Mirella sat cross-legged, breathing slow, eyes closed. The mana-lamps threw thin light across the metal walls. She had meditated like this for years to keep her cover intact.

When she opened her eyes, green light flashed. Her hair caught it like a living thing. Today was the day she had waited for—forty-five years of pretending, watching, waiting.

She pulled on the Federation coat and fastened the last buckle. Every medal on her chest told a useful lie. At the door, Jonas stood in battered armor, sword at his hip. He moved like a man who never relaxed.

"Ready?" he asked.

Mirella nodded once. No need for more words.

From a balcony, Ezra watched them go. He didn't like the way they moved together. He leaned toward Professor Sergei. "We should intercept them," he said low. "Something's wrong."

Sergei looked out at the courtyard, unreadable. "Mustafa has his unit in place," he said. "If they try anything, they'll act."

Ezra's jaw tightened. Instincts had kept him alive; he trusted them.

Elena followed, quieter than the rest. Her chest churned with a sharp, burning feeling. If Mirella and Jonas were traitors—if they were the spies everyone whispered about—then Elena had been foolish to trust her. Her fingers curled. "If they betray us," she thought, "they'll find out what that costs."

They moved through the inner ring where soldiers in humming exosuits patrolled. The runes in the floor pulsed beneath their boots. No civilians, no distractions—only soldiers and steel.

At the center of the ring, the Warp Gate stood dark and humming, its runes breathing a slow blue. Sergei's face hardened. "That gate should be sealed," he said.

Mirella and Jonas walked straight for it, calm as men on inspection. The soldiers stiffened. Ezra counted the steps—too deliberate, too controlled.

Sergei tapped his communicator. "Mustafa, hold near the gate. Do not engage unless I say so."

"Copy," Mustafa answered.

They drew closer. Sergei's eyes caught a guard fidgeting by the alarm. The guard's hand hovered near the switch too long. Sergei moved like a blade—no shout, no warning. He karate chopped the guard's neck and the man dropped without a sound.

Sergei whispered to Ezra, "No noise. Stay close."

_________________

The gate creaked open with a low rumble, dust raining from its ancient hinges. A draft of cold, metallic air rushed out, carrying the heavy tang of mana. The moment they stepped inside, the world seemed to shift.

Beneath the surface stretched a cavernous hall carved from black stone, its ceiling supported by jagged pillars reinforced with glowing runes. The ground was not ordinary rock but layered with a gigantic magic circle—lines upon lines of interwoven symbols glowing faintly, like veins of light running through the earth itself.

The deeper they walked, the clearer it became: this was no simple ritual chamber. It was a warp altar, designed on a scale almost unthinkable.

Dozens of massive machines, half mechanical, half arcane, were stationed at the perimeter, their gears grinding, pouring energy into the formation. Blue and crimson sparks danced along their frames, and cables like black serpents snaked across the floor, feeding mana into the circle. The air thrummed with power, the ground itself trembling with each pulse.

Ezra's eyes narrowed. This… this circle is enormous. It could send tens of thousands… maybe more.

He wasn't wrong. A hundred thousand soldiers could march into this chamber and vanish in an instant. The thought alone sent a chill crawling up his spine.

At the center of it all stood General Yun Hao, the famed commander of the Magic Brigade. His long silver robes billowed faintly with the currents of mana. His back was bent with age, but his movements were precise, deliberate, like a craftsman perfecting the last strokes of a masterpiece. His lips moved silently, weaving incantations, while his fingers traced invisible patterns through the air.

And he never once looked up.

Yun Hao was too deep into the ritual to notice the three hidden shadows. Concealment spells cloaked Ezra, Sergei, and Elena in near-perfect silence, their presences drowned beneath the overwhelming tide of mana. Even the five colonels standing guard at Elena's side were cautious, breaths shallow, as if one wrong exhale would betray them.

For a while, no one moved.

The only sound was the low thrum of machinery, the steady flicker of glowing runes, and Yun Hao's whispered chant. The whole cavern felt like a beast's belly—alive, breathing, waiting to devour.

Sergei's jaw tightened. He had been silent until now, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each breath. But the longer he watched, the hotter the fire in his chest burned. He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles cracked.

Ezra felt it too—that gathering storm inside Sergei. He's losing his patience…

And then it happened.

Sergei stepped forward. His boots scraped against stone, the sound sharp in the silence. Mana surged around him, crimson and violent, spilling into the chamber like an uncontrolled blaze. The concealment shattered.

