"You said it yourself, Vivian—the Federation doesn't like to waste money," Gilbert said, his tone calm and steady….. but hollow, like an echo in a steel corridor. We have been given limited resources already. We are running low, yet we only had one major engagement. I bet if we don't eat Styx meat, we will weaken from the lack of sustenance. But down here, we have everything we need to survive; we just have to be willing to take it."
Silence followed. The squad exchanged looks, the weight of his words settling in their minds. No one responded.
Without another word, Gilbert returned to the fallen knight's body. He knelt beside it and began digging a shallow grave with his hands. After a moment, Adam moved to join him, offering silent support as Kean and William took watch.
Together, they worked until the grave was ready. They gently lowered the body into the earth, covering it in dirt then rolled a boulder over as a headstone. Drawing his sword, Gilbert carved a symbol onto the rock—a bird's nest, etched with care and reverence.
The others watched, unmoving, as the carving took shape.
Vivian inhaled deeply, folding her arms across her stomach. Her voice, when it came, was quieter, more controlled.
"burying them might help. But what—are you going to bury every fallen warrior you come across?"
Gilbert stood and dusted off his gloves, returning to his position in their formation. "Just the ones we salvage."
A beat passed.
"Alright, guys," he said, voice regaining its edge. "We march."
The squad resumed their march, but the air changed—heavier, quieter. A somber atmosphere cloaked them, and more than once eyes drifted toward Gilbert and Adam, who walked side by side, saying nothing.
They moved on, cutting down every Styx they encountered. Each time the echo of knight boots rang down the tunnels, the squad tensed, weapons raised, breath held—always wary that it might be the Deathwatch returning.
The next one was no different. Another nest. Another purge. Another round of exhaustion soaked in blood and sweat.
This pattern—clean, march, kill, repeat - dragged on for several days, grinding away at their bodies and minds.
Now, the squad stood at the edge of a jagged cave, overlooking the main channel of the grid leading to CL2, the deeper area of the treacherous trench.
Before them stretched a void— a thick suffocating darkness that swallowed the earth below. It radiated menace. Their HUDs did not show them a map of the area. The checkpoint, if it still existed, was drowned in the shadow. In the distance, vague shapes, moved - some swift, some hulking but all Styx. Flashes of lasers cracked through the dark, followed by the war cries of knights and the roars of Styx. Sparks burst like dying stars and vanished just as fast.
Kean kicked a rock off the ledge, watching it vanish into the gloom.
"What do you think's down there?" He asked his voice light but strained.
"Why don't you jump down and find out?" Vibian replied coolly, her posture pristine despite the grime on her armor.
"Ladies first," Kean shot back as he made his visor clear showing a crooked grin. He leaned forward, adjusting his helmet light to pierce the darkness, but it was useless. The beam dies in the void swallowed by a woebegone abyss.
He looked up instead.
Far, far above, a silver of faint light filtered down into the trench—dim, distant… the only sign of hope in a place that had long since forgotten what hope felt like.
"Okay, let's move—we've got work to do," Gilbert said, his voice firm as always. The squad took up positions in a wide cavern, the ceiling high enough for Gilbert to hover slightly.
The floor was littered with Styx corpses, their twisted bodies sprawled in unnatural angles. Blood—thick, black, and fowl— oozed from their forms, soaking into the rock.
At the center of the cavern, a bonfire crackled and spat embers into the air. Anastasia crouched beside it, turning a spit over the flames. Roasting on it was a slab of meat—likely from one of the smaller Styx. The source was unclear. The smell, however, was undeniable.
It was tantalizing.
Even with exhaustion weighing heavy on their shoulders and gore staining their armor, the scent of cooked meat tugged at their hunger, drawing eyes toward the fire.
As they sat, a rare, almost surreal moment of warmth in a place that had offered nothing but blood and darkness.
They ate the Styx meat with surprising gusto, their helmets set neatly at their feet. Even Chen Mei and Vivian—who had once gagged at the mere sight of their squadmates gnawing on untreated flesh—now took small, careful bites. Hunger and exhaustion had a way of humbling pride.
No one spoke much. Just the quiet sound of chewing, the occasional crackle of the fire, and the unspoken understanding that this meal—however grotesque—was survival.
For a brief moment, there was peace.
Then came the sound.
The distant sound of friction against the stone floor is like paper being slowly torn. A sinister whisper, a dry rasping exhale slithering through the darkness echoing off the cavern walls followed closely.
Kean hissed between his teeth. "Of course."
