[Oliver’s PoV]

  For a split second, the soldier’s chest expanded, and then the world became blood and noise.

  The explosion was wet and violent. A spray of crimson and viscera erupted outward like a gruesome halo, painting the blackened ground and the Hoplites’ armor in gore. The shockwave hit Oliver square in the chest, sending him stumbling back as the air filled with the stench of iron and flesh.

  “Move!” he barked, and the Hoplites obeyed instinctively, leaping away from the remains.

  But it wasn’t the explosion that alerted them; it was what came after.

  From the remains of the soldier’s body, black blood poured out.

  At first, they looked more like smoke, twisting and writhing in the air. But then the shapes began to solidify. Thick, black masses of slime glistening under the lights of their suits. Four distinct blobs slithered free from the corpse, dragging strands of blood and tissue behind them as they hit the ground.

  “What the hell…” Oliver muttered, his voice low, disgusted.

  He’d seen horrors before; creatures born from war, from experiments gone wrong, but this was something else. The parasitic slime had used his soldier, consumed him, and was now multiplying.

  “Goddamn it,” Oliver growled through clenched teeth. “They’re breeding.”

  Even if they knew the creatures’ weakness, it didn’t matter; every kill risked spawning more of them.

  And worse, the explosion's sound had drawn attention.

  New shapes began to emerge around the crater. The ground itself seemed to ripple as dozens more of the creatures oozed toward them, drawn by the scent of blood and the vibrations of movement.

  The battlefield came alive.

  “Incoming!” one of the Hoplites shouted as the first wave lunged.

  The darkness erupted into chaos.

  The creatures came fast, faster than before. Some hurled themselves through the air in arcs of liquid shadow, splattering against armor and reforming instantly. Others reshaped their bodies into jagged spikes, stabbing forward like living spears. The impact of their strikes rang against the Hoplites’ suits, each blow leaving trails of corrosive slime that hissed and smoked.

  Each time the black slimes surged forward, the Hoplites met them head-on. Their fists encased in shimmering Energy, every strike releasing bursts of light and heat that sent the creatures recoiling. Some of the Hoplites caught the oozing masses mid-lunge, gripping them with armored hands that burned until the things shrieked and dissolved into black vapor.

  But for every creature destroyed, two more crawled out of the shadows.

  The Hoplites stood shoulder to shoulder, their armor scorched and dented. Yet, the creatures pressed on.

  The soldiers could hold the line, but not forever.

  One side could keep attacking, but would burn out within minutes. The other could defend, but was slowly being suffocated by sheer numbers. The balance couldn’t last.

  Oliver doesn’t need to see the future to know that his side would be the loser if this clash continued.

  “We need to get out of here,” he warned.

  The Hoplites didn’t argue. Their breathing came in ragged bursts through the comms, the sound of exhaustion and adrenaline.

  “What’s the plan, sir?” one of them asked.

  Oliver opened his mouth to answer, but stopped.

  A new sound cut through the battle. A deep, resonant rumble that didn’t belong to the storm above or the monsters around them. Right after came the light.

  A blinding flare split the darkness, followed by a roar that shook the ground. The Hoplites looked skyward just as a massive shadow passed over them.

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  A ship, a colossal one, was descending fast, its hull ablaze, its engines trailing fire like the tails of dying comets. The heat washed over the battlefield in waves, and for a moment, it was as if a second sun had risen.

  “Now!” Oliver shouted, seizing the chance.

  The creatures froze.

  The glow and the noise disoriented them, their oily forms quivering, retreating slightly under the sudden brilliance of the falling ship.

  He sprinted across the charred ground, the Hoplites following close behind. Their boots crunched against the brittle remains of the battlefield as they ran toward the wreckage of their own ship.

  The light of the burning metal cut through the gloom, pushing back the encroaching darkness. The creatures shrieked, the sound a chorus of hate and pain, but they didn’t follow, not yet.