"You bastard…" Sergei's voice echoed, low and seething.

The five colonels jerked, their eyes wide with shock. The Rank 6 officers moved to intercept, but Sergei's killing intent crashed over them like a tidal wave. Before they could even gather their spells, his aura struck, blasting them off their feet. They hit the ground hard, skidding across the glowing runes like dolls tossed aside.

"You bastard!" Sergei roared again, his voice raw with rage. "You're connecting this gate to another continent! What the hell are you scheming?!"

The shout tore through the cavern, finally breaking Yun Hao's trance.

The old general slowly lifted his head. For a moment, his face was hidden in shadow. Then he brushed back his long white hair with a calm hand, revealing eyes sharp as blades, glowing faintly with mana.

A smile—thin, cold, mocking—curled across his lips.

"It's done," he said, his voice disturbingly steady. Then his gaze locked on Sergei. "Ah… Sergei Valastovich. What a pleasant surprise."

The name hung in the air like poison.

Sergei's body tensed, his aura flaring hotter. Ezra's instincts screamed. A cold shiver gripped him as an invisible pressure tightened the air.

Danger.

"Elena!!" Ezra shouted.

Without thinking, he lunged, grabbing her arm and pulling her aside.

A streak of mana, razor-sharp and near-invisible, cut through the air like a guillotine. Ezra barely registered the flash before a hot shock tore through him—

—and his left hand hit the ground, blood spraying across the glowing altar.

"Fuck!" Ezra snarled through clenched teeth, clutching the stump.

Elena's eyes widened in horror, but before she could speak, Ezra shoved her back."Professor Sergei will hold them! We need to warn the Marshal!"

Sergei's power erupted, smashing through the mana field Yun Hao had erected around the chamber. The ground shook, cracks spider-webbing across the floor as stone pillars trembled.

"Go!" Sergei thundered. His eyes burned like fire. "Tell the Marshal to prepare for war!"

Ezra gritted his teeth, nodded, and drew his sword with his remaining hand. He sprinted forward, Elena at his side. One of the Rank staggered up, desperation in his eyes, and moved to block them.

But he never stood a chance.

Ezra's sword gleamed with silver arcs as he invoked Celsrian Swordsmanship – Fourth Form. A single cut, faster than sight, ripped past the man. The man froze mid-motion, eyes wide, before blood spilled from his chest and he collapsed.

"Capture them!" another colonel cried out.

But it was already too late. Ezra and Elena carved through the lower ranks like scythes through grass. Rank 1s and 2s fell instantly, their screams drowned in the ringing of steel. Elena's sword glowed with violet light, every strike scattering petal-like motes across the air. It was beautiful and deadly all at once—a field of violet flowers blooming with every life she reaped.

Despite their Rank 5 level, the two moved like predators among sheep, faster than the Rank 6s could react.

Above, a crimson flare burst through the cavern's ceiling, visible even underground. Ezra's head snapped up. His heart sank.

A red signal… enemy assault from the border.

"Damn it!" He fumbled at his belt, yanking out a vial. He popped it open with his teeth and splashed the regenerating potion onto his stump. The flesh writhed, bones cracked back into place, skin stitched itself together. In moments, his hand reformed, pale and trembling. He flexed his fingers, jaw tight.

"Keep moving!" Ezra shouted.

Elena didn't need to be told twice. Her violet-flower blade cut through the last of their pursuers, petals trailing in her wake. Together, they dashed up the winding passage, footsteps echoing.

And when they finally burst out into the open air, their eyes widened.

The battlefield had already ignited.

Marshal Mustafa and his elite team were locked in a brutal clash, blades and spells lighting the night sky. The roar of war swallowed the horizon.

The storm had begun.

__________________

Author's Note:To be honest, my heart feels a little heavy today.I know I'm not writing the most unique or the best novel out there—many of you have probably read works far greater than mine. But I'm putting in all the effort I can, giving it everything I've got. All I ask is… please keep reading, support me, and if possible, recommend my work to others.

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Alright, enough with the emotional stuff! 😭SEND GIFTS!! I'm extremely greedy!!Yes, yes, you heard it right—your author is a certified gift-digger! 💸💀I know you're sitting on piles of coins, so just toss some this way.And if you recommend my novel too, I'll personally grant you good karma for the next seven generations. 😏

Love is nice… but money is better! ❤️💰

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