By some cruel twist of fate, the Archbishop summoned a clawed tendril from the void, its serrated edges glowing with a dark crimson hue. It lashed out in a blur, striking Daniel's flamethrower. The blow tore through the weapon and plunged into his abdomen with a sickening crunch.

The flamethrower exploded violently, sending a shockwave that forced everyone to stagger back. Flames and shards of metal scattered across the chamber, a mix of green and silver streaks illuminating the chaos.

Qasim's breath hitched, his eyes widening in horror as Daniel's charred body fell to the ground, flames still consuming his upper half.

The Archbishop staggered, his twisted armor hanging in tatters. Cracks riddled its surface, glowing faintly with green flames that clung to him like a curse. Silver streaks of Kai's energy surged through his form, each pulse further shattering the corrupted plating. His once-sinister crimson aura sputtered and dimmed, flickering like a dying flame.

"Look what you made me do," he spat, voice trembling with fury and pain. His blackened form faltered as he tried to teleport, the swirling smog and crimson lightning forming sluggishly around him.

Suddenly, a deafening crash echoed from the chamber's entrance. The massive door groaned as a giant robotic hand pried it open, revealing Poly's towering figure.

"Not so fast," Poly declared, his screen flickering to black as his systems activated. He raised an arm, and the swirling smog began to collapse inward, absorbed into his screen like a vortex consuming the void.

The Archbishop, still reeling from the effects of Poly's smog absorption, quickly regained his composure, his eyes glowing with renewed malice. With a twisted sneer, he fired a volley of dark arrows, their shafts crackling with malevolent energy. They tore through the air and collided against Poly's armored shell, but the shots were meaningless, clattering harmlessly off the hardened surface. Poly stood unfazed, his towering form like a steel sentinel amidst the chaos.

Without hesitation, Poly unleashed a pulse of hypnotic radiation, waves of undulating energy rippling outward in a silent storm. The air shimmered with intensity, and then the low hum of his sonic attack resonated, a penetrating sound that cut through the chamber.

The Archbishop recoiled, his eyes snapping shut in agony as the radiation washed over him. His body convulsed, his form shuddering violently. He staggered back, his once-crimson aura faltering as the disorienting waves disrupted his concentration.

As the Archbishop's torment continued, the sound of boots pounding the floor echoed through the chamber. The doorways were filled with the sharp scent of tension, and TLL operatives stormed in from all sides, rifles and small arms raised. They fired in perfect unison, a hail of bullets and energy blasts erupting toward the Archbishop, each round tearing through the air with lethal intent.

But the Archbishop barely reacted. His armor, cracked and smoldering, flickered with dark energy as he stood tall, undeterred by the onslaught. It was as if the barrage of gunfire, no matter how intense, was beneath his notice. His focus remained elsewhere—on something deeper, more urgent.

The black smog around the Archbishop thickened, swirling violently as streaks of crimson energy crackled through the air, momentarily lighting up the darkened chamber. His broken armor seemed to shudder under the weight of the power coursing through him, and with a guttural growl, he uttered the words, "Special Technique: Abyssal Destruction."

A dark pulse emanated from him, and in an instant, the shadows around the Archbishop began to warp and twist. The chamber trembled as the very air grew heavy with malignant energy. Dark tendrils, sharp and jagged, shot out from every direction, writhing like serpents hungry for prey. These tendrils lashed around the Archbishop's battered form, wrapping him in a cloak of darkness that seemed to devour the light itself.

The tendrils continued to grow, thickening and coiling, forming a cocoon of raw destructive power around the Archbishop. The air became thick with an oppressive pressure, and the very walls of the chamber began to crack under the intensity of the dark energy swirling within. The crimson lightning flickered and surged through the tendrils, as though feeding the monstrous form being forged.

