Location: Route 97 Canyon

  The sky over the canyon is stained black. The column of smoke rising from the Sawmill is so vast that it blocks out the sun. For Gun’s soldiers, it is the sign that there is nowhere left to return to. Panic sets in, but the 5 Heretics of Group A show no mercy.

  Kane slices through the jeeps' axles with his saws, Kol cuts down men as if they were oak trees, and Elena and Tara form a wall of blades and steel that halts any advance.

  In the middle of the road, Gun falls to his knees. His Magnum, once steady, now trembles in his hand. He ignores the battle cries around him. His eyes are fixed on the burning horizon.

  "Freya..." the whisper comes out muffled by the leather of his mask. "My treasure..."

  He collapses, hands pressed flat against the hot asphalt. Silent tears stream behind the leather mask, soaking the lining. Gun believes that Group B didn't go there to save, but to exterminate everything he loved. The "Demi-God" is dead; all that remains is an executioner who has lost his reason for being.

  The Junkyard Predator

  Location: Burning Sawmill – Inner Courtyard

  The Sawmill is a sonic hell. Metal snaps from the heat, and secondary tanks explode at rhythmic intervals. Group B rushes toward the south exit, with Mika and Vane shielding Freya, while Beck and Piro carry the last of the medical supplies.

  "Move! The main tank is gonna blow in three minutes!" Beck shouts, glancing at a pressure gauge that is beeping frantically.

  They burst through a curtain of smoke toward the gate but come to a dead stop.

  Standing atop a pile of twisted iron beams, blocking the only exit, is Mickey Trigger.

  He didn't flee with the army. He didn't try to put out the fire. He is exactly where he wanted to be: in the chaos. Mickey is wearing his grease-stained Yellow Jacket and a red bandana tied around his forehead, holding back his sweat and shaggy hair. In his hands, he lazily swings an anchor chain he scavenged from the loading bay, with a butcher’s hook at the end.

  Mickey lets out a raspy laugh that cuts through the roar of the flames.

  "Henry’s quite the poet... sending 'The Bosnian' and 'Piro' to do the dirty work." Mickey leaps from the pile of iron with a sickening lightness, landing ten meters from the group. "But he forgot that I love the heat."

  He locks eyes with Freya, who cowers behind Mika.

  "Well, well... the Queen is running away with the rats? Gun is gonna be so sad..." Mickey spins the iron hook, creating a hypnotic whirring sound. "You know, Henry gave me a beatdown in the bunker. I can still taste his blood. And since he’s not here for me to pay him back... I think I’ll just break every bone in the bodies of the people he sent to save."

  Vane Zadeko steps forward, uncoiling his steel whip. "Get out of the way, Mickey. This place is gonna blow, and you’re going with it."

  "Blow?" Mickey flashes a manic grin, revealing stained teeth. "Vane, I was born in the scrap heap. I’m not afraid of the fire... I’m what’s left after the fire goes out."

  Mickey hurls the hook with inhuman speed. The metal flies toward Vane’s face; he dodges by millimeters, but the hook slams into a wooden pillar behind him, tearing out a massive chunk of the structure.

  "PIRO! BECK! GET FREYA OUT OF HERE!" Vane screams, bracing for the strike. "Mika, Leo... help me take this animal down!"

  Mickey Trigger doesn’t back down. He yanks the chain back. He is in his element: alone, surrounded by hot metal, and hungry for pain.

  The Awakening of Fury (Return to the Canyon)

  Henry watches Gun fallen. He signals Kane and the others to stop the massacre. Gun’s soldiers, seeing their leader collapse, drop their weapons or flee into the woods.

  Henry walks up to Gun. His brass knuckles are stained, but he doesn't raise them.

  "It’s over, Gun," Henry says, his voice steady through the blue wooden mask. "Your empire of oil has turned to ash. Now it's just the two of us."

  Gun slowly raises his head. His hands are smeared with soot. He looks at Henry, and the sadness in his eyes is replaced by an absolute void. The delusion that Freya died has transformed his pain into a suicidal indifference.

  "You don't understand, Henry..." Gun says, standing up with difficulty. "You didn't destroy an empire. You destroyed the only thing that kept me human."

  Gun draws his Magnum and points it at his own chest, then shifts his aim to Henry, his arm steady as a rock once again.