In one fluid motion, they grabbed their helmets and slammed them back into place, visors sealing with a hiss. Weapons were drawn. The warmth of the fire was gone now—replaced by the familiar chill of readiness.
They stood as one, armor creaking, the moment of rest burned away by the promise of violence.
From the tunnels, they came—serpentine Styx, slithering low across the stone. Their skin was dark and matted, scales dulled and smeared with trench dust, making them nearly invisible against the cavern's shadowed walls.
The first one crossed the threshold, Before it could strike Gilbert raised his pistol and fired. The shot echoed. The creature collapsed in a twitch heap, ichor pooling beneath it.
"Looks like low-tier ones this time," William muttered, twirling his spear with a practiced grip. "Guess we're lucky."
He didn't activate the heat blade—his body's radions were low, and every charge counted.
The snakes kept coming— slow, steady, and relentless.
Then their luck turned.
From other adjacent tunnels came more Styx. Heavier ones. Salamander types, slick with metallic tail tips, mucus, and acid. Drake-types, crawling with hardened scales heavy like armored plates. Others were harder to name—lurching things with clawed limbs and bone-frilled heads, like bearded dragons twisted by a nightmare. Some crawled, Some bounded. All of them hunting.
The squad shifted formation automatically, the tension in the air thick enough to taste.
Kean's voice crackled through the comms.
"What were you saying about luck, Will?"
William didn't answer. He was already switching his grip on his spear, heat blades still off—but his stance ready.
Their cave once a sanctuary, was now a kill box.
Gilbert's voice cut through the comms, crisp and commanding.
"Two drakes left channel—Vivian, cover the flank. Adam, take the high ground, pick your moments. Anastasia—your traps shall be put to good use. Chen Mei, take cover. William and Kean with me.
No hesitation. The squad moved.
Vivian surged to the flank, her fire modules snapping into place on her vambraces. Flames erupted in short, controlled bursts, driving a group of salamanders back as their slick skin sizzled under the heat. She dropped one with a blast to the face, ichor splashing her armor.
Adam scaled a jagged ledge above the bonfire, his rifle clicking into sniper mode. "Position secure," he reported coolly, his single eye scanning through his scope. "Marking two unknowns—spine-backed. Fast."
Below, Gilbert launched into the fray. His flight unit flared just enough to propel him above the slower Styx. He landed hard, bisecting a serpent with a clean slash of his sword.
"William, intercept at my two o'clock!"
"I see it!"William yelled, rushing forward. His spear clashed with a drake's armored hide, sparks flying as he shoved it back with sheer brute force.
A shadow lunged at Anastasia from behind.
Bang!
It dropped mid-leap—one clean shot through the skull.
"Thanks, Adam," she muttered barely glancing back.
Up on a perch of rubble, Adam didn't respond. His rifle tracked smoothly, each bullet saving a life. A Styx that had circled behind Vivian dropped before it reached her. Another that tried to flank William lost its head mid-charge
"Drake incoming—center!" Gilbert shouted.
Adam turned and fired. The drake stumbled, blinded. Kean finished it with several rapid stabs from his short sword.
"Rear tunnel compromised!" Gilbert barked.
No, it's not." Anastasia yelled, she flipped a switch.
BOOM—one of her mines detonated, sending a bearded dragon crashing against the wall, limbs twitching.
"Push to regroup!" Gilbert ordered. "Anchor by the fire—make them come to us!"
The squad pulled inward, a lethal circle around the bonfire. The flickering flames danced over the blood-soaked stone as the Styx closed in—and died, one after another.
By the time the last one fell, the cavern stank of burning ichor and ozone. The echoes of violence faded into silence, broken only by the squad's ragged breathing.
Gilbert lowered his weapon, scanning the shadows. "Status?"
"One scratch," Kean grunted.
"Armor scored," Vivian replied, wiping her visor.
"Alive," said Adam.
"Always," Anastasia added.
Chen Mei descended from her post with silent grace, a medic box attached to her back. "Clear."
"My chest plate is compromised," said William planting his spear into the ground.
Gilbert nodded once. "Anastasia."
"On it," she said, rushing over towards William.
They barely had time to catch their breath.
The fire crackled low, casting shadows on the cavern walls. Weapons were being checked, wounds patched, and rations passed out in silence when Kean stiffened—short sword on guard.
"Movement," he said. "It's not Styx."
Before the warning could finish echoing through the comms, the shadows moved.
From the tunnel above, a flash of steel.
Gilbert's instincts flared—he twisted just in time to block a descending blade. Sparks flew as his sword met a grotesque blade. A figure landed hard before him, armor dark, special insignia erased, visor faceless.
Deathwatch.