined up across from them.
Back at the GDA research lab, the Advisor stood before a massive, skeletal frame that loomed over the hangar like a metal god. This was the Behemoth Tank of Doom. Unlike the previous models, this machine eschewed unstable Calamity energy, built instead from the rarest material on Earth: Giga-Copper.
The Advisor turned to the lead engineers, his voice uncharacteristically humbled. "Thank you for the help, Forge Industries. You've come through again. I'm reason for my outburst earlier."
The engineers wiped thick grease from their brows and nodded. "No problem, sir. We help people, no matter how dangerous the work gets. That's what Forge is for."
Miles away, at the sprawling oil field, the Oil-Keeper was barking orders through the shimmering heat haze. He stopped abruptly, pointing a gloved finger at a worker struggling with a heavy pail. "Hey! You!"
The worker stopped, pointing at himself in confusion.
"Yes, you," the Oil-Keeper growls. "Why are you carrying that oil bucket? I didn't order you to pour that into the rig. Get it back to storage!"
"Sorry, sir," the worker muttered, scurrying away into the dust.
Suddenly, the roar of engines drowned out the machinery as the GDA arrived. The transport aircraft touched down with a heavy thud, its hydraulic ramps hissing open like a giant beast exhaling. John and Victoria led their squad of soldiers out onto the sun-baked dirt, their boots kicking up clouds of grit.
The Oil-Keeper stomped over, squinting against the glare of the sun. "Oi. Did the Advisor send y'all?"
John met his gaze steadily. "He did. We're here to defend the sector. Satellite intel detected an incoming threat."
The Oil-Keeper walked a slow, predatory circle around John, eyeing him up and down with blatant disrespect. John remained as still as a statue, staring him down with cold, veteran eyes.
"I don't think you need to keep eyeing us," Victoria interjected, her hand resting firmly on the hilt of her hammer. "Seeing as we're the Commanders here."
The Oil-Keeper scoffs, stepping toward her aggressively. "I am the handler here, young lady. My field, my rules."
Before he could take another step toward Victoria, John shifted his weight. It was a subtle move, but the threat was unmistakable. "Take one more step," John said, his voice a low, lethal warning.
The Oil-Keeper froze. He looked into John's eyes—the eyes of a predator—and his grin faltered. He slowly backed away, sensing the dangerous energy radiating from the Commander. John exhaled a slow sigh, never breaking his focus.
The tension was shattered by a shrieking whistle from the sky. BOOM.
An X-Drop slammed into the center of the field, the impact cratering the earth and sending a shockwave through the rigs. The doors blew outward in a cloud of smoke, releasing a swarm of X-Ordinals and upgraded X-Juggernauts. These weren't the machines they fought two years ago; these units were pulsing with raw, purple Calamity energy.
The Oil-Keeper yelled in terror and bolted for the nearest bunker.
John didn't hesitate. He reached back and unsheathes his Energy Axe, the blade crackling to life with a hum of power. Beside him, Victoria gripped her new Thruster-Hammer, the jets on the back of the weapon hissing with high-pressure steam. Behind them, the GDA soldiers leveled their rifles in a perfect line of steel against the X-Faction's glow.
The standoff had begun.
Far away, on a desolate cliffside, the wind began to howl. The Plague Doctor stood at the edge of the world, his cloak billowing as his body slowly began to levitate off the ground. He looked toward the horizon, his mask tilted upward as if catching a scent on the breeze.