Horrifying, blue-eyed corpses lumbered up the pedestrian bridge, gnashing their teeth in a chorus of snarls and howls.

Lieutenant Colonel Alexander "Redshot" Gravetower, the chief of security at the Kaleidoscope City Academic District, took aim, breathing out sharply as he briefly stopped chewing on the remains of a cigar.

Each shot from his rifle found its mark, piercing through the unnatural, glowing blue of the zombies' eyes, sending them collapsing to the rain-soaked ground. Around him, his security team did the same, their combined firepower creating a macabre dance of bullet and blue-eyed death. But as his rifle clicked empty, a sigh of frustration escaped him. He ducked behind a barricade, momentarily lost in memories as he reloaded.

Once, he'd been the pride of his battalion, the youngest to reach the rank of Major. The weight of the rifle felt different back then, easier to manage.

"How did the situation manage to get this FUBAR?" Gravetower muttered to himself.

In his prime, he'd clocked in at a peak level of level 52, a testament to his dedication without any System-granted enhancements. Those that exceeded 40 without unlocking specialized [Ascensions] as Paragons, [Talents] as Knights, and [Depravities] under the World System were more or less the elite of the elite of professional athletes and soldiers.

But age was a cruel mistress, especially those that had chosen physical paths such as him. Though he tried to deny it for years, he'd watched his attributes slowly wane over the years. His current level of 34 was a constant source of irritation for him.

The Medal of Valor he earned during the notorious frontline skirmish in Karadzhur weighed heavily on his heart now, rather than on his uniform. It wasn't just the thrill of righteous combat, accolades and the awards he missed, but the vigor, the energy to go above and beyond.

Yet it was the very intensity and adrenaline of those moments that had ultimately robbed him of his military career. A surprise IED blast during the now-infamous campaign against Professor Lunatrix’s rogue state — the Nighthaven Federation had put him on the bench, leaving him with a perpetual ringing and tinnitus in his left ear. Retirement wasn’t a choice, it was a sentence.

Reloading his rifle, the lit HUD on his wrist flashed.

[Aura Status: HP 245/317, MP 0/0, SP 35/102]

The decline was evident. Every bullet he shot, every skill he used, and every quick dodge cost him. He could almost visualize the graphs in the training centers, depicting his assorted attributes in their heyday fifteen years ago and comparing them to the present, and the drop was agonizingly sharp. It was painful sometimes to have a quantifiable metric for how much his stamina had declined, but he had not earned his moniker without the ability to accept the truth.

Yet, despite everything, his personal skills held firm. As the zombies neared, he squeezed the trigger. [Rapid Reload] and [Sharpshooter's Precision]. Four shots with a semi-automatic rifle, three fallen enemies, the haunting blue in their eyes snuffed out. That precision, that skill, was earned from years on the battlefield, not from any mystical System. It was a part of him, untouchable by time.

The gig wasn’t all that bad, in the end.

It wasn’t much compared to the glory of rushing off landing boats to storm Lunatrix’s stronghold, but protecting the next generation of snot-nosed brats was its own kind of reward. He'd seen 'em, those young hopeful, bright-eyed punks with their sparkly wands, bizarre gizmos and widgets, their eyes full of dreams, ready to take on the world. He'd scoff at them sometimes, with their fancy, twirling spells, impossible inventions and effervescent giggles. But deep down, he respected them, and he'd be damned if he let any of those shambling monstrosities touch a single hair on their little heads.

The relentless march of the blue-eyed zombies was unnerving, but Gravetower was glad for one thing. There were always three squads of Magical Knights on hand for a rapid response. Every couple of years, some delusional and insane supervillain would make it a point to try and cut off the prospective members of the Knight Corps while they were young. So of course, high command always insisted on keeping these squads nearby, and their presence was invaluable when shit inevitably hit the fan. Not only that, but there was a full battalion garrisoned in the two Refuges nearby, consisting of grizzled pencil pusher retirees like him and the most promising young international special forces prospects.

The fact so many resources were close at hand was a testament to the significance of District 1 — the academic district and the heart of Kaleidoscope City. Although they’d been attacked directly on the campus through portals that seemed to come directly out of a bad sci-fi movie, only eleven students had fallen to them in the last thirty-six hours. Eight of which had been claimed in the first hour of the invasion.

Eleven too many.

The KC Academy complex was, unbeknownst to the public and student body, a fortress unto itself.