  "If she died in the flames... I’m going to make sure you feel the heat out here."

  Clash of the Titans (Route 97 Canyon)

  Gun no longer fights like a strategist; he fights like an earthquake. He fires the Magnum, but the cylinder is empty, forcing Henry to use his parkour to leap between the wreckage of the jeeps.

  Since the ammo is gone, Gun hurls the heavy gun at Henry’s face and charges. Henry dodges, but Gun’s punch—a brutal impact—hits him in the shoulder, throwing the scout against the canyon’s rock wall.

  "SHE WAS EVERYTHING!" Gun roars, delivering a sequence of powerful blows.

  Henry blocks with his forearms, the metal of his brass knuckles clinking against Gun's calloused knuckles. Henry uses his agility to counter-attack, landing a precise cut with his serrated knife on Gun’s thigh, but the leader of the Enforcers doesn't even flinch. He grabs Henry by the collar and throws him over the hood of a truck.

  Henry recovers with a roll and kicks Gun in the chest. They grapple, rolling across the asphalt. Henry tries to lock in a rear-naked choke, but Gun uses his absurd strength to slam Henry’s back against a rock, knocking the wind out of the scout.

  The fight is ugly, raw, and desperate. Neither of them gives in. Henry manages to land a right cross that tears part of Gun’s leather mask, revealing an eye bloodshot with pain. Gun responds with a headbutt that cracks the tip of Henry’s wooden mask. They are both exhausted, bleeding, and panting, standing in the middle of the road, waiting for the next move.

  The Yellow Slaughterhouse (Burning Sawmill)

  At the Sawmill, the scene is apocalyptic. Vane Zadeko and Mika Thorne surround Mickey Trigger, while Leo tries to flank him from the upper beams that groan under the fire.

  Mickey is a demon. He swings the anchor chain with a mastery that defies the metal's weight. The butcher’s hook grazes Mika’s neck as she spins her Naginata to parry the attack. The sound of steel clashing against the chain echoes through the crumbling walls.

  "You guys are slow!" Mickey laughs, kicking a flaming barrel toward Vane.

  Vane uses his steel whip to lash the barrel away, but Mickey takes advantage of the opening to snag Vane’s leg with the chain. With a violent yank, he brings "The Weaver" down.

  "VANE!" Mika screams, lunging forward with a thrust of her spear.

  Mickey wraps the chain around the Naginata’s blade and pulls Mika close, delivering a brutal headbutt. He is about to drive the hook into her chest when Leo leaps from the beams, digging his climbing claws into Mickey’s back.

  Mickey bellows—not in pain, but in excitement. He throws himself backward against a concrete wall to crush Leo, who lets go at the last second.

  The fight turns into a chaos of falling debris. Vane gets up, his face smeared with soot, and snags Mickey’s chain with his whip. Mika and Leo charge simultaneously. Mickey is surrounded, bleeding from several cuts, but his smile remains intact. He kicks a support beam, causing the ceiling between them to collapse, creating a barrier of fire and rubble that separates the group.

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  Fate Interrupted

  In the canyon, Gun raises a piece of rebar to deliver the final blow to an exhausted Henry. Henry readies his brass knuckles for one last counter-attack.

  "STOP!" the scream rips through the air.

  From the top of the slope, Group B emerges. Piro and Beck appear first, followed by Freya. She is filthy, her dress is torn, and her face is smeared with soot, but she is alive.

  Gun freezes. The rebar falls from his hand, clanging against the asphalt. He rips off his leather mask with a desperate tug, revealing a face bathed in sweat and tears.

  "Freya..." he whispers, his voice failing completely.

  Freya runs down the slope and stops between the two men. She looks at Gun with a mix of pity and rejection, then looks at Henry, who is struggling to stand.

  "The empire is over, Gun," Freya says, her voice steady. "There is nothing left to fight for."

  Gun falls to his knees again, but this time it isn't because of a military defeat. It is the collapse of a man who realizes that his "treasure" is now the one dictating the end of his reign.

  At the Sawmill, Mickey Trigger watches through the flames as Group B escapes through the back. He wipes the blood from his face with the sleeve of his yellow jacket and lets out a low laugh. He knows the war has changed shape. He disappears into the shadows of the collapsing base, like a rat that survives any shipwreck.

