The prep work was finished. The high-tech silence of the Estate was broken only by the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the cliffs below. Inside the hangar, a sleek, black stealth-shuttle sat humming, its engines vibrating at a frequency that made the very air feel heavy and metallic.
Ren stood at the loading ramp, checking the seals on his forearm gauntlets. He had transitioned fully into his combat form; his veins were traced with a faint gold luminescence, and his presence was so overwhelming that the hangar's automated systems kept flickering into "error" mode.
Beside him stood his trinity.
Clara held a pulse-rifle that Ren had modified with a shard of his own energy core. She looked different—the CEO's calculating gaze had merged with a warrior's focus. Serafina carried a dual-blade staff, her movements fluid and arrogant. Viper was a shadow in the corner, her fingers twitching over the hilts of her knives, her eyes fixed on Ren with a hunger that the morning's "recharging" session had only intensified.
"The Syndicate's carrier is anchored twelve miles out," Ren said, his voice a low, vibrating hum. "They think they're safe behind a wall of automated turrets and five hundred soldiers. They're wrong."
The shuttle didn't fly toward the carrier; it dropped into the ocean, converting into a high-speed submersible. They moved through the dark water like a predatory ghost.
"Approaching the hull," Serafina announced, her fingers dancing across a holographic display. "Engaging the Pulse-shroud."
Ren stood behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder. He sent a rhythmic surge of energy through her, boosting her cognitive speed so she could bypass the carrier's deep-sea sonar. Serafina leaned back into his touch for a fleeting second, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips.
"We're in," she whispered.
The shuttle docked with the carrier's waste-disposal port. As the hatch hissed open, the smell of salt and industrial oil flooded the cabin.
They didn't sneak. Ren had decided that today, the Syndicate would learn the meaning of terror.
As the internal security doors slid open, a squad of armored guards leveled their rifles. Before they could pull a single trigger, Ren was among them. He didn't use a weapon. He used his hands.
The sound of the combat was a series of wet thuds and the screech of tearing metal. Ren moved with a speed that defied physics, his strikes leaving glowing amber trails in the air.
"My turn," Viper hissed. She blurred past Ren, her knives finding the gaps in the guards' armor with surgical cruelty. She was laughing—a dark, melodic sound that echoed through the blood-spattered hallway.
Clara and Serafina moved as a unit behind them. Clara provided the long-range support, her rifle firing bolts of condensed kinetic energy that shattered the Syndicate's riot shields like they were made of glass. Serafina was a whirlwind of gold, her staff spinning in a defensive perimeter that kept any stragglers from reaching Ren's back.
In the heat of the corridor, pinned down by a heavy machine-gun nest, the four of them converged.
Ren pulled Clara back into the cover of a thick bulkhead. The adrenaline was high, their heartbeats synchronized by the shared Pulse. Ren's eyes were burning gold as he looked at her.
"Stay close," he commanded. He grabbed her waist, pulling her flush against him.
He didn't just protect her; he fed her. He pressed his lips to hers in a hard, searing kiss, transferring a massive surge of raw energy directly into her system. Clara's eyes flew open, the pupils dilating until they were almost solid black.
She felt as if she could see the atoms in the air. She stepped out from cover, her rifle glowing with a blinding light. She fired once. The blast didn't just destroy the gun nest; it vaporized the entire section of the hallway.
"God," Clara gasped, her body trembling with the aftershock of the power. She looked at Ren, her expression a mix of awe and a new, primal desire. "I feel... invincible."
"You are," Ren said, his hand lingering on the small of her back before he turned his attention to the bridge.
They reached the command deck in under ten minutes. The floor was a graveyard of Syndicate technology.
Standing in the center of the bridge, surrounded by flickering screens, was the Harvester. He looked even larger in the cramped space, his bone-white armor stained with the soot of the battle.
"You came to me," the giant rumbled, his chain-whip sparking with blue electricity. "A king and his concubines, walking into the slaughterhouse."
Ren stepped forward, the floor cracking under his boots. "You touched my wife. You threatened my home."
Ren's voice dropped to a register that made the glass windows of the bridge vibrate until they shattered.
"I'm not here to fight you, Harvester. I'm here to erase you."
Viper and Serafina moved to the flanks, their eyes glowing, their bodies tensed for the kill. Clara leveled her rifle at the Harvester's head.
The air in the room grew thick and heavy, charged with a magnetic pressure that made the Harvester's blue light flicker and die. Ren raised his hand, and the golden Pulse began to coalesce into a solid blade of pure energy.