Its walls were imbued with powerful protective enchantments, and hi-tech emergency force fields designed to thwart even the most determined attackers. Over the past day, there had been attacks not just from these wretched blue-eyed zombies straight out of a bad B-movie, but also several different kinds of beasts that were more of a pain in the ass to deal with than the last. Starting with the wolf-like monstrosities that’d ambushed the students in the orientation hall.

Gravestone chewed on his cigar with a smile. The kids, for all their darned giggling and sparkles, stepped up when they needed to. With guidance from the faculty and support from the Knights, the few that were gifted with mystic ability fed their MP into synchronized magical barriers and unleashed devastating arcane counterattacks, fumbling with the magitech like amateurs. Still, Gravetower knew that raw magic and book smarts was no substitute for experience.

"Nakamura, keep your damn head down! Magellan, west side, more of those bastards!" Gravetower barked, taking a split second to slap the back of a younger guard's helmet, redirecting his aim.

Magellan, a lanky sniper with an eagle-eye, nodded, his focus on a particularly nasty looking group advancing from the west. "Got it, Redshot!" he responded, lining up shot after shot with a grim determination.

A group of university students, clad in makeshift armor and brandishing both weapons and magitech contraptions, sprinted towards the barricades, reinforcing their defensive line.

One of the Knights, a tall woman in shimmering golden armor named Ruby Siriana soared above, her sword radiating blinding light. "Gravetower!" she called out, swooping down to join the fray. "New intel’s coming in. The uglies from the other districts are all converging on District 1!"

Nodding, Gravetower, with cigar still clenched in his teeth, signaled to a group of heavy-set guards, each equipped with portable barricade launchers. They moved with practiced precision, despite their age, creating a chokepoint to funnel the onslaught of enemies.

"The days I wish I had some of that magic mumbo-jumbo," Gravetower grumbled, slamming a new magazine into his rifle.

District 1 was, in spite of appearances, one of the best-defended locations on Earth. Not only did the city as a whole have over a hundred Magical Knights on hand at any time,

but beneath its surface were Refuge Zeta and Refuge Omnicron – twin facilities designed to survive the most cataclysmic events. The purpose of these refuges was to ensure the survival of the next generation of elite mages and technologists, in case the battle on the surface went south.

But as yesterday’s events showed, even the most advanced facilities had blind spots. Refuge Zeta was overrun. Siriana and her team had been part of the emergency response team that went in, and the footage they brought back of its once-sterile halls filled with those blue-eyed monstrosities still haunted him. Their systems had completely failed. They hadn't been prepared for an extra-dimensional threat like this, portals spewing out monsters that could attack between their lines of defense and whatnot.

The radio crackled in Gravetower’s ear. "Redshot, the underground is swarming! We need reinforcements!"

“Dammit,” he cursed under his breath. He raised his hand, signaling a contingent of his guards to move to the subway entrance.

Just then, a massive explosion echoed from the west. A portal, larger than any they had seen in the last two days, materialized, and from it poured a horde of new monstrosities – winged, taloned creatures that shrieked and dove towards the academy’s defenses.

"Airborne!" Gravetower shouted, spitting out the remains of his cigar. "Deploy the capture nets!"

Students and soldiers, working in tandem, turned a row of contraptions toward the portals. These runes illuminated brightly and shot towards the oncoming winged menace. Mid-flight, they expanded into shimmering nets, trapping the creatures and sending them plummeting into Prism Bay.

The ground shook as another explosion sounded to the east. Another portal. And another. And another.

"We're surrounded!" yelled Magellan, his voice edged with panic.

Gravetower’s heart raced, but his face was the image of calm determination. "Hold the line," he bellowed. "Remember why we’re here, you whimpering clowndicks!"

Amidst the chaos, Gravetower's seasoned eyes caught the sight of a young girl, maybe sixteen years old in a uniform. Her hands were trembling as she tried to maintain a protective barrier. Her aura flared pink — the telltale sign of a cadet who was likely here on scholarship. There were dozens of them here every year, after all. Privacy laws allowed them to keep their civilian lives separate, but nearly all young recruits from allied nations spent their formative years in a hub like KC High. For the wealthier, there was even a private middle school on campus.

Rushing to her side, he knelt, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You're doing great, kid," he said, his voice gentle amidst the din of battle.

With a nod and newfound determination, the girl's barrier flared with intensity, pushing back several of the winged monsters.

“There’s too many of them!” another soldier yelled. The numbers were overwhelming.

