Alaric kept his eyes fixed on the only guide willing to lead him. He forced himself to maintain a steady pace. His movements were no longer rushed like before, but his steps had slowed. He carefully synchronized his breath with the rhythm of his feet to avoid making any noise.

The glowing light floated ahead, pulsing softly in a fading green hue, like it was running out of energy after everything it had done since they first entered the grand house. Alaric watched it closely, his gaze wary. Even though the thing had helped him several times already, something inside him still refused to fully trust it. He knew far too well how quickly things could turn into a trap.

"How long am I going to keep walking around with no clear direction..." he muttered while continuing through the massive house, following the floating light. As expected, there was no answer.

But somehow, the light seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. It stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned to face Alaric. Then, in a sudden burst of movement, it darted west. Toward a side of the house that felt even more lifeless than the rest. Alaric took a deep breath before following.

He stopped in a wide room that was sparsely furnished, with only a few long tables lined up and large filing cabinets along the walls. The silence was suffocating, yet Alaric could feel something unsettling in the air, the same kind of presence he'd sensed when he first arrived here.

He glanced around, and that's when he realized — silence like this rarely came without a reason. Instinctively, his shoulders tensed, and his eyes scanned every corner of the room.

"This place… I know it's crawling with eyes, just like those laser sensors that chased me earlier," he whispered to himself.

And sure enough, a few seconds later, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from another hallway. The noise grew louder. More footsteps, more bodies. Shoes scraping against the polished floor.

Alaric ducked immediately. He knew he'd been detected. Somehow, the guards had realized there was an intruder in the building. He quickly slipped under one of the unused long tables tucked into a corner of the room. His left hand covered his mouth to steady his breath, while his right clenched tightly around the shark pendant. Now dim and lifeless.

But then, the pendant began to glow faintly once more.

"Looks like you're anxious too," Alaric whispered.

The pendant floated free of his grip and quietly joined him under the table.

"What are you planning?" Alaric asked in a barely audible whisper, eyes fixed on the gently swaying ball of light. He didn't expect an answer, the thing had never spoken. But his heart still longed to understand.

The light remained still, pulsing softly as if in deep thought. Meanwhile, the heavy footsteps grew closer, echoing louder in the room. Alaric could clearly hear the voices of the incoming guards, tense and alert.

"Search this room!"

"Make sure it's empty. The motion sensors in the west corridor picked something up!"

Alaric crouched even lower, pressing himself nearly flat against the floor. Through a narrow gap between the table planks, he caught glimpses of flashlight beams dancing across the walls. There were a lot of them... ten or more, and all of them armed.

The green light beside him suddenly shuddered violently. Alaric turned in surprise, reaching out to stop it, but it was too late.

In an instant, the object burst into a bright, blinding light. The glow was deeper than before, like shards of emerald exploding in the air. Alaric shielded his face with his hands, eyes tightly shut.

When he opened them again, his heart nearly skipped a beat.

The light had begun to take form.

Shifting silhouettes appeared, vague and misty at first, slowly solidifying into human shapes. Faces, bodies, clothing. Some dressed like ancient warriors, others in military uniforms, and a few were mere shadows with glowing white eyes. They stood scattered across the room, radiating an aura far stronger than that of any ordinary human.

Alaric could barely believe what he was seeing.

"What is this now…" he muttered, eyes wide, staring at the growing crowd of entities.

Their numbers kept increasing. One, two, three, and soon a dozen. With every pulse of green light, a new figure emerged from within it, as if summoned from some distant realm.

The guards who had just entered the room were clearly not ready for this. They froze in place, some taking a cautious step back, while others instinctively raised their weapons.

Triggers clicked audibly, but no one fired.

One of the more senior-looking guards shouted, "Identify yourselves! Is this some kind of magic or a trap?!"

No one answered. The only response was silence, broken when one of the spectral figures stepped forward. Then another. And suddenly, all of them moved as one.

From beneath the table, Alaric watched wide-eyed, breath caught in his throat. He could feel the weight of the battle about to erupt.

In the back of his mind, a bitter thought crept in. "Is this really the way to bring down a syndicate? Does it have to be this extreme? Can't it just be deleted…?"

But that thought vanished the moment the first strike landed.

The luminous beings lunged, attacking the guards who had been standing at the ready. Metal clashed with flesh. Shouts and flashes of light filled the air. Alaric, still crouching in the shadows, could only watch with bated breath.

On one hand, he knew this was the beginning of a large-scale collapse. But on the other, he understood this might be the only path forward.

Above the towering building, the sky had darkened. A warning pulse flickered through the emergency systems. Inside the battleground, wisps of smoke twisted in the air, stirred by the swift movements of the mysterious forces now spilling out from the shadows.

They didn't resemble ordinary soldiers. At a glance, they could be mistaken for everyday workers. Farmers coming in from the fields or mechanics stepping out of a dusty garage. But something about them was off. They all wore strips of cloth tied tightly around their foreheads, a mark of unity and perhaps an oath they swore to uphold.

Their clothing was just as unusual. Made from coarse fabric in faded colors, cut in styles long out of fashion. Their sleeves were loose, but the wrists cinched with leather cords. Some wore tapered trousers with simple belts, others had hand-sewn gloves. It was strange, yet there was a natural cohesion among them. A unit forged from the past and thrown into the present.

Alaric observed from behind a wall now scarred from the battle. His vision trembled slightly, not from fear but from the headache pulsing at his temples. Something in his mind pushed back, refusing to stay quiet. This was the worst possible moment to lose consciousness.

The warriors moved quickly, unnervingly calm. Their steps were silent and perfectly in sync. With every strike, another prepared to follow up. Their bamboo staffs were not simple sticks. Each swing produced a sharp hiss, forcing even the largest guards to retreat.

The guards, usually untouchable during syndicate operations, were now clearly overwhelmed. Sweat dripped down their faces, hands trembling despite years of training. They held their ground, but the enemy's rhythm was too clean, too precise.

Blows landed hard. Bamboo clashed with steel. A dull ringing echoed, followed by a grunt of pain as one more guard went down. Still, they refused to fall back. Determination burned in their eyes, they weren't just doing their jobs. This was a duty they had sworn to uphold.

Alaric could see it too. One guard knelt, gasping for breath. Another was pushed back, legs unsteady. A cold breeze swept across the room, as if signaling that desperation had begun to take hold.

Then came a distinct click.

One of the guards... ressed in black with a silver emblem on his shoulder, drew something from his belt. A flash of steel glinted under the emergency light.

A pistol.

Alaric's eyes went wide. "No... they can't use that."

"If they do... too many of the shark pendant warriors will die."

He looked ahead. Time seemed to slow.

The mysterious fighters, armed only with bamboo staffs and short knives, still stood tall. Their eyes sharp, as if fully aware that the next move could change everything. The guards now teetered on the edge, torn between surrendering and pulling the trigger.

And through it all, Alaric's headache worsened. The voice in his head grew louder, urgent, threatening to tip him over the edge. He reached out and braced himself against the wall to keep from collapsing.

But something inside him whispered:

"Don't let them kill each other."

The clatter of wood and strained breathing filled the room, a chaotic orchestra of war. Shards of glass and drifting dust heightened the tension captured by Alaric's wary eyes.