The Vampire Project

The moment Tyler crossed the Sky Fortress's perimeter, they were waiting.

Slacovich stood by the east platform rail, arms crossed, expression carved from stone.

Li waited near the entrance, blades still strapped but tension rolling off her in waves.

Diego and General Richard stayed farther back, giving space but fully alert.

Even Ania lingered at the corner of the hall, unusually quiet, her eyes tracking every inch of Tyler's approach.

Sofie stood at the center.

Her posture regal.

Her gaze… heavy.

He didn't break stride.

His wounds were gone, healed far faster than he would have believed days ago. Not a scratch remained. Not the cracked ribs. Not the torn shoulder.

But the blood on his clothes still stuck.

Dried, dark.

Proof of what he'd done.

No one spoke until he reached them.

Then Slacovich's voice cut through.

Low. Controlled.

"Took you long enough."

Tyler didn't answer.

Li stepped forward, tilting her head, eyes sharp and unreadable. "We had two patrols tail you. Both lost you somewhere near Sector Ten. Care to explain?"

Still… nothing.

General Richard's voice rumbled from behind. "Running solo missions now, Tyler?"

Ania fidgeted with her sleeves. "You weren't supposed to leave…"

Finally, Sofie spoke.

Not loud. Not angry.

Just… tired.

"We would've gone with you," she said softly. "If you asked."

Tyler paused mid-step… just for a fraction of a second.

Then he answered without turning.

"I didn't want you to stop me."

And with that, he moved past them all.

They watched in silence as he disappeared down the residential wing.

No one followed.

Not this time.

---

Tyler pushed open the door to her room with more force than needed.

The lights stayed dim, just the way she liked it.

Her bed was still untouched. Her books still stacked by the window.

Her jacket, the old worn one she used to throw over chairs, still hung by the corner.

Perfectly recreated her room back in the estate before it crumbled.

But it was the urn he went to.

Golden. Simple.

Resting on the bedside shelf where he placed it weeks ago.

His knees hit the floor with a dull, broken thud.

And for the first time since she died, since the battlefield, since the funeral, since every bloody day that followed, Tyler let it break him.

The tears came hard. Fast. Ugly.

He wrapped his arms around the urn like he could somehow hold her again.

His forehead pressed against the cold metal, breath hitching between sobs he couldn't swallow down anymore.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered. "God, Ara, I'm so sorry…"

His fingers trembled as he clung tighter, like letting go would mean losing her all over again.

"I almost… I almost… they made you… they…"

The words dissolved into broken breaths.

Images from the fight, her voice, her face, that twisted, hollow version of her, burned through his mind.

And he cried harder.

For the fight.

For the grief.

For the part of him that nearly believed she was still alive… even when he knew better.

His fists clenched against the urn.

"I won't let them touch you again," he swore under his breath. "Not your voice. Not your smile. Nothing. Never again."

The room stayed silent except for him.

But somewhere deep inside…

For the first time in months…

The ache shifted.

Slightly.

Just enough to breathe through.

And still, he stayed kneeling there.

Because tonight…

This was the only place he wanted to be.

With her.

---

Back in the Sky Fortress war room, the air was thick with held-back opinions.

Tyler hadn't reappeared from Ara's room.

No one expected him to.

Li was the first to break the silence.

She stood near the central holomap, hands in her pockets, watching the fluctuating feed of enemy activity.

"He burned it." Her voice stayed steady, but there was something tight beneath it. "The entire sublevel. Every data cluster, every lab archive, every replica pod."

General Richard grunted with some degree of satisfaction. "Good. One less nightmare crawling out of Volton's pet projects."

Diego scrolled through his datapad, lips pulled in a tight line. "He didn't just burn it. Radiation sensors picked up heat traces consistent with Reaper-grade incendiaries. Lab's a crater now."

Sofie sat with her fingers steepled, resting against her lips.

Quiet. But… relieved.

"We all knew he wouldn't sit still after hearing her voice in that Reaper," she finally said. "I'm just glad he came back."

Slacovich, leaning against the far wall, spoke next.

"He's not the same soldier we trained. Not after that. None of us are."

Ania sat curled in her chair, knees to her chest, listening carefully.

Li gave a small shrug. "Volton pushed too far. He played the wrong card this time."

Sofie stood, her voice gaining that quiet authority they'd all grown used to.

"Volton's going to retaliate. Losing that lab wasn't just a strategic loss, it was personal. Zevien doesn't let things like this slide. And neither does Volton."

Everyone nodded.

There was no stopping what was coming next.

But at least now… the Queen's forces knew exactly where they stood.

---

The atmosphere inside Volton's command chamber had turned lethal.

The Reaper Commanders stood in tense silence.

Smoke residue still clung to Zevien's coat as he stepped forward to report.

Volton stood by the edge of the war table, staring down at the live satellite feed—

all that remained of the replica lab was a blackened crater, still smoldering.

"Unit Kairos wasn't touched," Zevien said calmly, voice like silk over broken glass. "But the Ara Project… is terminated."

Volton didn't speak for a long time.

Then, with slow, terrifying calm, he placed both hands on the table… and crushed the edge of the reinforced alloy surface with a single flex of his fingers.

"First… my Reaper nets fail."

Another crack split down the table's surface.

"Then… the defectives."

His voice dropped a register lower.

"And now… my replica line."

A dark, shaking breath left him, equal parts fury and something almost… wild beneath it.

Vaelis shifted nervously near the door, as if expecting him to lash out next.

Lurien… stayed silent. Smiling faintly but watching carefully.

Volton's eyes narrowed to slits.

"Tyler…" he hissed, venom thick on his tongue. "Of course it would be him."

His gaze drifted across the command room toward Zevien.

"Don't chase him," Volton said at last, voice cold as the grave. "Not yet. Let him marinate in what he's done. Let him wonder what line I'll cross next."

A pause.

"Because next time…"

Volton's mouth curved into a thin, cruel smile.

"…I'll cross them all."

---

Later that night, Zevien stood alone at the topmost balcony of Volton's tower, staring across the distant city lights.

His coat flared in the cold wind, his mind already calculating variables, counters, next steps.

"Predictable," he murmured to himself, thinking of Tyler's anger, his grief, the burning lab.

But then… a brief smirk crossed Zevien's lips.

Predictability could still be useful… if you knew how to weaponize it.

He tapped a secure line on his datapad, encrypting the signal.

One message.

Short.

"Proceed with Omega String. Let's see what he breaks next."

He slid the device back into his pocket, eyes gleaming with calculated interest.

The game wasn't over.

Not by a long shot.