Chapter 123 — A Perilous Mission & the Gathering Storm

  Four Weeks.

  That was the span of time Raven and Fluffy had vanished from their lives.

  And it was the fourth week that would change everything.

  The Inability to Stay Still

  For once, Seven found himself grappling with something that clashed entirely with every survival instinct drilled into him.

  Stay put.

  His wounds had mended—bone knit together, muscles restored, the worst of the internal turmoil soothed by the skilled hands of the War Rabbit Guild’s healers. Rhea had signed off on his recovery that very morning, yet her gaze lingered on the scars, as if reading the stories they told.

  She always did.

  “You heal fast,” she noted softly, adjusting the last of his bandages. “But your body remembers everything.”

  Seven leaned back against the bedframe, a restless surge of energy coursing through him. “So do I.”

  Rhea studied him, her brow furrowed. “You’re not resting.”

  “I’m not bleeding anymore,” he replied defiantly. “That’s close enough.”

  From the doorway, Ripper snorted, shaking his head.

  “That’s just soldier logic,” he chimed in, stepping into the room with an air of authority. “It gets people killed.”

  Seven didn’t bother to argue.

  Ripper folded his arms across his chest, his posture a statue of stubbornness. “You survived Kinata because she let you. Don’t mistake escape for victory. Out there? Humans don’t get second chances.”

  Seven turned his gaze to the far wall, lost in thought. “I know.”

  Ripper pressed on, the weight of his experience heavy in the air. “You’ve made strides. Phantom Stride is solid. But the rest? Still a mess. Apex Mode is a gamble—heads, you succeed; tails, you burn out.”

  “So don’t use it,” Seven shot back.

  “Wrong. Use it the right way. Break it down. Strength, speed, magic—manage them separately. Stop treating it like a panic button.”

  Seven nodded slowly, a flicker of understanding igniting in his mind.

  “Apex Mode,” he murmured, “but modular.”

  “That’s the plan,” Ripper affirmed, a hint of approval creeping into his tone. “But only when you stop trying to self-destruct on every mission.”

  A faint, humorless laugh escaped Seven’s lips, bittersweet and acknowledging.

  After that, they walked the corridor in silence, the weight of their unspoken thoughts hanging in the air like a palpable tension. Each step echoed with the promise of challenges yet to come, and the determination to rise to meet them.

  The Moment the Line Went Dead

  The command center was too quiet, an unsettling stillness that hung in the air like a storm waiting to break.

  Miss Hopps noticed it before anyone said a word. Her instincts kicked in, honing in on the silence that was far too deafening for a place usually buzzing with activity.

  The Jack Rabbit’s signal—steady for weeks—flickered once, a fleeting pulse of hope, then vanished into the void.

  Her posture stiffened. “Get the engineers. Now!” The urgency in her voice sliced through the silence, igniting the room into a flurry of activity.

  Moments later—

  Brinley arrived first, her expression a canvas of dread. One look at the display, and her face drained of color as the reality dawned on her like a dark shadow creeping over the command center.

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  “That’s not interference,” she said, voice strained. “If the beacon’s gone, the power core's dead. Or the vehicle's destroyed.”

  “How long ago?” Miss Hopps asked, the words pulling at her as if they were drawing her into an abyss.

  “Minutes. Maybe less,” he replied, almost too quietly.

  Miss Hopps moved with purpose, her mind racing. “Do we have another transport?”

  Brinley shook her head, frustration etched across her features. “Not one that can make that distance. Most are still under construction.”

  Miss Hopps turned sharply, determination etched in her expression like steel. “Lola. Availability.”

  Without missing a beat, Lola looked at her screen and responded, “Only Burrowguards. Weeks out at best.”

  Miss Hopps closed her eyes, the weight of the situation crashing down on her like a tidal wave. Weeks was a death sentence—time they simply didn't have.

  Meanwhile, Seven heard the whispers of urgency before anyone came looking for him. The electric hum of the command center faded momentarily, replaced by the rapid thudding of his heart.

  He was already moving when the words reached him.

  “—signal loss confirmed—”

  Push through the command center doors, he did, hard enough that they rattled, alerting everyone to his presence.

  “Say it again,” he demanded, his voice steady yet laced with tension.

  Every head turned, eyes wide with a fear they couldn’t contain.

  Miss Hopps met his piercing gaze, and a chill trickled down his spine. “The Jack Rabbit’s signal is gone,” she confirmed.

  Seven stood very still, feeling the ground shift beneath him.

  “Raven and Fluffy?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, dread curling in the pit of his stomach.

  “We don’t know,” she said carefully, as if hoping to shield him from the reality.

  “That’s not an answer,” he pressed, urgency clawing at his insides.

  Ripper stepped in before Miss Hopps could respond, his tone as sharp as a knife. “You’re not going.”

  Seven turned to him, cool and unyielding. “You don’t know that.”

  “You are a known target,” Ripper snapped, frustration boiling over. “The Aku have been watching you. Sending you out there alone is suicide.”

  Seven didn’t raise his voice, but the tension within him was palpable. “If you send anyone else, they won’t make it.”

  Silence fell, thick as fog, as Miss Hopps studied him, her crimson eyes sharp enough to cut through the uncertainty. “And what makes you think you will?”

  Seven exhaled slowly, each breath grounding him. “Because I can move through Aku territory faster than any team you can assemble. Because they’re already watching me. And because standing here pretending time isn’t killing them won’t change the outcome.”

