Chapter 5 (PART 1): Shadow of Hurricane
Phoenix Lair – Command Center
Sarah’s eyes pulsed blue, signaling an incoming priority message.
"Commander, we’ve received a message from ECF Intelligence Center. Let’s head to the Command Center."
Ramirez, still catching his breath from training, blinked in confusion. "Intel? About what?"
Sarah didn’t respond immediately, only turning toward the exit. "You should see for yourself."
Ramirez sighed, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Alright, let’s go."
The two boarded the train shuttle, the doors sliding shut behind them. The train accelerated smoothly, carrying them toward the industrial elevator that led back to the Command Center.
As they stepped into the central command room, Sarah immediately activated the main holo-screen, displaying a new message in the inbox.
<hr>
?? INBOX
From: ECF Intelligence Center (ECF:IC)
To: Phoenix Lair (RGT-7)
Subject: Slave Black Market
Greetings, Commander Ramirez,
I am Lieutenant Rose Carter, the officer responsible for intelligence operations connected to Phoenix Lair.
We have successfully tracked the location of a slave black market operating within an unregulated territory. Our scans indicate that this area also enforces restricted magic use—a practice that may indicate deeper issues within the region.
Normally, this matter does not concern us, as ECF does not interfere in local politics. However, given the rapid expansion of our operations on RGT-7, I felt it necessary to notify you.
With respect,
Lieutenant Rose Carter
ECF Intelligence Center
<hr>
Ramirez read the message twice, then leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.
"Slavery, huh?" His tone was neutral, but his fingers drummed lightly against his arm.
Sarah observed him, her expression unreadable. "Your orders, Commander?"
Ramirez exhaled slowly. "Officially? This isn’t our problem. ECF doesn’t deal with local politics."
He paused, his gaze darkening.
"But personally? I hate this kind of crap."
He clenched his fist.
He had seen corrupt bastards back on Earth, exploiting the weak. He wasn’t about to stand by and let that happen here.
Sarah’s lips curled slightly. "I suspected you might say that."
Ramirez smirked. "Yeah? Then I guess you already prepared the next step?"
Sarah nodded, the holo-screen shifting to display a detailed satellite image of the black market’s location.
"We have detailed scans of the facility. It is heavily guarded and surrounded by an anti-magic barrier. If you wish to intervene, a strategic plan will be required."
Ramirez cracked his knuckles.
"Then let’s make one."
<hr>
<h4>Phoenix Lair – Command Center</h4>
Sarah’s smirk widened slightly, something Ramirez wasn’t used to seeing.
"Good news, Commander." She tapped on the holo-screen, enlarging the tactical map. "It appears that 1st Ranger Squad, ''Ghost Fangs,'' is already near the settlement. We should meet them before launching an operation."
Ramirez raised an eyebrow, a bit relieved. "Oh, that’s cool. At least they’re not robots, right?"
Sarah ignored his comment, closing the display and turning toward the exit.
As she moved, Ramirez noticed her activating something on her wristband.
"Wait—you’re coming too?" he asked.
Sarah gave him a look that clearly said Are you stupid?
"Of course."
Before he could respond, glowing blue codes began to run down her entire body, causing her standard outfit to dissolve into pixelated fragments.
Ramirez’s eyes widened, and he immediately looked away, waving a hand. "Hey! At least give me a damn warning before you do that!"
Within seconds, another set of glowing codes pulsed over her frame, reforming into a sleek, form-fitting combat uniform—jet black with blue digital circuit lines pulsing faintly, an ECF insignia on her chest, and tactical boots.
Sarah adjusted the gloves on her hands, seemingly unbothered by his reaction. "Why are you flustered, Commander? It’s just a rapid nanotech clothing change. This is more efficient than manually changing uniforms."
Ramirez exhaled, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, still weird seeing someone just—whatever, let’s just go."
Sarah, amused by his reaction, walked ahead. "Acknowledged."
<hr>
Phoenix Lair – Hangar Bay
The massive hangar doors slid open, revealing an entire fleet of ECF dropships, gunships, and armored transports.
Sarah led Ramirez toward one particular aircraft, pointing at it.
"This will work."
Ramirez’s eyes landed on the Super Stallion X Helijet.
Unlike traditional helicopters, it had no rotor blades—instead, it used advanced energy jet thrusters mounted on two adjustable wings on either side, allowing for vertical takeoff and extreme maneuverability.
