"Heroes do not choose the hour; the hour chooses them."
───────────────────────────
The Call for Salvation
Location: Mandirigma — Bridge → War Hall
The Mandirigma cut through the Pacific with unwavering strength, its armored hull cleaving the dark waters as though the ocean itself yielded out of respect. The warship's passage left a long, foaming wake behind it, a scar etched across the surface of the sea. Dawn had not yet fully claimed the horizon, but the faintest glow of morning light pressed against the clouds, staining them with dull silver.
On the bridge, soft tactical lighting cast disciplined shadows across steel consoles and reinforced glass. Officers stood at their stations in practiced silence. Screens tracked weather patterns, naval traffic, and Alliance satellite feeds. Everything was controlled. Everything was routine.
Until it wasn't.
Without warning, every console flickered in perfect unison.
A sharp chime echoed across the bridge as warning indicators bloomed crimson along the central display. The ambient hum of the Mandirigma seemed to tighten, as if the ship itself had sensed the shift.
A distress signal ignited on the primary screen.
"Commander… incoming Tier-Three emergency transmission," the communications officer reported, his voice steady but strained.
That alone snapped every gaze toward the center of the bridge.
Joaquin Santillan turned sharply from the tactical rail. His posture changed instantly. Command settled over him like armor.
"Patch it through," he ordered.
Static surged across the screen, distortion tearing through the image. For a brief second, the signal threatened to collapse under interference. Then it stabilized just enough to carry a voice.
"This is… Kusanagi Shrine… Tier-Three protocol invoked."
Gunfire crackled faintly beneath the transmission. Shouts echoed in the background. Something heavy detonated off-screen, rattling the audio feed.
"We are under assault by three hostile forces. The inner ring is failing. Defensive wards are collapsing. We request immediate Alliance intervention. Sandata—"
The transmission cut off mid-word.
The screen went dark.
Silence fell over the bridge.
Not the quiet of uncertainty, but the kind that followed understanding.
Tsubame Hayashi-Hime stood near the forward viewport, fingers tightening around the Tombo Giri. A faint arc of electricity crawled along the spear's length, drawn from her pulse, responding to her anger before she acknowledged it. Her jaw clenched. Muscles locked into readiness.
Gregorio Aguilar stepped to her side.
He did not speak immediately.
Instead, he reached out and placed a steady hand against the upper shaft of the spear. The contact was firm, grounding. The electrical discharge softened, then dissipated entirely.
"Tsubame," he said quietly. "Kusanagi will not fall. Not while we stand."
She drew a slow breath. The tension in her shoulders eased, not gone, but contained. When she nodded, it was with resolve sharpened into steel.
Joaquin straightened.
"Sound the summons," he said. "Full Sandata deployment. War Hall. Now."
The order rippled through the ship. A low, resonant alert pulsed through the Mandirigma's decks. Not frantic. Not shrill. A call understood by only one unit.
As Joaquin turned to leave the bridge, the watertight door slid open.
Prasert Rattanachai stepped inside.
His uniform was immaculate. His posture rigid with intent. A thin scar traced along his jawline, catching the bridge lights for a brief instant before shadow reclaimed it. He looked thinner than before. Harder. Whatever Bangkok had taken from him, it had not dulled his edge.
"Commander Santillan," Prasert said, bowing his head just enough to show respect without hesitation. "I am prepared to return the favor."
Joaquin assessed him in a single glance. Breathing. Balance. Focus.
"You're fully cleared," Joaquin said. "Medical and resonance."
"Yes," Prasert replied. "What I lost in Bangkok, I will reclaim today."
Joaquin nodded once.
"Good. You will need that fire."
They moved.
The corridors of the Mandirigma vibrated subtly with the rhythm of the sea, steel and myth-tech working in concert beneath their boots. Bulkheads slid open as they passed. Crew members snapped to attention, eyes following the unit with quiet understanding.
The War Hall awaited.
Marian Dela Fuente stood near the table, adjusting the veil at her collar. Agosto Santos rolled his shoulders, loosening muscles that had never truly cooled. Renato Ramirez checked the seals along his forearm plating with mechanical precision. Sutera and Ari stood opposite one another, silent, disciplined, present. Min-Jun inspected the edge of his blade, watching the reflection of the lights slide along its length. Dr. Han Wei arranged his needles with exacting care, each movement deliberate.
Tsubame took her place at the far end of the table, eyes forward, burning.
Joaquin stepped into the center of the room.
"Before we begin," he said, "a formal matter."
All eyes turned toward him.