And then, with a violent shudder, the darkness coalesced. The tendrils writhed and twisted together, melding into a grotesque shape—a hulking, monstrous beast formed from the very essence of Abyssal Destruction. Its eyes were voids of blackness, its body an amalgamation of swirling dark smoke and jagged shadows, radiating a palpable sense of malevolence. The beast's presence alone seemed to drain the room of life, casting everything in a suffocating silence.

It towered above the chamber, a thing of nightmare and fury, its massive form thrumming with the chaotic energy of the Archbishop's special technique. A low, guttural growl emanated from the beast, vibrating the very air, sending tremors through the floor.

The Archbishop's monstrous form chuckled darkly, his grotesque maw curling into a malicious grin as his burning crimson eyes fixed on Poly.

Poly stepped back immediately, his usually unshakable presence tempered with caution. "Fall back!" he ordered, his synthetic voice cutting through the chaos. The operatives scrambled toward the chamber's narrow exit, Poly lowering himself to fit through the passage, his massive frame straining against the confines.

They cleared the doorway just as a searing crimson beam erupted from the beast's mouth, obliterating the door in an instant. The intense heat lingered, warping the air around the jagged hole left behind. Poly straightened outside, his screens flickering. "Too close," he muttered, ensuring everyone was clear before turning back to assess the situation.

Inside the chamber, Kai stood his ground, defiance burning in his eyes. He raised his blade, its silver energy sparking with power, and unleashed a brilliant arc aimed at the beast's neck. The attack struck true, lighting up the chamber in a flash, but the monstrous form remained unscathed, the energy dissipating against its shadowy mass.

The Archbishop's furious roar shook the chamber as his crimson eyes locked onto Kai. The defiance had halted the attack, but at a cost—he now bore the full weight of the Archbishop's rage. The beast gathered energy, the tendrils around it writhing violently, an ominous prelude to the devastation about to unfold.

"Nasty freak!" Kai taunted, raising his katana with a defiant glare. "Come at me!"

The monstrous Archbishop let out a guttural growl, raising a massive paw and slamming it down toward Kai. But in a blur of motion, Kai darted aside, grazing the beast's opposite paw with a quick slash before reappearing at its flank.

"I can't overpower him," Kai thought, his breathing steady despite the looming threat. "I'll have to rely on my speed to buy more time."

The Archbishop roared in frustration, his movements growing more erratic as Kai continued his evasive dance. Leaping and darting around the chamber, Kai remained just out of reach, his katana flashing as he struck at openings in the creature's shadowy shell. While the strikes barely left a mark, they kept the beast's focus locked on him.

With each movement, Kai's speed built momentum. Timing a sharp turn, he used the force to land another strike—a shallow cut along the Archbishop's hardened exterior. It wasn't enough to cause real damage, but it was enough to keep the massive beast enraged and distracted. One more second. One more breath. That's all they needed.

Unfortunately, the Archbishop's dark sword swung with unnatural speed, striking Kai squarely. The blade detonated in a pulse of dark energy, throwing Kai back against the chamber wall. His flesh was torn and scorched, blood staining the ground as he crumpled in pain.

The Archbishop let out a deep, guttural laugh, towering over the fallen warrior. His claws crackled with malevolent energy, preparing for the final blow.

Before he could strike, the reinforced door behind him groaned open.

"Hey! Over here, ugly!" came a cocky shout. Isaac stepped in, his form radiating a vibrant glow of plasma, arcs of energy crackling across his body. His eyes were fixed on the Archbishop, a mix of defiance and determination burning within them. "Looks like you're overdue for a meltdown."

Without hesitation, a searing golden beam tore through the air, illuminating the chamber in a blinding flash. It struck the Archbishop square in the back, effortlessly disintegrating his cracked outer shell and scorching the raw, exposed flesh beneath. The room filled with the acrid stench of sulfur and ozone, a clash of elemental forces that made the air almost unbearable.

The Archbishop whirled around, his sinister crimson eyes narrowing at Isaac. Rising slightly into the air, dark energy coiled around him as he retaliated with a beam of his own—a spiraling torrent of malevolent power aimed directly at the newcomer.