  Oliver slid to a stop near the shattered remains of the recon vessel, its hull still glowing red-hot.

  “Stay in the light!” he shouted, turning back to the others. “They can’t stand the heat!”

  Ahead, the main cabin was mostly intact. It had some burning marks, but nothing major. As they drew closer, Oliver saw the interior. The consoles were scorched, the walls warped, but the core systems still hummed weakly with residual power.

  The only thing missing was the pilot.

  'Taken by one of the creatures?' Oliver wondered, his jaw tightening.

  He motioned for the others to move in. The three Hoplites entered the cramped space. One of them pulled the half-melted door shut behind them, sealing it as best they could. The metal groaned in protest, but the barrier held.

  Inside, the air was thick with the acrid scent of burnt circuitry. The hum of the auxiliary power system was the only sign of life left in the ship.

  Oliver approached the main control panel, brushing aside a layer of soot. The holographic interface sputtered to life. The projection flickered, glitching as if struggling to maintain coherence.

  “Still some power left,” he muttered.

  He began working quickly, fingers gliding over the cracked controls. The system responded sluggishly.

  “Red Citadel, this is Recon One, do you copy?”

  The only response was the soft, rhythmic pulse of static.

  He tried again. “Citadel, come in. This is—”

  The holographic display blinked twice, then returned a single, infuriating message.

  [NO CONTACT]

  The words pulsed in harsh red light, repeating over and over.

  Oliver exhaled, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

  'Something’s blocking the signal.'

  He deactivated his Blue Armor, the plates dissolving into motes of light that faded into his uniform. From the inner pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a small metallic card, a direct link to Command.

  Their last resort.

  He pressed his thumb against the surface.

  “Come on,” he whispered. “Get us out of here.”

  For a moment, the air shimmered. The faint hum of Energy built around him, vibrating in his bones.

  Then, nothing.

  The light from the card flickered once… and died.

  Oliver stared at it, disbelief tightening his throat. He tried again. And again. The same result.

  No response.

  “No way,” he muttered, his voice low, almost to himself. “That’s impossible.”

  Something was blocking them. Not only the comms, but also teleportation.

  “Any results?” one of the soldiers asked, his voice echoing faintly in the cramped cabin.

  “Nothing yet. No signal, no teleport response,” Oliver replied.

  “Maybe it’s just us,” another Hoplite offered, his voice uncertain. “Could be our comms are fried. Maybe one of the other ships is still working.”

  Oliver didn’t believe it. Not really. The interference felt deliberate, too precise, too complete. But for now, it was a possibility he couldn’t dismiss.

  “We could check the other wrecks,” the Hoplite continued. “They can’t be far. The fires from their engines are still visible from here.”

  Oliver considered it, glancing out through a gap in the warped hull. In the distance, faint orange glows pulsed against the black horizon, other ships, burning in the dark.

  “Alright,” he said finally, powering up his armor again. The Blue Ranger Armor flared to life, plates materializing over his body. “We’ll move out. We find one of the other crash sites and regroup.”

  He turned toward the others. “Grab your gear. We—”

  “Wait.”

  The interruption came from one of the Hoplites near the main console. The soldier pointed to the pilot’s station, where a faint blue light was blinking steadily near the base of the controls.

  “That flashing, could it be a system alert?”

  Oliver frowned and approached, his boots clanking against the metal deck. He leaned over the console and pressed the blinking indicator.

  The holographic display flickered, then stabilized. Lines of text scrolled across the screen, each one accompanied by a soft electronic chime.

  [System Updated]

  [Navigation Module: New Patch Installed]

  [Initializing…]

  [Signal Detected]

  [Unique Crystal Identified]

  [Distance: 50 km]

  [System Malfunction: Critical Error]

  The final message flickered once, then vanished.

  Oliver straightened slowly, his eyes lingering on the now-dark display.

  “Well,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “Looks like we know where we’re going.”

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