"Down! Both of you, now!" Rikae roared, his voice cutting through the bone-shattering whine of the Scream-Shell.
He tackled Lisra and Kael, shielding them with his body as a second pulse hit. The cottage groaned, the wooden beams vibrating so violently that dust rained from the ceiling. Rikae's ears were bleeding again, but this time, it wasn't from internal pressure, it was the weapon.
[ANALYSIS: SONIC FREQUENCY 18.5kHz. SOURCE: THREE HUNDRED METERS NORTH-EAST. PULSE INTERVAL: 12 SECONDS.]
His "Vessel" training hadn't vanished; it had finally integrated with his soul. He wasn't a machine anymore, but he still had the mind of one.
"Kael, listen to me!" Rikae shouted, grabbing the boy by the shoulders. "In the basement, the Silver-Claw emergency kit I installed. There are two pairs of noise-canceling tactical headsets. Put them on. Do not take them off for anything."
"What about you?" Lisra gasped, her face pale.
"I have to disable the transmitter. If that thing hits its third cycle, it'll liquify the internal organs of everyone in this house." Rikae looked at her, his gold eyes softening for a micro-second. "Stay in the cellar. The stone will dampen the vibration."
He didn't wait for an answer. As the third pulse began to build, a low-frequency hum that made the floorboards dance, Rikae vaulted through the shattered window.
Outside, the world was a blur of blue moonlight and lethal sound.
He didn't run blindly toward the source. He moved in a jagged, calculated zigzag, using the terrain to break the line of sight. He saw them now: four Iron-Fang remnants, their grey tactical gear blending into the shadows. At the center was the transmitter. a tripod-mounted dish glowing with a sickly violet light.
And standing beside it was Caspian.
"The Gold Standard!" Caspian shouted, protected by high-grade dampeners. "Look at you, running around in the dirt like a common scout! Where's your suit, Rikae? Where's your dignity?"
Rikae didn't respond. He didn't need to.
He reached into his tactical belt and pulled out three small, silver spheres, the "Gravity-Snare" mines he had designed during his year of cold efficiency. He tossed them into the air, not toward Caspian, but toward the trees surrounding the clearing.
Click.
The mines activated, creating a localized electromagnetic field that didn't hurt the wolves, but it sent the Scream-Shell's frequency into a feedback loop.
The violet light on the dish turned a violent, angry red.
"What is that?" Caspian's smirk vanished.
"It's called an Inverse-Wave," Rikae's voice echoed through the clearing, low and dangerous. "You used my own technology against me, Caspian. You forgot who wrote the code."
The transmitter shrieked, a sound so high it surpassed human hearing and then imploded. The shockwave sent the Iron-Fang soldiers flying backward.
Rikae didn't shift. He didn't need claws. He pulled a collapsible combat baton from his thigh holster, the blackened steel snapping into place with a lethal clack.
He moved through the smoke like a shadow. Strike. Pivot. Break. In under sixty seconds, the four soldiers were on the ground, their limbs neutralized with surgical precision. He hadn't killed them; he had dismantled them.
He stopped five feet from Caspian, the baton dripping with the blood of the men he'd just passed.
"My brother said you were a genius," Caspian spat, reaching for his sidearm. "He said you were the only Beta worth killing."
"Your brother was a tyrant," Rikae said, his gold eyes glowing like twin suns in the dark. "And you? You're just a distraction. I have a mate waiting for me in that cottage, and I've already wasted a year of her time."
Caspian pulled the trigger.
Rikae didn't flinch. He swiped the baton, the steel whistling through the air, parrying the barrel of the gun just as it fired. The bullet hissed into the dirt. Before Caspian could recover, Rikae's hand was around his throat, lifting him off the ground with the strength of a wolf and the cold intent of a reaper.
"Go back to the No-Man's-Land," Rikae hissed, his grip tightening until Caspian's face turned purple. "Tell whoever is left of the Iron-Fang that the 'Gold Standard' is dead. There is only a Mate protecting his home now. And if I see a single grey uniform on this border again, I won't use a baton. I'll use my teeth."
He threw Caspian like a bag of trash into the bushes.
Rikae didn't watch them retreat. He turned and ran back to the cottage, his heart hammering,not with the "Vessel" logic, but with the frantic, beautiful fear of a man who finally has everything to lose