Nightfall – The Ambush Begins

The jungle whispered in the dead of night, a symphony of rustling leaves and distant wildlife masking the silent approach of the rebels. Isabella, Solomon, Carlos, and Jamie moved with practiced precision, their teams positioned at three critical points along Victoria’s supply routes. The plan was simple—hit hard, cut off the enemy’s reinforcements, and disappear before a full-scale engagement.

But war never followed simple plans.

Isabella crouched beside Solomon behind thick foliage, her eyes glowing faintly with residual magic. Their target was a heavily guarded convoy carrying weapons and medical supplies. Around them, rebels held their breath, fingers tight on their triggers, awaiting the signal.

A single nod from Solomon, and hell was unleashed.

RPGs streaked through the air, slamming into armored trucks with deafening explosions. Gunfire erupted from all sides, a deadly rain of bullets tearing through the night. Victoria’s forces scrambled, shouting orders, but the rebels were ghosts in the dark.

A young rebel fired his rifle wildly before Solomon grabbed his shoulder and shouted, “Controlled bursts! Conserve your ammo!” The boy nodded, swallowing his fear, and steadied his aim.

Isabella moved through the battlefield like a phantom, her magic guiding her hands. A rebel screamed, clutching his bleeding side, and she knelt beside him, pressing her palm to the wound. Golden light flared. The bleeding slowed, but exhaustion clawed at her muscles.

She gritted her teeth. Not yet. Not now.

Nearby, Carlos and his squad had taken the eastern supply route. The first wave of guards lay dead, but more were coming. Carlos barked orders, his voice sharp and commanding.

“Stay low! Pick your shots! Jamie, cover the left!”

Jamie’s rifle cracked as she took down an enemy sniper before he could fire. “Got him. More incoming!”

The jungle flashed with muzzle fire as the rebels pushed forward, but their luck was running out.

A deep boom echoed from the west. The western team was compromised.

Victoria’s Counterattack

Victoria’s forces were fast—faster than anticipated. Heavy reinforcements had been stationed closer than the rebels expected, and now they were closing in from all sides.

From her command post, Victoria Langley observed the battle through satellite feeds and radio reports. She had expected an attack, but this level of coordination surprised even her. She smiled coldly.

“They’re learning.”

She turned to Captain Reynolds. “Deploy the gunships. Make sure none escape.”

Reynolds hesitated. “Ma’am, the jungle—”

“I don’t care. Light it up.”

Moments later, the sky roared as helicopters streaked overhead. Spotlights swept through the trees, and the jungle exploded as missiles rained down.

The Retreat

Solomon’s radio crackled. “We’re compromised! They’ve got air support!”

Carlos cursed under his breath. “We need to move. Now.”

Jamie, panting from exertion, growled, “What about the wounded?”

Isabella, wiping sweat from her brow, stepped forward. “I’ll buy time. Get them out.”

“No.” Solomon’s voice was firm. “You don’t stay behind alone.”

She met his gaze, unwavering. “I won’t.”

With a flick of her wrist, she sent a wave of blinding light into the sky. The helicopters jerked away, pilots momentarily blinded. A few seconds—that was all they needed.

“Go!” Solomon shouted.

The rebels vanished into the jungle.

But Victoria wasn’t done.

From the eastern ridge, Esteban’s forces descended.

Esteban’s Fury – The Golden Armor Prototype

Leading the charge, Esteban’s armor gleamed under the firelit sky—a golden exosuit, sleek and segmented, far beyond standard military equipment.

It was one of the experimental mecha prototypes from the U.S. advanced warfare division, technology that had been under classified development for years.

When Victoria had repaired communications with Washington, she had pulled every string to get her hands on the prototype. The suit enhanced strength, reflexes, and survivability, making Esteban more than a man—a walking juggernaut.

Victoria’s voice crackled in his earpiece. “No more games. End them.”

His forces, trained and ruthless, tore through the trees, hunting the rebels like wolves.

“Find Isabella!” His voice was venomous.

His men pushed forward, but the jungle worked against them. Traps laid by Carlos’ team detonated—hidden explosives sent soldiers flying. Snipers picked off stragglers.

Still, Esteban pressed on. He would not be denied.

And then—

A gunshot.

A sharp, searing pain tore through his shoulder. He snarled, clutching the wound, his vision going red. Solomon Kane stood across the battlefield, rifle smoking.

“You again.” Esteban’s lips curled. “I’ll carve your heart out.”

Solomon smirked, stepping backward. “Come and try.”

Then, a massive explosion erupted between them, shaking the ground. Isabella had sent a wave of pure force, knocking soldiers back and shattering trees.

Smoke filled the air. When it cleared, the rebels were gone.

And Esteban screamed in rage.

Alejandro’s Last Stand – The Unknown Destination

Far from the battlefield, Alejandro, Carlos’s father who wasn't present in the rebellion as his team and he had been fighting their own war.

The mission was simple—break through Victoria’s blockade and reach the location Isabella had foretold.

The reality was brutal—an entire platoon of Victoria’s mercenaries lay between them and freedom.

Alejandro had fought wars before, but this? This was slaughter.

His men had fallen one by one—bullets, blades, and explosions claiming them. Now, only a handful remained. Blood dripped from Alejandro’s side, but he kept moving.

Failure was not an option.

Miguel, the last of his men, clutched his arm. “We don’t even know what’s there, boss.”

Alejandro exhaled, his body on the verge of collapse. “We don’t need to. She saw it. She said this place was the key. That’s enough for me.”

Through the trees, in the distance, lights flickered—not torches, but something structured. Organized.

A final gunfight erupted. One last push.

Three rebels fell.

Then another.

Alejandro staggered, gripping his rifle. Just a few more steps.

Miguel gasped, falling limp. A final gunshot.

Alejandro fired his last bullet into the enemy’s skull before collapsing to his knees.

Figures emerged from the darkness—armed soldiers in foreign uniforms.

Voices shouted in English. “We got survivors!”

Strong hands grabbed Alejandro, lifting him. His vision blurred. Had they reached the Americans? Some other faction? He didn’t know.

All he knew was Isabella had been right.

They had reached the place that would decide the war.

And then, everything faded to black.