"Who are you? You're not Gale Astralith," Ray exclaimed, stepping in front of Page protectively. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her behind him. "I know is not everyone who receives the crest I can recall but for Gale I know perfectly well—I escaped Alpha Dawn Cells with him."
Miles raised his hands defensively, his voice urgent. "I can explain, but you need to listen. El's people—"
BOOM! BOOM!
A deafening explosion rocked the factory, cutting Miles off mid-sentence. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and a plume of black smoke billowed into the room.
"What was that?!" Page shouted, her voice rising above the chaos.
Ray and Page exchanged a quick, alarmed look before Page bolted toward the door. "I need to get to my workshop!" she yelled, vanishing into the smoke-filled factory before Ray could stop her.
"Page, wait!" Ray called out, his hand reaching after her, but she was already gone. His fingers curled into a fist, frustration flashing across his face.
The acrid scent of burning machinery filled the air, and distant screams echoed through the hallways. The factory floor was a mess—white-coated workers lay lifeless, their bodies scattered like broken dolls amidst overturned tables and shattered equipment.
"Shit!" Page's muffled curse reached them, though her voice sounded farther away now.
Ray turned back to Miles, his face dark with suspicion. "This is your doing, isn't it?" he hissed, grabbing Miles by the front of his coat and shoving him against the wall.
Miles shook his head, his voice frantic. "No! It's not my fault! But El is here. He's after the machine—the one used for locating people. That's why—"
Ray cut him off, yanking him down behind a table as heavy footsteps echoed through the smoke-filled workshop. Shadows flickered across the walls as figures moved past, their shapes blurred by the haze.
"Stay quiet," Ray whispered sharply, his grip on Miles's shoulder tightening.
The footsteps slowed just outside the door, followed by a distant scream from further down the factory floor. Ray's teeth clenched, his face pale as he listened intently. When the sounds moved away, he exhaled shakily and turned to Miles, his eyes burning with fury.
"This is all your fault," Ray growled, his voice low but laced with venom. "You brought El's people here. You better hope Page is safe, or I swear—"
"Look, I didn't know this would happen!" Miles shot back, his tone desperate. "El is after the machine. It seems he is willing to kill for it!"
Ray's jaw tightened, his hand trembling as it hovered near his goggles. "The machine… That must be why she went back. Page told me she stopped working on that thing. Damn it!" He slammed his fist against the floor, the sound drowned out by another distant explosion.
Ray turned to Miles, his expression hardening. "Listen to me," he said, his voice cold and deliberate. "You're going to help me fix this mess. Because of this? This is on you."
Miles met his glare, his jaw tightening as his resolve solidified. "Fine," he said firmly. "But only if you let me use the machine to find my friend."
Ray stared at him for a moment, the tension between them palpable. Finally, he nodded sharply. "I don't care about your damn friend. Miles frowned, his fists clenching at his sides. "Then let's make sure she's safe. And I take the machine."
"Before we go, I need something to protect myself and Page in case of trouble," Ray said, his tone sharp as he ducked under the table and pulled out a metallic vest-like device. Despite its heavy appearance, Ray handled it with ease. As he slipped it on, the centre of the vest began to hum softly, a blue orb glowing and spinning within a circular mechanism on his chest.
Next, Ray retrieved three Gloster Jockers from beneath the table. The sleek, compact devices gleamed under the faint light as he handed one to Miles.
"Take this," Ray instructed curtly.
Miles hesitated, glancing at the weapon in his hand. He turned it over, observing the intricate engravings along its sides. "Aren't these things a work in progress?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I've had my fair share of broken equipment, and I don't—"
"Just shut up," Ray snapped, cutting him off. His sharp tone left no room for argument. "These are my designs. They work perfectly, so stop questioning it."
With that, Ray picked up the final piece of equipment from the hidden cache: a gauntlet-like device resembling a watch. Sliding it onto his left hand, he adjusted the fit before flexing his fingers. The device emitted a faint hum, a soft glow radiating from its edges.
Ray sighed, rolling his shoulders to adjust the vest's weight. "Alright, let's go."
The two stepped out into the factory, and the scale of the destruction hit them like a wave.
Flames crackled, their flickering light casting twisted, chaotic shadows across the walls and machinery. Smoke hung heavy in the air, stinging their eyes and filling their lungs with the acrid scent of burning metal. Sparks rained from exposed wires, and the once-pristine floor was littered with shattered glass, charred equipment, and bodies draped in the white coats of the factory workers.
Miles tightened his grip on the Gloster Jocker, his knuckles whitening as his gaze darted around. "This is… worse than I thought," he muttered under his breath.
"Stay focused," Ray barked, his voice cutting through the haze like a blade. "We need to find Page before they do."
"Come on," Ray said, his eyes blazing with determination. "We don't have time to waste."
Miles nodded, falling into steps behind Ray as they pressed through the chaos of the smoke-filled factory, their movements cautious but deliberate. Every sound—every flicker of light—set Miles on edge, his senses straining to catch any hint of an approaching threat.
Suddenly, out of the swirling smoke, a figure darted toward him with unnatural speed. Two pairs of glowing red eyes pierced the haze, fixed intently on their prey.
Miles's heart raced as he heard the rapid thuds of metallic footsteps. He spun around, raising the Gloster Jocker instinctively. Before he could fire, the figure was on him, a blur of thin, skeletal limbs that seemed almost too fragile to be functional.
The impact sent Miles sprawling to the ground. His weapon slipped from his grip and skidded across the floor, disappearing into the smoke. The creature—a humanoid robot—pinned him down with a cold, unrelenting force. Its left hand clamped around his throat like a vice, cutting off his air.
"Damn it!" Miles wheezed, his legs kicking against the floor as he struggled to break free. But the robot's grip was unnaturally strong.
As the machine raised its right arm, the appendage shifted, gears whirring as the limb transformed into a sleek gun. The weapon locked into place with a metallic snap, the barrel aimed squarely at Miles's forehead.
Miles's thoughts raced in a blur of panic. I thought they didn't have guns—what the hell?
Before the machine could fire, a loud blast shattered the tension. The robot's head exploded into fragments, the pieces clattering onto the factory floor.
Ray sprinted through the smoke, the glowing core of his vest pulsing with energy as he lowered his weapon. He grabbed Miles by the arm and hauled him to his feet. "Get it together!" Ray barked, his eyes scanning their surroundings.
Miles panted heavily, rubbing his bruised throat. "Thanks," he managed between gasps, his gaze darting to where the remains of the robot lay in a crumpled heap.
The sound of faint, mechanical whirring filled the air. Miles's stomach sank as more glowing red eyes emerged from the smoke, cutting through the haze like bloodstained stars. One by one, the eyes multiplied, locking onto the pair with eerie precision.
"Oh, come on," Miles muttered, panic creeping into his voice.
The smoke shifted as the machines stepped forward, their thin, metallic bodies gleaming in the flickering firelight. There were too many to count, their shapes blurring into the chaos of the smoke-filled factory.