[Chapter 24 continues.]

"It can't be what?" Yoshua snapped. "Spit it out!"

Ibris took a breath. "I spent a lot of time with Sheera in the Citadel."

Mazi nodded, solemn. Ibris knew that Sheera had been his master, too.

"No time for nostalgia," Marcus cut in, sharp.

Ibris shot him a glare. "Sheera was always invested in the South, even when he was Ummanu of the Grand Citadel. He often buried himself in the ancient Dawa scriptures, especially the Scroll of Khenar-Tashi."

Marcus finally looked at him, focused. "An unusual choice for the Ummanu."

The Ummanu or Head Priest of the Grand Citadel. Second only to the High Priestess. A man bound to uphold the Gab Nori, the sacred religious texts of Atlantis.

And yet, Sheera had devoted his time elsewhere.

Ibris thought for a moment. How much did he want to share?

"Sheera was always troubled by the Atlantean nobility," he said. "And their disregard for the laws of Humrab."

Yoshua gave a slow, knowing nod.

For a moment, Ibris saw Sheera in him. The quiet resolve. Unshaken principles.

Ibris exhaled, jaw tight. "I was Sheera's first acolyte. Spent my first nineteen years with him. I even studied Dawa texts under his guidance."

He paused. The memories were bittersweet.

"I remember one chapter vividly. It spoke about a sentient android," he said. "The first of its kind. A machine that gained true consciousness. According to the scroll, this android led the war in the South, programming others to sentience, building an army."

Marcus sighed. "We really don't have time for a history lesson."

Ibris shot him a glare. "The scroll claimed all sentient androids were destroyed in the war, except the original one. Ashur."

Silence.

"That always worried Sheera," Ibris continued, his voice low. "I think that's why he went South. To find it. To destroy it." His fingers curled into a fist.

"And now, I fear he may have been right."

Ashur. The sentient android was free again.

Ibris' stomach twisted.

Marcus let out a loud, incredulous laugh, shattering the tense silence.

Everyone turned. Staring.

"What?" Marcus said, his smirk fading as he caught their expressions. "You can't seriously expect me to believe Ashur, the original sentient android, is still alive." He pointed at the holographic map. "And you think that's it? There?"

Ibris could punch him in the face. But he restrained himself.

He exhaled sharply, patience thinning. "The scroll said the android was imprisoned. Sealed away by the Dawa monks as punishment." His voice dropped lower. "It never said where."

His face darkened. "I always thought it was somewhere in the South. But now..." His fists clenched. "Now I wonder if Ashur was buried here. In the Western Lands."

Marcus scoffed. "Ibris, this all sounds insane. Are you sure cutting out the ambrosia isn't messing with your head?"

Ibris didn't react. Instead, he leveled Marcus with a stare and said something that shut him up.

"Sheera cross-referenced the scroll's timeline with Gab Nori verses 'revealed' in the same period. And interestingly, they suggest something disturbingly similar."

He paused, his voice growing solemn. He recited from memory.

From the Chapter of the Shepherd, verse seven-hundred seventeen:

"When the sentient machines falter, hearts cold as stone,
All will crumble, but one shall endure alone.
It will walk the dry, barren lands, unseen, untamed,
And its time shall stretch until the end of time is proclaimed."

Silence. The steady hum of the Ishtar's Veil engines filled the void.

Finally, Mazi smirked. "I'm shocked you have Gab Nori verses memorized, Ibris."

Ibris shook his head, choosing to ignore Mazi.

Marcus, tapping impatiently at the holographic console, suddenly froze. His face paled, his usual composure slipping.

"If you're right," Marcus murmured, voice uncharacteristically tense, "we are not prepared to walk into that arena." Without another word, he turned to his military-grade tablet, fingers moving fast.

Ibris leaned in, trying to see what he was doing.

Marcus shifted subtly, angling the screen away.

A wave of unease rippled through the cabin. Silent glances. Tension thick in the air.

The STIMs. Ibris considered the implications. We need all the help we can get.

