"When the forges fell silent, Manila heard the footsteps of gods."
The night before dawn had been too quiet—an unholy calm before the storm. When the first light broke through the eastern horizon, it fell not on peace, but on the march of the Anino ng mga Anito.
The Engineered Anino Relic Wielders are mass-produced soldiers forged through forbidden relic synthesis — mortals whose bodies have been artificially bonded with fractured relic shards and myth-tech cores. Their creation process erases individuality, leaving behind empty vessels animated by divine residue and mechanical obedience.
Their armor is blackened myth-steel, etched with fragmented Baybayin glyphs that glow faintly when active. Their eyes emit a ghostly light, a sign of the relic fragments pulsing within their skulls. When they march, the air vibrates with the harmonic hum of hundreds of relics resonating in forced unison.
They are not divine wielders — they are replications.
Each Anino unit operates as part of a synchronized network, controlled through a lattice of resonance signals that mimic divine will.
This network makes them move with machine-like precision and allows them to absorb or nullify certain relic-based attacks for brief intervals.
They came from the north and the sea, from forgotten factories and fractured temples. As they marched, the air itself seemed to vibrate with a hum—the call of their relics awakening.
Each soldier activated their Sandata Relic, sparks of myth-tech light illuminating the boulevards as if dawn had fallen from the sky. The synchronized resonance echoed through the ruins of the old Pasig bridges.
Their objective was absolute.
Total occupation of Manila.
By sea, the second phase of the invasion unfurled.
The Anino ng mga Anito's fleet surged through Manila Bay, a legion of shadow-wrapped warships powered by stolen relic cores. The bay's waters churned black beneath their passage. Their artillery ignited, streaks of burning light arching across the skyline and shattering the harbor's silence.
The coastguard lines collapsed under the barrage. Columns of smoke rose from the port of Navotas to the shores of Ermita. The sound of the bombardment rippled across the city, rattling the bones of every waking soul.
Defense of Intramuros
Within the ancient walls of Intramuros, the Philippine Military stood ready.
Armored battalions garrisoned the gates, combining modern warfare and relic reinforcement—each bullet sanctified with Baybayin wards drawn by combat chaplains.
Fort Santiago's ramparts flared with shield sigils as commanders shouted orders through the haze.
Their defense was both modern and ancient—a line of mortal steel and mythic defiance. But as the first waves struck, the sheer volume of the Anino's army pressed them to the brink. The rumble of tanks echoed through the cobblestone streets, and within minutes, the clash of relic and bullet turned Intramuros into a crucible of fire.
Still, the soldiers held. For faith. For country. For memory.
When Criminals became Martyrs
At the heart of the city, Manila City Hall burned under a storm of fire.
From its marble steps stood Mayor Natalia Saavedra, the Ahas ng mga Lakan enforcer whose name had long been whispered with both awe and disdain.
In her hands gleamed her Sandata Relic — the Karambit ni Kain, crescent blade pulsing with hunger and light. The air around her crackled with living runes.
When the first Anino unit charged the building, Natalia didn't retreat.
She leapt into the fray, the Karambit's curved edge splitting the air in golden arcs. Each swing drew trails of luminous blood and shattered void-forged shields. She moved like a dancer possessed by a god, every strike echoing with divine wrath.
Her guards had already fallen. Still, she fought.
For every civilian she had once sworn to protect.
For a city that had doubted her loyalty, yet still called her Mayor.
The enemy's bombardment tore through the outer façade, shaking the City Hall's pillars.
Natalia landed amidst the debris, her armor fractured, eyes alight. With both blades raised, she called upon the full might of her relic.
"Kain's Edge!
The activation roared across the avenue. The blade ignited with spectral black and violet flame, consuming the Anino vanguard in a burst of blinding radiance. For a heartbeat, the people hiding inside believed salvation had a name—and it was hers.
A Father's Love
Across the city, in the trembling wards of Manila National Hospital, Putik stood alone before a shattered entrance.
His chest heaved, his tattoos burning through his skin. The Balisong ng Dahas in his grip pulsed red, matching the rhythm of his labored breath.
Behind him, doctors and nurses rushed to seal the upper floors, herding patients away from the windows as explosions drew closer.
In one of those rooms lay his daughter—small, fragile, breathing through a mask as the machines beside her clicked in irregular rhythm.
Every beat of her heart was a reminder of why he refused to fall.
When the first relic soldier breached the hospital doors, Putik's blade sang. The molten edge of the Balisong cleaved through armor, carving a protective circle across the lobby. The people who had once judged him—a criminal, an enforcer, a murderer—now watched in silence as he became their last wall.
He fought for no banner. No glory. Only for her.
The swarm intensified.
Every street of Manila became a battlefield.
From City Hall to the hospital, from Intramuros to the coast, the sky itself burned red with residue from relic detonations.
The Anino ng mga Anito multiplied without end—each fallen soldier replaced by another conjured from the void fields beyond the bay.
Natalia's body faltered. Blood traced lines down her armor, but she held her ground, blades singing through the haze. The citizens who had once cursed her name now prayed at the sight of her silhouette, cutting through the darkness like a living ward.
Putik, at the hospital's threshold, fought past exhaustion. His relic bled through its own hilt, smoke curling from his fingers. His lungs burned. His vision blurred. Still, he pressed forward, each movement fueled by the image of his daughter's trembling chest.
Both defenders neared collapse.
