Hours later, the media hall overflowed with reporters. Cameras flashed, civilians pressed in, fear humming in the air like static. Ian stepped up to the podium, his face unreadable under the harsh lights.
Ian, steady, commanding, "We are down two soldiers, yes. And yes, a demon army marches toward the capital as I speak. But listen to me carefully, panic helps them. Fear feeds them. What we need is spirit. What we need is unity. Support us like you support your favorite team. Cheer for us, believe in us, because when we win, it won't just be the STF's victory. It will be your victory."
He stepped away before questions could be asked, leaving the press in stunned silence. Behind the curtains, Blade caught up with him.
Blade, half-smirk, "Support us? That's what you went with?"
Ian, with an exhausted grin, said, "You can't just tell people not to panic. If you don't give them something to hold onto, they'll drown. This way, they'll cheer. And maybe, just maybe, they'll believe we can win."
Blade, after a pause, "…Yeah. I see why you're in charge."
The locker room air was thick with the smell of metal and leather polish. Red Riot zipped up his chest plate, his energy burning as Ian leaned through the doorway.
Ian, "Red Riot, you're working with Captain One Arm and a few others. Briefing Room Five."
Red Riot, grinning, "Finally. Been a minute since you put me on a mission."
Ian, flat but sharp, "Meet in the briefing room."
Red Riot jogged through the vast corridors of STF HQ until he reached Briefing Room Five. Inside, the tension was already simmering. Around the table sat Azryl, the 14th Great, brooding with his arms folded; Captain One Arm, sword resting at his side, the sound of his horse's hooves faintly echoing from outside; and White Flash, leaning back with a cocky grin as he spun his twin short swords. Ian walked in behind Red Riot. The briefing began.
Red Riot, "So we're stopping a demon army?"
Azryl, curt, "Yeah. And we have to move fast. The rest of the STF is locked down dealing with the Light Demon."
White Flash, snorting, "Question, who's actually in charge here? Captain Horseman, or you?"
Azryl, frowning, "Ian said I'll be working alongside Captain One Arm. Meaning, I call shots too."
White Flash, mocking laugh, "Thank god. You alone leading would be insane. You're basically just the off-brand Ice King."
Azryl's head snapped toward him, his voice like steel.
Azryl, dead serious, "This off-brand Ice King will beat your ass where you stand."
White Flash, grinning, leaning forward, "Then go ahead. Prove you're not second-rate."
Before the argument could explode, Captain One Arm slammed his silver sword onto the table, the sound ringing like thunder.
Captain One Arm, commanding, voice deep, "Enough! Save that fire for the demons."
The room went dead silent. Even White Flash leaned back, smirk fading. The Plan Captain One Arm stood, his single arm gripping the map projector's controls. Red holographic icons lit the valley.
Captain One Arm, "The demons are mass-producing weapons here and here. If we don't burn their factories, they'll flood our front lines. White Flash—you infiltrate behind enemy lines with the air fleet. Azryl—you coordinate ground forces with me. Red Riot—you're on my flank. You move when I move."
Red Riot's chest swelled, nodding firmly. Red Riot, "Yes, sir."
Azryl smirked at White Flash but held his tongue. White Flash twirled his blade, his grin returning.
White Flash, "Fine. But when I save your old-school asses, don't forget to thank me."
Captain One Arm ignored the jab, his focus never wavering.
Captain One Arm, "We move at dawn. No hesitation. The capital depends on us ending this before it begins."
The team rose, their boots echoing against the floor as they filed out—rivalries still burning, but the mission clear.