The aircraft was heavily armed, featuring:
<ul>
<li>Dual-mounted pulse autocannons on the nose.</li>
<li>ECF Rail-Gatling turrets on the sides.</li>
<li>Stealth shielding to evade enemy detection.</li>
</ul>
Ramirez whistled. "Damn… now this is an aircraft."
Sarah nodded, her tone professional. "The Super Stallion X is optimized for fast insertions and extraction. It will get us to the Ghost Fangs'' position in under twenty minutes."
She walked toward the ramp, glancing at him. "Are you coming, Commander?"
Ramirez smirked, cracking his knuckles. "Hell yeah. Let’s go meet our first ground unit."
<hr>
<h4>Near Slave Market Settlement – 1:34 AM</h4>
Border of Kazan Tara Kingdom and Kingdom of Furrus
A squad of ECF soldiers sat around a dimly lit outpost, just outside the settlement. Their KR-26 Rail Assault Rifles were propped against crates, ready for use. The air was cold and quiet, save for the low hum of their armor’s power cells and the distant noise from the black market nearby.
Sergeant Riley let out a long sigh, stretching his arms behind his head as he sat on a supply crate.
"Another damn day of waiting for orders from some base we’ve never even seen… all directed by an AI, no less."
Across from him, Lieutenant Erik Voss sat, casually lighting a cigarette. He took a long drag before exhaling, his expression calm as ever.
"Could be worse, Sergeant." He smirked. "We could be stuck fighting barbarians on some backwater moon. At least here, all we gotta do is patrol, stay low, and not piss off the locals."
Corporal Dante Wolfe, the squad’s designated heavy gunner, scoffed.
"Yeah, sure. ‘Stay low,’ until we randomly get a priority kill order and find out we’re knee-deep in shit."
Private Jenkins, the squad’s youngest recruit, groaned. "Man, I just got a letter from that barmaid in Furrus. If I die before I get to see her again, I swear I’m haunting command personally."
The squad chuckled.
Meanwhile, Specialist Owen Carter, their sniper, sat perched on an old lookout post, scanning the area through his scope.
Without taking his eyes off the lens, he muttered, "Anyone else wondering why we’re suddenly getting a meeting with command? That’s not normal."
The squad quieted slightly at that thought.
Riley frowned. "Yeah, that’s been bugging me too. We’ve been out here for years, and the higher-ups never gave a damn about us."
Voss took another slow drag of his cigarette before flicking the ashes to the ground.
"New orders came from Phoenix Lair," he finally said. "Something about an urgent briefing. Apparently, a new commander is calling the shots."
Jenkins raised an eyebrow. "Commander? Since when do we even have one? I thought we were just another forgotten unit dumped here to rot."
Dante laughed. "Yeah, no kidding. You think this new guy is gonna be some hardass officer?"
Riley shrugged. "Hell if I know. Command’s been real quiet about whoever it is."
Jenkins grinned. "Well, whoever they are, I’m still asking them for better food rations."
Dante smirked. "If you get shot for insubordination, I’m not helping you."
The squad chuckled, but their humor was short-lived as their communication systems suddenly pinged.
[INCOMING TRANSMISSION – PHOENIX LAIR]
A female voice, smooth yet authoritative, came through.
"Ghost Fangs, stand by for incoming rendezvous. Your new commanding officer is en route to your position."
The squad froze for a second.
Voss immediately crushed his cigarette under his boot, his expression turning serious.
"Well, guess we’re about to find out who they are."
Riley adjusted his rifle. "Let’s hope they’re not a complete asshole."
Jenkins still grinned. "I’m still asking about the food."
The squad chuckled nervously, but a sense of unease lingered in the air.
A new commander, direct orders from Phoenix Lair, and an unexpected meeting?
Whatever was happening… it was going to change things.
<hr>
<h4>Near Slave Market Settlement – 1:41 AM</h4>
Border of Kazan Tara Kingdom and Kingdom of Furrus
A low, vibrating hum echoed through the night sky.
Lieutenant Voss instinctively looked up, his eyes narrowing as he saw the silhouette of an approaching aircraft.
Without hesitation, he glanced at Sergeant Riley and gave a sharp nod.
Riley straightened up, then turned to his men. "Alright, squad! Line up—now!"
The soldiers scrambled into formation, standing stiffly at attention as the massive gunship descended.
Super Stallion X – ECF Tactical Gunship
The aircraft’s energy thrusters glowed, producing a deep humming sound as it slowly hovered just above the ground before gently touching down.
The soldiers’ faces tensed up as the ship’s side door slid open with a mechanical hiss.
