All across the skies of Varkath, the CPG Motherships moved with chilling precision. Dozens upon dozens of colossal warships, each the size of a floating city, shifted into a massive ring formation, completely encircling Ao Shun from miles around.
The skies turned darker not from the stormclouds, but from the sheer mass of steel and gunmetal hovering above. The Black Dragon, its serpentine body coiled arrogantly atop the ruined heart of Sector 9, lifted its head, black mane rippling with unnatural winds.
Then, on the central command bridge of the flagship, the order came. General Calloway, a man infamous for ending three mutant uprisings without a single negotiation, stood tall at the helm.
He was grizzled, his uniform pristine despite the chaos outside, a bionic right arm twitching slightly from old battlefield nerve damage. His voice, when it came, was calm but thunderous. "Fire. All sectors. Full pattern. Bring it down."
The command rippled like a shockwave through every channel. Motherships opened fire in perfect synchronized intervals—Massive plasma cannons roaring from the bows, Multi-linked coilguns raining tungsten slugs at hypersonic speeds, Pulse missiles screaming through the air, each carrying disruption warheads tuned specifically to crack open mutant hide and dragon scale.
From below, the 42,320 Sentinel units joined the symphony of war. Ground-based artillery Sentinels unleashed barrages of railgun fire, while aerial Raptors weaved between missile trails, spitting beams of concentrated ion energy. It was a perfect, devastating assault. From every direction—air, ground, sky—the full might of CPG's arsenal converged on one target.
For a moment, the whole world seemed filled with blinding flashes and deafening roars. The dragon was buried in pure devastation, the center of an endless barrage that seemed enough to vaporize mountains.
Even Silas at the Hall of M whistled low, impressed despite himself. "Damn. If that doesn't kill it... I'll start selling lemonade for a living."
General Calloway's voice roared again through every channel. "Initiate Omega Containment. Phase Two. All Sentinels adapt to maximum protocol. DO NOT RELENT."
At his command, the war evolved. The Motherships repositioned instantly, shifting their heavy arrays. Hundreds of pulse projectors ignited at once, firing shimmering streams of energy that wove together midair, forming a colossal plasma dome — a searing cage of molten light surrounding the Black Dragon.
The dome was a masterpiece of tactical engineering, something only possible by the CPG's most elite arsenal. A lattice of intersecting plasma and magnetic fields, capable of atomizing anything that tried to escape through brute force. At the same time, the 31,900+ Sentinel units shifted tactics.
Each Sentinel, built with adaptive mimic cores, accessed archived battle data — thousands of mutant engagements stored deep in their memory. They began evolving mid-battle. Some adapted Hardened Dermal Layering from past fights with rock mutants, to resist shockwaves. Others activated Phase Shift Skins from teleporters they once hunted, slipping just milliseconds ahead of Ao Shun's strikes. Specialized assault units began projecting Vortex Barriers stolen from kinetic mutants, trying to bend Ao Shun's attacks back on himself.
Each unit, each group—using abilities from hundreds of fallen mutants—searched tirelessly, cycling through countless possible combinations. Scanning. Analyzing. Adapting. Looking for any weakness. Any fracture in the Black Dragon's armor.
The Plasma Dome itself wasn't just a prison—it was a weapon. Temperature inside climbed by the second, reaching levels high enough to vaporize reinforced titanium. Gravity distortions layered beneath, designed to crush the dragon from below.
For a moment, just a moment, the battle seemed to turn. Ao Shun lowered his head slightly, his ancient scales crackling against the energy storm now trapping him. The Sentinels pressed harder—Heavy juggernauts drove Graviton spears into the ground, further strengthening the trap. Swarm units darted like hornets, hitting precise points along his flanks and joints.
Even Silas, watching from Hall of M, murmured "Maybe… just maybe..."
Professor M leaned forward. Veymar, arms crossed, narrowed his glowing eyes. But. The Black Dragon… moved. First, a subtle coil of his massive body. Then, a slow, almost lazy tilt of his crown of horns toward the plasma dome. And then—a terrible rumble filled the air.
The plasma dome began to flicker—temperature sensors reading plummeting thermal anomalies. The dome, designed to contain stars, was being frozen from the inside out. The Sentinels recalibrated instantly, shifting to emergency thermal reinforcement—but it wasn't fast enough.
With a roar that shook the bones of every living thing on Varkath, Ao Shun unleashed a storm of Black sleet that ate through Sentinel armor like acid, Frozen lightning that struck and shattered entire battalions, Winds that froze the plasma dome solid—then shattered it into glittering shards of broken starlight. The Black Dragon broke free.
