CHAPTER 62: THE VANGUARD’S GAMBIT

Jinx froze, her body a coiled spring of lethal potential.

She looked at Michael’s wide, terrified eyes. She looked at his white-knuckled grip on her arm.

Then she looked back at the empty, blood-soaked field.

She trusted her eyes. Her eyes told her it was clear.

But the look on the kid’s face... that was a different kind of data.

It was the look of a man who was seeing a ghost.

Eight of them, to be precise.

"Sit-rep, Michael," Chloe’s voice was a sharp, clean line in his ear, devoid of any panic. "What do you see?"

"I don’t see anything," Michael whispered back, his own voice trembling slightly. "I feel them."

"Eight Hunter signatures. In the field. Lying in wait. They’re... cloaked."

Jax, crouched beside him, let out a low, impressed whistle. "OmniCorp Gen-3 stealth tech. Nasty stuff. Bends light and sound. Makes you a real-life predator."

"It also has a massive energy signature that any half-decent scanner should be able to pick up," Jinx countered, her voice a low growl.

"They’re not using tech," Michael said, his focus absolute, his [Void Sense] painting a terrifyingly clear picture in his mind. "Their energy... it’s being... suppressed. Masked. It feels like they’re hiding inside a pocket of... quiet."

A slow, condescending clap echoed across the empty field.

It was a soft, mocking sound that was somehow louder and more terrifying than any explosion.

One by one, the eight hidden figures shimmered into existence, the air around them warping like a heat-haze as their cloaking fields disengaged.

They were Vanguard.

All of them.

Their silver armor was so polished it reflected the crimson light of the Gate like a series of bloody mirrors.

And leading them, a cruel, amused smirk on his handsome face, was the Hunter they had seen from the bunker.

Sterling.

"Well, well, well," he said, his voice a smooth, confident purr that carried easily across the field. "Look what the cat dragged in."

"A little nest of sewer rats, scurrying around where they don’t belong."

He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his energy blade extending from his wrist with a low, satisfying hum.

"I have to admit," he continued, his gaze sweeping over Jinx’s scavenged gear and Jax’s chaotic, home-made arsenal with open disdain. "I’m a little disappointed."

"I was told there was a new player in town. A new Guild."

He laughed, a short, humorless sound. "I was expecting a little more than... this."

His eyes, which glowed with the same faint, controlled energy as Kael’s, finally settled on Michael.

He looked him up and down, a look of profound, theatrical pity on his face.

"And you must be the leader of this little band of misfits," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "The city’s newest stray."

Okay, I officially hate this guy, Michael’s inner monologue snarled.

"Let me give you a little lesson in how the world works, stray," Sterling said, his smirk widening.

"This," he gestured to the chaotic battlefield, "isn’t just about clearing a Gate. It’s about streamlining the market."

"It’s about reminding all the little, independent contractors out there that this is our turf. The Vanguard’s turf."

"And you," he finished, his voice turning cold and sharp, "are trespassing."

Jinx just growled, a low, guttural sound in her throat. "We’re not a Guild you can just buy out or shut down, you corporate sellout."

"Oh, I’m not here to buy you out," Sterling said, his smile turning into a cruel, sharp thing. "I’m here for a hostile takeover."

He raised his energy blade. "Vanguard! Engage!"

The fight was a brutal, one-sided beatdown.

The Vanguard moved with the flawless, synchronized precision of a team that had trained together for years.

They formed a perfect phalanx, their energy shields a solid, impenetrable wall.

Thanatos was a bar fight.

Jax, with a wild, joyful scream, tossed his biggest, loudest grenade. "Eat flashy, shiny boy!"

The explosion was beautiful. It sent a shower of sparks and a cloud of thick, black smoke across the field.

The Vanguard phalanx didn’t even flinch. Their shields absorbed the blast with a soft, indifferent shimmer.

"Inefficient," Sterling noted with a bored sigh.

Jinx opened fire, her rifle spitting a relentless stream of armor-piercing rounds. They pinged harmlessly off the shields, a swarm of angry hornets against a battleship.

This isn’t a fight, Michael realized with a sinking sense of dread. It’s a gear check. And we are severely under-leveled.

"Michael, the flanks!" Chloe’s voice was a sharp, urgent command in his ear. "Their formation is perfect, but it’s rigid! Use your mobility! Disrupt them!"

He moved.

[SHADOW STEP!]

He appeared on the left flank of the Vanguard line, his Reaper’s Fang glowing with a dark, hungry light.

A Vanguard Hunter spun to meet him, his own energy blade humming.

The clash of their weapons was a high-pitched, ringing scream of void-on-energy.

The Vanguard Hunter was stronger. Faster. His movements were a textbook of perfect, efficient swordsmanship.

Michael was a brawler. He fought dirty. He fought to survive.

He used a micro-Shadow Step, not to attack, but to disorient, appearing behind the Hunter for a split second, forcing him to turn, breaking the perfect Vanguard line.

It was the opening Jinx and Jax needed.

They poured through the gap, a chaotic, two-person wrecking crew.

Jax’s Glitch Grenades, useless against the main shields, were devastating against the individual Hunters, their cybernetically-enhanced gear sparking and short-circuiting.

Jinx was a phantom of close-quarters combat, her movements a brutal, efficient dance of death.

The perfect Vanguard formation shattered into a series of chaotic, desperate skirmishes.

They were actually doing it.

They were actually winning.

Then Sterling moved.

He wasn’t a soldier. He was a force of nature.

He cut through the chaos like a shark through water, his energy blade a blur of silver and light.

He took Jax out first, a single, precise slash that overloaded the power pack on Jax’s belt, sending him flying backward in a shower of sparks.

He disarmed Jinx with a move so fast she didn’t even see it coming, her rifle clattering to the ground.

And then, he was on Michael.

He was faster.

He was stronger.

He was better.

Michael blocked, he parried, he dodged, but it was like trying to stop a hurricane with a paper fan.

Sterling’s blade hooked around his, a single, sharp twist, and the Reaper’s Fang was ripped from his hand, sent spinning into the mud.

He was defenseless.

Sterling just smiled, his handsome face a mask of smug, condescending victory.

He took a slow step forward, the tip of his energy blade humming, inches from Michael’s throat.

"Such spirit," he purred, his voice a low, mocking whisper. "Such a shame it has to be put down."

"Any last words, stray?"