Through the cold mist of the night, a figure stepped forward—
Ramirez.
He descended the metal ramp at a steady pace, trying to act normal, like a boss. His black ECF commander uniform was neatly pressed, his gold eagle insignia shining under the dim light. His peak cap sat perfectly on his head, shadowing his sharp brown eyes.
The entire squad went silent.
Sergeant Riley’s eyes widened.
Lieutenant Voss’ jaw dropped, his cigarette slipping from his lips, hitting the dirt below.
The rest of the soldiers stared, their expressions frozen in disbelief.
"THIS YOUNG???"
Murmurs rippled through the ranks.
"Wait—he''s the commander?"
"No way. He looks like a damn recruit!"
"Did command send us a cadet by mistake?"
Jenkins, standing at the end of the line, muttered under his breath. "…I''m still asking him about the food."
Dante elbowed him hard, whispering. "Shut up, idiot."
Meanwhile, Ramirez kept his expression neutral, stopping just in front of the squad.
He could feel their eyes scanning him, judging him, and honestly?
He couldn’t blame them.
Even he wouldn’t believe that some random 17-year-old from Earth was now in charge of an entire planet.
But there was no turning back now.
He was their commander.
And it was time to act like it.
<hr>
Ramirez cleared his throat, trying to sound as authoritative as possible.
"Uhm… Report?!"
The squad stared at him, then at each other, hesitation written all over their faces.
A few exchanged side glances, unsure if this was some kind of joke.
Then—
"DID YOU NOT HEAR THE COMMANDER?!"
Sarah’s voice rang out sharply, her cold, authoritative tone cutting through the night like a blade.
The squad snapped to attention immediately, their bodies instinctively reacting to the sheer commanding presence in her voice.
Lieutenant Voss straightened up, forcing down his disbelief as he stepped forward first.
"Lieutenant Erik Voss, reporting, sir!" He spoke quickly, standing firm. "Ghost Fangs squadron has been stationed here for ten years. Current mission: monitor activity in this sector and await further orders from Phoenix Lair."
Sergeant Riley followed immediately after. "Sergeant Riley, sir! Unit remains combat-ready. No casualties or threats detected in the past cycle."
One by one, the other squad members snapped into proper military discipline, reporting their statuses.
The earlier shock and disbelief hadn’t completely faded, but with Sarah''s unshakable presence backing Ramirez, they fell in line.
Ramirez inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, nodding as he crossed his arms.
"Good." He kept his tone as steady as possible, but inside, his heart was still racing.
He was one sentence away from making a fool of himself, and Sarah just saved his ass.
Sarah, meanwhile, stood beside him with her usual neutral expression, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.
She leaned slightly toward him and whispered just low enough for only him to hear—
"Smooth, Commander."
Ramirez ignored her, standing tall.
This was just the beginning.
<hr>
The night air was cold and still, the only sound being the distant murmur of the slave market’s activity. The faint glow of torches and magic lanterns flickered in the distance, illuminating the black market settlement like a scar on the land.
Ramirez stepped forward, his boots crunching against the dry dirt as he took a deep breath.
Now or never.
He straightened his posture, placing his hands behind his back, standing not just as Ramirez—but as an ECF commander.
His voice was calm but firm.
"Listen up."
The squad snapped to attention, eyes locked on him.
He pointed toward the slave market settlement, his expression hardening.
"We have intel that this place is a hub for slavery."** He narrowed his eyes. "I don’t like it."
His words hung in the air for a moment.
"Our mission is simple: Destroy it. Rescue the captives. And make sure these bastards never operate again."
The squad stiffened slightly at his choice of words.
This was… an aggressive mission.
Lieutenant Voss squinted. "Commander… you’re saying we’re going in with full force?"
Ramirez cracked his knuckles, smirking slightly.
"Damn right we are." He looked at them all. "And I’ll be fighting too."
That statement sent a ripple of shock through the squad.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Sergeant Riley looked up in disbelief. "But, sir… you’re a commander."
Ramirez scoffed, placing his hand on his hip.
"Commander, my ass. Sitting back while others do the dirty work? That alone would make me comfortable."
Then, he turned toward them, eyes sharper than before.
"But I’m also a goddamn Champion Hero."
The words hit hard.
The squad exchanged glances. Champion Hero? This guy was supposed to be one of them? A summoned warrior?
Some soldiers still looked skeptical. Others… seemed interested.
Ramirez kept his cool exterior, standing tall, but in his mind—
‘Shit, what if they hate me for this?’
