Chapter 51: The Heart of the Machine

  The late afternoon sun bled molten gold across a barren wasteland, casting long, trembling shadows over the shattered remnants of what once was Tori no Ichizoku’s formidable fortress. Dust, stirred up by the gentlest breeze, danced in the air like ghosts of a bygone era. Amid this desolation, Temna Kurushimi advanced with deliberate caution into the skeletal remains of Akuma’s bunker. Every footstep he took echoed in the eerie stillness, the sound dissipating into the heavy, oppressive silence as if the ruins themselves were swallowing his presence whole.

  The bunker’s walls, marred by deep pockmarks and scorched with the blackened scars of ancient battles, whispered stories of a ferocious conflict that had shattered lives and landscapes 65 long years ago. Each charred beam and broken slab of concrete told a tale of violence and loss—a history written in fire and blood. As Temna moved deeper into the belly of the ruined structure, his mind raced with a cocktail of trepidation and determination. His mission was as clear as the pulsating glow he sensed somewhere in the darkness: investigate the mysterious energy readings that had haunted his comm-link for days.

  And then, like a beacon in the gloom, he saw it.

  In the far corner of what must have once been Akuma’s well-fortified armory, a faint, otherworldly glow beckoned him. Temna crouched down, his heart pounding in sync with his cautious breathing, and carefully brushed aside layers of dust and debris. There, nestled amid the rubble, lay a smooth, metallic sphere, seemingly out of place—a relic of technology so advanced it defied the ravages of time. The sphere glowed with a soft, ethereal light, its luminescence shifting subtly like the rhythmic beating of a heart.

  “What in the hell…” Temna muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the oppressive silence. His gloved hand trembled slightly as he reached for the sphere, marveling at the uncanny interplay of cold metal and vibrant energy. Instinctively, he activated his communicator. “Command, this is Temna. I’ve found… something extraordinary. It’s glowing with an intensity that’s almost alive. Looks like advanced tech—possibly even relics of Tori no Ichizoku. I’m securing it and bringing it back to HQ immediately.”

  A brief pause crackled over the channel before a cautious voice replied, “Copy that, Temna. Stay alert and be cautious—this might be bigger than we anticipated.”

  With measured care, Temna nestled the sphere into a specially designed containment case. As he handled it, he could feel its faint hum vibrating through his gloves, a subtle reminder that he was in possession of something far more significant than just remnants of old technology. The sphere pulsed gently, as if breathing, hinting at secrets and promises of change. Leaving the ruined bunker behind, Temna’s thoughts churned with an uneasy foreboding. Deep inside, he couldn’t shake the nagging sense that this discovery was the harbinger of events that would irrevocably alter the course of everything he knew.

  The stark contrast between the desolation of Akuma’s bunker and the modern efficiency of SAAHO’s headquarters was jarring. The sprawling scientific lab, a pristine sanctuary of innovation, buzzed with a frenetic energy. Bright white lights and sleek, sterile surfaces greeted Temna as he entered, replacing the gloom of the ruins with an environment that spoke of hope, analysis, and relentless progress.

  In the center of a spacious, glass-encased laboratory, Temna carefully placed the containment case on a central examination table. The room was filled with scientists and technicians, all deeply engrossed in their tasks, yet immediately aware of the gravity of what had just been delivered. Among them was Dr. Aiko Hoshino, the head scientist, whose piercing gaze missed nothing as she made her way toward the table with her team trailing close behind.

  “What exactly did you find, Temna?” Aiko asked, her tone a mix of professional curiosity and barely concealed apprehension. Her eyes, sharp and discerning, scanned the mysterious case as if trying to extract its secrets with nothing but her glance.

  “Some kind of power core,” Temna replied, his voice steady despite the whirl of thoughts racing through his mind. “It was tucked away in the depths of Akuma’s bunker—still active, still pulsing with energy after all these years.”

