The projection panels flickered—an overhead feed still replaying the last transmission from Seyfe's squad. The image of the impaled Veiler burned across the main monitor. Aki stood motionless, red eyes reflecting the words carved into the corpse like an ancient curse.
"To whom who shall awake from the deep slumber… ala maki siya mau hula…"
She muttered it again under her breath, barely audible, as if weighing the language in her mind.Unknown dialect. No official translation. But the intent was clear.
This was no ordinary mutation.This was a declaration.
Salem, one of her tactical officers, stepped forward with hesitation.
"Do we have any record of that phrase in previous anomaly events?"
Aki didn't answer right away. Her eyes were locked on the monitor.Still. Focused. Calculating.
"No," she said finally. "But flag it. I want runic linguistics and psychometry teams decoding it now."
Just then, a piercing red comm alert blinked across the center console.
[Distress Call – Rank Priority Level 2][Unit: Asher Squadron Subgroup 9-C][Location: Eastern Kyrgyzstan Rift Edge][Status: Outnumbered by mass swarm – suspected modified Grade C Echoforms]
Aki turned her head toward the channel's comms officer.
"Put it through. Now."
The screen cracked into grainy feed. A frantic Veiler with blood on his cheek and broken lenses screamed over background chaos.
"—We're holding the line, but there's too many! They're not normal Grade C—they're fused, some of them have armor plating, others are sprouting limbs that shouldn't—"
Gunfire. Explosions. Then a shriek, inhuman, distorted by static.
"Handler Varess, requesting emergency reinforcements! I repeat, this is Unit 9-C! We're being overrun!"
Aki snapped to action.
"Deploy a backup team immediately. I want Owl Squadron to coordinate aerial scan and Foxtail to set up emergency extraction points along the mountain range."
"Should we dispatch any sanctified cores from the Central Ring?" Salem asked quickly.
"No," Aki said. "They're still recovering from the last breach. But inform Seyfe's group—once their zone is secured, they'll reroute."
She narrowed her gaze at the frozen projection of the mutilated Veiler.
"Whoever's doing this... they're escalating."
"Ma'am?" the comms officer asked.
Aki turned.
"Send word to all squadron handlers. Mark this: We're no longer dealing with isolated anomalies. This is coordinated. Strategic. Someone—something—is turning echoforms into weapons."
And with that, she moved back to the tactical console, red eyes gleaming cold against the stream of live coordinates, knowing the storm was only beginning.
The central chamber darkened as the curved holo-table flickered to life. Veiler handlers from every active squadron stood around the ring—each projected from remote stations or physically present within HQ's core tower.
The silence in the room was a volatile one—coiled and taut.
Aki stood at the head, hands clasped behind her back, her red eyes surveying the room as the data projection displayed footage of the mutated echoforms, impaled bodies, and the live distress calls blinking red across several continental zones.
"This isn't isolated anymore," she began, voice cold and unshaking. "We have rift instability across three regions. Over a dozen Veiler units are missing or presumed dead. And now we have direct evidence of Sovereign-class influence mutating echoforms on command."
She stepped forward, voice tightening.
"Someone is orchestrating this. Coordinating across multiple zones. And they've stayed one step ahead every time."
Hansel Fel of the Asher Squadron grunted under his breath but said nothing.
But it was Ura Gintoki, Handler of the Fallacy Squadron, who finally spoke out, sharp and unafraid.
"So we're to deploy all remaining handlers and leave HQ exposed? If this is a setup—and I believe it is—then the one behind this wants us scattered. HQ will be in its weakest state."
A murmur rippled through the room.
Ura's voice rose.
"Let's not play into their hand. They could be planning to cripple us right here—strike at our core once we're out in the field. And you know we've barely recovered from the last breach."
Aki's gaze snapped to him. She didn't blink.
"You think I haven't considered that?"
Ura's brow furrowed, but Aki raised a hand to silence any further protests.
"That's why we're not moving blindly. The outer deployments will proceed in pairs. No Veiler unit moves without a second squadron trailing them on satellite routes. HQ defense will remain under Owl and Overseer reserve command. No blind spots."
Kira Jahina of the Kemika Squadron leaned forward slightly.