This was his first real mission leading them. Would they see him as a reckless idiot or a leader worth following?
Sarah, standing beside him, observed quietly, her usual neutral expression unreadable.
But she noticed something.
The soldiers, despite their hesitation, were listening.
They didn’t dismiss him.
And that was already a victory.
<hr>
Lieutenant Voss took a moment, his gaze flickering between Ramirez and the distant slave market. His instincts told him this was reckless, but… there was something about this commander.
The way he spoke. The way he stood firm despite his nerves.
Finally, he exhaled sharply, dropping his cigarette and crushing it under his boot.
"Roger, Commander." His voice was steady. "We’re at your command."
Sergeant Riley, though still slightly surprised, followed up immediately.
"Our squad is fully armed and ready, sir."
Sarah, still calm as ever, reached into her storage inventory, and in a swift motion—
She tossed Ramirez his weapons.
CLANG!
The Three-Headed Dragon Sword hit the dirt, its blade glowing faintly, sensing its wielder’s touch nearby.
Ramirez caught the GLH-3 Rail Pistol mid-air with one hand, feeling its smooth metal grip as it locked into his palm.
Sarah adjusted her combat visor, her eyes briefly flashing blue as she processed tactical data.
"I will provide aerial support from the Super Stallion X," she stated, her voice unwavering.
Ramirez nodded, tightening his grip on his sword before sheathing it onto his back.
"Good. We’ll move in silent, take out as many guards as possible before they raise the alarm." He turned to Voss. "Lieutenant, how many men do we have?"
Voss answered immediately. "Twelve. All Ghost Fangs operatives. Fully equipped."
Sergeant Riley smirked. "Twelve against an entire black market… sounds about right."
Dante grinned, adjusting his KR-26 Rail Rifle. "I like these odds."
Jenkins, still holding his ration bar, hesitated before slowly putting it away. "Guess I’ll eat later…"
Ramirez ignored him, turning to Sarah.
"Keep the gunship out of enemy sight until we call for heavy fire support."
Sarah nodded. "Understood. I will be monitoring from above."
Voss glanced at Ramirez, this time with less doubt in his eyes.
"Orders, Commander?"
Ramirez smirked, cracking his knuckles.
"Let’s remind these bastards that some things are worth fighting for."
The squad grinned, weapons ready.
The raid was about to begin.
<hr>
<h4>Near Slave Market Settlement – 1:48 AM</h4>
Ramirez took a deep breath, gripping his GLH-3 Rail Pistol tightly as he looked toward the distant glow of torches and magic lanterns marking the slave market’s perimeter.
The faint murmur of voices carried through the night—the sound of guards laughing, merchants haggling, and the distant clinking of chains.
His eyes narrowed.
"Alright, let''s move. Going dark."
With that taunt, Ramirez lowered his body, slipping into the shadows of the trees, moving swiftly toward the market camp.
The Ghost Fangs squad followed in absolute silence, their movements precise and tactical.
Lieutenant Voss raised his fist, signaling hand commands as the team spread out, taking low, strategic positions in the underbrush.
Each soldier''s KR-26 Rail Assault Rifle was raised, their iron sights scanning the perimeter.
Sergeant Riley whispered through comms, "Visual on two guards by the main gate. Light armor, standard spears."
Specialist Owen Carter, the sniper, whispered back, "Wind’s steady. I got a clear shot."
Ramirez held up a fist, signaling to hold.
He scanned the market camp, his mind racing.
They had two priorities:
<ol>
<li>Rescue the captives.</li>
<li>Eliminate any resistance.</li>
</ol>
A full frontal assault would be too noisy. They needed to break them down from the inside first.
He exhaled slowly.
Time to prove himself.
"Silent takedowns first. We move on my mark."
Sarah’s voice crackled softly through the comms from the Super Stallion X above.
"Acknowledged, Commander. I have visual on enemy movements. If reinforcements are called, I will suppress them."
Ramirez nodded, gripping his pistol tighter.
The hunt was on.
<hr>
As Ramirez and the Ghost Fangs positioned themselves in the darkness, preparing for their silent approach, movement near the market tents caught their attention.
A girl—no older than Ramirez—was dragged across the dirt, her ripped, tattered clothes barely covering her battered body.
Her wrists were bound by thick iron shackles, and her messy chestnut-brown hair covered most of her bruised face.
She tried to resist.
"Let go of me!" she snarled, kicking at her captors.
The slaver gripping her chains sneered, raising his hand and striking her across the face.
SLAP!