  A ripple of disbelief swept through the room. “Active after 65 years?” Aiko’s brow furrowed, her mind racing to reconcile the impossibility with the evidence before her.

  “Take a look for yourself,” Temna urged, stepping back so that the team could closely examine the case. With deft hands, Aiko and her team carefully opened it. The reveal was nothing short of astonishing. The metallic sphere’s soft, almost hypnotic glow filled the room, its gentle hum sending shivers of both wonder and dread down the spines of everyone present.

  “This isn’t merely advanced tech,” Aiko murmured, her gloved fingers gingerly tracing the smooth, almost organic surface of the sphere. “It feels… alive. Almost as if it possesses a will of its own.”

  The laboratory, moments ago a hive of brisk scientific activity, fell into an expectant silence. The scientists exchanged glances, the weight of the discovery settling over them like a heavy shroud. Each silent heartbeat in the room underscored the growing realization: they were on the verge of unlocking a mystery that defied both time and conventional logic.

  Hours melted away as the SAAHO team delved deeper into the mysteries of the sphere. Data scrolled across holographic screens and 3D models spun slowly in the air as the scientists tirelessly scanned, dissected, and simulated the properties of the enigmatic object. Every minute detail was recorded and analyzed, each result more baffling than the last.

  At long last, Dr. Elias Frey, SAAHO’s expert in energy systems, broke the silence with a tremor in his voice that betrayed his astonishment. “This isn’t just a power core,” he declared, his words hanging in the charged air like a spell. “It’s a heart.”

  Temna’s eyes widened, his skepticism momentarily giving way to a dawning realization. “A heart?” he echoed, his voice a blend of incredulity and awe.

  “Not a biological heart, mind you,” Elias clarified quickly, his fingers dancing over the controls as he adjusted the parameters on a 3D model that now filled the central display. “But this core is functioning in much the same way—a pulsating, rhythmic generator of energy. It’s as if it has been infused with a force that defies our understanding, something we can only describe as demon energy.”

  Aiko, who had been silently absorbing every piece of information, now brought up a detailed 3D reconstruction of the core on her console. Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper as she revealed her findings: “This isn’t just any core. It appears to be the central power source of… Dr. Machinist.”

  The name hung in the air like a death sentence—a name that invoked terror and uncertainty. Temna’s mind raced. “But that’s impossible. Dr. Machinist was presumed dead long before Akuma’s battle with SAAHO. Everyone knows that he was eliminated years ago.”

  “That’s what we all believed,” Aiko replied, her voice trembling as she studied the flawless condition of the sphere. “Yet here we have undeniable evidence that his power source remains intact—unchanged by time. It’s as if it’s been patiently waiting for something… or someone.”

  A heavy silence fell over the lab as the implications of their discovery began to crystallize. In that moment, every person in the room felt the inexorable pull of fate, as if they were on the precipice of a future that none could predict—a future where death and immortality danced on the edge of a razor.

  News of the mysterious core spread like wildfire through the corridors of SAAHO. Before long, the Kurushimi brothers—each hardened by battles and loss—gathered in the dimly lit war room. The atmosphere was taut with tension, every glance and word laden with unspoken fears and questions.

  Krishna, the ever-intense and perceptive brother, paced back and forth, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. “Let me get this straight,” he said, his tone edged with both disbelief and urgency. “You stumbled upon Dr. Machinist’s heart in Akuma’s bunker, and it’s still pulsing, still functioning after 65 years?”

  “Not just functioning,” Temna interjected, his voice low and measured as he recounted his discovery. “It’s not only active—it’s powered by a dark, demonic energy that refuses to fade, refusing to succumb to the ravages of time.”

  Martin, leaning back in his chair with a grim expression that betrayed his inner turmoil, added, “If what you’re saying is true, then we’re staring into the abyss. Machinist was one of the most dangerous minds our world has ever seen. If there’s even a hint that he might still be alive—or worse, that his power is resurrected—then we have an existential crisis on our hands.”