Even with eleven full-fledged Knights on hand, god knows how many cadets, and the combined might of the faculty, students, and his security team, it was likely they wouldn’t be able to hold all sides.

The Knights and students didn’t have unlimited MP, and his men damned as well didn’t have unlimited bullets.

Suddenly, Magical Girl Sapphire Dream and her team jumped into the fray from their positions on top of the Arcadia Vox Library. Their color-coded costumes made the girls look as if they were plucked right out of a KC High pamphlet.

Sapphire Dream wielded a crystal-tipped short staff and buckler. The twinkling gems atop pulsed with energy, channeling beams of light that burned through the winged creatures. By her side was Ruby Siriana, with scarlet hair billowing like flames. She summoned torrents of fire from her sword, incinerating foes as they came close.

Next, there was Opal Whisper, who moved with a dancer's grace, wielding dual-bladed fans that stirred whirlwinds, hurling zombies and flying creatures off their feet. Even in the worst situations, she had a perpetual, encouraging smile on her face and her white eyes shone with brilliance.

Rounding out the quartet was Emerald Reverie, whose earthen gauntlets slammed the ground, causing spikes of rock to emerge impale the oncoming horde. She snarled, brushing her kinky curls out of her face.

For a few, blessed minutes, it seemed as if the tide of the battle was turning.

Watching the Magical Girls fight, Gravetower couldn't help but smirk. "Darned kids. Showing off all the time." His voice, however, held an undertone of appreciation and pride.

As Gravetower watched, the four girls, almost in synchronized harmony, each move blending seamlessly into the next. A beautiful combination of years of training and raw talent that only the best students at KC Academy could boast of.

And yet, even with their intervention, the horde continued its relentless advance. The numbers were insurmountable. And as if that wasn't enough, the ground trembled beneath them. Rising up from the overrun subway station, more of the blue-eyed undead clambered towards the defenses as the men abandoned their posts and fell back.

"Watch the under—!" Gravetower started to shout a warning but was cut off as one of the zombies lunged at the back of Nakamura security guards snarling, her teeth bared and veiny blue eyes filled with insatiable hunger.

The boy turned around, panicking as he fumbled and dropped his rifle.

Instinctively, Gravetower drew his combat knife and intercepted its advance, driving it into the creature's skull. A sharp pain coursed through him as the creature bit into his arm, and he immediately ripped his hand away, watching as the bitten flesh spurted blood and glowed blue.

The world paused for a heartbeat. He stared at the wound, waiting for the coldness to creep into his body, for the transformation that would claim his humanity. Yet, nothing happened. No turning, no uncontrollable rage. Just a burning pain in his hand. As briefly as it came, the blue light vanished.

He waited for the searing pain to creep, for the transformation to take hold. But nothing happened. He touched the wound, blood oozing but no unnatural blue seeping in. Gravetower was dumbfounded.

"Boss!" Magellan called out, concern evident in his voice as he approached Gravetower.

"Guess what the boys said was true," Gravetower grumbled, pressing a piece of his torn shirt against the bleeding wound. "Too old and tough for even a monster to digest."

He looked around, trying to understand why. Was it the old war wounds? His unique biochemistry from decades of exposure to magitech radiation? Or maybe he was just too darn stubborn to turn?

But the battlefield wasn't the place for pondering.

Gravetower snarled, pressing his advantage. Every shot, every stab, was now fueled by a mix of adrenaline, pain, and sheer defiance. "Come on, you rat bastards!" he roared, his voice carrying above the din. "I’ve seen scarier stuff in my mess kits!"

Then, as if the gods themselves had decided to enter the battlefield, a sudden burst of energy erupted from the waterside. An explosion of colors — deep blue, white, desert-brown, and a hint of playful orange burst through the throngs of monstrosities rushing up from the subway system, knocking them asunder.

Gravestone let out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding when the lightshow settled. A tall, musclebound college-aged Asian boy with star tattoos; piercing gray eyes and short-cropped hair emerged first from the pile.

Leading the charge was Braveheart Kraken, water glistening against his rippling chest muscles as he dove straight out of the harbor. His gauntlets released torrents of water, crashing like tidal waves onto the undead, sweeping them away with force and fury.

His laughter, deep and boisterous, echoed on the battlefield, almost incongruous with the dire situation.

“Sorry, everyone! Staying back and watching the skies and sea while the old man here got run over definitely totally wasn’t bodacious of us!” He flexed his muscles, playfully challenging the horde. Gravetower rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement. Classic Braveheart Kraken, always making a splashy entrance.