She stumbled, but she did not cry out. She merely glared at him with fierce, burning amber eyes.
Ramirez’s grip on his pistol tightened.
The slaver laughed, yanking her forward. "Feisty one. The nobles will pay extra for that spirit."
He and his men dragged her into one of the larger tents, disappearing from sight.
For a moment, silence fell over Ramirez’s squad.
Lieutenant Voss exhaled sharply. "Well… now we really can’t ignore this place."
Sergeant Riley muttered, "That’s some next-level scumbag shit."
Ramirez didn’t respond immediately. His mind was racing—anger, disgust, and a strange, gut-punching feeling boiled inside him.
His fists clenched.
"Change of plans."
The squad turned to him.
His eyes burned with determination.
"That girl—she’s coming out with us."
Voss raised an eyebrow. "Commander, we were going to free them all anyway. Why are we changing tactics?"
Ramirez exhaled, his voice low but firm.
"Because I refuse to let that bastard slap her again."
Sarah’s voice came through comms. "Tactical adjustments acknowledged. Proceed with caution, Commander."
Ramirez took one last look at the tent… then at his squad.
"Let’s get this done. Move out."
<hr>
ECF Space Center – Commander Control Room
In the cold void of space, the ECF Space Center hovered silently above RGT-7, its massive structure reflecting the distant sun’s light.
Inside the Commander Control Room, multiple holographic screens flickered with real-time data feeds. Tactical maps, soldier vitals, and mission logs were displayed across the walls.
Field Commander Ackerman stood near the main operations console, arms crossed, his sharp green eyes scanning the live feed.
A holographic image of RGT-7 was displayed before him, marked with a red tactical zone—
Phoenix Lair’s forces were engaging in an operation.
Ackerman’s brows furrowed.
"What are they doing?" His voice was calm but laced with curiosity.
A young officer nearby quickly checked the data logs, adjusting his earpiece.
"Sir, it seems that Commander Ramirez has deployed Ghost Fangs near an unregulated settlement. No official ECF engagement was requested."
Ackerman narrowed his eyes.
"No official request?" He tapped on the console, bringing up a live satellite feed.
The screen zoomed in, showing the Ghost Fangs moving in tactical formation, weapons drawn. Ramirez was leading them personally.
Ackerman let out a small exhale, rubbing his chin.
"Tch… so the kid isn’t just sitting behind a desk."
Another officer turned from his station, concern on his face.
"Sir, should we intervene? Phoenix Lair hasn’t requested backup, and engaging without clearance could create political tension."
Ackerman remained silent for a moment, watching as Ramirez and his unit approached the target—a known slave market.
Then, a small smirk formed on his face.
"No… let’s see what he does."
The officers exchanged glances but followed orders, continuing to monitor.
Ackerman leaned forward slightly, his interest in the new commander growing.
"Show me what kind of leader you really are, Ramirez."
<hr>
Slave Market – Perimeter
The night air remained still, tension thick as Ramirez and the Ghost Fangs moved in silence.
With a quick flick of his wrist, Ramirez unsheathed his Three-Headed Dragon Sword.
The first guard barely had time to react before Ramirez’s blade plunged into his throat, silencing him instantly.
Sergeant Riley swiftly grabbed the body, dragging it into the shadows.
Ramirez wasted no time. He dashed toward the next set of patrols, his movements quick and deadly.
The moment the two guards turned their backs, he lunged forward—one blade to the heart, the other to the neck.
Both collapsed without a sound.
The Ghost Fangs soldiers exchanged glances, quietly impressed.
"Damn… He’s a young badass commander." One of them muttered.
Sergeant Riley shot them a sharp glare. "Shhhh!"
Ramirez quickly signaled with his hand, fingers pointing forward.
"We’re going in."
<hr>
Inside the Market – The Descent
The squad moved like shadows, maneuvering through the dimly lit corridors of the slave market’s interior.
The only light came from flickering candles, casting dark, shifting shadows across the walls.
As they moved deeper inside, the squad flicked on their rifle-mounted flashlights, the beams cutting through the darkness.
Then—they spotted it.
A stairway leading downward.
Ramirez didn’t hesitate. He took point, signaling for the team to follow as they descended into the underground chambers.
<hr>
The moment Ramirez stepped off the last stair, he saw them—three armed guards standing near iron cages.
The guards whipped their heads around at the sudden intrusion—
Pew! Pew! Pew!
Before they could react, Ramirez’s GLH-3 Rail Pistol barked three times, the blue muzzle flash briefly illuminating the dark room.