Silas, leaning over the holo-screen, couldn't hold back a dark chuckle. "Come on, M. Veymar." he sneered, half-mocking. "Nurarihyon upgraded you when we busted his castle, right? So why not stop bickering and throw everything at that moon-sized bastard out there?"
Barry scoffed out loud. "Tch. It's not that easy. Only some of us got that cursed 'upgrade' from Nurarihyon. Not sure we can handle it."
At Barry's words, across the room, Seraphina, Kai, and Kevin raised their hands in awkward little waves, bruised, bandaged, but grinning sheepishly. The others — Rick, Hana, Gregor, Vera, Elias, and Raven — shifted nervously. Their powers were strong — no doubt — but without Nurarihyon's twisted enhancements, they were playing a different game.
Still, none of them flinched. Instead, Rick slammed his fists together, a booming crack echoing through the hall. "Then we'll just have to jump in raw!" he barked. "Use what we got! Push it further than we ever did!"
Serene, standing near the side, lifted a hand — calm and clear. She pointed across the room to Solus. "Solus. Get us there. All of us." she said, firm as a command.
Professor M raised a hand sharply, his voice cutting across the room like a whip. "STOP."
Everyone froze. The portal energy around Solus sputtered mid-activation, Professor M stepped forward, his usually calm face carved into a mask of steel, eyes cold. "Look at the screen. Look carefully."
All heads turned instinctively toward the massive holo-screen, it showed the skies of Varkath lit up like it has a second sun. Hundreds of Mother Ships, countless Sentinels, and devastating plasma barrages hammering down onto the Black Dragon.
Yet... Ao Shun was still there. Coiled. Seething. Barely scratched. Thousands of Sentinels — elite mutant-hunting war machines — throwing everything they had... and still losing. Professor M's voice dropped lower, colder. "None of you here... not Kai, not Seraphina, not even Bary... have ever completely beaten a single Sentinel alone. And out there, right now... Ao Shun is tanking thousands of them. Crushing them like ants."
Silence. Nobody dared argue — not even Barry. Professor M stepped forward again, his silver eyes boring into each of them. "You think you're ready to jump in? You think your little 'upgrades' make you invincible? If you go through that portal... you won't just die. You'll die pointlessly. You'll be lucky if Ao Shun even notices you before you're turned into dust."
He let the words hang. "I won't stop you. But understand this —"This is not a battle. It's a massacre."
Barry clenched his fists hard enough his knuckles popped. Seraphina lowered her eyes. Kevin's flames flickered uncertainly. Even Rick, always the hothead, stood stone still, teeth gritted.
Silas, still fuming, suddenly turned and punched the steel wall. A deep clang echoed through the room. A second later, Silas clutched his hand, wincing like a kicked dog. "...Damn it." he muttered, trying to shake the pain off while keeping what little was left of his cocky swagger. Even then, he couldn't resist a smirk. "Tch. Still hurts. Guess I'm not that upgraded after all."
But despite the act, everyone could see it — Silas agreed with Professor M. There was nothing they could do. The holo-screen flickered violently again, drawing all eyes. Ao Shun, the supposed Winter Incarnate, unleashed a blistering torrent of fire.
Silas pointed at the screen in disbelief, half-laughing, half-terrified. "Oi, didn't someone say that thing's the embodiment of WINTER?! Then why the hell is he spewing FLAMES like a damn volcano?!"
Veymar, half awake, let out a long, tired sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering like he was talking to a particularly dense student. "The Four Great Dragons govern all elemental forces, Silas. Fire, water, ground, wind, thunder, ice, darkness, and light—all fall under their dominion. Each dragon, however, each has two primary elements that define their nature... that's why they're called 'Seasonal Incarnates'."
Silas blinked. Veymar continued, voice steady, as if he were giving a lecture to a class of stubborn teenagers. "Ryujin— governs water and wind. Baihu Long—rules light and ground. Vermirion—masters fire and thunder. And Ao Shun... commands ice and darkness."
He turned slightly, arms crossed. "But all of them—ALL—can call upon the full spectrum of elements if they choose."
Silas clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah... Big deal. How the hell do YOU know all this nerd crap anyway?"
Veymar gave him a death-glare. "Because unlike you, Commander 'punches walls for fun'—I read. You might try picking up something called 'The Chronicles of Ereshan' sometime. Might save your sorry ass one day."
Silas shrugged, smirking wider, wincing slightly as he flexed his bruised knuckles. "Pfft. Nah. I'll just keep punching 'til something breaks. Easier."