  Temna’s eyes narrowed, his tone laced with both conviction and defiance. “He’s not alive,” he snapped. “We all know that Akuma killed him. That was the end of him—at least that’s what history tells us.”

  Krishna’s voice, steady yet simmering with doubt, shot back, “Then why, by God, is his core still active? You don’t leave behind something like that unless there’s a reason—unless it’s meant to be used again.”

  The room was swallowed by a heavy silence as each brother contemplated the chilling implications. They were forced to confront a truth too monstrous to ignore: the possibility that the nightmare of Dr. Machinist might not be confined to the annals of history, but instead was poised to rise again, demanding vengeance and reshaping their world.

  Back at SAAHO HQ, the intensity of discovery had not subsided. In a quieter, more sterile corner of the lab, Dr. Aiko Hoshino and Dr. Elias Frey huddled over their consoles, their eyes scanning a labyrinth of data, spectral graphs, and energy signatures. The core’s properties were proving to be more enigmatic—and more terrifying—than anyone had anticipated.

  “There’s something else,” Aiko said, her voice quivering with a mix of excitement and fear. “These energy readings… they’re not merely residual power. It’s as though the core is synchronizing with its surroundings, gradually coming to life. It’s awakening.”

  Elias leaned in closer, his face blanching as he studied the shifting data. “Are you suggesting that this thing is… alive? Not in the conventional, biological sense, but something more—something that possesses its own kind of sentience?”

  “Exactly,” Aiko whispered, her fingers hovering over the controls as if afraid to disturb the fragile balance of discovery. “It’s more than a machine, more than a mere power source. It’s a living, breathing artifact, perhaps even a vessel of immortality. If Machinist found a way to preserve his essence in this core, then what we’re witnessing is the embodiment of his ambition to defy death itself.”

  The weight of her words hung in the air, heavy and ominous. In that moment, both scientists realized that they were not merely studying an object—they were peering into the heart of an existential revolution, one that threatened to upend everything they held dear.

  The news of the core’s alarming capabilities had rippled outward, summoning the Kurushimi brothers back into a high-stakes council. In the shadowed confines of their private meeting room, the tension was palpable, every word uttered measured and steeped in dread.

  Martin, his face etched with lines of worry and battle-hardened resolve, broke the silence, “If Machinist truly has found a way to be immortal, then we’re looking at a calamity far beyond any threat we’ve ever encountered.”

  Krishna, though his voice betrayed a flicker of uncertainty, tried to rally the group. “We’ve faced down monsters before. This may be something entirely new, but it isn’t insurmountable. We need to find a way to destroy that core, to sever Machinist’s connection to this unholy power once and for all.”

  Temna shook his head slowly, his expression grim and resolute. “Destroying it isn’t going to be as simple as blowing it up. This thing was designed to endure—built to outlast death itself. Conventional weapons, even our best efforts, might prove useless against something that is essentially… immortal.”

  Martin’s voice grew steely, “Then we have no choice but to think unconventionally. If Machinist is indeed rising again, then we must be prepared to fight him on his own terms. And that means we need to look to the legends—for instance, the Shadow-Blessed gear. That ancient, mystical equipment might be our only hope.”

  At the mere mention of the Shadow-Blessed weapons, a chill ran through the room. These were no ordinary arms; they were relics of a forgotten era, imbued with powers that bordered on the divine. Possessing them, however, came at a steep cost—one that might demand sacrifices too terrible for any of them to bear lightly.

  A deep hum filled the lab, barely audible at first, like the ghost of a forgotten storm. Then, the floor trembled—not violently, but subtly, like something immense shifting beneath the surface. Aiko’s breath caught in her throat.

  “Did… did anyone else feel that?” she whispered.

  The murmurs of the scientists around her died out as every pair of eyes locked onto the containment case. The sphere inside—once an unremarkable relic of cold metal and silent mystery—now pulsed with light.

