Breachers

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

A Familiar Voice

Nanda

The car sped through the wreckage-strewn streets, weaving between abandoned vehicles and shattered storefronts. Detective Nanda Walters gripped the overhead handle as her partner took another hard turn, tires screeching against the pavement. He was driving like a man possessed, his foot practically welded to the gas pedal, but she didn't blame him. The whole city had gone to hell.

The radio hadn't gone quiet once in the last thirty minutes.

"—two more Spheres confirmed near Westgate—"

"—Goddamn thing just tore right through a whole squad—"

"—we need backup now! We're getting swarmed!"

Another voice cut in, frantic. "We can't stop them! They're not dying to bullets! Repeat, they're not—"

Static.

Nanda swallowed, her fingers tightening around the shotgun in her lap. She'd held onto it like a lifeline ever since the first Sphere opened, but the longer this went on, the more useless it felt. What the hell was a 12-gauge going to do against this?

A fresh scream crackled through the speakers before cutting out again. The dispatchers were struggling to keep up, overlapping voices rattling off confirmed kills, lost officers, and entire blocks getting overrun.

It was chaos. Total, city-wide chaos.

She exhaled sharply and forced herself to look out the window, steadying her nerves.

The armored trucks behind them were so close it was nearly ramming their bumper. They were massive beasts of vehicles, reinforced plating gleaming under the streetlights, the golden stripes on the sides marking them as guild-affiliated. On their roof, two Breachers stood, dressed in full black armor, gold trim lining their helmets and shoulders. One wielded a bow, the other a staff.

"They've got this, right?" her partner asked, stealing a glance at her before turning back to the road.

Nanda didn't answer right away. She watched the Breachers instead, the way they balanced effortlessly despite the truck's reckless speed, the weapons in their hands glinting under the streetlights. They looked damn near untouchable.

"They better be," she muttered, dread curling in her gut. 'Because if one of the strongest guilds in Europe can't stop this, we're fucked.'

The radio crackled again.

"—update, confirmed kills reported in district—"

"—Reinhard Guild took two of them down! I repeat, they can be killed!"

Nanda straightened, finally hearing some good news.

Then another update came through, this time from higher up.

"—units be advised: recovered remains from hostiles confirm new findings. Orbs have been located inside the creatures. Not Glass. Orbs."

Nanda's grip on her shotgun tightened. "Orbs?" she muttered, confused for a second.

Her gaze snapped to the radio, her pulse quickening. That wasn't normal. That wasn't supposed to happen.

The radio crackled back to life.

"—new Sphere confirmed, northeastern district, near Eastwood Plaza—"

'Another one?' Nanda thought as she gritted her teeth.

A new voice cut through the chatter, calm and steady, almost too casual for the situation.

"Gold Claws will deal with the Sphere."

No hesitation. No panic. Just a simple statement, as if they were handling an everyday job.

Nanda barely had time to process it before one of the armored trucks behind them slowed. Its tires screeched against the pavement before it veered right, disappearing around the corner without so much as a signal. Just like that, they were down a truck filled with Breachers.

It should've been terrifying. Instead, some part of her felt relief that they were handling it.

For the next two minutes, they tore through the streets at full speed, the city's emergency sirens wailing over their own. The world flashed past in a blur of flickering streetlights, burning wreckage, and shattered windows. The distant sound of gunfire and inhuman shrieks echoed between the buildings before they reached their target.

A destroyed semi-truck lay jackknifed in the middle of the street, its trailer split open, crushed cars scattered around it like discarded toys. Smoke curled from the wreckages, and something dark pooled beneath one of the ruined vehicles.

The tires skidded as her partner hit the brakes, jerking them forward before the car stopped.

Nanda shoved the door open, shotgun raised as she stepped onto the cracked asphalt. Her partner followed, scanning their surroundings, shoulders tense. Behind them, doors slammed open, and the Breachers emerged from their truck.

Five of them.

At the front of the group stood a tall, tan-skinned woman, her blonde hair tied back. Her presence alone was enough to make Nanda's stomach twist.

