"Ack, Ack, Ack, Ack Ack Ack Ack, ACK!"

The President was still moving, but the soldiers around him were dwindling. A few had made it into cover, but many had already fallen to the Zetan’s disintegrating rays. The situation was critical.

Suddenly, a Zetan warship unleashed another blast, this one aimed directly at Kimball’s entourage. The explosion sent a shockwave through the air, knocking Six off his feet. Snow and debris rained down, and for a split second, everything went silent.

"Get up!"

Boone shouted, grabbing Six’s arm and pulling him to his feet.

Through the haze, Six could see the President’s bodyguard, a grizzled soldier who had shielded Kimball with his own body, now lying motionless in the snow. Kimball was alive—but barely.

"Shit! We can’t lose him."

Six growled, as they ran through the fog of war. Each step felt like a race against time.

They reached the President, and Boone immediately covered their flank as Six helped Kimball to his feet. The old man was dazed but alive, his face pale from the shock.

"You need to move, sir."

Six barked.

"We’re getting you out of here."

Kimball’s eyes flickered with confusion and defiance.

"I’m not leaving my people—"

"The people need you alive, Mr. President."

Six snapped, pulling Kimball along, ducking behind a rusted-out car.

Behind them, the Zetan ambassador turned, seemingly aware of their escape. Its alien eyes locked onto Six, and a low, ominous hum filled the air as it raised its blaster.

Boone didn’t hesitate. His Varis rifle roared, a shot of precise, focused fire that clipped the Zetan’s energy shield in its arm. The alien stumbled back, but it didn’t fall. Instead, it snarled, more animal than an ambassador, and aimed at the group.

Cassidy’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and cold.

"Incoming!"

The ground shook as a Zetan ship flew dangerously close, strafing the area with plasma blasts. The heat of the energy weapons scorched the air, forcing Six and his crew to dive for cover.

"Kimball’s not getting out without a fight!"

Boone called out, his rifle continuing to bark as he provided suppressive fire.

"We don’t have much time!"

Six shouted, voice rising above the chaos.

The alien forces, relentless in their pursuit, closed in, their weapons charged and ready for the next kill.

But Six wouldn’t let this be their last stand. Not today.

"Everyone back to the War Bus, now!

He snapped, his instincts kicking in. They needed to get the President back to the bus.

"I’ll hold them off."

He ordered with a fierce determination in his voice.

"Keep moving, or you’ll all die in the snow."

Boone hesitated for only a second, his jaw clenched.

"You better not die out here."

Six smirked, chambering another round into his plasma-augmented Varis rifle.

"I don’t plan on dying until I’m old, fat, and surrounded by too many grandkids to remember names."

Boone nodded grimly, then slung Kimball’s arm over his shoulder and started dragging him through the snowdrifts toward the smoke-covered silhouette of the War Bus—its turrets already turning, locking onto hostiles, beginning to fire controlled bursts of high-velocity explosive rounds.

Cassidy met them halfway, shotgun slung across her back, one hand gripping a plasma grenade.

"Let’s move, Six and Grandpa Roger’s buying us time!"

She tossed the grenade in a wide arc—it landed perfectly beneath a trio of approaching Zetans and detonated in a brilliant emerald flare, vaporizing them mid-charge.

Meanwhile, Six stood firm atop the ridge, the snow whipping around him. He pulled out a flash grenade and hurled it toward the descending Zetan ship. The bright flare blinded the nearest aliens, throwing their formation into momentary disarray.

"ACK-ACK-AACK!!"

The Zetan ambassador, scorched and limping, raised a clawed hand to the sky—and from above, another vessel shrieked through the clouds, descending fast, glowing like a miniature star.

Six grimaced.

Backup. Of course.

He toggled his wrist-mounted comm.

"Rebecca. I need artillery on my location. Now."

Rebecca’s voice came in instantly, breathless but composed.

"I see it. Locking in coordinates. You’ve got fifteen seconds to dive, hero."

Roger slung Six on his back and ran, boots punching through knee-deep snow. Behind him, the Zetan backup ship loomed like death incarnate, weapons powering up in ominous blue pulses.

"Come on, come on..."

The War Bus’s engines roared to life as Boone shoved Kimball through the side hatch. Cassidy jumped in next, still firing. Rebecca held the turret controls, face tight with focus.

"Where’s Six?!"

She demanded.

Boone didn’t answer—he just turned toward the slope.

And then—

BOOM.

A pillar of fire erupted from the ridge, followed by a shockwave that rocked the whole area. The Zetan reinforcements were caught directly in the blast, their ship breaking apart midair, scattering flaming debris into the frozen trees.

A shape burst from the smoke—charred coat flapping, sword in hand, vault boots skidding down the snowy incline.

It was Roger with a passed-out Six on his back.

Boone reached out and yanked him into the War Bus just as the rear hatch slammed shut. Rebecca hit the throttle.

"Punching it!"

The Bus surged forward, reinforced treads tearing through the terrain as they sped away from the burning ridge.

Inside, Kimball coughed, finally catching his breath.

"I thought... I thought I was dead."

Six awoke from Roger’s throwing him to the floor and leaned back against the wall, breathing hard.

"You were DAMNED. Then you got lucky Kimball."

Kimball looked around at the ragtag group of fighters and then at the crackling flames behind them.

"God help us."

He muttered.

Boone looked out the side viewport, watching the alien warships regroup.

"No. Our God Will help us."

Six nodded, heading to the bus’s doors.

"Screw it... No holding back, huh? I’ll just get started then."

"Void Trigger!

Six shouted jumping off the War Bus and transforming to his first stage Mahesvara transformation.

The air trembled as Six’s transformation radiated through the battlefield like a primal roar in the void. His golden eyes and white mane flowed with unnatural grace, whipping in the high-altitude winds, his obsidian horns casting warped shadows over the snow. The War Bus screeched to a halt behind him, its crew awestruck.

"Void Trigger..."

Rebecca whispered, eyes wide as she looked through the viewport, breath fogging the glass. Boone tightened his grip on his rifle, not out of fear—but reverence.