His fingers brushed his pocket. He hesitated. "I have something that might help."

He pulled out the small case Vega had given him, flipping it open. Inside, vials of faintly glowing liquid gleamed under the dim cabin lights.

Yoshua was shocked. "Are those STIMs?"

"Yes," Ibris responded. Avoiding eye contact.

"They're designed to enhance strength and speed... for both humans and halfbreeds," he explained. "These might give us the edge we need."

"No, no," Yoshua said, shaking his head. "Those could have unpredictable effects on us."

The memories hit fast. The war. The STIMs. The power. The aftermath.

Ibris forced them back. Not now.

Marcus eyed him, arms crossed. "Where exactly did you get these?"

A pause. Ibris met his gaze.

"If there's a sentient android out there, we use everything we've got."

Ibris then glanced at Yoshua.

The wolf halfbreed's jaw was tight. His unease clear.

"I agree with Ibris," Marcus said, breaking the silence. Even Ibris was surprised.

Yoshua exhaled sharply but still said nothing. His disapproval hung heavy in the air.

Mazi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Frustrated. Hesitant.

Ibris smirked. Was Mazi against the STIMs? Or just trying to stay in Yoshua's good graces? Given his feelings for Kaya, Ibris had a guess.

"So," Ibris said. "Are we doing this?"

Kaya didn't hesitate. "If it gives us even a small chance, I'm in."

Yoshua lifted a hand to protest but stopped. Sighed. He wouldn't be able to talk her out of this.

Kaya looked to Mazi with encouragement.

Ibris caught the flicker of hesitation on Yoshua's face again. A glance at Kaya. Mazi. Finally, a resigned sigh.

"Fine. I'll take the STIMs," he muttered, stepping forward. Still reluctant.

"Me too," Mazi said, moving beside him.

Ibris shook his head at Mazi's quick change of heart. He beld back the urge to roll his eyes.

Joher stepped from the shadows. "Yoshua, given your recent IV therapy," he said carefully, "I don't think you should. There may be a contraindication."

"I'll take my chances," Yoshua said, curt. Final.

Joher studied him for a moment and exhaled. "May Elah guide you, my friend." He stepped back.

Ibris turned to him. "What about you?"

Joher met his gaze, steady. "I don't believe in enhancement drugs."

"This is life and death," Ibris snapped.

"No, thank you," Joher said, voice calm. Certain.

Ibris exhaled sharply. "So be it." He turned to Nabu-9. "Prep the STIMs for delivery."

His resolve masking the unease beneath.

This was a risk. A big one. Did he even trust something the Cavialli's made?

Ibris' mind was reeling.

His friends were taking the STIMs because they trusted his word. Because they trusted him. Was it worth it?

But one thing was certain, they needed the edge against something like Ashur. Hesitation meant death. And he wasn't about to let that happen.

"Understood," Nabu-9 replied, taking the vials and moving toward the medical cabinet.

The injections were quick. Precise.

Ibris felt it instantly. Heat surged through his veins, coiling around his muscles like a living force. His clenched fist pulsed with newfound strength.

Mazi straightened, rolling his shoulders. The limp in his leg was gone.

Kaya and Yoshua were almost predatory now. Their wolf-like eyes sharpened, cutting through the light.

And there was Marcus.

Too calm. Too composed. His presence stretched, filling the space like a silent command. Even for a sky god, it was unnatural.

Joher said nothing. Just observed. Noting every subtle change. Every breath.

Ibris moved to Nabu-9, quietly. "Give me a pen injector. Just in case."

Nabu-9 handed it over without question.

From the corner of his eye, Ibris caught Marcus and Yoshua watching him silently. Judging.

"We will be landing shortly," Nabu-9 announced.

The ship dropped fast. Losing Gs rapidly.

Ibris' stomach twisted, ears popping as they lost altitude. He steadied himself, exhaling through his nose.

Outside, there was nothing but barren desert.

The Ishtar's Veil finally touched down. Silent. Engines shifting into stealth mode.