"Prasert Rattanachai was always meant to stand with you. Bangkok cost him dearly, but he has returned standing. Effective immediately, he is reinstated as the tenth combat vector of Sandata."
The words landed with weight.
Agosto broke the tension first, grinning. "About time."
Marian nodded. "It's payback time, right?"
Renato clasped Prasert's forearm. "We support one another."
Min-Jun bowed slightly. "Your presence completes us."
Tsubame inclined her head. "We reclaim our countries' relics together."
Sutera smiled faintly. "A tenth voice strengthens the tide."
Ari saluted. "Together, then."
Han Wei studied Prasert for a moment, then nodded. "Your resonance stabilizes well."
Gregorio extended his hand last. Steady. Unshaken.
"Good to have you back."
Prasert clasped it firmly. "It is good to be here."
Joaquin activated the holomap.
Nara bloomed above the table in layered projections. Shrine districts. Collapsing wards. Breach vectors marked in hostile red.
"Kusanagi Shrine is collapsing," Joaquin said. "Multiple factions have breached the walls. If we hesitate, the shrine will fall and the Kusanagi will be taken."
He placed his palm against the map.
"Objective one: Secure the inner gate.
Objective two: Prevent relic capture.
Objective three: Hold until Alliance reinforcements arrive."
The projection shifted, descent vectors threading downward from the sky.
"Your insertion points are dictated by pressure," Joaquin continued.
He indicated the forest perimeter.
"Gregorio. You intercept the Ahas advance and break their line."
Rooftop lanes flared.
"Tsubame. Orochi units control elevation. You remove their overwatch."
The river darkened.
"Marian. Fang forces are pushing along the river. Collapse that flank."
Outer approaches pulsed.
"Renato. Absorb pressure and create space around the inner perimeter."
White vectors crossed the map.
"Min-Jun. Any hostile force attempting to reposition gets cut down."
A spear icon drove into Fang formations.
"Ari. You engage the Fang directly.
Water surged outward.
"Sutera. Control the riverway and drive them back into the walls."
A lattice formed at the gate.
"Han Wei. Secure the inner gate. Stabilize defenders. Invert when required."
A golden arc swept across rooftops.
"Prasert. Orochi leadership anchors from elevation. You break them."
Joaquin met their eyes.
"These assignments align with your drop vectors. You strike hard. You strike fast. You do not wait."
"You were forged for moments like this. Prepare for deployment."
───────────────────────────
Armory of the Sandata
Location: Mandirigma — Central Armory → Transfer to Adarna → High-Altitude Drop Corridor
Amber summons lights pulsed across the ship.
"Sandata, report to the Armory," Flavio's voice echoed through the internal channel.
The armored floor shifted as the unit entered. Hydraulic locks disengaged. Reinforced plating slid aside.
Ten Modified Nano Myth-Tech Suits rose in glass capsules from the deck.
Each pulsed with its own distinct resonance.
Flavio spread his arms. "Reconstructed for deep-theater deployment. Optimized interfaces. Reinforced plating. Perfect relic conduits."
Joaquin raised the crystalline sigil.
"By authority of the Alliance and Project Sandata, all operatives are granted full SRC."
The sigil ignited.
"All relics are maximized, tuned, upgraded, and authorized for Relic Synthesis."
Systems locked. Plates sealed. Conduits engaged.
"Now," Flavio said softly, "the apex."
The synthesis platform rose.
Gregorio stepped forward.
Golden threads wrapped the Kamay ni Bathala as the Gintong Asero fused seamlessly.
"Synthesis complete," Flavio confirmed. "Internal-collapse resonance integrated."
Marian followed.
Mist thickened as the Itak ng Mamamaslang merged with the Sundang ni Makiling.
"Your mist now hungers," Flavio said. "Each kill strengthens you."
Synchronization followed.
Spear. Blade. Shield. Needle. Aura.
"You are complete," Joaquin said. "The Alliance's final weapon."
───────────────────────────
The Adarna Arrives
The Mandirigma shuddered as the Adarna descended through the clouds, radiant wings folding as docking clamps locked into place.
"Adarna secured," the comms officer confirmed.
The lift carried Sandata upward into the deployment bay.
Storm clouds churned above Nara.
Joaquin activated the projection.
"The defenders have minutes left. Once we arrive, you carve corridors through the chaos. Break their advance. Give the defenders breath."
The bay doors opened.
"Prepare for high-altitude insertion."