  The Aftermath

  Henry looks at his brothers, all gathered together. Solomon approaches, placing a hand on the "General's" shoulder. The Heretics are together, armed and free. The Enforcers are scattered, out of fuel and out of a cause.

  Gun remains on the asphalt, staring at his empty hands. He isn't dead, but the "God" he believed himself to be has been incinerated.

  Henry puts his wooden mask back on, his gaze fixed on the road that now belongs to those who do not seek crowns.

  "Let's move out," Henry says. "Oregon is clean, at least on the highways."

  The silence that follows the ceasefire is deafening. The smoke from the Sawmill still draws dark patterns in the sky, but in the canyon, the physical tension has given way to a heavy melancholy.

  Henry walks over to Gun, who remains on his knees, motionless. Without resistance, Henry removes Gun’s Magnum from its leather holster. Henry holds it, feeling the weight of the forged steel. With an agile, technical movement, he spins the gun between his fingers—a reflection of his new position of power—before tucking it into his own belt.

  "I’m keeping this little toy," Henry says, his voice low and sharp. "The lead has a master now who knows the value of life."

  Kane and Kol approach with steel chains salvaged from the wreckage and bind Gun’s wrists. The man who proclaimed himself a God does not fight; he seems to have aged decades in just a few minutes.

  The Queen’s Promise

  Freya approaches slowly. She stops before Gun, looking at the face of the man who kept her in a silk cage. There is a deep sadness in her eyes, but also a sense of liberation.

  "I saw the way you looked at the fire, Gun," Freya says, her voice steady despite everything. "I truly thought you cared more about your army and your empire than you did about me. But you crumbled for me."

  Gun looks up, searching for her eyes. There is no more hatred in him, only a silent plea.

  "I won't abandon you to oblivion," Freya continues, lightly touching his face one last time as his Queen. "I will always visit you in prison. You will live to see the world you tried to enslave flourish without you."

  Gun closes his eyes, accepting the sentence. Being a prisoner of the one he loved was the only fate he hadn't foreseen.

  The Exodus of the Enforcers

  The scene expands to show what remains of "Region 97." In the distance, small groups of cowboy soldiers walk along the asphalt, abandoning their posts. Without Gun’s leadership and without Colt’s strategic command, the army has fragmented.

  Some Enforcers still travel together on motorcycles or in old jeeps, keeping the mask insignia, but now they are nothing more than wandering mercenaries, without a cause and without fuel. The empire that once dominated Oregon has evaporated along with the petroleum smoke from the Sawmill.

  The Heretics' Regrouping

  Henry turns toward his group. The ten Heretics — now complete with Piro and Beck — are gathered around Solomon. They carry the marks of battle, but their wooden masks remain intact, symbols of a resistance that defeated gunpowder through unity.

  "Are we heading back home, Solomon?" Henry asks, looking toward the mountains to the north.

  Solomon watches Freya, who now stands beside Mika and Elena. "Oregon is clean, Henry... but the world out there is still sick."

  Henry adjusts his blue wooden mask and gazes at the horizon. The "General" is now the leader of a brotherhood that seeks not thrones, but answers.

  Location: Central Building – Oregon City Time: 7:30 PM

  The Heretics' convoy enters the urban zone. The Central Building, which for months displayed the black and orange flags of the Enforcers, is now plunged into an imposing twilight. Henry leads the group through the marble lobby, where the statues and murals of the Heretics have been vandalized or covered by Gun’s graffiti.

  "It’s good to be back; I hope they didn't ruin my couch," Kol mutters.

  They go up the manual elevators to the council level. Henry walks to the panoramic window. Down below, Oregon City seems to breathe a sigh of relief. The fear that once emanated from this building has evaporated.

  The Prisoner of the Apex

  Henry doesn't take Gun to the basement. He takes him to a containment room on the highest floor—a room with reinforced glass walls that offers a panoramic view of the world he lost.

  "You wanted to be a God, Gun?" Henry says, as Kane locks Gun’s handcuffs to a central pillar. "Well, here is your Olympus. Look at Oregon. Look at every light shining down there. Not a single one of them shines for you anymore. You’re going to watch this world flourish without firing a single shot."