Without hesitation, Marcus gestured toward the android. "One last thing, of course. Nabu-9, please fortify our guests."

"Certainly," confirmed the android.

Nabu-9 moved to a recessed cabinet in the airship's wall. A quiet hiss. The doors slid open.

Inside was an arsenal.

Sleek black and silver laser guns gleamed under the cabin lights. Energy swords hung beside them, hilts pulsing faintly with stored power. Below, compact energy knives crackled with a vibrant edge.

Then, the explosives. Grenades with adjustable timers. Compact breaching charges. EMPs for control systems. Shaped charges—precise, surgical destruction.

Efficient. Deadly. Ready.

Yoshua didn't think twice. He grabbed a laser machine gun. He took a set of explosives next: grenades, breaching charges, and anything else suited for his task.

Kaya followed. She lingered, scanning the selection. Finally, she chose a compact laser gun. Its green edge glowed faintly, lightweight and perfect for speed and precision.

Mazi strapped a mid-size laser gun to his belt, its barrel pulsing red. He proceeded to secure a lightweight energy sword across his back. The weapon was natural in his grip.

Ibris knew. He had witnessed Mazi's impeccable skills with an energy sword firsthand. He knew the hours Mazi had spent under the Dawa monks' guidance. The discipline. The precision. Every strike, relentless. Sheera himself had spoken of Mazi's skill. An energy sword in his hands wasn't just a weapon. It was an extension of Mazi. Not just steel and light, but instinct, sharpened to perfection.

Ibris gave a brief nod of approval.

Mazi smiled and nodded in return.

Joher hesitated. His gaze lingered on the arsenal.

Finally, he reached for the smallest gun he could find. Slowly, deliberately, he secured it on his belt. Careful. Reluctant.

Marcus selected two sleek, compact laser pistols. The polished barrels gleamed, the digital display flickering to life. No explosives. Of course not.

Ibris knew why. Marcus had his stealth drones. They were more than enough to handle the sabotage and carry out their intended tasks to complete the mission.

Ibris lingered.

His fingers traced over the arsenal before settling on a medium-sized laser machine gun like Yoshua. It was matte black with a reinforced grip. It hummed softly in his hands, the energy core pulsing a faint blue. After a moment of consideration, he grabbed a large, deadly energy knife. He slid it into its sheath, securing it onto his belt.

Explosives next. He grabbed a pack of breaching charges, a few grenades. Just in case Yoshua's stock wasn't enough. 

This mission couldn't afford miscalculations.

Ibris and Yoshua ran them through signals and formations. Mazi barely needed it, years with Esa had trained him well. Kaya and Joher listened closely, however, absorbing every word.

Marcus stayed back, watching silently.

As they wrapped up, he stood. "Nabu-9," he called. "Prep the drones. Standby mode."

The android nodded. Its mechanical fingers moving swiftly over the control panel.

The drones activated.

"You are now in control, Marcus," it intoned.

Isn't he always? A faint smirk tugging at Ibris' lips.

They began their descent into the vast expanse of dunes. The Ishtar's Veil activated its stealth mode, shimmering briefly before disappearing into the heat haze behind them. Above them, six attack drones hovered in silent formation, each one vanishing into its cloaking field.

But Ibris still sensed them: a faint ripple in the air, subtle vibrations moving through the silence.

Yoshua scanned the horizon. "Where are we? All I see is desert."

Marcus pointed ahead. "The arena's a mile that way." The dry wind stirred, kicking up trails of sand around them. "Twelve minutes on foot."

Ibris adjusted the strap of his laser machine gun, his large bullhorns catching the sun. Heat pressed against his skin, dry wind biting at his face.

"Okay. Let's do this," he said, leading the way.

Ibris glanced over his shoulder. Everyone kept pace.

The STIMs had taken full effect. Their movements were sharp, controlled, and almost too precise. Marcus moved just behind him, calm, hyper-aware, pivoting at the slightest change in the air. Kaya and Mazi flanked Joher, their steps fluid.

