Chapter 226: Gates of Hell

The deal was made.

Silas turned without saying a word, moving quickly and quietly. “Follow me,” she commanded, her voice flat as she disappeared back into the darkness of the facility.

Seraph and Draven looked at each other intensely. There was no trust here. No friendship. Just a shared, temporary objective. They were walking straight to a trap, led by the person who set it. But it was the only path to move forward.

Seraph could see the question in Draven’s eyes, the same question eating at her own gut but neither of them spoke it aloud. What else could they do?

They simply just followed her command.

Silas moved through the corridors as if she knew them well. As if she had been born in these halls, which perhaps she had.

She placed her hand on a locked blast door, and it made a soft sound as the magnetic locks opened, recognizing her touch like an old lover.

“The main security system is now offline,” she said. “Sterling’s personal guard, however, operates on a private network. They will still see us as targets. They will be here soon.”

As soon as she was done talking, they began to hear sounds of metal feet, all moving at the same time. It was the sound of marching machines.

clank-clank-clank

“Showtime,” Draven grunted, with a wild smile appearing on his face. He cracked his knuckles, and a pair of golden, armored gloves formed around his fists.

The first squad of cyborgs came around the corner at the far end of the corridor.

They were different from the guards they had fought before. These were Sterling’s elite. Their bodies were sleek, black metal and their faces were covered by dark visors that reflected nothing back.

They moved with purpose, raising their pulse rifles at the same time.

What happened next was not a battle, but a fast, violent fight. The kind where thinking gets you killed.

Draven was the loud, forceful part of the fight. He roared and charged forward. He didn’t try to get out of the way or defend himself. He just simply smashed things.

The cyborgs’ plasma blasts bounced off his armor, leaving marks that glowed and faded. He slammed into their line, and it broke apart. His fists were like hammers, denting the steel armor and sending the machine soldiers flying away, their bodies crashing into walls with loud noises.

Seraph was the calm part of the fight. She moved skillfully, using the corridor’s support pillars for cover.

Phut. Phut. Phut.

Her silenced rifle fired precise energy bolts. She did not aim for the cyborgs’ armored chests, but for their joints. Every shot was deliberate, meant not to just cause damage, but to stop them, confuse them, and manage how the battle was going. She was the one planning everything, her mind always three steps ahead, using the enemy’s own positions against them.

And Silas… Silas was the unseen part.

She moved through the battle quietly, her movements inhumane like a machine. Her shadow panther Progeny attacked from places that seemed impossible. It would come out of a wall to tear a cyborg’s visible power cables, then disappear back into the darkness before anyone had time to react.

She didn’t even need a gun. Her hand became blades of dark energy. She would move through the openings Draven created, and with a single slash, she would cut the spinal cable of a cyborg that Seraph had pinned down.

They fought close together, watching each other’s backs. They were not friends or allies, but professionals with almost the same goal. And that was enough. Sometimes, in war, that has to be enough.

The tension between them was intense. Draven was roaring in anger, which was very different from Silas, who was completely silent. Seraph stood between them and led their strange, uncontrolled fighting with loud commands.

“Draven, on your left! Pin them!”

CRASH!

Draven slammed two cyborgs together, causing a loud, harsh noise.

“Silas, flank them! Now!”

Silas moved quickly and quietly, cut through two machines, and they dropped instantly.

They pushed forward without stopping, leaving behind a trail of broken, sparking cyborgs. The factory’s elite guard, designed to be the perfect soldiers, were being destroyed one by one by this unbelievable team, who used great strength, smart strategy, and invisible stealth.

They finally reached the main conduit control room. It was a glass walled room, filled with buzzing consoles that overlooked the huge, glowing pit of the geothermal plant.

The timer on Seraph’s wrist was blinking red.

Two minutes left.

“Cover the door!” Seraph yelled as she ran for the main control panel.

Draven stood by the entrance, acting as a strong defense against the many cyborgs still trying to force their way in.

Seraph pulled a small device from her pack. It was an explosive charge. She attached it onto the side of the main power regulator, her hands working fast but careful.

But a strong shield of energy suddenly appeared around the console, blocking her.

“Silas!” Seraph shouted.

Silas was already there. She even didn’t bother using the console’s keyboard. She simply just stuck her hand, which was now a blade of dark energy, directly into the control panel. Sparks began to fly everywhere, hot and bright. Then, a loud alarm rang out.

With a loud thunk, the energy shield died.

Seraph went ahead to plant the charge. “Armed!” she yelled. She ran quickly towards the exit, pulling out a second charge and putting it on the door controls.

The timer on her wrist beeped.

Thirty seconds left.

She looked at Silas, who was calmly removing her hand from the sparking console. Their eyes met. The machine and the soldier. The monster and the hunter.

“Thirty seconds,” Seraph said, her voice low and urgent.

Silas gave a sharp nod. No words needed. The understanding passed between them silent and complete.

They had kept their end of the deal. Everything was about to go wrong. But first, it had to go right.

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