  Gun sits on the floor, leaning his back against the pillar. He looks at Henry, then at Henry’s belt, where his two Magnums now rest. For the first time, Gun doesn't respond with threats. He just watches the reflection of the city lights on the glass—a man in a luxury fishbowl.

  The Reoccupation

  The building quickly returns to life:

  Beck reconnects the local servers, bringing back the sensor surveillance system that Henry used to patrol the city.

  Piro and Mika organize the community kitchen on the middle floor, preparing the first meal in total freedom.

  The Confiscated Legacy

  Henry removes Gun’s two Magnums and places them on the oak table, right in the center. The gleam of the metal under the LED lights recovered by Beck is mesmerizing.

  "These guns caused a lot of pain," Henry says. "But now they will serve to protect those who cannot defend themselves."

  He turns to Freya, who is watching the city. "You said you would visit him. His room is the last one down the north hallway."

  Freya nods. She walks down the hallway toward the room where Gun is being held.

  The Whisper of Treason

  While the Heretics celebrate the reclaiming of their home, the scene cuts to street level, a few blocks away from the Central Building.

  Mickey Trigger walks calmly among the rubble of an abandoned convenience store. He whistles an off-beat melody. He stops in front of a wall where a torn poster featuring Henry's face hangs.

  Mickey pulls a can of yellow spray paint from his jacket and draws a large circle around Henry’s face, with an arrow pointing toward the Central Building.

  "Home, sweet home, scout..." Mickey mutters, laughing to himself. "Enjoy your rest. The second shift starts soon."

  Central Building – Containment Room (Floor 50) Time: 9:00 PM

  The glass room is an isolation aquarium at the top of Oregon City. Gun sits on the floor, his back against the steel pillar, the chains emitting a soft metallic clink every time he breathes. He no longer wears the mask; his face is bare, revealing a man of harsh features, marked by scars and a deep sadness.

  The electronic door slides open silently. Freya enters. She walks up to the reinforced glass that separates them.

  Gun looks up. A flicker of life returns to his eyes when he sees her. "You kept your promise," he says, his voice raspy. "You came to see the fallen God on his glass throne."

  Freya watches the reflection of the city lights superimposed over Gun’s face. She hesitates, her hand trembling slightly before resting on her own womb, still imperceptible under the fabric of her dress.

  "I didn't come to gloat, Gun," she says, her voice low, almost a whisper. "I came because of what you said about the future that morning. About heirs. About a world of ashes that needed life."

  Gun tilts his head, confused by the seriousness in her tone. "The empire is over, Freya. There is no inheritance left. Henry and his Heretics made sure nothing remains of my name."

  Freya leans her forehead against the cold glass, closing her eyes. "Henry doesn't know. No one knows yet." She takes a deep breath, and the truth hangs in the air like electricity. "I’m pregnant, Gun. It’s been two weeks, but I didn't tell you out of fear..."

  He simply stops breathing for a long second, and the despair that previously clouded his face gives way to a profound shock, followed by a serenity Freya had never seen in him.

  He stands up slowly. The sound of the chains isn't aggressive this time; it’s just the noise of a man trying to get closer to the only thing that still makes sense. He presses his palms flat against the glass, just inches from where Freya stands.

  "A child..." he whispers, and his voice has no trace of authority or thirst for empire. It is the voice of a man who has just discovered a miracle among the ruins. "Our heir."

  He gazes at her womb, his eyes shining with raw vulnerability. The idea of power, armies, and oil seems to have evaporated from his mind.

  "Freya..." Gun murmurs, his forehead touching the cold glass. "I don't want the world for him. I don't want him to carry the weight of what I’ve done. I just want... I just want him to have a chance to be someone better than I was."

  He looks at her with a silent plea, something he had never done in his life.

  "Please... I know there’s glass between us. I know I’m a monster in their eyes. But... can I? Can I touch?"

  Freya watches Gun’s trembling hand against the glass. She sees that, in that moment, the "God of Oregon" has definitively died, giving way to a father who knows he may never hold his own child in his arms.

  Slowly, Freya walks to the glass. She presses her womb against the transparent surface, exactly where Gun’s hand is flattened on the other side. For an instant, through the physical and moral barrier that separates them, they are connected by that new life.

