The next day comes too fast.

  Sleep barely touches me, and when it does, it fractures. Short bursts. Half-dreams. A hand reaching from behind. The smell of jasmine turning sharp and wrong. Every time my eyes close for too long, my body jerks awake like it is bracing for impact.

  By the time we arrive at the Troylon Wall, I am already exhausted.

  The transport vessel hums as it settles onto the upper deck, metal reverberating beneath my boots as I step out alongside the others. The air here feels different. Thicker. Heavier. It smells of oil, ozone, and distant dust carried by wind that has crossed dead land for miles.

  Then I look up.

  And up.

  And up.

  The Troylon Wall dominates the horizon like a man-made mountain range, a sheer vertical stretch of reinforced steel and concrete rising impossibly high. Two hundred meters, my mind supplies automatically. Even knowing the number does nothing to prepare me for seeing it in person. The wall disappears into low-hanging clouds, its surface layered with embedded structures, artillery ports, and glowing defensive lines that pulse faintly like veins.

  It stretches endlessly in both directions. I try to follow it with my eyes, left and right, until perspective fails me. I cannot see the end.

  For a moment, nobody speaks.

  Lysander is the first to break the silence. “Okay. Yeah. That is… excessive.”

  Elisa lets out a soft, awed sound. “It is like the Great Wall of China.”

  “But more modern,” Lysander adds. “And less tourist-friendly.”

  I barely register the joke. My gaze stays fixed on the wall, on the way the light catches its surface, how it feels less like a structure and more like a boundary. A line drawn in the dirt of the world.

  Do not cross.

  Elisa has already started moving, curiosity overriding caution as usual. She jogs toward one of the buildings embedded directly into the wall’s side, fingers brushing the reinforced plating, peering into maintenance corridors and open access bays.

  “Oli,” she calls, already knowing the answer is coming. “Explain.”

  Oliver sighs, adjusting his glasses as he walks after her. “The Troylon Wall is approximately two hundred meters tall and fifty meters thick. It spans from Mississippi to Indiana, sealing off the western territories.”

  “That is insane,” someone mutters behind me.

  “Most of WEO’s defense budget goes into maintaining it,” Oliver continues. “It is the first line of defense against large-scale riftspawn incursions. Without it, the eastern regions would have fallen years ago.”

  I glance past them, toward the far edge of the deck. Beyond the wall’s lip, nothing but haze and distance waits. No landmarks. No cities. Just emptiness.

  Aiden’s voice cuts through the air. “You all done gawking?”

  We turn.

  He is standing inside one of the cable cars mounted to the rear side of the wall, Elijah beside him, arms crossed. The car is thickly armored, reinforced cables stretching upward into the wall like tendons.

  “Get inside,” Aiden says. “We are heading to the residential block.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  One by one, we file in.

  The doors seal shut with a heavy clang, and the car lurches into motion, descending smoothly along the wall’s surface. The sensation makes my stomach twist. The ground drops away beneath us, replaced by open air and scale. From here, the wall feels even larger, its true size revealed as we pass level after level of embedded structures.

  Weapon platforms. Observation decks. Hangar bays.

  Elisa presses her face to the glass. “This is so cool.”

  I stay back, arms folded, eyes scanning.

  Something moves in the distance.

  At first, I think it is a trick of perspective. A shadow sliding along the wall’s base far below. But as the car continues, the shape grows clearer. Larger.

  Bigger.

  It rises into view slowly, deliberately, like a mountain deciding to walk.

  Elijah turns, following our stares. “That,” he says, calm as ever, “is one of WEO’s four Titans.”

  The Titan-class.

  Up close, it is impossible to fully comprehend. A massive mobile artillery unit, its armored frame layered thick enough to shrug off strikes that would level buildings. Howitzers the size of skyscrapers line its back, angled skyward, each barrel etched with glowing runes and targeting arrays. Its legs sink into the ground with every step, each movement sending tremors through the land.

  The Drums of Doom.

  “It made its debut three years ago,” Elijah continues. “First salvo took out over a hundred thousand riftspawn in under five minutes.”

  Elisa’s mouth hangs open.

  “It was designed to mimic the firepower of Raiden Itsukawa,” Elijah adds, glancing briefly at Zane. “Though it only achieved about fifty percent of her output.”

  Carter grins instantly. “Only fifty percent. Hear that, Zane? Your mom is still terrifying.”

  Lysander snickers. “Imagine being compared to a walking apocalypse.”

  Zane groans. “Can we not do this here.”

  I do not join in.

  My eyes stay locked on the Titan as it passes beneath us, its presence heavy, oppressive. Power like that exists to answer something worse. That thought settles cold in my chest.

  The cable car slows and docks near a large platform carved directly into the wall. The doors open, and noise floods in.

  WEO personnel are everywhere. Esper squads. Engineers. Logistics teams. Transport ships lining the wall’s edge as equipment is loaded and unloaded in coordinated chaos. Floodlights bathe everything in stark white, casting long shadows across the metal floor.

  This is not preparation.

  This is mobilization.

  We move as a group toward the residential building, boots echoing in rhythm. I fall into step beside Aiden without thinking.

  “Captain,” I say quietly.

  He glances at me. “Yeah?”

  “When does the raid start?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “What is the insertion method?”

  “Classified.”

  “How are we navigating a structure with a constantly shifting interior?”

  Aiden sighs. “Rei.”

  I keep going. “What is the fallback if extraction fails. Are we operating blind or is there—”

  “Rei,” he cuts in again, stopping this time. I stop with him. The others continue a few steps before noticing.

  He studies me, expression unreadable. “You need to relax.”

  I clench my jaw. “I am just asking questions.”

  “You are spiraling,” he says calmly. “And I am guessing Elisa is rubbing off on you.”

  That earns a faint chuckle from someone nearby. Not from me.

  “All you need to know,” Aiden continues, lowering his voice, “is that you should rest. Be ready. Tomorrow is what matters.”

  The answer leaves a hollow feeling in my chest. Incomplete. Insufficient.

  “Yes, sir,” I say anyway.

  We reach the residential building soon after. It is functional, clean, and temporary in the way all military housing is. Rooms are assigned quickly. People scatter.

  I find mine near the end of the hall.

  Inside, I set my bag down, then sit on the edge of the bed. My hands shake slightly as I reach inside my pack and pull out the cat plush.

  Round button eyes. Soft fabric. Absurdly normal.

  Kristine’s laugh echoes faintly in my head.

  I close my eyes, pressing my thumb into the plush’s ear until it creases.

  Who were they.

  They knew my name. They knew enough to target her. Enough to say we would meet again.

  The pieces do not fit. Every attempt to force them together only sharpens the pain behind my eyes until I wince and lean forward, elbows on my knees.

  Not now.

  I stand abruptly and leave the room.

  Outside, the wall hums with activity. The sun hangs low, bleeding orange light across the sky as it dips toward the horizon. I walk toward the edge, hands resting on the cold railing.

  Beyond the wall, the land stretches out broken and scarred. Craters. Ruins. A place where green once existed and no longer does.

  No Man’s Land.

  I stare at it as the sun sinks lower, shadows stretching long and thin across devastation.

  Tomorrow, we cross lines that cannot be uncrossed.

  And somewhere out there, someone is waiting.

  I tighten my grip on the railing and do not look away.

  The wall stands behind me.

  The unknown waits ahead.

  And the operation draws closer.

  [End of chapter]