Chapter 74| First Light, First Blood
Dawn broke over Jenunl Island’s mist-shrouded coastline with a stillness that felt considerably more ominous than reassuring, and Allen stood among the assembled Main Strike Team as the Diversion Force’s transport craft began their approach toward the island’s northern shore, engines humming with the particular tension that preceded every genuinely dangerous deployment.
"Diversion team confirms landing in three minutes," Farrow’s voice crackled through the coordination channel, her presence overseeing the entire operation from the command vessel positioned safely offshore. "Strike teams, prepare for advance the moment engagement begins."
Allen adjusted the straps of his equipment one final time, glancing around at the assembled Main Strike Team — his own wives, positioned with the practiced, coordinated readiness of a year’s relentless training; Damon and Freya leading the Canadian contingent with equal, disciplined focus; the additional S-rank Hunters from both nations rounding out a force considerably larger than anything Fallen Crown had previously operated alongside.
"Remember the approach route," Myria said, tablet displaying the finalized tactical map one final time. "We move through the eastern ravine system, avoiding the more heavily trafficked central pathways the Diversion Force is specifically designed to draw attention away from."
The Diversion Force’s engagement began precisely on schedule, distant explosions and the bright flare of coordinated ability usage visible even from the Strike Team’s staging position, the northern shore erupting into chaotic, deliberate battle designed to draw every available colony member away from the island’s interior.
"That’s our signal," Damon said, tension coiling visibly through his broad shoulders. "Strike teams, move out."
They advanced swiftly through the eastern ravine, the island’s jagged, mist-shrouded terrain considerably more treacherous than any satellite imagery had properly conveyed — cracked volcanic rock underfoot, twisted, blackened vegetation that spoke to years of dungeon corruption, an oppressive, humid heat that made every breath feel thicker than it should.
The first engagement came less than twenty minutes into their advance — a scouting patrol of standard colony centipedes, considerably larger than Allen had anticipated from briefing photographs alone, their chitinous forms bristling with jagged, bone-like protrusions as they emerged from a narrow side tunnel directly into the Strike Team’s path.
"Contact!" Freya’s sharp warning cut through the tense silence, and the Strike Team responded with practiced, immediate coordination.
Irene’s flames roared to devastating effect, carving through chitinous armor with Supreme-tier intensity, while Myria’s ice locked several specimens in place, buying crucial seconds for the assembled Hunters to methodically dismantle the ambush. Allen moved with fluid, practiced precision, Ashfall Talons finding weak points in armored plating with dragonfire-infused force, Guardian’s Instinct tracking every subtle shift in the ambush’s coordinated attempt to flank their position.
The skirmish ended within minutes, considerably more efficiently than the original operation’s grim historical accounts had suggested such engagements typically unfolded, and Allen felt a cautious flicker of confidence settle alongside the mission’s mounting tension.
"That’s one," Damon said, breathing hard but otherwise unharmed, surveying the scattered remains with grim satisfaction. "Considerably better outcome than I expected from a first contact this deep into hostile territory."
"Don’t get comfortable," Myria warned, already studying updated readings from her tactical equipment. "That was a scouting patrol, not a genuine defensive position. The real resistance begins once we approach the first guardian’s territory."
They pressed onward through the ravine’s twisting passages, the ambient heat growing steadily more oppressive, the air itself carrying an increasingly dense, unsettling hum that made even Vivian’s enhanced hearing strain against an unfamiliar frequency she couldn’t immediately place.
"Something’s ahead," she said finally, halting the Strike Team’s advance with a sharp, urgent gesture. "Large. Stationary, but alert. I think we’ve found our first guardian."
The ravine opened ahead into a wide, cavernous chamber, and Allen felt his breath catch at the sight awaiting them — a massive, heavily armored centipede specimen, considerably larger than anything they’d encountered so far, its front section bristling with reinforced, almost draconic plating, powerful forelimbs ending in crushing, mace-like protrusions that spoke unmistakably to raw, devastating physical power rather than any more subtle combat specialization.
The creature’s multifaceted eyes tracked their approach with unmistakable, deliberate intelligence, and a low, resonant hiss built steadily in its throat — not mindless aggression, but calculated, patient readiness, the unmistakable bearing of something that had guarded this chokepoint for considerably longer than mere instinct alone could explain.
"First Guardian confirmed," Myria reported grimly through the coordination channel, already falling into position alongside the rest of the Strike Team. "Physical specialization, exactly as the reconnaissance suggested. Everyone, formation positions. This is where the real fight begins."
Allen drew Ashfall Talons fully to life, Guardian’s Instinct flaring with sharp, immediate focus as the massive guardian’s crushing forelimbs flexed with unmistakable, imminent intent.
"Together," he said, the same word that had carried Fallen Crown through every impossible trial before this one, and the Strike Team surged forward as one, meeting Jenunl Island’s first true test head-on.
The guardian moved first, one massive forelimb sweeping in a devastating arc that would have crushed anything caught beneath it, and the Strike Team scattered with practiced, coordinated precision, Myria’s ice already forming defensive barriers while Freya slipped low and fast toward the creature’s exposed flank.
"Its plating’s densest across the front and top," Damon called out, ducking beneath a follow-up strike with surprising agility for someone his size. "Underside looks considerably softer!"
"Then let’s get it to expose that underside," Allen said, already calculating angles, Guardian’s Instinct mapping the guardian’s attack rhythm with growing clarity.
Irene’s flames roared forward, drawing the creature’s attention with deliberate, provocative intensity, and when it reared back to bring both crushing forelimbs down in retaliation, Everlyn’s roots surged from the cracked volcanic floor, wrapping around its rear legs with sudden, anchoring force.
The guardian’s roar shook the entire chamber as its balance faltered, exposing precisely the vulnerable underside Damon had identified, and Allen moved without hesitation, Shadow Transposition carrying him instantly to a marked position directly beneath the staggering creature, Ashfall Talons driving upward with dragonfire-infused force into the softer, unarmored flesh.
The impact reverberated up through his entire arm, and the guardian’s furious shriek carried genuine, wounded pain rather than mere aggression, its massive form crashing sideways as the combined assault finally overwhelmed its formidable defenses.
"Finish it!" Myria’s voice cut sharply through the chaos, and the assembled Strike Team converged with brutal, coordinated efficiency, ending the fight within moments of the creature’s exposed vulnerability finally being breached.
Silence fell over the cavernous chamber, broken only by ragged, exhausted breathing as the massive guardian’s body dissolved into fading, dark light, leaving behind only scattered fragments of chitinous plating and the lingering, acrid smell of scorched flesh.
"First Guardian down," Damon reported through the coordination channel, relief and grim satisfaction mingling in his voice. "Casualties?"
"None," Myria confirmed, surveying the Strike Team with quick, practiced assessment. "Minor injuries only."
Allen felt the familiar, warm pulse of the Investment Returns System stir beneath his skin, though he had no time to fully process whatever reward the victory had generated, Farrow’s voice already crackling through the channel with fresh, urgent instruction.
"Well done, Strike Team. Proceed toward the second chokepoint. Diversion Force reports the coastal engagement is holding, but time remains limited. Move quickly."
Allen exchanged a brief, exhausted glance with his wives, the weight of one guardian defeated settling alongside the considerable knowledge that two more, along with whatever waited at the island’s very heart, still remained ahead.
"Let’s keep moving," he said, and the Strike Team pressed onward into Jenunl Island’s mist-shrouded depths, carrying their first hard-won victory forward into whatever trials still awaited.