In the wake of the startling revelation about the true essence of the tunnels, Ranesk commanded all agents to converge upon the base of operations. There, a crucial discussion awaited, and deep within himself, Ranesk pondered the involvement of warp sorcery, momentarily swayed by such thoughts. Yet, to his dismay, this conjecture was proven misplaced. Ranesk instructed the generals to dispatch recovery teams to each tunnel, for the disclosure of this clandestine passageway had inadvertently exposed the adversary's concealed whereabouts. Curiously enough, it appeared that the enemy had displayed no inclination to guard these subterranean passages.
As the cleanup personnel toiled tirelessly, they recovered the mangled remains of fallen soldiers as well as slain cultists strewn within the tunnels. However, those dispatched to the precise tunnel wherein Omen and Tyberos had ventured discovered only grotesquely mutilated corpses, their identities beyond recognition.
—----
Within the command center, a makeshift tent serving as their sanctuary, Phoenix, Jett, Viper, and Ranesk stood in anticipation, awaiting the arrival of their comrades. The surrounding men were a flurry of activity, vehicles zipping by, and hazmat-clad figures of the recovery teams weaving through the scene. The skies above teemed with the constant churning of helicopters, a mix of military and civilian aircraft. Regrettably, the agents and soldiers had acquiesced to the approval for media coverage, much to Ranesk's dismay.
A reporter approached, voicing the unfolding operation to the world. 'As we can see here, there seems to be an ongoing operation, government forces as well as foreign ones appear to be involved.' the reporter relayed. 'And for the first time ever, Valorant Agents can be seen with no secrecy, as back then. They usually did their best to hide their identities.'
Dozens of journalists surrounded them, eagerly awaiting the signal to go inside of the base. Positioned outside the base of operations, they were being guarded by military police, who were distinctly outnumbered. Though foreign news outlets maintained a respectful distance as instructed, their local counterparts paid no heed to such warnings.
"Let us in!" a reporter bellowed, his voice reverberating through the air. "the world demands to know this! Or are you hiding something malicious?!" Echoes of agreement surged from the crowd as the military police strained to maintain control. However, the tide began to turn as the journalists pushed forward, defying the orders given.
As tensions escalated, warning shots were discharged. "Step back! The green light has not been given!" one of the military police personnel shouted, desperately trying to regain order. Amidst the chaos, Ranesk strode forward, commanding attention with his mere presence. Instantly, a profound silence fell, as if the weight of his gaze instilled trepidation in their very souls.
"We demand--" the journalist attempted to assert himself.
"Silence," Ranesk's voice thundered, causing the reporter to flinch. "We shall neither divulge information nor entertain your inquiries at this time."
Seething with a blend of pride and entitlement, the journalist seethed, only to be abruptly silenced by the imposing figure before him. Towering at eight feet tall, clad in formidable armor that cast a shadow over his features, Ranesk emanated a palpable fury. Beads of sweat formed on the reporter's brow, his instincts urging him to flee.
The other reporters, their voices muted, recoiled in fear, their eyes fixed upon the intimidating scene unfolding before them. Ranesk continued his admonition, his words laced with a chilling warning. "I care not for your occupation, or your perception of me," he growled. "Leave."
The journalist's resolve crumbled, his body slumping to the ground in defeat. Though a lingering resentment smoldered within him, he found himself incapable of retaliating against the figure who loomed above him. Fear and anger blended in his gaze, casting a pallor over his face.
The remaining agents, observing from the periphery, wore expressions of profound disgust as they witnessed the journalist's whimpering surrender on the ground.
—
The reverberation of heavy footfalls resonated through the air, capturing the attention of the journalists. Their gazes shifted, and a collective unease settled upon their faces. Another formidable presence had returned, a figure of equal magnitude to the armored behemoth who stood before them.
Tyberos, accompanied by Omen, strode forward, each step causing the cement beneath them to groan and fracture. Tyberos maintained a fixed gaze ahead, seemingly oblivious to the existence of the awestruck journalist who stared in astonishment. Blood dripped from his power claws, staining his armor with the grim reminder of recent carnage. The stench of decaying death hung heavy around him.
