Max held his ground, shields flaring to life around him. Plasma fire slammed against the glowing walls of energy, flashes bursting with each hit before fading. His metal arms shifted, servos whirring, weapons clicking into place.
Movement on the side.
A trooper lunged.
Max's hand snapped out, metal fingers locking tight around the attacker's wrist. One twist—
CRACK.
The rifle dropped, bouncing across the cracked ground. Max's other hand sparked.
BOOM .
A burst of force threw the trooper back, slamming him into the jagged rock.
Figures closed in.
His HUD lit up.
[Three incoming—left. Two more—right.]
A warning blinked. Another group behind.
His visor scanned the field.
[Weak spots. Step patterns. Weapon signatures.]
"predictable."
A grin pulled at his mouth.
Behind him, the cannons mounted to his back spun to life. Twin barrels snapped toward the flanks.
Pzzzt!
Energy fire ripped through the dark. The soldiers dropped, smoke trailing from their broken armor.
He moved with purpose, not grace—every step sharp, each blow exact. A plasma blade swept toward his chest—he spun aside, then fired a pulse from his wrist. The trooper flew back.
Another charged.
Max met him with a steel grip around the throat, then drove him into the ground. Stone cracked beneath the impact.
His systems flared.
Heat signatures lit up.
He turned. The shoulder cannon fired again.
BOOM!
Three Apex soldiers vanished in a wave of flame and shrapnel.
Max let out a breath and rolled his shoulders, armor shifting with the motion.
"This is getting boring."
A sound chirped in his helmet.
Beep.
His visor blinked. A red pulse spread across the display.
His eyes lifted.
Above him, the Apex carrier hovered—massive, silent, alive with energy. The ship's main cannon pulsed, light spinning in its core, drawing in power. The air bent. Electricity crawled across the sky.
Max's jaw tightened.
His suit came alive, locking into combat mode.
"[High-energy attack detected. Activating Shield—Max Grade.]"
Golden panels flickered across his armor, one after the other. They locked into place over his limbs, chest, shoulders—each one humming.
'Still not enough.'
He raised both arms.
Above him, a glowing shield took shape. A dome of energy, thick and wide, covering the blast radius.
Still—
Not enough.
He forced more energy into it. Another layer formed. Then another.
The dome thickened, burning bright like a second sun. Sweat slid down his temple. His muscles tensed.
Every part of him focused.
The cannon fired.
A beam of energy tore through the sky.
It hit.
The first barrier cracked. Then the next. And the next.
The dome shattered layer by layer. The force slammed into him, pressing down like a mountain. Alarms screamed in his ears. Lights flashed in his HUD.
Then one final message came.
[Emergency defense systems activated for all team members. Evacuation sequence triggered.]
Max sucked in a breath. His knees shook.
'It should protect them…'
His fingers twitched.
'But is it enough?'
The beam crashed down.
Light swallowed everything.
The asteroid broke.
Max collapsed, buried beneath the weight of his own defenses.
Then—
Nothing.
————
-Aboard the Apex Carrier Ship-
Greg leaned back in his chair. His fingers tapped the armrest in a slow rhythm. Outside the wide viewport, pieces of the asteroid drifted through space—some floating like dead leaves, others tearing through the dark with burning trails. A few fragments veered toward the planet far below.
His eyes followed them. His mouth curved.
"Destruction has a certain… elegance, doesn't it?"
The doors hissed open.
A trooper marched in, boots striking the metal floor with sharp, even steps. He stopped, raised a fist to his chest.
"Sir, the salvage ships are in position. We're collecting the asteroid fragments now."
Greg didn't move at first. He took a breath, let it settle in his chest.
"And the enemies?"
The trooper glanced at his device. A pulse of red scanned across his visor.
"Scanners shows some of our men made it, sir. For the enemies only one life sign has been detected."
Greg's grin grew, slow and quiet.
"Good. Get everything ready we will go kill the rest and capture the enemy. "
His gaze stayed on the wreckage. The silence in the room stretched. Then a soft beep broke through it.
He looked down at his wrist device.
His eyes narrowed.
He stood without a word. The collar of his long coat shifted as he moved. A panel slid open beside the command station. Behind it waited a dark room, lit in cold, electric blue.
He stepped inside.
Six tall screens lined the walls, one by one flickering to life. Faces appeared, each one hidden behind a different mask.
Greg reached for his own. Blue metal, shaped like flowing water, with soft engravings that shimmered under the room's light. He placed it over his face. A pulse ran through him. The neural link snapped into place.
His vision sharpened.
His breath synced with the quiet hum of the link.
He stepped forward. His voice cut through the room.
"Everything is proceeding as planned."
Static buzzed from one of the screens. A figure leaned in. His mask was sharp, black with gold lines that split across it like lightning frozen in glass.
"Planned?"
The voice crackled.
"You let Jov die."
Greg didn't blink.
"And?"
The chamber went still.
He tilted his head, voice calm.
"What use is a pawn that's reached its limit? His flames were strong, but his control was lacking. He was already standing at the peak of his potential. Weakness like that has no place among us."
Another screen lit up. A woman lounged in her chair, the frame tall and curved behind her. Her mask shimmered silver, frost-like patterns curling over its surface.
A cold laugh slipped from her lips.
"Wise men grow softer with age, but you…"
Her head tilted.
"You were never wise to begin with."
Greg's fingers twitched. He didn't raise his voice.
"Careful, ice witch. If I had my way, you'd have been the one left on that asteroid instead of that failed fire user."
She laughed again, low and steady.
"I wonder… does it haunt you, knowing your 'Water Clan' is nothing but a relic of the past? Drowned by its own weakness?"
Greg's spine stiffened.
Before he could answer, another voice cut through.
"Enough."
The room shifted.
The largest screen flickered. A tall figure appeared, wrapped in a cloak darker than space. His mask was unlike the others—black and silver, marked with swirling lines that never stood still, like wind inside a storm.
The air seemed to press down.
Greg bowed his head.
"Lord B-Mask."
The others followed, heads lowered, silent.
B-Mask's voice echoed, cold and steady.
"Rise, Greg. You have done well. However… why dispose of the fire user? He was still useful."
Greg stood straight. "He had no future. But don't worry because I have found another candidate."
A pause.
B-Mask turned slightly.
"And who would that be? Surely you don't mean Flame."
The golden-masked man leaned forward. His voice jumped.
"That's suicide if you go after him!"
Greg didn't flinch.
"Not him. His son."
The ice-masked woman tapped her finger against her armrest.
"Hmm… now that is interesting. But didn't you just killed him"
Greg respond.
"well, one of the brothers survive, it can't be the oldest one because we blast the beam directly at him. So its either one of the other two, and am guessing the promising one is the one still alive."
A deep voice rumbled from another screen. The figure didn't move. His mask was earth-colored, cracked through the middle like split stone.
"And how do you plan to turn him? You've all seen how he idolizes his father."
Greg looked toward B-Mask.
The room fell still.
Then came the answer. Calm. Final.
"Good. He will do."
Silence followed.
Then—
"If he refuses—"
The weight in the room deepened.
"—then we will break him."
Greg's smile returned beneath the mask. His eyes slid to a nearby screen showing the remains of the asteroid, still glowing in space.
The plan had begun.
Nothing would stop it now.