Chapter 16: Into the Fray
The teams moved out under the cover of morning fog, the dense mist clinging to the Obsidian Range like a shroud. The Bastion loomed in the distance—a monolithic fortress of black steel and angular defenses, its watchtowers piercing the sky like jagged teeth. Each team took their separate paths, knowing that every second would count.
The dynamics within each team came to the forefront as they approached their respective targets, revealing both strengths and tensions that could make or break the mission.
Fuel Depot: Lira and Thorn
Thorn led the way through the shadows of the northern perimeter, his movements almost lazy despite the danger. Lira trailed behind, her sharp eyes scanning the terrain. They had just crossed the outer line of defenses when Thorn held up a hand to stop her.
"See that?" he whispered, pointing to a set of tripwires crisscrossing the path ahead.
Lira nodded, crouching beside him. "The Order's usual tricks. Can you disarm it?"
Thorn grinned. "I could, but where's the fun in that?" He reached into his pack and pulled out a small device. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it into the tripwire.
The device sparked and hissed, and moments later, a harmless puff of smoke rose into the air. Thorn smirked. "Problem solved."
Lira rolled her eyes. "Subtle."
"Subtle doesn't get results," Thorn replied, his tone playful. "But don't worry, scout. I'll keep you alive."
"I don't need you to keep me alive," Lira shot back. "I just need you to stay focused. This mission isn't a game."
Thorn's grin faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "It stopped being a game the day I left the Order. Let's keep moving."
As they continued toward the fuel depot, their unlikely partnership began to solidify. Thorn's confidence and cunning balanced Lira's precision and caution, creating a rhythm that carried them closer to their target.
The Armory: Mira and Garrick
Mira and Garrick moved with a small team of Black Company mercenaries through the winding lower corridors of the Bastion. The air was thick with tension, and every creak of metal sent a shiver down Mira's spine.
"This place feels like a tomb," one of the mercenaries muttered.
"Focus," Garrick snapped. He glanced at Mira. "You sure about the intel? The armory's just ahead?"
Mira nodded, keeping her voice low. "The schematics we recovered show it's through that door." She pointed to a reinforced bulkhead at the end of the corridor.
Garrick signaled his men, and two of them moved forward, placing charges on the door.
"Standard Iron Order security," Garrick said, almost to himself. "They're predictable, I'll give them that."
Mira arched an eyebrow. "And yet, they've managed to dominate half the continent."
Garrick chuckled. "That's because most people don't know how to fight back. They see the Order's fancy toys and forget they bleed like anyone else."
The charges detonated with a muffled boom, and the door swung open. Inside, rows of weapons and ammunition gleamed in the dim light.
"Jackpot," Garrick said, his grin widening. "All right, people, move fast. Take what we can use and rig the rest to blow."
As the team got to work, Mira scanned the room, her eyes narrowing. Something felt off.
"Garrick," she said quietly, her hand drifting toward her weapon.
He followed her gaze and saw it too—small, blinking devices hidden among the crates.
"Booby traps," Garrick muttered, his tone dark. "Clever bastards."
Mira stepped forward, her sharp mind already working through a solution. "We'll have to disarm them before we set our own charges. Otherwise, this whole place will blow too soon."
Garrick nodded, his respect for Mira growing. "You handle the traps. I'll cover you."
As they worked side by side, their dynamic shifted. Garrick's initial skepticism gave way to trust, and Mira realized that beneath his mercenary exterior, Garrick was a man who valued loyalty and results above all else.
The Watchtower: Kael Alone
Kael climbed the jagged cliff leading to the Bastion's main watchtower, his massive frame a blur of motion despite the weight of his gear. He had chosen this mission knowing it would be the hardest—because if anyone could succeed alone, it was him.
The Iron Order's sentries were skilled, but Kael was relentless. He dispatched them with brutal efficiency, his blade cutting through armor like paper.
As he ascended the final staircase to the control room, he paused. The air here felt different—charged, as if the Shard's power radiated even this far from its resting place.
Kael pushed the thought aside and kicked open the door. Inside, a small squad of Iron Order operatives turned to face him, their weapons already raised.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, Kael charged.
The fight was fierce but short. Kael's strength and precision overwhelmed his opponents, leaving him alone in the control room. He moved to the consoles, his hands deftly disabling the Bastion's surveillance systems and artillery controls.
As he worked, Kael's thoughts drifted to his team. He trusted them to handle their missions, but doubt lingered. Was this enough? Would they be able to destroy the Shard before its corruption spread further?
Kael shook his head, focusing on the task at hand. There was no time for doubt.
Interwoven Fates
Across the Bastion, the teams moved closer to their goals. Each success brought them one step closer to crippling the Iron Order—but also closer to danger.
In the fuel depot, Lira and Thorn planted explosives with a mixture of precision and daring, their banter masking the weight of their mission.
In the armory, Mira and Garrick dismantled traps and rigged the stockpile to detonate, their mutual respect growing with every passing moment.
And in the watchtower, Kael stood amidst the wreckage, his gaze fixed on the Bastion below.
Each of them carried the weight of the fight, knowing that the outcome depended on their combined strength.