Tyberos halted his advance, positioning himself directly behind the reporter who remained fixated on Ranesk. The journalist, filled with trepidation, gradually turned his head, only to meet the penetrating gaze of the Terminator's helm. Words escaped him, his fear immobilizing his tongue, and he chose to comply with the silent suggestion offered.
"It is best if you just leave," Omen spoke, his tone carrying an air of finality. The journalist, his cameraman in tow, wasted no time in heeding the advice. With the entirety of the encounter captured on film, they swiftly fled. The reporter determined to show how disgusting they were treated.
—--------------------------------------
Command Tent
Around the table, agents assembled, their grim countenances betraying a sense of urgency. Ranesk loomed behind them, while at the opposite end, commanding men held their posts with an air of authority. Ranesk had called for the generals, calling them to congregate and deliberate upon their next move, for they had at last unveiled the true essence of the Radiant-powered tunnels. It was nothing short of a minuscule glimpse into the bewildering depths that lay concealed within this structure.
The tunnel walls, it appeared, were but a veil of deception, a fabrication designed to confound the senses. What lay beyond was an unimaginable aberration of reality, a castle-like labyrinth adorned with creeping moss and twisting vines. Neglected and dilapidated, yet pulsating with vibrant life signatures, there were people inside it.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The generals read the reports, their brows knitted in deep contemplation. They had obtained a lucid comprehension of the tunnels' nature, but what they required now was a method to eradicate the abomination once and for all.
"This assault cannot be done with a multitude of men," remarked one general, his voice resolute. "A strike team comprising no more than fiftysoldiers will have to suffice. Moreover, we shall be bereft of substantial firepower, save for the presence of Ranesk here and... Tyberos."
"yes" chimed in another general, his tone laden with practicality. "But that would necessitate dispatching our elite operatives, the cream of the crop. Unfortunately, the nearest special operations unit is situated in the heartland, far from our current position."
"Then we make do with the resources presently at our disposal," asserted a determined voice.
"If we opt for a fifty-man team, we can distribute them evenly across the tunnels," spoke Sova, his voice soft. "Alternatively, we could venture into a single tunnel with the entire contingent and subsequently disperse ourselves among the labyrinthine passages. I possess just enough trackers for precisely fifty men."
The generals exchanged glances, mulling over Sova's proposition. A moment of profound stillness ensued— this method presented a potent means of infiltrating the structure. With trackers in hand, the men would remain connected even in the event of far-flung exploration.
"I will lead the way," Tyberos declared abruptly, his voice a faint, spectral whisper that sent shivers down everyone's spine.
"s-sorry?" stammered one of the generals, taken aback by Tyberos' unexpected pronouncement.
"You heard me," Tyberos affirmed with an air of quiet authority.
The generals exchanged uncertain glances before finally acquiescing to his request. Given his size and his weapons, they figured he would be fine.
"As for us," Viper interjected, breaking the silence, "we will go together to find their leader's whereabouts in all this mess"
The plan took shape, a web of strategies interwovene, as they prepared to embark on a perilous expedition into the heart of the labyrinthine structure.
—-------------------------
Inside the tunnel
"Seems they've discovered our presence," murmured a cultist, his voice tinged with concern. "Things are about to turn messy."
Within the structure, the cultists found themselves taken aback by how quickly with which their adversaries had grasped the intricacies of the tunnels. They had anticipated a few days of befuddlement on the part of the human interlopers, but their defenses had been breached on the very day their explorations commenced.
Consequently, orders were issued to remain on high alert. However, despite the looming threat, the cultists remained fearless. They possessed a significant advantage, for the labyrinthine structure housed hundreds of them, each imbued with radiant powers. Yet, their respite was abruptly shattered as the breached tunnel began to ripple once more, prompting them to rise to their feet, their hands aglow with latent power. They braced themselves for the arrival of soldiers, mere cannon fodder sent by the humans.