She knew exactly who she was.

'Lynx.'

No introductions were needed. Anyone in law enforcement, anyone involved in the Breacher world, knew Lynx. One of the strongest female Breachers alive.

The group moved forward, weapons drawn, their armor reflecting the glow of distant fires. They scanned the streets, the buildings, the windows above, methodical and unshaken.

People stared from behind cracked curtains and shattered glass. Some locked eyes with them for only a second before disappearing, as if afraid to be seen, as if expecting the worst.

One of the Breachers spoke, voice clear but quiet.

"Lynx, up ahead. Monster corpse. Smells fresh."

Nanda followed his gaze.

A dead monster lay sprawled near the entrance of an apartment building, crushed beneath the weight of a refrigerator.

Lynx raised a hand, and the entire group froze.

No words. No signals. Just a simple, controlled movement, and everyone obeyed without question.

Nanda and her partner exchanged glances—then came the snap of air splitting apart. A shock of wind blasted outward, rattling windows, slamming loose signs against brick, and sending dust and debris whipping past.

Lynx was gone.

One second she stood ahead of them. The next, she was beside Nanda, her hand already clamped around the throat of a monster that had apparently jumped down from a nearby building to kill them.

The monster didn't even flinch at first, eyes frozen forward, like its brain hadn't caught up yet.

Nanda's heart hammered. She hadn't even seen Lynx move—just the aftermath.

It had dropped from above, inches away from tearing them apart, but now it dangled in Lynx's grip, thrashing wildly. One of its eyes was missing, blood dripping from the wound. It clawed at her, jagged fingers scraping against her armor, her face, but it didn't even leave a mark.

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She tightened her grip. A crack filled the air as she twisted its neck.

For a brief second, a golden mist poured from Lynx's frame as her body struggled to contain the mana within. Nanda staggered the moment it happened, knees nearly buckling. The air around the Breacher thickened, pressing down on her, making it harder to breathe, harder to think. Even her partner stumbled, gripping the car for support.

Then the mist dissipated while Lynx let the dead monster drop.

Before it could hit the ground, another Breacher moved. A sword flashed, severing the monster's head in one clean motion. He caught the head mid-air, turning it over in his grasp before tearing a blue Orb from the back of its skull.

"Orb inside," the man called out, holding it up. "Seems like the Reinhard Guild was right."

"First for everything," another Breacher muttered, chuckling, as if they weren't standing in the middle of a war zone.

Lynx gave a short command, and the Breachers moved. They spread out, scanning the area, weapons raised. No hesitation, no wasted movement—just pure efficiency.

She walked toward the dead monster, the one with a fridge slammed through its torso. Nanda followed, glancing up at the apartment building. 'From what height had it been dropped? Fifth floor? Sixth?'

One of the Breachers knelt by the corpse, nudging it with his boot. "Fridge killed it, but it looks like it got banged up good before that. Probably a Breacher." His gaze landed on something near its chest. He leaned in, brushing away some of the filth before fishing out a small metal locket.

"Lynx, take a look at this."

Lynx stepped closer, took it from his hand, and flipped it open. Whatever she saw, she didn't react. She just stared for a moment before snapping it shut and handing it off to Nanda without a word.

Nanda took it, flipping it open herself. A picture stared back at her—two children, smiling.

Her stomach twisted. "Why was it wearing this?"

Lynx's voice came flat, unreadable. "That's someone else's department. We're just here to put them down."

Nanda kept looking at the locket, then at the corpse. Its mutilated face, its grotesque shape. She exhaled through her nose. "Then who put this one down?" she asked, but none of the Breacher gave her an answer.

Her radio crackled again, more reports coming in—monsters killed, casualties along the way.

"Nanda," her partner called. "Found the Breacher that killed the monster."

She glanced at Lynx, who was already moving toward the apartment. Nanda followed.

Inside, near the stairs, a man sat slumped against the railing, his head tilted forward slightly, arms resting on his knees. He looked like hell—dirt and blood smeared across his skin, clothes torn, entire body tense like he was barely holding himself together.