The swarm pressed harder—relentless, coordinated. Blades scraped against the Karambit's edge; Putik's Balisong dimmed to embers.
Yet they roared—both of them—two voices rising above the storm:
One born from guilt, the other from devotion.
And for a fleeting moment, the Anino line faltered.
But the line at Intramuros began to fail. The Philippine Military's outer batteries cracked; one by one, their relic generators overloaded and burned out. Commanders reported heavy losses. The city's defenders were being forced inward. The old bastion groaned under the pressure of gods reborn.
Then, from the western horizon, the sea itself rose in rebellion.
A serpent of legend and storm broke through the waves—
The Bakunawa.
Unexpected Reinforcement
Atop of the serpent of lore, stood Juan Luciano, his relic Habagat ni Silang glowing with tempest light. He thrust the blade skyward, and the heavens obeyed.
"Let the sea remember its king," he said.
A typhoon roared from his command, winds slicing through the Anino fleet. The ocean swelled, devouring hulls, drowning relic soldiers where they stood. Lightning followed his strike, splitting the horizon as the Bakunawa tore through the enemy's naval horde, its lightning breath resonating with the ancient rhythm of the Sandata forges.
In moments, the bay was reclaimed—not by man, but by the storm itself.
At the hospital, Putik fell to his knees. His strength was gone; the Balisong no longer burned. Through the cracked glass he saw the approaching horde, countless as shadows. His thoughts went to his daughter—her smile, her voice, her breath.
Then the sky split open.
Ricardo Magno descended like a falling star. The Alab ng Tala flared white as it struck the ground beside Putik.
"Rest, serpent," Ricardo said. "The fire still has work to do."
He raised the relic high, its astral core pulsing in rhythm with the heavens. Together, their relics resonated—flame and starlight merging into a maelstrom that swept the attackers aside. For the first time since the invasion began, silence returned to the hospital's walls.
Putik looked once more toward his daughter's window. The monitor's rhythm had steadied. He allowed himself a single tear before rising again to fight beside his unexpected ally.
At Manila City Hall, Natalia staggered, vision blurred. The Karambit's glow waned, its hunger satisfied but her body drained. She knew she could not hold much longer.
Then, thunder erupted from behind. A vehicle crashed through the ruins—a rune-forged ATV roaring with purple sigils.
The Kabalyero.
From its seat, Sybill Lucero steered through the chaos, her eyes reflecting the flames of the fallen city. The Kabalyero's mounted runic Gatlings tore through the Anino ranks, shredding their advance.
Sybill leapt from the vehicle mid-spin. As she landed beside Natalia, her relic ignited—the Kandila ng Dilim transforming into a black-flaming blade.
"Still alive, Mayor?" Sybill asked, smiling through soot.
Natalia nodded weakly. "We're not done yet."
Back to back, the two women fought—one of shadowfire, one of dark hunger. The City Hall stood again, if only for the span of their breath.
In the university district, a tattered flag waved—red over blue.
Students, too young to fight, had armed themselves with pipes, relic shards, anything they could find. They faced the oncoming horde with trembling hands and unbroken will.
The students let out a war cry, "To death! So that the living may endure!", with voices reminiscent of their anthem.
The relic army closed in.
And then the sky opened with light.
An Ahas ng mga Lakan airship swept overhead. The Ravenus, its runic engines shrieking through the smoke.
At the controls: Maximo Imperial.
Beside him: Kristel.
The airship's runic cannons thundered, tearing through the advancing Anino lines before they could reach the campus. The students raised their fists, shouting, as hope once more found a place to stand.
Beneath that storm-lit sky, four figures landed with the force of falling stars—
Gregorio Aguilar, Marian Dela Fuente, Renato Ramirez, and Agosto Santos.
The Sandata Unit had arrived.
Gregorio's Kamay ni Bathala burned purple, he charged in Kisap Mata stance and delivered echoing blows that shattered the myth-tech engineered adversaries into broken pieces of pitch black glass.
On the other side of the battlefield, Marian's Sundang and her myth-tech armor vented cold mist that enveloped the battlefield in seconds. Within it, the Anino Relic Wielders were felled one by one in a flurry of slashes.
At the frontline, Renato's Kalasag expanded, shielding retreating soldiers while absorbing relic energy from the enemy's attacks. At the peak of the Kalasag's mana absorption, Renato retaliated with "Prismatic Spike", melting the relic wielding pretenders in a shimmering and blinding light.
In the university courtyard, Agosto's Kampilan surging with flaming glyphs of vortex carved through the swarms of Anino forces, scraping the enemy ranks, and tearing them to pieces like a predator feasting on its prey.
Their descent marked the turning of the tide.
The relic army faltered beneath the weight of divine counterforce.
As the airship soared above, Gregorio's gaze lifted—
and there she was.
Kristel.
Her silhouette framed by the burning sky, her eyes locked with his. The memory of what was lost flickered for a heartbeat.
Gregorio turned back to the chaos and clenched his fist.
He murmured, "We end this here".
He struck the ground, the Kamay ni Bathala releasing a pulse that rippled across the city.
The invaders broke. The surviving Anino forces scattered into the fog.
When the last relic blade fell silent, Manila still stood—scarred, but breathing.
From City Hall to the hospital, from the bay to the walled city, smoke rose like incense to the sky.
Gregorio looked upon the burning skyline and whispered,
"Bathala's forge is awake once more… and Manila is its first heartbeat."