Flanking him was Braveheart Griffon, golden hair glistening like a warrior straight out of legend. The sun glinted off his Greek-themed armor, lion motifs catching the light with menace. He raised his horned hilt sword, its blade shining with fierce intensity as he flapped his wings.

“For honor, justice and GLORY!” he bellowed, diving straight into the thickest part of the horde, each swing taking down multiple creatures with streaks of light.

“Tch.”

From the left, a mysterious force arose, causing a swarm of raptor-like creatures to slam into an invisible wall.

Braveheart Sphinx flexed as he gave Gravestone a silent nod.

He commanded the ground with an ankh staff glowing brilliantly in hand. Monsters hesitated, struggling against unseen barriers as he sealed and unsealed mystical walls in their path. His dark skin glowed golden under the harsh firelight, giving him an ethereal presence as his assorted desert tattoos lit up with fiery light.

And then, a melody so enchanting, yet so out of place in a battlefield, began to fill the air.

Braveheart Kitsune, with a mischievous grin, blew into his echoing flute. Every note sent vibrations, ripples that confused and disoriented the blue-eyed monsters on all sides. The high school senior almost looked out of place between his musclebound compatriots, standing at five feet eight inches with a slender effeminate build and fluffy long white hair.

His three tails swayed with every beat, every note played. “Can’t have a party without some tunes, right!?” he quipped with a wink, before dancing around the battlefield.

Braveheart Sphinx moved more silently, his staff sealing barriers and opening portals to redirect attackers, ensuring they met the full brunt of his teammates' power.

His wisdom was evident, often pausing for a heartbeat to analyze the field before making his move.

Sapphire Dream, witnessing their entrance, facepalmed. "These show-offs," she groaned.

The Bravehearts had always been a bit... much. Their sense of bravado was extreme, even for Magical Knight standards. While they were competent, their grandiose theatrics sometimes took things over the top.

Braveheart Kraken, with his trademark bravado, shouted over the fray, "Fear not, fair maidens! The cavalry has arrived!" He punctuated it with a booming laugh that echoed across the battlefield. “AHAHHAHAAHHAHAHA!”

Emerald Reverie sighed in exasperation, impaling another raptor-like on a stone spear. "Well, at least they’re easy on a sister’s eyes.”

“Dear lord, do they ever stop?” Sapphire Dream groaned in exasperation, her staff slamming into the ground, creating another beam of pure energy that vaporized a charging zombie.

Opal Whisper rolled her eyes. “It’s like watching an over-enthusiastic peacock during a mating dance. All show, no brains.”

“We had it under control! Who’s gonna take out the flying ones now?!” Ruby Siriana shouted.

Braveheart Griffon, drenched in the golden light of a recent strike, replied with a smirk, "But did you have it handled with such flair, honorable Reverie? Rest easy, my eyes are sharp as ever and ready to intercept!"

Braveheart Sphinx, ever the voice of reason, chimed in, "Enough chatter. We’ll focus on the task at hand."

Braveheart Kitsune, meanwhile, was busy composing a frantic ballad, notes floating eerily amidst the tumult. Gravetower blinked as his watch began to click frantically — his aura was being rapidly restored.

Gravetower, pain momentarily forgotten, couldn’t suppress a chuckle as he watched the scene unfold. The sheer audacity of the Magical Boys, combined with their undeniable talent, restored Gravetower’s morale.

"Damn, I’m getting too old for this," he muttered, shaking his head. But there was no denying their entrance had shifted the tide, if only for a moment.

“Bro!” Braveheart Kraken's voice suddenly cut through the pandemonium, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

Gravetower followed his gaze. At the far end of the bridge, a large, building-sized antelope-like creature loomed, its powerful stance intimidating amidst the chaos. It looked like it was wreathed in shadows, and its glowing eyes shook Gravetower at his core. Then, it began to snarl and thrash, before letting out a shriek that made Gravetower’s blood run cold.

"Is that...?" Siriana began, her voice trailing off.

Emerald Gaia's voice broke through the din, filled with recognition and warning. "That's the same creature I took out at Refuge Zeta. We need to—"

But before she could finish, the monsters all turned around, their blue eyes flashing. In an almost coordinated move, they abandoned their assault on the academy and began a mad rush towards a general direction.

"Are they... retreating?" Magellan asked, hope glinting in his eyes.

"No," Gravetower rumbled, his gaze narrowing. "They're regrouping.”