Nanda's breath caught. 'Marcus?'

She opened her mouth, but Lynx spoke first.

"Marcus?"

The Breacher walked toward him as one of the officers crouched and helped him to his feet. Nanda caught the way his hands trembled.

"What are you doing here?" Lynx asked.

Marcus exhaled shakily, voice strained. "Looking for a muffin… wrong place… wrong time…" His words came slow, forced, like it took everything he had just to speak. "One still out there… missing an eye…"

Lynx shifted her stance to steady him as she looked at his battered frame. "Don't worry. I killed it," she said simply. "The one with the fridge. Did you do that?"

Nanda's eyes narrowed as Marcus gave a weak nod. 'He killed it?' She looked at his injured state—he was messed up enough to have been in a fight—but it still didn't sit right that a mere Alpha took down one of those monsters. 'Maybe there were others involved? And why does Lynx know him?'

"What happened to its Orb?" Lynx asked gently.

"Broke apart… when I tried to pull it out," Marcus said, voice tense.

Nada's partner checked the bandages on the young man's torso, then glanced at the fresh blood running from his nose and ears.

"We need to get you to a hospital."

"I'll be fine," Marcus said, forcing the words out.

Nanda watched him, his jaw locked tight, his shoulders stiff. He was barely keeping himself upright, but even now, he was refusing help. 'The kid's probably scared out of his mind or in shock.'

She caught the way he flinched each time her partner or Lynx touched his arm, like even the slightest pressure hurt or set him off.

The radio flared up again. More reports. More monsters.

She clenched her jaw, hating that she had to leave him to check on the rest of the civilians in the building. "I'm going to call the paramedics and your uncle, alright? Just sit tight."

Marcus shook his head, muttering something under his breath about him being fine before pushing himself up. His steps wobbled.

Lynx moved, almost grabbing his arm—but stopped halfway. Her jaw tightened as the radio fed her new reports. Casualties. Breachers included.

The Breacher then exhaled sharply. "Get to safety, alright?"

Marcus didn't answer, just kept moving as Lynx stared at him, seeing the bloody shoe prints he left on the dusty floor. A moment later, she nodded to another Breacher as they began to sweep the building for monsters and wounded.

Nanda pulled out her phone, quickly texting Marcus's uncle while her partner called in, letting dispatch know they were on scene, treating the wounded, and needed backup.

Just as Marcus stepped into the street, she glanced at him one last time, watching his whole body tremble, arms wrapped tightly around his sides, as if holding something in.

'Please don't die, kid.'

- - -

Felix

Felix gripped his phone so hard his fingers ached. The screen glowed in the dim cab, displaying a single text from Marcus's uncle.

┏ ┓

"Felix, I just got word that Marcus is injured.

Can you look after him?

Stay inside, lock the doors, and keep away from the windows.

It's madness outside."

-Laurens Smit

┗ ┛

His stomach twisted. He shoved the phone into his pocket and kept driving, even as the engine wheezed in protest. The whole food truck rattled like it might fall apart at any second. The front had taken a beating—dented, cracked, filled with monster bits, barely holding together. It sputtered and groaned, lurching forward with every push of the gas pedal.

The stench of blood clung to everything, thick and sour. It had soaked into the floor, the walls—the very air. He'd stopped noticing it a while ago.

He'd been searching for Marcus for what felt like hours, driving through streets that didn't look like home anymore. He had seen things he wished he could unsee.

Bodies. Some were monsters—most were human.

He had seen monsters crawling across rooftops, eyes glowing in the dark, moving in ways that didn't feel real. And wherever he looked, there was the distant glow of Spheres cutting through the air, twisting the skyline into something unrecognizable.

He swallowed hard as he finally turned onto their street, the neon sign of the bar flickering weakly. He pulled up in front of the entrance, shifting the truck into park. The engine gave one last pitiful sputter before going quiet.

