POV 1: INDIGO STRIKE TEAM – EDGE OF THE GATE

The detonation came like the birth of a false sun.

Captain Alvarez barely had time to register the flashing rune-clocks on his suit before the light consumed everything. He and the rest of Indigo Strike Team had planted the warheads against the shimmering lattice of the Second Gate, their hearts hammering as the countdown reached zero.

And then the world ended in white.

The ocean around them boiled instantly, their armored carriers disintegrating as shockwaves hurled them like toys. Alvarez’s comms filled with screams, static, and prayers in a dozen languages. He saw Sergeant Ito vanish into flame, Private Singh’s mech-suit implode under pressure, and still he clung to the trigger grip on his chest, whispering, “For Earth…for everyone.”

When the blast cleared, the Gate stood—no longer pristine, no longer flawless, but flickering, its runes cracking like glass under stress. Indigo Strike Team had paid its price. Fewer than a third still drew breath.

Alvarez coughed blood into his helmet, watching the impossible structure stutter and pulse. For the first time, he thought he saw fear in its light. “We… we hurt it,” he rasped. “We hurt the damn thing.”

Behind him, the sea burned with wreckage and corpses. Ahead, the Gate still pulsed, alive, waiting.

POV 2: REINA MORALES – SOUTHERN COMMAND HUB, USHUAIA

The command center quaked with the impact, its reinforced glass glowing faintly as satellites tracked the detonation. Every screen turned white before bleeding into static, then slowly refocused on the Gate.

Reina gripped the edge of the table so hard her knuckles whitened. “Report!”

Signals officers barked out fragments: “Gate destabilized—rune lattice at 67% integrity!”

“Indigo Team casualties—severe, over eighty percent lost!”

“Shockwave disrupted fleet formations, but human vessels holding!”

Her chest tightened. She wanted to mourn the men and women she’d sent into hell, but she had no time. On the screen, the Gate still stood, wounded but not broken, its light flickering like a candle refusing to die.

“Damn it,” whispered Admiral Wallace beside her. “We bled them, but not enough.”

Reina straightened, voice sharp. “Not enough yet. We forced it to falter—that means it can falter. Indigo Strike Team bought us proof. We won’t waste it.”

Yet as she said it, her heart trembled. Because even wounded, the Gate was beginning to stabilize again.

POV 3: DYUG VON FORESTIA – ABOARD THE FLAGSHIP

The world had turned to silver fire.

Dyug staggered across the flagship’s shattered bridge, his lunar shield dripping sparks where it had absorbed the worst of the blast. His ears rang, blood trickled down his temple, and his breath came ragged.

For one terrifying instant, he thought the Gate had fallen. That humanity’s infernal sun-weapons had succeeded where even Forestia’s rivals never dared tread.

But as the smoke parted, the Gate remained—wounded, trembling, but enduring. Relief crashed through him like a tide. He pressed a hand to his chest, whispering, “Mother’s will still holds…”

Then his gaze turned outward, to the human fleet struggling in the wake of their own weapon. They had unleashed apocalypse and survived it. That demanded respect—and fear.

“Mary,” he said hoarsely. “Ready the Knights. If they think they can wound the Gate, they will try again. We must answer.”

POV 4: MARY – THE ROYAL KNIGHT CORPS

Mary rose from where she had been thrown against the deck, armor cracked, spear bent. Around her, her Royal Knights were battered, some dead, others crawling back to their feet.

The sea still hissed with steam, the air choked with burning salt. She stared at the Gate, trembling at its flickering light. For one awful moment, she too thought it was broken. And yet—it endured.

Her grip tightened. So this is humanity’s true strength, she thought. To burn the world and still rise from the ashes.

Dyug’s voice reached her, ragged but commanding: “Form ranks. Shield the Gate!”

She slammed her broken spear into the deck like a banner. “You heard the Prince! If the mortals try again, they’ll bleed for every step.”

Her Knights raised their battered shields, a wall of scorched steel against the horizon.

POV 5: QUEEN ELARA – THRONE OF MOONLIGHT

From her throne aboard the moonlit fortress-ship, Elara felt the tremor ripple through her soul. The Gate—the bridge she had woven with her own power and the Goddess’s blessing—had shuddered. The mortals had dared to scar it.

Her silver eyes narrowed, her voice like frost. “So. They’ve learned to claw at gods.”

Priestesses knelt around her, bleeding from the backlash of the strike, their chants faltering as they tried to stabilize the runes. One collapsed outright, blood on her lips.

Elara rose, cloak billowing like night itself. “No more hesitation. Prepare the full release. If mortals wish to burn, then I will drown their fire in eternal night.”

Her hand stretched toward the shimmering Gate. Its flickering runes steadied under her touch, pulsing stronger, darker, more furious. The invasion would not pause—it would surge.

And in her heart, one truth burned brighter than all: humanity had crossed a threshold. They had proven themselves dangerous enough to fear.

CLOSING SCENE – ASHES AND RESOLVE

The sea still hissed with steam. The Gate, scarred but unbroken, loomed above the wreckage. Human survivors clung to their ships, while elves reforged their battered ranks.

Indigo Strike Team lay in ruin—yet their sacrifice had left a mark on the impossible. For the first time, Earth had made the Elves bleed.

But Queen Elara’s wrath now stirred, Dyug and Mary readied their defense, and Reina Morales faced the unbearable weight of command.

The Gate had faltered.

The war for whether it would ever fall had only just begun.