  Ripper opened his mouth to argue—

  “I’m not doing this because I think I’m invincible,” Seven continued, voice steady and unwavering. “I’m doing it because leaving them out there goes against everything I was trained to be.” The conviction in his words filled the room with a fierce energy.

  Miss Hopps turned away, jaw tight, the weight of the decision bearing down on her. She was cornered. And she knew it.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke.

  “If you go,” she warned, voice low and serious, “you don’t engage unless you have no other option.”

  Seven nodded sharply, heart racing.

  “And if you’re forced to choose—”

  “I know,” he said quietly, resolve hardening his features. “I come back alive.”

  Miss Hopps met his eyes again, the unspoken understanding hanging heavy between them.

  “Then go,” she said, her voice unwavering. “But understand this—if the Aku want you badly enough, you’re walking straight into their den.”

  Seven didn’t flinch, the challenge igniting a fierce determination within him. “I already did,” he replied, firm.

  And this time, he was going back on his own terms. The line might have gone dead, but his spirit was alive with purpose, racing against the ticking clock of fate. Time was running out, and he was ready to forge his path into the unknown darkness.

  The Hunt Resumes

  Beyond the towering walls of Novastra, a blanket of untouched snow stretched out like a pristine canvas under the pale light of a waning moon.

  Kinata and Lyra had become shadows in the wilderness, blending seamlessly with their surroundings for weeks, patient, unseen, and unchallenged. The War Rabbit patrols passed by obliviously, their heavy boots crunching over the snow while the city’s sentinels felt only the steady thrum of the barrier surrounding their home. To the humans, the vast expanse outside the walls was nothing but desolate wilderness.

  But it was alive.

  Kinata flicked the snow from her fur-lined pants, her irritation evident in the sharp twitch of her tail. Her winter jacket hugged her form, designed for agility rather than warmth, allowing her nimble movements to mimic the grace of a predator.

  “How much longer does he intend to hide behind those walls?” she growled, her feline ears flicking as she tried to catch any hint of the human's presence.

  Lyra lounged nearby, a picture of relaxed confidence, spinning a poisoned blade between her fingers with a casual rhythm. “Longer than most humans would dare. Fear keeps them lurking in their nests.”

  Kinata’s ears perked up, a mixture of frustration and excitement bubbling within her. “I didn’t use my full strength,” she replied, recalling the sheer force she’d restrained during their last encounter.

  Lyra smirked, her golden eyes glinting mischievously. “If you had, his bones would be splinters, and Lady Lumin would have your head for wasting such an exquisite anomaly.”

  Kinata snorted softly, remembering the impact—the sheer force sending him crashing into the trees like a fragile doll. “Even holding back, he fled like a cornered animal.”

  Lyra’s grin widened into a sly smile full of promise. “Ah, but that’s the intrigue of it, isn’t it?”

  Kinata’s gaze shifted to the looming silhouette of Novastra’s gates, where secrets lingered just beyond. “Humans are fragile creatures,” she mused, “but that one… he’s tougher than he ought to be.”

  The air around them crackled with anticipation as both Neko turned their ears toward the sound they’d been waiting for.

  Movement.

  In the distance, the heavy gates of the city creaked open, revealing a figure stepping into the icy expanse, cloaked in shadows.

  “There,” Kinata breathed, her instincts sharpening in an instant.

  As their target ventured forth, they noted the bulging pack slung over his shoulder—this wasn’t a casual stroll; he was on a mission.

  Lyra leaned forward, her feline nature sensing every nuance of the air as her eyes narrowed. “Supplies for days. He’s not just wandering. He’s preparing for something.”

  Kinata's heart raced with a thrill. She watched as Seven stepped beyond the barrier, the warmth of the city fading behind him, illuminating the predator within.

  “Good,” she murmured, a satisfied growl rumbling in her chest. “Then this isn’t a short mission like last time.”

  Lyra rose fluidly to her feet, shadows unfurling from her presence like a cloak of night wrapping around her. “It’s a hunt…” she purred, her voice intoxicating with the thrill of the chase.

  Kinata allowed a pleased smile to curve her lips, a feral glint dancing in her eyes. “Then we don’t rush. We savor every moment.”

  With silent agreement, the two Neko melted into the shadows, predators born of the night, poised to strike as the hunt began anew.

  Into the Unknown

  Seven already knew where they had last been seen.

  Raven. Fluffy. Grent. Sylvi. The engineers.

  Northern region. Deep winter territory. Near the collapsed site designated Epsilon-9.

  He checked his straps one last time, settling the weight of his pack and rifle across his shoulders.

  “How long?” he asked without turning.

  Miss Hopps stood behind him, arms crossed. “If you were moving like anyone else? Weeks.”

  Seven nodded once.

  “But if you manage Phantom Stride the way Ripper’s drilled into you…” she continued, “…two days. Maybe three.”

  Ripper stepped up beside him. “That only works if you don’t treat it like a sprint. You pace yourself or you die halfway there.”

  Seven met his gaze. “Understood.”

  Miss Hopps placed a firm hand on his shoulder—not reassurance, not comfort. Responsibility.

  “We wouldn’t send you if there were another option,” she said quietly. “So don’t waste this.”

  Seven inclined his head.

  Then he stepped forward.

  The barrier parted for him, sensing no malice—only intent.

  Cold air rushed in.

  The city fell behind him.

  This time, Seven wasn’t walking into the unknown blind.

  He knew he was being watched.

  And for the first time, he was ready to move knowing that.

  The hunt had begun again.

  Not because he was prey—

  But because he refused to leave anyone behind.