Shattered Blade

Romeo surveyed the factory's exterior with the practiced eye of someone accustomed to calculating odds against survival. The window—thirty-five feet above ground level—represented his best entry point, far from patrolling sentries but just within the outer limits of human capability. Under normal circumstances, such a climb would be challenging but manageable. Tonight, with his body operating on borrowed strength and accumulated injuries threatening to collapse his endurance, it bordered on impossible.

The cold mathematics of his situation settled into his consciousness: depleted energy reserves, physical fatigue nearing critical levels, and the increasingly unstable boundary between his personality and Hwak's. The synthetic connection that maintained their separation was fraying with each passing moment of exertion.

*Analysis first. Action second.*

It had become his mantra in moments of extremity—a deceptively simple phrase that had saved him countless times when instinct would have led to failure. He studied the wall's composition, noting the weathered concrete, exposed rebar, and rusted utility pipes that created a makeshift path upward. Not enough for a conventional climb, but perhaps sufficient for someone with his particular skill set.

Romeo backed away from the wall, mentally mapping the sequence that would follow. Each action unfolded in his mind with precise clarity: the initial sprint to build kinetic energy, the calculated throw of Soniya's sword, the airborne trajectory of his body, and the series of grip points that would complete his ascent. He visualized not only success but also potential failure points, contingencies forming and dissolving as he refined the plan.

With a controlled exhale, he charged forward. Each footfall landed with deliberate precision, his toes gripping the uneven ground to maximize traction. As he neared the optimal distance, he transferred momentum into his arm, launching Soniya's sword toward a narrow section of exposed support beam protruding from the factory wall. The blade struck true, embedding itself into the weathered metal with a muted thunk that wouldn't carry to distant ears.

Romeo leapt upward, his timing synchronized with the sword's vibration as it stabilized in the beam. His fingers closed around the hilt, his entire body weight momentarily suspended by the connection between blade and wall. Pain shot through his shoulder—the same one Leena had pierced hours earlier—as tendons stretched to their limit.

For a heartbeat, he hung suspended between gravity's certainty and the uncertain promise of his own determination. Then, with a controlled surge that consumed precious reserves of strength, he pulled himself upward until his feet found purchase on the narrow hilt. Balanced precariously on this improvised foothold, he scanned the wall above, identifying a fractured section of windowsill within reach.

The second jump required perfect execution—too much force would overshoot the target, too little would send him plummeting to the concrete below. Romeo coiled his muscles, willing them to provide one more burst of controlled power. He launched upward while simultaneously retrieving his sword in a fluid motion that left no evidence of his passage.

His fingertips caught the window ledge, the rough surface biting into his skin as he dangled thirty feet above the ground. With practiced efficiency, he inverted his body, using core muscles to lift himself high enough to peer through the grimy glass. The interior lay shrouded in shadows, occasional flickers of light revealing the vast emptiness of abandoned industrial space.

Romeo slipped through the window with serpentine grace, his entrance marked only by the softest displacement of stagnant air. He crouched in darkness, allowing his senses to acclimate to the factory's atmosphere—the metallic tang of rust, the lingering chemical residue of industrial processes, and beneath it all, the distinctive scent of human occupation. Not the transient presence of vagrants or squatters, but the deliberate habitation of an organized force.

Beyond visual perception, he detected sounds: distant laughter that echoed through metal support beams, the rhythmic tapping of communications equipment, the subtle electronic hum of security systems. And cutting through these ambient noises, a sound that tightened his grip on Soniya's hilt—muffled protests, the unmistakable cadence of someone gagged but refusing silence.

*Leena.*

The name materialized in his consciousness not as mere identification but as imperative. The fragmented memories of their encounters—her blade piercing his shoulder, her warning about her family, her inexplicable protection after injuring him—coalesced into a complex motivation that transcended rational analysis. Something primal drove him forward, a compulsion as elemental as survival itself.

Romeo advanced with practiced stealth, each footfall placed with deliberate precision to avoid the age-weakened metal of the factory floor. Rust-covered pillars and abandoned machinery provided sporadic cover as he progressed deeper into the White Eyes' territory. With each passing moment, his tactical assessment grew increasingly grim.

The operation was significantly larger than initial observations had suggested. Not the dozen operatives he had counted outside, but closer to fifty White Eyes members occupied various stations throughout the facility. Some monitored primitive security screens, others cleaned weapons with methodical care, and a select few—distinguished by enhanced cybernetic modifications—conducted what appeared to be strategic planning around a holographic display.

Simultaneously, Romeo felt his internal reserves continuing to deplete. The separation between his consciousness and Hwak's—two distinct entities sharing one physical form—demanded energy that his battered body could no longer sustain. Soon, the merger would become inevitable, forcing Hwak's unprepared mind to confront a situation beyond his training or experience.

*I didn't plan properly,* he acknowledged, the admission carrying neither self-pity nor excuse. *No communication device. No backup. Nothing but a sword and failing strength.*

The tactical choices narrowed to a cruel dilemma: proceed and risk Hwak's life when the personality shift occurred, or retreat and abandon Leena to whatever fate the White Eyes had designed for her. Neither option aligned with his core directives.

A piercing scream cut through his deliberation—the unmistakable sound of pain deliberately inflicted. Romeo's fingers tightened around his sword's hilt, resolve hardening despite his body's limitations. The scream carried distinctive vocal characteristics, confirming his suspicion: someone was being systematically tortured, their resistance melting beneath professional application of suffering.