───────────────────────────
Drops of Judgment
Location: Nara Airspace → Kusanagi Shrine Outer Perimeter
The Adarna cut through violent crosswinds.
Ten figures stood at the open bay, relics alive with restrained fury.
"We are entering a kill zone," Joaquin warned.
Gregorio stepped forward. The Kamay ni Bathala vibrated against his forearms, violet resonance climbing in controlled surges.
Alarms blared.
"Prepare for release. Altitude lock in five seconds."
"This is your battlefield," Joaquin commanded. "Drop."
White light swallowed the bay.
Gregorio leapt first, his body folding into a precise combat posture as the Kamay surged. The air bent around him as if refusing to slow his descent.
Marian followed immediately, wrapped in silence. Mist spiraled tightly around her form, the Sundang ni Makiling tasting the battlefield below long before she reached it.
Agosto plunged after her, the Kampilan ni Lam-ang igniting with controlled heat. Space distorted faintly along the blade's edge as he fell like a burning spear.
Renato descended next, his mass steady and immovable. The Kalasag ni Bernardo Carpio locked into full kinetic absorption as incoming air pressure hammered against him.
Tsubame streaked downward in a flash of blue-white light, electricity crawling along the Tombo Giri as if the spear itself was eager to strike first.
Min-Jun dropped in a straight, disciplined line. The Bonguk Geom glimmered with white resonance, descent vectors calculated to cut directly through hostile concentrations.
Ari followed, body aligned like a thrown weapon. The Tombak Nagasasra screamed through the air on pressure alone, its point unwavering as it hunted hostile signatures below.
Sutera sliced downward as if entering water. The Keris Lautan Niskala answered her fall, rippling the air around her like a descending tide.
Han Wei descended with surgical precision. The Nine Meteor Needles rotated into a controlled orbit, diagnostics already mapping casualties and kill zones beneath him.
Prasert fell last.
Golden resonance coiled inward as the Phra Saeng Khan Chaiyasi hummed with restrained authority. His descent was slower, deliberate, as if the battlefield itself was waiting for him.
Ten signatures tore through the sky.
The air screamed.
───────────────────────────
The Battlefield Looks Up
The ground sensed it first.
Gunfire faltered. Wards flickered. Sensors distorted. The air thickened.
Then the sky ignited.
Gregorio struck the earth like a divine hammer. Stone vaporized beneath the impact. The shockwave ripped outward, flipping bodies and shattering rifles. An Ahas rifleman was lifted clean off his feet, chest collapsing inward before he hit the ground.
The Ahas line folded.
On the rooftops, an Orochi operative sprinted before his visor screamed warnings. A spear of blue-white light dropped into his vision.
Tsubame landed feet-first. Roof supports shattered. The Tombo Giri cut once. The operative froze, bisected diagonally, halves falling away as electricity crawled across the tiles.
By the river, mist rolled unnaturally against the current.
A Fang warrior raised his blade too late.
Marian stepped out of the fog. The Sundang moved once. She vanished. His head struck stone moments later while his body is still standing for a heartbeat.
Agosto tore into the Fang of the Naga ranks, the Kampilan ni Lam-ang folding space and heat together. Bodies ignited before screams could form.
Renato slammed into the forest flank. The Kalasag absorbed incoming fire, then detonated it outward, hurling Ahas operatives into trees hard enough to snap trunks.
Min-Jun landed and moved. The Bonguk Geom carved white resonance through Orochi and Ahas alike, bodies collapsing in pieces as white light zigzagged in front of them.
Ari struck among the Fang of the Naga like a living execution. The Tombak Nagasasra punched through torsos, throats, armor. He ripped the spear free and drove it forward again and again, advancing through the formation as bodies fell around him.
Sutera hit the river like a blade entering water. The Keris Lautan Niskala answered, surging the river upward and charged forward slamming warriors into the shrine wall with the bone-crushing force of a tidal wave.
Han Wei embedded the Nine Meteor Needles to the ground surrounding the inner gate. A healing field stabilized defenders for a breath before he inverted it. Orochi enforcers collapsed inward as blood reversed and tendons snapped. One flick of a needle, it punched through an Ahas operative's chest.
Prasert descended in gold. The Phra Saeng Khan Chaiyasi cut once. An entire rooftop line of Orochi enforcers fell in two clean rows.
For the first time since the siege began, all three factions froze.
The defenders stared.
From forest, rooftop, and river, the truth became undeniable.
Sandata had arrived.
Ten warriors.
Ten relics.
Ten meteors reshaping the battlefield in a single descent.
The Convergence War had met its counterforce.