The blizzard had quieted. The wind still howled beyond the cliffs, but here, just outside CORE's fortress, it was almost peaceful.
Fires burned in metal barrels, rebels huddled around them, sharpening blades, whispering prayers, checking ammo.
Everyone knew what came next.
For the first time in months, no one ran, no one hid. They were going to war.
And for Shirley, it didn't feel like fear anymore.
It felt like purpose.
Shirley sat on a rock near the edge of camp, staring at it. His cleaver lay in the snow beside him, glinting faintly in the dawn light. He ran his thumb along the handle, lost in thought.
Tucker was nearby, wrapped in a thick blanket, dozing lightly. Every few minutes, he'd mutter something under his breath, half words, half memories. Madison sat not far away, her hands glowing faintly as she healed the last of the rebels' wounds. Doug stood watch near the front line, binoculars in hand, eyes scanning the walls.
And Micheal… Micheal was quiet. Standing just a few feet from the castle gates, staring up at it like he'd seen it in another life.
No one dared to interrupt him. After a long silence, Shirley stood and walked over. "You ever think about what happens after?" he asked softly.
Micheal didn't turn around. "After what?"
"After CORE's gone."
There was a pause. Then Micheal spoke, voice low. "You ever try to picture a world without a shadow?"
Shirley frowned. "What?"
"Exactly." Micheal's tone was calm, but heavy. "It's hard to imagine light when you've never seen it." He finally looked back, his eyes tired, but sharp. "But we'll make it real."
For a moment, neither spoke. Only the wind answered, whispering between the cracks in the ice.
Doug's voice broke the quiet. "We're ready when you are!"
Micheal nodded. "Good. We move soon."
Shirley looked back at the others, at Tucker, Madison, ZE210, and the crowd of rebels who had followed them this far. They were cold, hungry, and exhausted… but alive. For now.
He gripped his cleaver and took a deep breath. "Guess it's time to finish what we started."
Micheal gave him a faint smirk. "Couldn't have said it better."
The two of them stepped forward together, snow crunching beneath their shoes, heading toward the gates of the castle. The others followed in silence as the moonlight finally broke across the field.
Tucker quickly got up and dashed over to Shirley and Micheal. They took a collective look at eachother, and continued heading towards the gates of the castle.
As they neared the massive gate, Tucker started jogging ahead of the group. Then he broke into a full sprint, snow kicking up behind him.
"I got this one!" he shouted over his shoulder, grinning. "I'll bust it wide open."
One of the rebels called out, half-panicked, "Wouldn't we wanna infiltrate quietly?"
Micheal didn't even flinch. "No point," he said flatly. "With a crowd this size, CORE's already expecting his visitors."
That shut the rebel up real fast.
Tucker rolled his shoulders, bouncing lightly on his feet. "Good," he muttered. "Then let's give him a show."
He stepped up to the gate, a towering slab of black steel covered in frost and claw-like markings. The air around it seemed to hum with Presence.
"Stand back," Tucker warned, lowering his stance. His left hand hovered over his right fist as the air began to shimmer. A pulse of heat rippled out, melting the snow beneath his shoes.
"Red," he whispered.
His fist glowed a deep crimson, veins of light running up his arm. Then, with a sharp exhale, he drove his punch forward.
The explosion that followed was a strong force. The gate detonated off its hinges, crashing inward in a storm of dust and fire.
Shirley shielded his face from the blast, then looked up, a grin tugging at his lip. "Not bad, Tucker."
Tucker brushed soot off his jacket, flashing a cocky smirk. "You know me. Subtlety's overrated."
Micheal stepped forward through the smoke, eyes on the dark hall beyond. "Alright," he said quietly. "Let's finish this."
The group stepped through the shattered gate, their shoes crunching over shards of black metal and ice. The air inside CORE's castle was thick, almost humming with a low vibration that crawled up their spines.
They entered the lobby.
