Chapter 19: The Trapped Broken shields

Alexander arrived at their base, crouched behind a bush, his eyes locked on the structure. From afar, it stood eerily familiar—its infrastructure identical to theirs. A shovel symbol was carved across the fence, looming like a warning.

The residence was silent. Too silent. Not a breath of life stirred. No laughter, no footsteps, no shadows dancing in the windows.

It was wrong. All of it.

“Did they retreat?” he muttered, his chest tightening. His instincts screamed otherwise. “No… their security should be tighter than this.”

He rubbed his chin, suspicion gnawing at his thoughts. Head lowered, he began creeping toward the fence, each step weighted with unease. His gaze clung to the fence as though it held the answer.

Then—

“Alexander!”

The voice snapped like a whisper carried on the wind.

He froze. His muscles tightened, breath caught halfway up his throat. The sound was so faint it could have been the rustle of leaves—or a ghost.

Slowly, he turned.

Two familiar figures knelt in the shadows, one knee pressed to the earth. Their heads were bowed, silent but expectant.

Bray cupped his hands around his mouth, voice low yet urgent. “Come here!” He swung his arm in a beckoning gesture.

Alexander crawled over, keeping his composure, though his pulse hammered in his ears.

Jamie knelt behind Bray, his distant gaze revealing a mind wandering too far.

“What are you thinking, going in alone?” Bray hissed, his tone sharp but hushed.

“I had it figured out,” Alexander replied, his voice just as low, deliberate. His eyes drifted to Jamie’s hair—golden highlights glinting faintly in the gloom, like embers refusing to die.

“How did you get the base back?” Alexander pressed, curiosity brimming.

Bray’s face shifted, as if he had swallowed something bitter. He dodged the weight of the question. “Later,” he muttered, brushing it off.

“What about Greg?”

Jamie’s voice broke the silence, heavy with grief. “He was killed.”

“The commander…”

Jamie gave the smallest of nods.

“We couldn’t even find his body,” Bray added, voice flat, unyielding.

“Where are the others?” Jamie asked, his tone heavy, commanding despite the sorrow beneath it.

“Found it like this,” Alexander said. His voice hardened. “They’re hiding. Somewhere.”

The three of them inhaled sharply, a moment of shared realization twisting the silence.

“I have an idea,” Bray said. Their eyes locked, unspoken tension sparking between them.

—

[1:00]

“Hello, guys!” Alexander suddenly shouted, arms raised, hands open in mock surrender. His voice cracked through the silence, desperate and raw.

Nothing.

Not a sound.

The stillness pressed down on him like a hand over his throat.

He clenched his teeth, lips sealing tight.

“I told you this was stupid,” he muttered.

“You’re not convincing enough,” Bray growled, frustration burning under his breath. “Tell them about the golden point.”

“That won’t work.”

“Just do it!”

Alexander hesitated, seconds stretching into eternity. His throat burned before he finally shouted, “I… I have a golden point!” His words echoed hollow, unconvincing, fragile against the heavy silence.

Still, nothing.

A sigh rattled through the group.

Bray scaled the fence first, Jamie right behind him.

Phu! Phu!

Their landings thudded inside the empty base.

Alexander’s glare drilled into Bray, silent words burning in his eyes.

I told you it wouldn’t work.

“I guess we push through, then,” Jamie said, voice louder this time, the echo bouncing back like a threat.

Weapons materialized in their hands, pixels sparking into deadly form. Together, they advanced on the house. Their steps were slow, deliberate, but each one heavier than the last.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

And time—time was slipping away.

Bray nodded once at the door. Jamie returned the gesture.

Then—

The ground gave way.

The floor collapsed beneath their feet, pulling them into a gaping pit. Its walls were too perfect, polished cement, designed with only one purpose—

To trap.

To kill.

Below them, sharpened arrows bristled like fangs, eager to pierce flesh.

“Ahhh!” Their screams tore through the air.

“One Man Army!” Alexander roared.

Nine clones exploded into existence beneath them, bodies forming a human cushion.

Phu!

The crash thundered through the trap, the sound of bodies skewered filling the pit.

The clones were gone—but the trio lived.

Their breaths came ragged, adrenaline still screaming through their veins.

“Shit!” Bray spat, his voice hard as stone, face twisted with rage.

“That’s One Man Army?” Jamie asked, disbelief and awe colliding in his voice.

“Yeah,” Alexander panted, each word dragged from the pit of his lungs.

They had cheated death—but only barely.

Dust spiraled around them, the trap settling like a grave.

“Told you it would work,” Bray said, brushing soil from his clothes, his smugness sparking fury in Alexander’s chest.

Alexander clenched his jaw, swallowing the yell threatening to tear loose.

“What’s that?” Jamie pointed toward a door handle hidden in the wall of the pit.

“It’s a trap,” Bray warned instantly.

“It is,” Alexander agreed, “and that’s why we’re going.”

Carefully weaving past the arrows, he grasped the handle.

Guiuuu!

The wall groaned, grinding open, dust erupting into the air.

Lights flared across the walls, bright and unnatural, carving a shining path into the unknown. It didn’t look like Midgard anymore—it looked otherworldly.

Jamie stepped in first, confidence steady in his stride. The others followed, tense, every nerve braced for the next strike.

The tunnel twisted forward, until it split into three. Each mouth yawned open, dark, unwelcoming, drenched in doom.

“We split,” they agreed.

Each moved into their tunnel, swallowed by shadow. Their faces vanished, only Jamie’s golden streaks of hair catching faint glimmers of light.

Dim light bled at the end, faintly illuminating a figure. The closer they crept, the heavier the air grew, tension clawing at their throats.

“There’s someone there,” Jamie thought, hands buried in his pockets, every muscle taut.

But they’re not alone.

Since the Glitch, his senses had sharpened. And now, every instinct screamed danger.

“Welcome,” a deep voice boomed, vibrating through the tunnel.

Five muscular men stepped forward, weapons gleaming as they caught the light. Behind him, one tunnel waited.

“That’s their plan,” Jamie realized, heart steady, resolve sharpening.

Footsteps whispered from the tunnel, steady and certain. Jamie didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Whoever was coming was either ally—or executioner.

“The light… shit!” Bray cursed, raising his hand to shield his eyes.

The room only had two tunnels. He blinked, startled.

“Where is Alexander?” he barked.

“He’s with the boss,” one of the men said flatly.

Silence crushed the room. Jamie and Bray exchanged one sharp look, unspoken concern flashing between them.

—

Meanwhile, Alexander walked alone into the light.

There, waiting, was a man. Slim, glasses perched on his nose, dressed in a large white jumper. He sat calmly, smirk cutting across his face.

Between them stood a table. A board of checkers lay ready, every piece in place.

“Hi, Alexander,” the man said, breaking the suffocating silence.

His smirk widened.

“Let’s play.”

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