Ethan's pulse thundered in his ears as he reached the pce where he'd left Lyra. He forced himself to move faster, pushing past the pain and exhaustion from his battle with Xelthar. He only had ohought in his mind, a sihread of hope that he g to. Lyra would still be alive. She had to be.

  But as he approached, the dim lights above cast an eerie glow across the metal floor, illuminating a motionless figure. His breath hitched, and he slowed, his heart plummeting at the sight before him. Lyra y still, her eyes closed, her skin pallid. A faint trail of blood had dried beh her nose and mouth, the telltale signs of the transmitter's deadly infrasonic waves.

  Ethao his knees beside her, barely able to breathe. "Lyra…" he whispered, reag out a trembling hand to touch her shoulder. His fingers brushed against her, cold and unmoving. He didn't dare check for a pulse, too afraid of what he might not find. The realization washed over him, leaving a hollow ache that radiated through his chest, an unbearable emptiness.

  She was gone.

  The reality of it hit him with brutal crity. He'd watched tless lives slip away, is caught in crossfire. He thought he got used to it, but when it happened again… it still hurt . Lyra wasn't just another casualty; she was an ally from the same profession, someone who had trusted him, fought beside him, even believed in him. And now, her life had been stolen, another mark on the syndicate's ever-growing list of atrocities.

  The pailed into a quiet fury, simmerih his grief. He ched his jaw, blinking back the tears that threateo blur his vision. He had wao protect her, to finish this mission ahem both out alive. But he'd failed her. His own limits had cost her life.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he lowered his head. It wasn't enough, nothing would be. But it was all he could give her.

  A robotic voiterrupted the silence. "Ethan," Iris spoke with her usual steady tone. "Every single merary is ready for death. This is simply the reality you all live in".

  Ethan swallowed, uo speak. He didn't want to hear her cold and merciless words of pure logic. What he wanted right now is to grieve in silend to honor Lyra, the woman who had fought beside him, who had died in this cold, merciless pce. He could feel his grip on posure slipping, the weight of guilt and anger almost too much to bear.

  His AI Iris spoke agaihan, I reerievihar's armor and the transmitter. The guild will want evidence of what happened here. These items could provide crucial insights into the syndicate's pns."

  Her words cut through the haze of his grief, though they left him cold. Evidence, critical intel, guild priorities. It all felt so hollow now, as if nothing could possibly matter as much as the person lying before him. He looked down at Lyra, her face peaceful, almost as if she were only asleep.

  "No," he said softly, shaking his head. "The guild wait. Lyra… she deserves better than to be left behind in this pce."

  Without another word, he carefully lifted her into his arms. Her body was light, but every step he took felt weighted, eaent a painful reminder of her absence. He held her close, as if by some miracle he could shield her from the reality of death, from the empty silehat had taken her.

  As he made his way toward the exit, carrying Lyra, the pound's speakers crackled to life, jolting him out of his sorrowful reverie. A cold, mog voice filled the corridors, oozing with cruel amusement.

  "Oh, Ethan Walker," the voice drawled, every word ced with disdain. "Did you think you could e here, storm in like some kind of hero, and walk away with a victory? I have to admit, watg you struggle has beeertaining."

  Ethan froze, his grip on Lyra's body tightening as he reized the voice. Raeth. The high-ranking syndicate officer who had orchestrated much of the horror they'd seen. The man who had likely given the orders that led to Lyra's death.

  Raeth tinued, his voice a twisted mix of amusement and pt. "You truly thought you could defeat us? Take dowhar and what...cripple the syndicate? Spare me. You're just a persistent little i. An annoyahat slows us down, nothing more."

  Ethan's fists ched, fury boiling in his veins. His mind fshed back to Lyra, to the people whose lives had been taken, to the is caught in the syndicate's grasp. Every ounce of his grief sharpened into a knife-edged rage, his hatred for Raeth and the Bck Sun Syndicate reag a fever pitch.

  "All that effort," Raeth taunted, his voice dripping with mock sympathy, "and look where it's gotten you. A dead friend, a wasted mission. You failed, Ethan. How does it feel, knowing that she died because of your weakness?"

  Ethan's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding as he fought the urge to scream back at the disembodied voice. He wao throw himself at Raeth, to silence him, to make him pay for every twisted word that fell from his lips. But there was nothing he could do. Raeth was somewhere far away, safe behind walls and security, mog him from a distance.

  "I wonder," Raeth tinued with a dark chuckle, "what's more important to you. The evidence you need so desperately, or the lifeless body of your precious friend? What will you choose, Ethan?"

  The speakers crackled ominously, and then, as if relishing in the cruelty of the moment, Raeth announced, "I think I'll make it iing. Let's give you a little tdown." A faint beep started in the background, the sound of the pound's self-destruct sequeivating. "You have two minutes, Walker. Make your choice. The armor and transmitter… or her."

  Ethaire body shook with rage, his knuckles white as he held Lyra close. Every fiber of his being wao sh out, to scream, to tear Raeth's face apart with his own hands. But he had no choice, Raeth's words forced him into a twisted, impossible decision.

  Iris's voice returned. "Ethan, I detect the self-destruct meism has been activated. We must leave immediately to ensure your safety."

  Ethan looked down at Lyra, his vision blurred by a mixture of grief and fury. Raeth's taunts echoed in his mind, the smug satisfa in his voice, the twisted pleasure he'd taken ihan's suffering. It was almost too much to bear, the injustice of it filling him with a dark, seething rage.

  But even in his anger, he knew what he had to do. The guild could wait. The evidence could wait. Lyra, however, she would not be left here, in this pce, reduced to nothing but a casualty in the syndicate's bloody game.

  With renewed determinatiohan hoisted Lyra's body over his shoulder, his heart heavy as he began the grim trek to the hover truck. He could hear the distant explosions as the tdown tihe pound rumbling as the self-destruct sequence began tearing it apart. He moved as fast as he could, his steps fueled by a resolve that would not be shaken.

  The ground trembled beh him as the explosions grew louder, but he forced himself onward, fog on each step, on the mission he'd given himself. He would honor Lyra. He would bring her back.

  As he reached the exit, the pound began to colpse in a series of violent bsts, fmes lig through the corridors and casting long shadows against the walls. With one final burst of speed, Ethan sprihrough the exit, emerging into the night just as the poued behind him in a fiery bze.

  The heat washed over him, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he k aly id Lyra's body on the ground, his shoulders heavy with grief. The fmes paihe sky red, the pound reduced to ashes behind him, but his mind was set on something else now. Vengeance.

  As he looked down at Lyra's still form, the memory of Raeth's voice echoed in his mind, every word a spark igniting his rage. He would not let her death go unpunished. He would find Raeth, hunt him down, and dismahe syndicate piece by piece if he had to.

  For Lyra, and for every life they'd takehan would make sure they paid.