Three clean shots.
Three bodies hit the ground.
Silence followed.
Ramirez lowered his weapon, stepping further inside—
That’s when he saw her.
A girl, chained to the wall, an iron collar locked around her neck.
Her tattered clothes barely clung to her bruised body, her long, messy chestnut-brown hair falling over her face.
Despite her worn and battered appearance, her amber-colored eyes burned with something powerful—
A mix of fear… and hope.
She stared at Ramirez, her body tensed as if she didn’t know whether to expect salvation or more pain.
Ramirez stood still for a moment, locking eyes with her.
Then, slowly, he lowered his weapon, exhaling softly.
"You’re safe now."
The girl’s eyes widened slightly, lips parting as if she wanted to say something—
But no words came out.
She had spent years learning that hope was a lie.
And now, she wasn’t sure if she could believe in it again.
<hr>
Ramirez stepped forward, kneeling beside the chained elf girl. Her body flinched slightly, but she didn’t pull away.
He reached into his belt pouch, pulling out a standard ECF Iron Breaker—a compact high-voltage tool designed for breaking restraints and stunning enemies.
With a soft click, the device hummed to life, emitting a faint blue energy pulse.
"Hold still." His voice was gentle but firm.
The girl’s amber eyes flickered with uncertainty, but she remained still.
Ramirez pressed the Iron Breaker against the shackles on her wrists—
BZZT!
The metal restraints short-circuited before snapping open, clattering to the ground.
Her collar was next.
BZZT!
As soon as it unlocked, she instinctively reached up, rubbing her sore neck, taking a few shallow breaths.
Ramirez lowered his weapon, speaking softly.
"Hey, hey… you’re safe now."
The elf girl looked up at him, her long ears twitching slightly, pointing downward in pain.
Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something, but—
She hesitated.
Sergeant Riley glanced at Ramirez, keeping his rifle at the ready.
"Sir, what do we do?" His tone was respectful but firm.
Before Ramirez could respond, the girl finally spoke, her voice weak but desperate.
"Help… please… they took my little brother. He’s in another tent."
Ramirez’s eyes darkened.
There was no hesitation.
He turned to his squad, gripping his pistol tightly.
"New priority. We’re getting him out. Now."
The Ghost Fangs nodded, their weapons primed.
This mission just became personal.
<hr>
As Ramirez and his squad prepared to move, an unexpected sound reached their ears—
"Shit! Bodies!"
Up above, near the entrance, a guard had spotted the corpses of his fallen comrades.
The man froze for a second, his face going pale, before immediately turning on his heel—
"ALARM—!"
Before he could finish, he sprinted back toward the surface, his boots pounding against the wooden floor.
Inside Ramirez’s head, Sarah’s calm voice rang through his NPU comms.
"Commander, we’ve been spotted. Not exactly, but they know someone’s inside."
Ramirez gritted his teeth, gripping his GLH-3 Rail Pistol tighter.
"Damn it. We move fast. Now."
Sarah’s voice remained steady.
"There’s good news, Commander."
Ramirez glanced up slightly, his heartbeat steadying. "I could use some."
Sarah’s next words made him grin.
"There are no mages in the camp. All enemies are swordsmen."
Ramirez’s smirk widened as he looked at his squad.
Sergeant Riley, Lieutenant Voss, and the rest of Ghost Fangs all exchanged glances—
Then they grinned back.
"Oh… that’s bad luck for them."
Voss chambered his rifle, nodding. "Melee fighters against high-speed rail weapons? This is gonna be quick."
Dante grinned, cracking his knuckles. "I love an unfair fight."
Jenkins, adjusting his rifle, muttered, "Man, I was hoping for a challenge."
Ramirez turned toward the elf girl, his tone serious.
"Stay close to me. We’re getting your brother."
She nodded weakly, her amber eyes filled with hope for the first time in years.
Ramirez took a deep breath.
"Ghost Fangs—move out. Let’s clean this place up."
<hr>
Slave Market – Surface
Ramirez and his squad emerged from the tent, stepping into the open.
The air was thick with tension.
Dozens of swordsmen stood waiting, their steel blades gleaming under the torchlight. Their armor was mismatched, likely stolen from various fallen warriors, but their confidence was unwavering.
At the center of the group, a tall man with a jagged scar across his cheek stepped forward, twirling his massive two-handed blade.
His leather coat swayed as he smirked at Ramirez and his squad.