Isaac continued his relentless assault, golden beams streaking across the room as he deftly dodged the Archbishop's counterattacks, the air heavy with sulfur and ozone. Meanwhile, Rebecca, Laura, and Emily crawled inside the beast's exposed back, taking advantage of the chaos to make their move unseen.

Just as Isaac found himself cornered, the Archbishop paused mid-strike, his monstrous form convulsing violently. The grotesque beast began to jerk and twist uncontrollably, dark tendrils snapping and spraying ichor as the Archbishop screeched in agony. With a final, deafening roar, his humanoid form, battered and nearly unrecognizable, tore itself free from the collapsing mass of flesh. He staggered forward, his body in an worse state and barely holding together.

Desperately holding off Emily's strings, the Archbishop clawed at the roof, opening it to the morning light in a final, frantic bid to escape. Rays of sunlight pierced the room, illuminating his battered form.

"Where do ya think you're going, lil bro?" Ryan's voice rang out from above, casual yet brimming with menace. He stood with Thomas and Anthony, poised for the kill. Ryan reached down, grabbing the Archbishop by his weakened frame and searing his face with a blast of plasma, leaving nothing but charred ruin.

With a flick of his arm, Ryan hurled the Archbishop's limp body to Anthony. A '>:3' emoticon flashed across Anthony's screen as he casually crushed the Archbishop's neck in his iron grip. Not done yet, Anthony tossed him over to Thomas.

Face-to-face with the Archbishop's dying form, Thomas glared, his rage boiling over. "YOU'LL PAY FOR ALL THIS!" he roared, fists sparking with electricity. In a frenzy, he delivered an unrelenting barrage of punches, each impact distorting and mangling the body further until it was nothing more than a heap of shattered flesh and bone.

The Archbishop's corpse fell into the chamber with a deafening, satisfying thud. Silence enveloped the space, broken only by the distant hum of cooling plasma. The echoes of their fury lingered, a grim testament to the battle's ferocity.

"It's all over," Qasim muttered, laying on the ground. He tilted his head back, his weary eyes locking onto the trio above, silhouetted against the morning light streaming through the shattered roof.

Poly materialized beside him in a swirling mass of black smog.

"Just a scratch," he quipped, though his towering frame told a different story. Sparks danced along the jagged edges of his damaged armor, wires exposed and frayed from the Archbishop's onslaught. Despite his injuries, the remnants of TLL operatives still clung to his chassis, steadfast and determined.

However, something felt off. As Qasim laid there, he began hearing mysterious noises, almost caused by presences he couldn't discern. Slowly, he saw them. Silhouettes of his fallen comrades emerged from the hazy air like ghosts tethered to his fractured memory core.

Kyle stood ahead, his arm hanging limp yet defiant, his gaze unyielding. To his right, Daniel and Calvin appeared, locked in a firm handshake, their expressions serene yet haunting.

A high-pitched ringing invaded his ears, growing unbearable. Suddenly, the world twisted. Colors inverted, reality warped, and the chamber dissolved around him. He found himself suspended in a vast, dark expanse, where only faint, rhythmic pulses of light illuminated the void, like distant heartbeats.

Before him stood the same enigmatic figure—a white man clad in an impeccably tailored black suit, dark shades masking his eyes, and an unsettling smile stretched across his face.

"Good job," the man commended, his tone smooth but laced with an ominous undertone. "Thanks to you, that Archbishop is... cooked."

The figure adjusted his tie, the smile unwavering. "However," he continued, pausing deliberately, "a larger threat looms upon you all."

As the second part of that sentence was uttered, a translucid image of a Tritanide was imprinted on Qasim's vision.

 "That's why some things are best left unspoken; confined within the veil of secrecy. There is no evidence left, except for one thing."

Qasim's confusion turned to unease. "What is this all abou—" he began, only to be abruptly silenced.