Felix exhaled and leaned back for a second. His muscles ached, his whole body buzzing with nerves.

'Get moving. He needs you,' he told himself, remembering those same words from thirteen years ago—when he carried his friend through the aftermath of the Great Impact.

Groaning, he forced himself into the back of the truck. The blood-slick floor made his stomach turn, but he ignored it, stepping carefully over what was left of the monster. He reached the small cooler in the corner and flipped the lid open.

Inside, two Orbs sat nestled in a bed of ice packs, their surfaces slick with blood and bits of gore. He still remembered how horrible it felt to cut the Orbs out of the two dead monsters—and how long it took him. The glow inside them pulsed faintly. Next to them, a Chip lay half-buried under the mess.

Felix exhaled sharply, gripping the edges of the cooler.

"Please be alright," he muttered.

He snapped the lid shut and turned back toward the door, nearly slipping as his foot skidded on blood. Cursing under his breath, he steadied himself, then stepped out of the truck, not daring to look back at the state of it.

He ran toward the bar, his heart hammering, gripping the cooler like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Felix rushed through the bar, barely registering the people huddled around the old TV in the corner, watching the news with pale faces. Some clutched their phones, whispering frantically, while others just sat there, stunned. The whole place reeked of fear.

His shoes squeaked against the floor, blood still dripping from his hands. Sam, the bar's owner, turned as Felix passed, eyes going wide.

"Have you seen Marcus?" Felix blurted out.

Sam blinked, lips parting, but no words came. He just shook his head.

"Call me if you see him," Felix barked, already moving.

He pushed through the back door, taking the stairs two at a time—cooler in one hand, the other gripping the railing. His whole body ached, but he forced himself forward. The weight of the cooler dragged at him, but it wasn't just heavy—it was everything. His exhaustion. The fear. The fucking day he'd just survived.

He reached Marcus's door, breath heavy, hand raised to knock—then froze as he heard muffled groans.

His gut clenched.

'Marcus?' he thought, leaning in.

The sounds grew sharper. Choked gasps, cut-off cries. Then voices—others, urgent and firm.

"Hold him down."

"Keep him quiet."

Felix's chest went tight. His grip on the cooler shifted. His heart pounded in his ears as realization sank in. Marcus was in trouble.

He didn't hesitate. He stepped back and threw open his own apartment door, slipping inside to move back for a longer approach before he sprinted.

"Marcus!"

His shoulder slammed into the door with everything he had. The lock snapped, the door caving inward as he crashed inside, hitting the ground hard. The cooler tumbled beside him, the lid flying open. Ice scattered. Two Orbs rolled free, their bloody surfaces glinting in the dim light. The Chip clattered to the floor.

Felix barely noticed.

His eyes locked on the scene in front of him.

Marcus lay on his back, shaking violently, muscles twitching in ways that didn't look right. A towel was jammed between his teeth, muffling his howls of pain.

Two figures in metal armor pinned him down, their grips tight. A young woman straddled his waist, her hands slick with blood.

Felix's pulse roared in his ears as something inside him snapped.

With a snarl, Felix lunged, swinging the cooler like a hammer at the nearest one.

The armored man raised a hand while speaking up. "Felix, no!"

Felix froze mid-swing. His heart lurched. 'That voice— that's Marcus's.'

Then a burst of air exploded from the armored man's hand, slamming into him with a force like a sledgehammer, lifting him clean off the ground. His back hit the wall, the impact rattling through his bones before he collapsed to the floor.

Felix blinked, his vision swimming as- he sucked in a ragged breath. His chest ached like hell, his body still reeling from the blast. He opened his mouth to scream for help—but the armored man shot forward.

A steel, cold hand clamped over Felix's mouth, pressing firm but not crushing. The man's brown eyes went wide as three strange lenses locked onto him, glowing with an unnatural blue, casting sharp reflections across the metal plating of its face.

The armored man held up a finger to where his lips should be.

"I need you to calm down, Felix," it said in a voice that was a perfect copy of Marcus.

"It's me."