"Well, well, well…" His voice dripped with amusement. "A little pack of mice sneaking into the cat’s den. You lot have some guts."
The surrounding swordsmen laughed, their hands firmly gripping their weapons.
The leader’s eyes scanned Ramirez’s uniform, then scoffed.
"And what the hell is that outfit? A child playing war?"
The men around him burst into laughter.
"Hah! Look at this brat! What kind of joke is this?"
"Where’d you even find that ridiculous uniform?"
"He’s got medals on his chest but no muscle to back it up!"
Ramirez tilted his head slightly, his expression blank.
Inside, he was already calculating his next move.
But he wasn’t the only one keeping their cool.
Sergeant Riley, Lieutenant Voss, and the rest of Ghost Fangs stood calmly, their KR-26 Rail Rifles lowered but ready.
They didn’t flinch. They didn’t react.
They just stood there.
Waiting.
The enemy leader’s smirk faltered slightly, his confidence wavering.
"Oi… what’s with those looks?" He frowned, eyeing the squad’s unnatural stillness.
His instincts screamed at him.
Something was wrong.
Still, he shook it off and pointed his sword toward them.
"Enough talk! Kill them and take whatever riches they have!"
The swordsmen cheered, raising their weapons.
But Ramirez…
He smirked.
Glancing at his squad, he muttered just loud enough for them to hear—
"They don’t know what’s about to hit them."
The Ghost Fangs grinned.
Sergeant Riley adjusted his grip. "Poor bastards."
Jenkins, still trying to act casual, whispered, "Sooo, are we still pretending to be helpless?"
Voss exhaled through his nose. "Give it a second."
The enemy swordsmen advanced—
And just like that—
The real fight was about to begin.
<hr>
Slave Market – Open Grounds
The enemy swordsmen charged forward, roaring with confidence, their blades raised high—
But they had made a critical mistake.
They thought they were fighting just another group of warriors.
They were wrong.
Ramirez’s voice cut through the night like a whip.
"LINE UP! BURST THEM OUT!"
The Ghost Fangs immediately snapped into formation, their movements precise and disciplined.
"SIR, YES SIR!"
In perfect sync, they dropped to one knee, forming a tight, structured firing line—
KR-26 Rail Rifles locked and aimed.
The enemy swordsmen’s expressions shifted from confidence… to confusion… to sheer panic.
BZZZZT!
A wave of blue muzzle flashes illuminated the night.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!
A single volley of high-speed electromagnetic rounds tore through the frontline swordsmen, cutting them down before they even realized what was happening.
Some collapsed instantly, their armor shredded like paper.
Others, still alive for a brief second, stumbled forward before crashing to the ground in shock.
The remaining swordsmen halted, terror now replacing arrogance.
The enemy leader, still standing in the back, watched in horrified disbelief.
"WHAT THE HELL—?!"
Sergeant Riley reloaded smoothly, his voice casual. "Poor bastards never stood a chance."
Jenkins smirked. "They thought they had numbers… we had technology."
Ramirez lowered his pistol slightly, eyes locked on the surviving enemies.
His expression darkened.
"Surrender… or be erased."
The surviving swordsmen hesitated, visibly shaking.
But the enemy leader gritted his teeth, gripping his sword tighter.
"DON’T COWARD OUT! THEY’RE JUST A HANDFUL! RUSH THEM—"
Ramirez sighed.
"Alright. No mercy then."
"GHOST FANGS! FULL AUTO!"
The squad grinned viciously—
And then all hell broke loose.
<hr>
Slave Market – Open Grounds
Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew!
The night sky lit up in flashing streaks of blue, as a relentless barrage of railgun fire tore through the battlefield.
Laser-infused kinetic rounds shredded through armor, flesh, and bone, moving at speeds far beyond what the swordsmen could react to.
Some were double-hit, bodies twisting mid-air before slamming into the dirt. Others were ripped apart instantly, collapsing before they even realized they were dead.
The ground sizzled and sparked, the raw energy from the Ghost Fangs’ KR-26 Rifles scorching the battlefield.
In the chaos, elf girl watched in awe.
Her green eyes widened, unable to look away from the sheer destruction unfolding before her.
This wasn’t magic.
This wasn’t like the swords or bows she had seen before.
This was something far beyond her understanding.
And then—
A shadow moved forward.
Not a soldier.
Not an AI-controlled machine.
But Ramirez.
Instead of continuing to fire his pistol, he holstered it mid-sprint, reaching behind his back—
SHING!
The Three-Headed Dragon Sword flashed under the moonlight.