  A pulse. Then another. Like a heartbeat.

  Aiko took a hesitant step forward, dread creeping up her spine.

  It wasn’t just reacting.

  It was waking up.

  A sudden, forceful wave of energy erupted from the sphere, sending a gust of unseen force rippling through the lab. Screens flickered, data streams scrambled, and the overhead lights blinked out for half a second before the emergency backups flared to life, bathing the room in a blood-red glow.

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  A technician yelped as his tablet sparked in his hands, dropping it with a loud clatter. Another stumbled back against a console, fingers trembling over keys that no longer responded.

  Panic filled the air, thick and choking.

  “It’s activating!” Aiko’s voice was barely controlled, her fingers flying over her console. “The energy levels are spiking past containment limits—”

  Then Elias spoke, his voice eerily calm. “It isn’t just waking up.” His hands gripped the edge of a table, knuckles white. “It’s broadcasting.”

  Aiko’s eyes darted to the readings on her screen, and her stomach dropped.

  A signal. A call.

  To him.

  The heavy doors to the lab burst open with a resounding crash, slamming against the walls.

  Temna Kurushimi strode in first, his coat billowing behind him, his hand already on the hilt of his weapon. Behind him, his brother moved with equal urgency, scanning the room, eyes narrowed like a predator scenting danger.

  “What the hell is going on?” Temna demanded.

  Aiko turned, breathless, pointing a shaking finger toward the sphere, now floating inches above the table, cracks forming across its surface. “It’s reaching out,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Calling for something. Or someone.”

  The core pulsed again, and this time, the cracks deepened.

  A jagged web of fissures spread outward like veins, dark tendrils of energy slithering from the wounds in its surface. The shadows twisted unnaturally, moving as though alive, coiling and writhing as if whispering to one another in a language no living thing should understand.

  Then—

  A sound.

  Not a crack, not a hum, but a laugh.

  Low. Deep. Rotten with malice.

  The room froze.

  Every muscle, every breath, every frantic heartbeat stopped.

  The voice slithered out from the core like oil through water—distorted, layered, ancient.

  “You thought you had me finished.”

  A chill ran down Aiko’s spine.

  The Kurushimi brothers tensed, weapons raised, but their grips were ironclad, their expressions unreadable.

  The voice continued, thick with venom and something far, far worse—certainty.

  “But I am eternal.”

  Aiko’s hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to deny it. To say that it wasn’t him. That it couldn’t be.

  But she already knew the truth.

  Dr. Machinist wasn’t dead.

  And this?

  This was only the beginning.

  The core’s pulsating light now dominated the room, its rhythm eerily reminiscent of a heartbeat—a steady, relentless pulse that filled the space with both dread and awe. The SAAHO lab, once a sanctuary of empirical investigation, had become a crucible of terror and revelation. Standing in the center, the Kurushimi brothers—Temna, Martin, Krishna—and the gathered scientists braced themselves as they faced this resurrected nightmare.

  Aiko, her face as pale as porcelain and eyes wide with a mixture of wonder and horror, whispered, “It’s… speaking… communicating with us directly.”

  Martin’s fists clenched at his sides as he glared at the floating orb, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow, “Speaking? What in the hell does that even mean? How can something so ancient and broken still hold such power?”

  Krishna’s sharp gaze never wavered from the pulsating core. “I told you from the start,” he muttered with bitter sarcasm, “there’s no such thing as an innocuous relic from the past. Nothing that old can ever be truly harmless.”

  Temna, the ever-skeptical soldier with nerves of steel, slowly tightened his grip on his sniper rifle, his eyes locked onto the center of the orb. “So… what is it saying? We need to know what we’re up against,” he demanded, his tone both challenging and cautious.

  The core’s glow intensified further, as if drawing energy from the mounting tension in the room. Then, in a voice layered with cold, mechanical distortion and an unmistakable undertone of ancient malice, it began to speak once more.