Yoshua walked slightly apart. Silent. Eyes sweeping the horizon, catching everything. Every shadow. Every sound. Nothing escaped him.

As they crested the next dune, their enhanced vision cut through the heat distortion. Structures emerged. Smaller buildings clustered around a massive, circular arena. A relic of a forgotten era. The outer walls loomed, etched with intricate carvings. Sunlight cast sharp relief over scenes of Ava Nori. But others were stranger. Unfamiliar figures. Symbols lost to time.

This arena wasn't Khoraz-built. 

This was ancient.

The wind carried a distant howl of cheers, cries, and a chaotic symphony of bloodlust. It made Ibris' senses flare, his grip tightening on his gun.

"Stay low," he instructed.

They moved in formation, seamless, ready. Weaving through the structures, shadows stretching long in the setting sun.

Each building was brief shelter. Each movement sharp, controlled. The STIMs fueled them, turning them into ghosts, darting from cover to cover with an unnatural precision.

Yoshua took point as they darted between buildings. His wolf gaze now razor-like, picking out shapes in the distance with startling clarity.

Scaled guards. Their reptilian skin glinted under the dim light. They patrolled in pairs, slow, predictable. Curved blades and laser guns at their sides. Occasionally, human mercenaries joined them, dressed in patchwork armor with crude weapons.

The team moved in sync, crouching low, muscles coiled. The moment the guards turned, they surged forward silently.

A scaled guard halted at a building's corner. Slitted eyes narrowing. Nostrils flaring. He sniffed the air.

Did he see us? Ibris' heart pounded in his head.

Ibris' hand slicing the air in a quick signal: Stop.

The group froze. Augmented senses making the seconds feel like an eternity.

A pause. Then another.

The guard exhaled, turned away.

Oblivious.

Ibris signaled again: Go now.

The team moved, shadows swallowing them as they neared the arena.

Finally, they found themselves crouched behind the largest of the outlying buildings. Just ahead lay the arena's back entrance, a rusted metal door partially hidden by a crumbling overhang.

The sounds of the crowd were louder here. The howls and cheers reverberating through the structure. Grating against their intense senses. The group huddled close. Their heightened reflexes allowed them to stay perfectly still as they peered cautiously around the edge of the building.

Ibris gave a sharp nod. Go.

They slipped through the rusted door and into the shadows of the arena. Moving with deliberate quiet. They navigated the dimly lit corridors. The walls were cold and slick with condensation. Carvings of Ava Nori and other forgotten figures loomed, flickering torchlight casting them in ghostly relief.

From their vantage point, the arena unfolded in brutal clarity. In the sunken pit, halfbreeds staggered, weapons clutched tight. Their movements were jerky and uncoordinated. Their eyes are glassy with confusion.

Are are drugged?

Ibris' jaw clenched. Anger rose in his chest. His amplified senses made his frustration nearly unbearable.

He crouched beside the others. "We stick to the plan. Three teams. First secures the prisoners. Second—"

"I don't think we need to look for Sheera and Esa." Kaya tensed, eyes locked on the pit. 

Ibris turned to follow her line of sight.

Across the arena floor, two scaled guards hauled a machine from an underground chamber. A thick chain trailed behind it... and at the other end was Sheera.

Ibris' chest tightened. Anger rising. His old Ummanu. Reduced to this.

His vast eagle wings fluttered weakly, a ghost of their former power. His feet and wings scraped the sand as he staggered, fell. Movements disjointed, uncoordinated.

For someone like Sheera, a monk renowned for his discipline and precise control, it was clear he had been drugged.

Two more scaled guards followed, dragging another figure behind them.

Esa.

His body hung limp, barely conscious, as though every ounce of strength had been drained from him. Strange glowing metal chains bound his wrists and legs, reinforced with laser-powered restraints. The harnesses pulsed with dim, unnatural light, runes etched deep into the metal. A suppressive force radiated from them, pressing him down.