  Gun closes his eyes, feeling the residual heat emanating from the glass. A sad, genuine smile appears on his lips.

  "Protect him, Freya," he says, his voice breaking. "Don't let Henry or Solomon speak only of the 'Leader of the Enforcers.' Let him know that, in the end, I only wanted him to live in a world where he didn't need a mask."

  Freya feels a single tear roll down. She nods. "He will be free, Gun. I promise."

  The Shadow in the Hallway

  She pulls away from the glass and walks toward the door. Gun remains there, his hand still pressed against the surface, watching the silhouette of the woman carrying his future.

  In the hallway, the lights are low. Mika Thorne is leaning against the opposite wall, her oak mask hiding any expression. She heard everything. She saw the touch through the glass.

  Freya stops when she sees Mika, her heart racing. The two women stare at each other in the silence of the steel and glass corridor.

  "Henry and the others are celebrating in the mess hall," Mika says, her voice filtered and neutral. "They think the past was buried today."

  Freya presses her hand against her womb, a now-instinctive gesture of protection. "The past never truly dies, Mika. It just changes shape."

  Mika pushes off the wall, her Naginata tapping lightly against the floor. She looks at the door to Gun’s cell and then at Freya. "A secret this size can bring this building down faster than any of Gun’s rockets. But..." Mika pauses solemnly. "Every Heretic deserves a chance to start from scratch. Even the ones who haven't been born yet."

  Mika walks toward the stairs, making it clear that, for now, the secret is safe with her. Freya breathes a sigh of relief, but she knows that the peace in the Central Building is now as fragile as the life she carries.

  Cold Oregon Night

  Meanwhile, the night wind howls through the twisted steel structures of abandoned skyscrapers. From the top of a neighboring tower, the view of the Central Building is perfect: a glass giant illuminated by the precarious power the Heretics restored.

  Two figures crouch at the edge of the terrace, blending perfectly into the darkness. They don't wear Gun’s raw leather, nor the cyan-blue of the Roadmen. Their gear is tactical—matte black that absorbs light—composed of hooded jackets, military trousers, and state-of-the-art ballistic vests.

  The metal masks they wear are skull faces made of polymer, one in white and the other in black, with dark lenses concealing their eyes.

  The first figure spins an FN Five-seveN pistol between his fingers with a chilling familiarity. He watches Henry’s silhouette on the distant balcony through thermal binoculars.

  "Gun has fallen," the voice comes through an electronic modulator—a metallic, raspy sound devoid of any humanity.

  The second figure lies in a firing position, keeping the barrel of a military sniper rifle pointed directly at the command floor windows. His finger never leaves the trigger.

  "Just as well," the other responds, his modulated voice sounding like a whisper from a grave. "He cleared enough for us in Southern Oregon. Not that our group couldn't have handled it..."

  The first holsters the pistol in a leg holster and looks toward the horizon.

  "The Heretics think they’ve inherited the world? They don't know we’re just letting them keep the building warm for us. Purging this world of humans is still the priority."

  "And the girl? Silas wants her!" the sniper asks, referring to Freya.

  "She carries Gun’s legacy, and I don't attack pregnant women! Children are sinless. Leave her in peace for now. When the signal is given, there won't be wood or glass left to tell the story of this city," the first one replied.

  The sniper, with the military rifle slung across his back, executes a precision jump, landing silently on a steel beam suspended thirty stories high.

  The other follows right behind. He moves with an economy of motion that makes Henry’s parkour look strained. He slides down steel cables, uses his body weight to swing around concrete corners, and lands in a perfect tactical roll, rising without breaking rhythm. They aren't just fleeing; they are floating over the ruined city.

  As they leap from a parapet to a fire escape, the first figure looks one last time at the glow of the Central Building. Behind the white skull mask, his thoughts run cold and calculating.

  "They think they won the war because they took down a madman in a sawmill..." he thinks, as he performs a leap of faith to the next roof. "These Heretics are good, I can’t deny that. They have grit, they have technique. But compared to us... compared to us, they look like kids playing at revolution."

  They hit street level in a dark alley, where a stealth vehicle awaits them with its lights off. The doors close, and the electric motor barely emits a hum as they disappear into the shadows of the industrial sector.

  End of Chapter