  Core: “You believe you have won. You believe you have destroyed me. But you cannot erase what I truly am. I am more than flesh, more than mere machinery—I am eternal.”

  Martin stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he tried to reconcile the voice with the past. “Impossible,” he spat. “We saw you die. Akuma killed you, and that was supposed to be the end of it all.”

  The core’s reply was a chilling reminder of its transcendent nature.

  Core: “Akuma? Yes, he thought he could rid the world of me. But death is merely a phase—a shadow of what I have become. What you witnessed was but an echo. The true me lives on in this core, for I have always been and always shall be.”

  Krishna’s tone turned icy as he mocked the arrogance of the machine. “A shadow, huh? You think you’re invincible? Listen here—you’re nothing more than a remnant of a failed experiment. A broken machine patched up with remnants of forgotten power. If you’re so powerful, why are you still chained to this dying relic?”

  The core’s light flickered, and its voice responded with a mix of disdain and eerie calm.

  Core: “You are correct in one aspect, Krishna Kurushimi. I am but a machine, once broken, yet now whole—rebuilt by the passage of time and the forces of destiny. Unlike you, I have embraced the true nature of existence. You wield your guns and armor with pride, but I command the very fabric of time.”

  Temna’s patience had long since worn thin. “Time? What in the world are you babbling about?” he demanded, stepping closer so that his voice, low and resolute, cut through the cacophony of fear.

  In response, the core pulsed as if gathering strength from the very words of defiance, its light growing blindingly bright as it continued its cryptic soliloquy.

  Core: “I have borne witness to centuries of chaos and order. I have orchestrated the rise and fall of empires, shaping destiny with every beat of my pulse. I birthed the machines that haunted your nightmares, ignited the infernos that razed civilizations. Akuma’s efforts to destroy me were futile—I have transcended the confines of mortal limitation. You cannot vanquish that which has already embraced eternity.”

  Martin’s voice grew steadier, laced with a grim fury that resonated with the weight of history. “You’re nothing but a soulless contraption—a monster who reveled in cruelty, turning the very fabric of life into a weapon for his twisted designs. And yet, you dare proclaim your immortality?”

  Core: “Immortality? Mercy? Concepts as trivial as they are obsolete. I have no need for such notions. Every experiment, every innovation I spawned was a step toward perfection—a perfection you can only dream of. To me, you are but mere ants scurrying about, oblivious to the vast tapestry of existence that I weave.”

  Krishna’s lips curled into a bitter smirk as he responded, his voice laden with derision. “Perfection? Look at yourself—a relic clinging desperately to a past long dead. You’re delusional if you believe you can shape the future by simply existing. Akuma was the last person who had any hope of stopping you, and even he fell.”

  The core’s light pulsed in violent, staccato bursts, its tone shifting to a more ferocious timbre, as if enraged by the defiance it encountered.

  Core: “Dead? Akuma was nothing but a temporary instrument—a tool designed to delay the inevitable. You, too, are but obstacles on my path to a new era. I have glimpsed the future—a future where the frail constructs of your world crumble to dust, and only I remain.”

  Temna, his voice now trembling with both anger and despair, stepped forward, his eyes never leaving the luminous orb. “You want the future? Listen closely: I see nothing but emptiness in your vision. You are a machine—a hollow heart masquerading as life. For 65 years, you’ve clung to a false semblance of power, but we’ve faced monsters far worse than you and emerged victorious. Empty threats won’t save you from us.”

  The core’s pulse quickened, its light expanding until it filled the entire room with a blinding brilliance. The very air around them thickened as if reality itself was buckling under the weight of its cosmic power. Then, with a roar that vibrated through the bones of every soul present, the core unleashed one final, resonant message.