He moved toward the sound, staying low and using the factory's architectural features to mask his approach. Two guards stood sentry at a junction ahead, assault rifles held with the casual competence of those accustomed to violence. Romeo observed their patrol pattern for three full cycles, noting the timing of their sweeps and the momentary lapses in vigilance that occurred at predictable intervals.

*Soniya's paralysis effect. Three precise cuts—leg, back, and neck—to induce full-body immobilization. That would neutralize the threat without alerting others.*

When the guards' patrol created maximum distance between them, Romeo activated the sword's latent ability. The blade hummed with subdued energy as he closed the gap to his first target. The guard never registered his presence. Three lightning-fast cuts—ankle, lower back, base of the skull—and the man froze mid-stride, paralyzed but fully conscious, his eyes widening in silent terror as immobility claimed him.

Romeo dragged the immobilized guard into shadows, securing him with strips torn from the man's own clothing. The second guard fell to the same technique before he could register his partner's absence. Two more sentries suffered similar fates as Romeo methodically cleared his path forward, each extraction demanding more effort than the last as his reserves continued to diminish.

Advancing deeper into the factory, he finally caught sight of his true target. At the center of a cleared space stood a bald man wearing black goggles that wrapped around his skull like an insectoid exoskeleton. Beneath the left lens, an unnatural light pulsed rhythmically, suggesting advanced cybernetic enhancement rather than biological evolution.

*Military-grade augmentation. Likely acquired through black market channels after the Eastern Conflict.*

Romeo performed a rapid threat assessment, categorizing each visible operative according to the academy's classification system. The regular guards appeared to be Level 5 operators at minimum—roughly equivalent to academy graduates with basic Evolan abilities. The bald leader, however, radiated energy patterns consistent with Level 10 classification—far beyond what any unaugmented human could match without either hybrid Evolan biology or synthetic enhancement gear.

As Romeo calculated potential approaches, a momentary lapse in concentration betrayed his position. His foot dislodged a small piece of metal, creating a sound no louder than a whispered breath—but sufficient to alert a guard with enhanced auditory capabilities. The man's head snapped toward Romeo's hiding place, eyes widening in recognition.

"Intruder!" The shout reverberated through the factory's interior, transforming the organized calm into immediate action.

Romeo's heartbeat accelerated as adrenaline flooded his system, a final biochemical resource his body had reserved for terminal situations. The element of surprise lost, he abandoned stealth for direct engagement. Soniya's sword hummed to life, the crystal's energy responding to his desperate summons.

"Whoever comes, dies," he declared, voice pitched to carry across the open space—a psychological tactic designed to create hesitation among opponents.

Four guards converged on his position, weapons raised. Romeo channeled his remaining energy into a sequence of movements too fast for ordinary perception. He sidestepped the first attacker's rifle, creating momentum that carried him behind the second guard—a stocky man wielding a military-grade steel sword. A perfectly timed kick connected with the guard's temple while Romeo's free hand delivered a slashing cut to the first guard's exposed back.

The third guard attempted a flanking maneuver, energy pistol tracking Romeo's movement. Using the second guard's shoulder as a springboard, Romeo launched himself in a controlled trajectory that carried him over the line of fire. The guard's shot passed harmlessly beneath him, striking a distant support column instead.

As gravity reclaimed him, Romeo redirected his momentum toward the bald leader. His strategy crystallized in an instant: if he could neutralize the commander quickly, he might be able to combine his abilities with Leena's against the remaining forces. Superior numbers meant little when leadership collapsed.

Mid-leap, his gaze landed on the captive figure secured to a metal chair at the center of the room. His heart stuttered in recognition—not of familiar features, but their absence.

*Not Leena.*

The bound girl —though similar in general appearance—was not the ruby-eyed fighter he had come to rescue. Her facial structure, though partly obscured by bruising and swelling, belonged to one of the other girls from the holographic image, perhaps another academy student. The realization threatened to destabilize his entire mission parameters.

This moment of cognitive dissonance cost him precious milliseconds—time the bald leader used to prepare his counter. The man removed his goggles with deliberate slowness, revealing one natural eye and one crimson orb that pulsed with cybernetic energy. His right arm—concealed beneath a loose sleeve until now—transformed as clothing ripped away from accelerated movement. A mechanical limb gleamed in the dim light, powered by crystalline technology similar to that which empowered Romeo's sword, but magnified tenfold.

The leader's fist coiled back, gathering potential energy before launching forward with devastating speed. Romeo raised his blade in desperate defense, but the disparity in power was absolute. The cybernetic fist connected with Soniya's sword, shattering the crystalline blade into fragments before continuing its trajectory into Romeo's abdomen.

The impact felt like colliding with a freight train. Air evacuated his lungs as his body launched backward, internal organs compressing from the force. He crashed against a rust-covered support column, the sound of cracking ribs audible even above the commotion of battle. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as his system registered catastrophic damage throughout.

Pain enveloped his consciousness like a shroud, threatening to extinguish the carefully maintained separation between his identity and Hwak's. Through the haze of agony, he registered the bald man's approach—unhurried, confident in the inevitability of Romeo's defeat.

"Sorry, Hwak," he whispered, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "This is my fault. We won't survive this."

As darkness began to claim his vision, Romeo felt his consciousness fragmenting. The personality that had emerged to protect, to fight, to pursue Leena was dissolving back into the collective unconscious of the boy from the settlement. His final thought carried both regret and strange peace: I couldn't keep my promise.