In a matter of moments, the battleground which was filled with ear-splitting cries and roars was now filled with the soft murmur of uncertainty and confusion.

The Bravehearts, still standing proud and ready, exchanged glances. Braveheart Kitsune lowered his flute, his smile slightly diminished. "What was that all about?"

Siriana, her sword still alight with flames, tried to fathom the situation. "It's a strategic retreat. The question is, to what end?"

The sharp sounds of feet tapping on the cobblestone turned everyone’s attention to a young girl, her academy uniform covered in dirt, face white as snow. She held a tablet, her hand trembling.

Gravetower, immediately recognizing the tech, approached her. "Report."

She gulped, barely audible amidst the now silent battleground. "This just came in from Refuge Zeta an hour ago.”

Handing over the tablet, Gravetower's seasoned eyes widened as he saw the projection. A young, chubby Asian boy stood at the center of the screen.

"Uh, hey there, everyone” the boy's barely pubescent voice crackled through the hijacked airwaves, shaky but determined. "My name is Albert. You probably don’t know me, and honestly, I'd prefer it that way. I mean, my biggest worry was supposed to be finding my way to the right classroom this week and not, criminy, dodging zombies and stuff, right?”

The Knights ceased what they were doing and crowded around him, watching intently as the boy continued.

He identified himself as a KC High freshman, and went on to give a rallying speech for the city to unite and take action, and to detail the current situation in Refuge Zeta. There were potentially thousands of civilians trapped there.

“...To my best friend, just… keep fighting. I believe in you. To everyone else, please, help us. Not for me, but for everyone trapped in Refuge Zeta and across the city. For everyone who still believes in the light, even when it feels like it’s been snuffed out. Let's show these monsters that we're not going down without a fight."

Gravetower clenched his fist, anger rising in his chest. How had this boy and a cadet managed to slip away in the chaos? How many more?

For the umpteenth time in his career, Gravetower cursed the laxness that’d fallen over the KC Academic commission in recent years. There was no reason students should have managed to slip away from their protection in a situation like this.

"This is The Conductor," a familiar voice began firmly in the wake of the recording. "We have a situation in Refuge Zeta. I won't order anyone to go, but if you can spare even a moment, even a spell, head there. We need all hands on deck. The situation is stable, but as our young friend has implied, Twilight Aster is down there right now with a freshly contracted rookie. Red Masque and the Nibiru Syndicate have volunteered as enforcers of a Calamity Truce."

He’d failed.

It almost shattered his world to realize more students would be added to the death toll. If only there were something they could —.

“So… manly!” Griffon wiped away a tear dramatically. “Such bravery, such spirit!”

Braveheart Kraken shook his head, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Bro, he's just a freshie. But he's got heart. Takes some metrically massive bowling ball nads to rush in like Twilight Aster did with just a cadet too."

Braveheart Sphinx, ever the calm and thoughtful one, adjusted his stance. “He has conviction. And that conviction will rally others. He might just have lit the beacon we need. The rookie seems promising, too.”

Braveheart Kitsune, twirling his flute, smirked, “Guess we got a new mission, don’t we? Save the brave kouhai and the folks down there? Zeta ain’t too far.”

Ruby Siriana interjected, “Look, before you lot rush off —”

Kraken clapped a heavy hand on Griffon's shoulder, ignoring the Gems. "The lad's put himself in the spotlight, and those party poopers are gonna try to snuff it out. We can't let that happen!"

Kitsune smiled back, "I was never one to leave a kouhai hanging, especially not one with that much gumption."

Opal Whisper looked between the group in front of them, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips. "The audacity of these morons," she muttered, clearly annoyed with a hint of fondness.

The four Bravehearts turned towards the direction of Refuge Zeta, their auras shimmering in preparation for another battle.

Griffon raised his winged blade, "For honor! For the freshman!"

Sphinx intoned, “For the future.”

Kitsune, ever the playful one, added, “And for the greatest rescue mission story we’ll ever tell!”

Kraken, laughter booming, shouted, “For the bromance of it all! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!”

"HOO HA HOO HA!” the group shouted, gathering into a football huddle. “BRAVEHEARTS OUT!

The quartet, filled with renewed purpose, dashed off into the night in a burst of magic, leaving a mix of exasperation and admiration in their wake.

Opal Whisper, shaking her head, mumbled, “Every. Single. Time.”

“I don’t know, they kind of grew on me after a while,” Sapphire Dream whispered. “So, what now?”

All eyes turned to Gravetower.