  Core: “You speak of death as if you truly understand it. Death is not an end—it is a choice, a transformation. I have transcended the mortal coil and risen above the limitations of your understanding. I will usher in an era of ascension—a world reborn in the fires of my creation. And you, with your petty weapons and fleeting loyalties, will be crushed beneath the weight of destiny.”

  Martin, his eyes burning with resolute fury, countered, “And what kind of ‘ascension’ are you promising? A world ruled by machines and haunted by the specter of death? We refuse to bow down to your tyranny!”

  The core’s light began to fade, its once thunderous voice softening into a cold, final whisper, yet the echo of its promise lingered in the charged air.

  Core: “You cannot stop me. You never could. This is not an end—it is merely the beginning of a game whose rules you have yet to comprehend.”

  For a long, excruciating moment, the room lay in a tense, haunted silence. The energy from the core’s final declaration still pulsed in the minds of everyone present, a dire premonition of the battles yet to come. With heavy hearts and a newfound resolve, the Kurushimi brothers slowly holstered their weapons. The truth was undeniable: they were now entangled in a conflict that reached far beyond the limits of mortal combat.

  As they turned to leave, Krishna’s voice, cold and determined, cut through the oppressive silence, “He’s right about one thing—this isn’t over. It’s only just begun.”

  The brothers departed the lab with a solemn understanding, burdened by the knowledge that the true nightmare was not a relic of the past, but a living force, awakening and gathering strength. They knew that the road ahead would be fraught with peril and unimaginable sacrifices, yet there was no turning back. The battle for the future had begun, and every heartbeat in that room echoed with the promise of a war that would define their very existence.

  Just before they escape, Machinist speaks again—but this time, he addresses the Kurushimi brothers directly.

  The core flared violently, pulsing with erratic energy. Sparks rained from the ceiling, and the ground trembled beneath their feet. Just as Krishna and Temna turned to flee, a voice—cold, metallic, and filled with centuries of malice—echoed through the collapsing lab.

  "I am the terrible doctor..."

  The words slithered through the air like a virus, infecting their minds with a sickening sense of dread. Krishna’s breath hitched. The voice didn’t just come from the core—it came from everywhere.

  "And the doctor of pain and suffering."

  A mechanical screech rang out as a ghastly hologram flickered to life—a skeletal, metal-clad figure, its face a grotesque fusion of human flesh and machine. Its hollow eyes burned with a cruel, knowing glow.

  "Tell me, Kurushimi brothers… do you truly believe your hands are clean?"

  Temna clenched his fists. “Shut up. You’re a ghost of a dead man.”

  "Am I?" Machinist’s voice slithered with amusement. "Or have I always been part of you?"

  The lab shuddered violently. The swirling energy of the core began to collapse inward, but Machinist’s voice cut through the chaos like a scalpel.

  "Flesh is weak. Machines endure. But you… you are something in between, aren’t you?"

  Krishna’s eyes widened. A strange pain bloomed in his skull, as if something ancient—something buried—was stirring to life.

  "You can’t outrun your own design, Krishna."

  "You were always meant to return to me."

  The words struck like a dagger. The core let out one final pulse—blinding light swallowed everything—

  BOOM.

  The explosion rocked the underground facility, sending shockwaves through the earth. Smoke and debris filled the tunnels as Krishna and Temna stumbled through the collapsing structure, their ears ringing from the blast.

  But outside, the real nightmare was only beginning.

  Miles away, in the heart of a classified military outpost, warning sirens blared across a dimly lit control room. The electromagnetic anomaly had triggered international alarms.

  "We have an unidentified energy pulse originating from—" a technician’s voice cracked as he stared at the erratic readings on the screen.

  "Coordinates match the last known location of Machinist’s ruins," another agent confirmed, her face pale.

  Inside the Pentagon, black-suited officials gathered in a high-security chamber, watching satellite footage of the explosion.

  "That wasn’t just a detonation," an older man muttered, hands clasped tightly. "That was a signal."