"And what of the evidence from Sichuan? That language. That… message. Are we tracking its origin?"
Aki nodded.
"Runic decryption is underway. So far, linguistic anomalies suggest either pre-Awakening dialects or a fabricated structure built to mimic summoning phrases."
Jannet Dwight of Spearhead Squadron finally added, voice calm but firm.
"Then we have to assume they're sending a message. And whoever they are… they've already started."
Aki walked back toward the center console. She paused, then tapped the table once.
All tactical zones flared up with real-time data.
"This is no longer about containment," Aki said. "This is war planning."
She looked around.
"You're not just squad handlers anymore. You're strategists of survival. We don't let our people die out there—and we don't give whoever's behind this the satisfaction of watching us fracture."
She looked directly at Ura now, unflinching.
"You want to challenge my call, Gintoki?"
Ura straightened, then looked down.
"…No, ma'am. Just voicing what others were thinking."
"Good. Then think smarter. This isn't a drill. This is the start of something bigger."
Silence fell again—this time not from resistance, but understanding.
Then Aki's voice, cold and final:
"Prep your squadrons. Final deployment in thirty minutes. We don't have time to hesitate."
The war room's table flared again—six simultaneous flashes blinking like gunfire in the dark. Calls began cascading in rapid succession.
"—this is Unit 7-A from Eastern Quadrant—corrupted runic presence detected—message repeating in carved symbols—"
"—D-class swarm ambushed northern edge—we've located a dormant echoform mass—no current movement, but its size—gods—it's not natural—"
"—code message repeating on loop: to whom who shall awake from the deep slumber…"
Each report from the affected squadrons confirmed the same thing: across three different regions, echoforms were no longer just attacking—they were waiting. Sleeping mutations, buried beneath layered runes, pulsing with dormant Sovereign energy. This was no random spread of chaos.
It was a formation.
Aki's red eyes didn't waver as she listened, even as her gloved fingers flexed slightly at her sides.
"How large is the mutation?" she asked sharply into the room.
The screen shifted as one Veiler's body cam panned slowly across the ravaged site—a shattered bridge resting above cracked earth. Beneath it, something breathing. Something scaled. Something cocooned in obsidian webbing, and pulsating with green firelight from the cracks in its spine.
"Rough estimate?" the scout replied. "It's the size of a shuttle carrier."
Gasps echoed around the war room.
"We… we might need to use the automaton reserves," one of the squadron analysts muttered aloud, half-hoping someone else would disagree.
Then another call flashed—this time encrypted priority-level.
Handler Min Kai – Mechanical Combat Integration Division
Her voice came through dry, electronic, and laced with static.
"Requesting clearance: can we deploy the machine-type Veilers?"
"Negative," Ura snapped. "We only have twelve of them left. We use them now, and we lose all fallback support for the core zones."
Aki turned.
"That faculty was compromised four years ago," she said coldly. "The production facility in Tekarya is still under lockdown. We can't replace them. If we use what we have—there's no second batch."
Kira Jahina interjected.
"Then we need a direct plan of containment. Focus squads around those sleeping mutations. Trap them before they fully awaken."
"You think they haven't planned for that?" Jannet said, tone biting. "This is orchestrated. Those echoforms… they're waiting for a trigger. If we act too slow, we lose territory. If we act too fast, we wake them."
"Then what do we do?" another handler demanded.
Silence. Then the console pinged again.
Live Surveillance Feed – Region: Khoratsk Fold
The screen zoomed in on a lone Veiler scout staring at a ridge. Beneath the ridge, half-buried in soil and layered runes, was a colossal, humanoid-shaped cocoon. It was breathing.
Not asleep.
Dormant. Listening.
The scout's whisper came in clearly:
"This one… it's listening to us."
Then, suddenly—a flare of green light pulsed from the cocoon.
The signal went dead.
Aki clenched her jaw.
"...We deploy machine Veilers to high-threat border zones. Three per region. Minimal movement unless triggered."
"And the faculty in Tekarya?" Jerome Hykali asked from a side monitor.
"We prepare a separate mission to take it back. Quietly," Aki replied. "If we're heading into full-scale war, we'll need every weapon we've locked away."
She looked back to the remaining handlers.
"And pray the ones we send don't fall into the wrong hands."