However, to their astonishment, it was a colossal armored leg that materialized first, followed by the gradual emergence of an entire body. The cultists instinctively stepped back, experiencing a sliver of fear for the first time since their grand plan had been set in motion. Before them stood a towering humanoid figure, its true nature obscured, leaving them uncertain whether it was an automaton or something more sinister. Clad in formidable armor, its eyes burned with a malevolent crimson glow, while what appeared to be chainsaws adorned its hands. It was no ordinary human; it was a monstrous entity.
One of the cultists gestured to initiate an attack, but before he could act, Tyberos' power blades on his left wrist erupted with a thunderous crackle, wreathing his weapon in a nimbus of lightning. The cultists stopped, their countenances mirroring the helpless expression of a startled deer caught in the glare of oncoming headlights.
Tyberos lunged forward, leaving the cultists in a cacophony of terrified screams. They were taken aback by the swiftness of his movements, given his colossal stature. In one swift stroke, he pulverized the cultists, limbs flying in all directions.
Tyberos surveyed the gruesome aftermath, noting one cultist still writhing in agony.
"Clear," he relayed tersely through his vox.
Ranesk stepped forward, followed by the agents, their faces contorted with repulsion at the sight of entrails strewn across the floor, mingling with pools of blood.
"Christ" Breach muttered under his breath.
"Check the bodies," Ranesk commanded, prompting the soldiers to approach the mangled corpses. Among the grim tableau, they could discern at least a dozen torsos, but distinguishing the other piles of flesh proved a macabre challenge.
"Sir, one of them is still alive!" a soldier exclaimed, drawing attention to the wounded cultist lying prone on the ground. However, as the soldiers approached him to give aid, he spat at them with disdain.
"Don't you dare put your filthy hands on me!" he spat venomously. "You're all doomed to die here! You know nothing of this place or its purpose! Your reliance on technology and weaponry betrays your inherent weakness and helplessness!"
The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of how to respond to the cultist's derisive rant.
"Where are the rest?" Viper interjected, her voice a stern rebuke. But her inquiry was met with mocking laughter.
"And why should I tell you? Because you're a Valorant Agent? You are all insignificant in the face of absolute radiant powers. All your gadgets, all your skills..."
The cultist's words trailed off, interrupted as Tyberos seized him, his massive hand silencing the cultist's mocking jeers. Tyberos exerted no undue force in his grip, yet the cultist's complexion began to redden, suffocating under the unyielding pressure.
"I do not have time for useless words" Tyberos proclaimed to those surrounding him.
His hand reached for his helm, emitting a soft hiss, as he gradually removed the helmet, unveiling a visage that exuded an aura of decay. The stench of rotting flesh permeated the chamber, leaving the soldiers horrified at the sight. Tyberos resembled a creature of nightmares, a demon personified.
"What... what are you doing?" Jett asked, her voice fraught with anxiety, fearing the worst.
Tyberos' jaws began to unhinge, revealing rows of jagged teeth akin to a predatory shark preparing to feast upon its prey. The cultist's eyes widened in terror, his body convulsing in a desperate struggle.
"Tyberos!" Sova's voice erupted with a mix of urgency and horror.
"What the hell!" Phoenix exclaimed, his own shock palpable.
With a resounding crunch, Tyberos' jaws clamped shut, devouring the cultist. Blood flowed from the unfortunate victim, cascading like black oil from a sizzling pan. The soldiers and agents stood in stunned silence, their mouths agape, their emotions entangled between fear and revulsion. Only Ranesk remained unperturbed, having witnessed such savagery during his campaigns for the Imperium.
Discarding the lifeless husk, Tyberos turned his attention to the assembled group.
"Follow me," he commanded, his voice resonating with an unsettling authority. "I now possess knowledge of the tunnels"
"Do not expect me to refrain from such actions again," he warned, his voice laced with an ominous promise.
'