  Deep in the shadows of Tokyo’s underworld, a different kind of power stirred.

  A luxurious penthouse loomed over the neon-lit skyline. Inside, seated around a long, obsidian table, were the new generation of the Tori no Ichizoku cartel—NGTNI.

  Unlike their predecessors, the NGTNI weren’t just arms dealers, assassins, and smugglers. They were something much worse—bio-tech warlords who thrived in the darkest corners of the modern world.

  At the head of the table sat Rengoku Tori, the young but vicious heir to the cartel. His silver hair glowed under the dim light, and his crimson eyes gleamed with unshakable ambition.

  "The Machinist's final breath has been detected," one of his lieutenants reported, setting a tablet down on the table. "And the Kurushimi brothers were there."

  Rengoku leaned back, a slow smirk playing across his lips. "Then they have what we need."

  The room fell silent.

  Machinist’s technology had resurfaced.

  The world had noticed.

  And now… the hunt had begun.

  Somewhere in the American Midwest

  Krishna and Temna burst from the ruins, lungs burning as they inhaled the cold night air. The facility behind them had crumbled, sending thick plumes of dust into the sky.

  But there was no time to breathe.

  A sudden, high-pitched whirring filled the air.

  Drones.

  Temna grabbed Krishna’s arm and yanked him behind the wreckage as the first black, beetle-like machines descended from the sky. Government recon units—armed and scanning for survivors.

  "Shit," Krishna muttered. "They’re fast."

  "Faster than us," Temna agreed, eyes darting between the shifting lights of the drones.

  From the distance, a convoy of black SUVs roared onto the highway, headlights cutting through the dust.

  "They’re sending retrieval teams already?!" Krishna whispered.

  "Of course they are." Temna’s voice was tense. "Machinist’s tech is priceless. And we’re the only ones who saw it."

  The brothers weren’t just witnesses.

  They were now the most wanted people in America.

  In Washington, D.C., General Hawthorne paced inside a high-security war room. He was not a patient man.

  The screens before him displayed live feeds from drones, satellites, and ground units.

  "Containment teams are en route," a cold voice reported.

  "And the Kurushimi brothers?" Hawthorne asked.

  "Fleeing."

  A flicker of irritation crossed the general’s face. "We cannot afford for them to escape. Lock down the area. Activate the STRIKE teams."

  "Sir," a hesitant technician interrupted, "we have a secondary problem."

  Hawthorne turned.

  "The NGTNI cartel… they’ve already made a move."

  Tokyo, Japan – NGTNI Headquarters

  "I assume you have men in place?" Machinist’s voice was smooth, almost amused.

  A man in a tactical vest knelt before him, head bowed in respect.

  "Yes, dr machinist We activated our American contacts the moment the signal was detected. Our people are already en route."

  Rengoku’s crimson eyes gleamed. "Good. Then let’s make this interesting."

  He turned to his right-hand man—Jason the cartel’s chief strategist.

  "Have the mercenaries delay the Americans. We’ll claim Machinist’s legacy for ourselves."

  anna nodded. "And the brothers?"

  machinist’s smirk widened. "Kill them if necessary. But bring me the tech intact."

  The cartel’s shadow network stretched across the world—and tonight, they would prove it.

  The first gunshot rang out.

  Krishna and Temna hit the ground as bullets tore into the dirt beside them.

  "Move!" Temna shouted.

  From the highway, two black SUVs skidded to a stop, doors flying open.

  Federal agents emerged, weapons drawn.

  At the same time, from the opposite side, another set of vehicles arrived—blacked-out sedans with tinted windows.

  NGTNI’s American mercenaries had arrived.

  The brothers were caught between two unstoppable forces—government forces and cartel assassins.

  "Damn it," Krishna muttered. "We’re surrounded."

  Temna’s eyes darted between their options. "No. We just need to be faster than them."

  Then, in a blur of motion, they made their move.