It was ginormous, wide pillars made of obsidian stretched toward a ceiling so high it disappeared into shadow. The floor gleamed like glass, reflecting the faint red glow pulsing from the walls. For a moment, it didn't even feel like a warzone. It was… quiet, it was so quiet.
Rebels fanned out behind Micheal, Tucker and Shirley, their footsteps echoing in perfect rhythm.
Madison whispered, "It's empty…?"
Doug shook his head. "Nah. Can't be."
Their eyes drifted to the walls, portraits, hundreds of them, perfectly framed and aligned. Some were of strange landscapes. Others showed people in uniform, proud and stiff. But one painting stopped Micheal in his tracks.
It was Mr. Jones.
Smiling. Wearing a clean black suit, standing right beside CORE's insignia like he belonged there.
Micheal's body went rigid. His fists clenched so tightly his gloves strained. The air around him grew heavier, his aura flaring faintly.
"That's him," he muttered under his breath. "That's the man who—"
A rebel placed a hand on his shoulder, but Micheal shrugged it off. "He's here," Micheal growled. "CORE's been keeping his body this whole time."
He took a step forward, eyes burning holes into the painting. "I'll kill hi—"
"Down!" someone yelled.
Before he could finish, a burst of gunfire tore through the silence. The walls split open, literally split, revealing compartments filled with armored guards pouring out from every direction, dozens of them.
They surrounded the group in seconds, their rifles trained and synchronized. Black visors glowed in the light.
Shirley exhaled sharply. "So much for a quiet entry."
Tucker cracked his neck. "Good. I was starting to get bored."
The guards charged first.
Tucker met the front line head-on, his right fist igniting mid-swing. He slammed it into the ground, sending a shockwave that tossed three guards into the air. One landed hard, another crashed into a pillar, the third went flying into the portrait wall, tearing Mr. Jones's painted portrait exactly at the head.
Micheal didn't even look. He was already moving. He grabbed a guard by the arm, twisted it, and used the man's own momentum to fling him into another. His movements were sharp and efficient, controlled anger.
"Shirley!" Tucker shouted, blocking a sword strike with his forearm. "You know help would be nice!"
Shirley twirled his cleaver, his eyes sharpening. "On it."
He dashed through the crowd, cleaver flashing silver as he carved through armor plates and disarmed enemies with swift, precise cuts. Every move was practiced chaos. When one guard lunged with a spear, Shirley ducked low, sliced upward, and split the shaft clean in two before kicking the man back into his squad.
Doug fired from the rear, taking out snipers on the balconies. "Keep movin'! Don't get boxed in!"
Madison ducked behind a broken pillar, her Hope Presence shimmering faintly as she healed a rebel struck by stray fire. "We're surrounded!" she yelled.
"Then make a hole!" Micheal snapped.
Tucker obliged. He slammed both fists together, his Strength Presence flaring. "You got it!"
He leapt forward and unleashed a spinning punch so strong the air cracked around him. The impact sent a wave of heat and pressure that tore through a dozen guards and cleared a path straight down the hall.
The dust settled. Silence returned.
The rebels panted, weapons drawn, standing amidst a floor littered with unconscious soldiers and shattered armor. The faint hum of the castle returned, like the place itself was watching.
ZE210 watched in complete awe, he could only watch as they fought.
Micheal lowered his stance, breathing heavy. "No more distractions," he said. "We keep moving. CORE knows we're here now."
Tucker smirked, brushing off dust. "Yeah, well… let him know we're coming for his throne."
Shirley glanced at the torn portrait of Mr. Jones, only the man's body from the neck down still visible under the rubble. "Guess he heard that loud and clear."
Micheal stared at the torn portrait, Mr. Jones' head missing, just like the day he found it in CORE's gift box.
He exhaled slowly.
"He's been waiting for me too."
NARRATOR
The storm has entered the castle. From here on out, every step will test more than their strength — it'll test who they truly are.