"This battle," the man interjected, his voice chilling, "you did not survive, Qasim."

At that moment, the inverted colors snapped back to normal, and Qasim was jolted into the harsh, chaotic reality of the chamber. A searing, unbearable pain shot through his neck and abdomen.

His trembling hands moved instinctively to his torso, only to find a massive, jagged tear running through his body, crimson soaking his fingers. Blood poured relentlessly, pooling around him as his breaths grew shallow and ragged.

The remnants of his exosuit sparked violently, the circuitry crackling before igniting. Flames spread rapidly across his broken frame, consuming him in a grotesque, agonizing blaze.

His vision blurred, the screams and chaos of the chamber fading into muffled echoes as his strength waned. For a moment, time seemed to slow, the unbearable heat mixing with an eerie sense of finality.

Laura's outstretched hand trembled in the air, her tears falling freely as she desperately tried to reach him. Rebecca stood beside her, her expression a bitter mixture of sadness and worry, her own hands clenched into fists as she held Laura back, knowing there was nothing to be done.

"Guess it all boils down to this," Qasim said, his voice barely more than a rasp, as he gazed up at Ryan. Despite Ryan's usual stoic demeanor, there was a flicker in his eyes—something raw and conflicted, an emotion rarely seen from him. Guilt.

The weight of the moment settled between them, and Ryan's gaze lingered on Qasim, as if silently blaming himself for not being able to do more, for failing to save him.

Qasim's breathing slowed, the fire consuming him, but his expression was calm—accepting. His eyes never left Ryan's. "Don't... blame yourself," he whispered, his voice faltering. "You did what you could... we all did."

With that final breath, Qasim's eyes closed, his body succumbing to the relentless pain. The world around them seemed to pause, the echoes of their battle fading into the heavy silence of loss.

The room was dimly lit, the glow of monitors casting long shadows across the faces of the TLL Inspection Board. They sat in silence, watching Qasim's bodycam feed flicker out, the stark "Operative has fallen. Press F to pay respects." text lingering on the screen, a cold reminder of the mission's tragic end.

The Head Detective leaned forward, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied the footage, his fingers tapping thoughtfully on the desk. His attire—classic detective gear, complete with a fedora and trench coat—was anachronistic, but his gaze was anything but outdated. He had seen enough to recognize when something wasn't right.

"This is extremely off," he muttered, more to himself than to the others in the room. "There was external meddling in this... Like many of the past unexplainable occurrences." His tone grew sharper, his voice thick with suspicion. "This wasn't just a failed mission. Someone or something is pulling strings from the shadows."

One of the operatives at the table, a younger officer with a fresh face, looked at him, brows furrowed in confusion. "Are you saying someone interfered with our mission?"

The Head Detective paused, running a hand through his graying hair. "Not just someone. There's a pattern. Look at how the Archbishop's behavior shifted after the initial attacks—how everything escalated. That's not typical of a force like him, not without... guidance. Kyle's mysterious remote and unsettling behavior. And Qasim? His bodycam—all those sporadic interferences and cut-offs—it's not just any hardware fault. There's something else, something observing them, dictating their every step."

"Whatever it is," the Inspector-General cut through, "they fought till their last breaths. One minute of silence for their sacrifice, please."

The room stood frozen in solemnity, each figure locked in a precise salute. The weight of sacrifice hung heavy in the air, as though the spirits of the fallen stood among them, watching, listening. For a full minute, no one spoke, no one moved, their stillness a tribute louder than words.

As the final second of silence dissolved, the Inspector-General lowered his hand with deliberate grace, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade: "Their fight ended so ours could continue. Their courage will echo in every step we take. We will not falter, not while their sacrifice burns in our memory."

And with that, the chapter closed—not in defeat, but in unyielding resolve. An arc born of bloodshed and struggle gave way to a new beginning, the promise of a battle yet to come, forged in the flames of the ones who had gone before.