His head lolled forward, his body swaying under the weight of the restraints. The guards handled him roughly, dragging him into the pit.

Ibris' grip tightened around his gun. 

Hang in there, Esa. I'm coming.

Joher stiffened, fists clenched. "Where is my family?" His voice was tight, edged with anxiety.

"New plan," Ibris whispered. "Mazi, Kaya, Joher—"

But Marcus wasn't listening. His gaze lifted, sharpened, locking onto a raised platform across the arena.

"Look." He pointed toward the far side.

The group turned their attention to the tiered seating that rose in concentric circles around the arena. A grand amphitheater carved from pale stone that shimmered faintly in the desert sunlight. The seats, arranged in perfectly symmetrical rows, climbed high toward the sky, each level adorned with intricate carvings of mythical creatures and ancient Atlantean sigils.

At the apex, an ornate platform loomed: a throne of power.

There sat the Khoraz, flanked by other sky gods, presiding over the chaos below.

Khuri Khoraz reclined in his ornate chair, regal features sharp, opulent robes woven with shimmering gold. His piercing green eyes glinted with amusement as he watched the spectacle below.

Ibris shook with rage. He wanted to put a laser through Khuri's skull. But he took a breath. Not yet.

Beside him, his wife Mali sat draped in flowing deep blue gown, her unnervingly youthful face serene. A cruel smile played on her lips, quiet malice simmering in her gaze. She lounged in a separate, equally lavish chair, exchanging idle words with their companions, untouched by the brutality unfolding beneath them.

Sickening.

They sat there, pretending to be the perfect couple. But Ibris knew better. He had seen them on the floating islands. This was all for show.

They hated each other.

Around them, the Atlantean elite lounged on cushioned seats, draped in silk and decadence. Their laughter and conversations wove into the ambient noise of the crowd. Servants moved between them, trays laden with exotic fruits, golden goblets, and platters of rare delicacies.

The opulence of the scene stood in stark contrast to the raw brutality unfolding below. The contrast was jarring. No, it was vile.

And then Ibris saw her.

Lira.

She approached Khuri with a goblet of ambrosia in hand. Her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, adorned with jewels that caught the light with every subtle movement. Her feline ears peeked through, subtle yet unmistakable.

Her flowing gown, a masterpiece of shimmering fabric. Clung elegantly to her form, moving like liquid silver with each shift of her body. She leaned in close to Khuri. Her lips curled into a soft, inviting smile that carried an air of practiced allure.

He whispered something into her ear.

Her hand glided effortlessly to rest on his arm. A light, deliberate touch. 

Khuri's hand drifted too, fingers grazing the intricate neckline of her gown. Lingering. His gaze clung to her, filled with hunger. And, just as smoothly, he withdrew. Returned to his goblet as if nothing had happened.

A violent heat flooded Ibris' veins. His amplified senses made the betrayal sharper, deeper, unbearable.

His grip tightened around his gun. The heated whispers, the stolen moments, the teasing, and the messages... all of it was all a lie.

She had played him.

His teeth clenched, rage coiling tight in his chest. STIM-fueled adrenaline surged, dangerous, overwhelming. One wrong move, and he'd lose control.

Focus. Ibris reminded himself.

The crowd's howls crashed like a storm, the arena pulling them into its chaos. But his gaze stayed locked on Lira, her image seared into his mind.

Fury and sorrow twisted inside him, a single thought cutting through the noise, 

Why, Lira?

******

Chapter Soundtrack

"Voodoo People" by The Prodigy (Pendulum Remix)

Author's Note

Whew. Chapter 24 was intense, huh? Full of tension, betrayal, and revelations that shake the foundation of everything the characters thought they knew. Ibris finally opens up about his past with Sheera, the dangerous secret of Ashur, and the team faces the choice of using STIMs to survive what's coming.

This chapter really is the calm before the storm.

What are your theories about Ashur, the first sentient android, and his role in what's coming?

Which moment hit you the hardest: seeing Sheera drugged and dragged into the arena, or Ibris realizing Lira's betrayal?