Ramirez charged headfirst into the fray, blade drawn, body low—
A swordsman lunged at him.
Ramirez sidestepped at the last second, his blade carving cleanly through the attacker’s abdomen.
The enemy barely had time to process the hit before collapsing.
Another swordsman came from the left—
Ramirez twisted, parrying the strike, and countered with a swift upward slash, slicing through the man’s shoulder and chest.
A third opponent swung wildly—
Ramirez ducked.
His blade cut upward.
The enemy’s sword arm separated from his body, his scream lost in the sounds of railgun fire.
girl''s breath caught in her throat.
He wasn’t just strong.
He was fast.
Too fast.
Too precise.
Too dangerous.
The remaining swordsmen hesitated, their once-unstoppable charge now completely broken.
And Ramirez, standing among the bodies, gripping his glowing blade, gave them one last chance.
"Drop your weapons."
His voice was low, firm, and carried no hesitation.
The Ghost Fangs stood behind him, their rifles still aimed, fingers resting on the triggers.
The surviving enemies glanced at each other, terror gripping their souls.
Their leader, still standing, clenched his fists in rage—
And made his final mistake.
<hr>
The enemy leader roared, his sword raised high as he charged blindly at Ramirez.
His rage consumed him, clouding his thoughts—he saw nothing but revenge.
But Ramirez?
He saw only a dead man running.
"As your wish."
Ramirez calmly raised his GLH-3 Rail Pistol—
Pew!
A single blue energy round burst from the barrel.
THUD.
The leader collapsed face-first into the dirt, his sword slipping from his grasp.
It was over.
The remaining swordsmen froze, their hands trembling over their weapons.
Ramirez slowly turned his gaze toward them, his pistol still smoking.
"Where are the other slaves?" He asked, his voice sharp, cold.
One of the remaining guards, his body shaking uncontrollably, hesitated before stammering out—
"T-T-They’re in that tent!" He pointed with a trembling hand.
Ramirez nodded to his squad.
"Move in."
<hr>
Sergeant Riley remained outside, securing the remaining prisoners, tying them up with restraints.
Meanwhile, Ramirez and the Ghost Fangs stormed inside the tent, their rifle-mounted flashlights flickering on, cutting through the dimly lit interior.
The squad froze for a second.
Inside, huddled together in chains, were young boys and girls—not humans, but elves and beastmen.
Their small bodies trembled as the sudden light illuminated their frightened faces.
Some covered their eyes, flinching as if expecting another beating.
Others shrank away, their ears twitching in fear.
Ramirez’s eyes darted around—his gaze landed on one particular boy.
A small elf child, his features strikingly similar to—
He turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at elf girl, who stood behind him.
Her green eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat.
She didn’t even have to speak.
She knew.
Her little brother was here.
<hr>
Slave Market – Rescue Tent
The moment Lyra’s eyes landed on the small elf boy, her entire body froze.
For a brief second, the world around her faded—the gunfire, the voices, the tension.
All that mattered was him.
"Lior!"
She rushed forward, her boots kicking up dust as she fell to her knees beside him.
The small elf flinched at first, his body tensing, his thin arms wrapping protectively around himself—
Until she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace.
"It’s okay… it’s okay," she whispered, her voice wavering. "I’m here now. They’re here to save us."
Lior’s shaking hands hesitated before gripping the fabric of her torn clothes, his breathing uneven.
"S-Sis…?" His voice was weak, disbelieving, as if he was afraid this was just another cruel dream.
Lyra tightened her hold, resting her chin on his head.
"Yes… it’s me. I won’t leave you again."
The Ghost Fangs observed the scene quietly, some of them shifting uncomfortably.
Jenkins, despite his usual playful nature, muttered under his breath, "Damn… that’s rough."
Sergeant Riley exhaled. "We don’t have time for this. We need to move—"
Before he could finish, Lyra turned her gaze toward Ramirez, her green eyes locked onto him.
For the first time, she truly looked at him—not just as a soldier, not just as a stranger.
But as the man who saved her and her brother.
She took a shaky breath, then slowly stood up, keeping her brother close.
"My name is Lyra Veyne."
She straightened her back, despite her exhaustion, despite her injuries.
Her expression was still cautious, but there was no doubt in her voice.
"And I owe you my life."
Ramirez blinked, taking in her determined stance.
Then, with a small smirk, he holstered his pistol and nodded.
"Welcome to the real world, Lyra."
<hr>
<h3 style="text-align: center">---CHAPTER 5 END---