7:43 PM - ATTACK BEGINS
The first explosion ca earlier than expected.
Rama was coordinating with Network guards on the east rooftop when the western wall breaching charge detonated. Not at the main entrance. Not at obvious access points. At a reinforced maintenance door that should’ve been unknown to outsiders.
They’d done reconnaissance beyond what Network surveillance detected. Mapped every entrance. Every weakness. Every vulnerability.
"WEST WALL BREACH!" Guard-2 shouted into comms. "Multiple hostiles entering! Eight—no, ten—TWELVE contacts!"
Twelve confird. But Arif’s ssage had ntioned "extra operatives." How many extra?
Rama activated [Tactical Overseer], perception expanding across the entire headquarters. Champions mobilizing throughout the building. Sekar in command center coordinating. Network guards repositioning to intercept.
And flooding through the western breach—fifteen operatives. Not twelve. Fifteen.
"Contact count revised!" Rama barked into comms. "Fifteen hostiles! Three more than intelligence estimated! Network guards engage and delay! Champions hold inner periter! Sekar, stay in command center!"
Her voice ca through encrypted channel. "Copy. I see them on caras. They’re splitting—nine toward my location, six toward Champions wing."
The split made tactical sense. Majority force targets primary objective (Sekar). Secondary force prevents reinforcent. Classic assault doctrine.
"Network guards intercept the nine," Rama ordered. "I’m moving to Sekar’s location. Champions handle the six."
He sprinted across rooftops toward the command center. Below, Network guards engaged the assault team in headquarters hallways.
The combat was imdiate and brutal.
Guard-3 dropped first operative with tranquilizer dart to the neck. But second operative returned fire with military precision—stun baton to Guard-3’s ribs, electrical discharge, guard down unconscious.
Guard-5 grappled with two operatives simultaneously. Skilled hand-to-hand. But they had numbers advantage. Third operative flanked, tranquilizer dart to shoulder, guard dropping.
Three Network guards down in first thirty seconds. The operatives were professional. Trained. Equipped. This wasn’t amateur assault. This was military operation.
"GUARDS FALLING!" Yanto shouted through comms from remote monitoring position. "Operatives are too skilled! They’re overwhelming us!"
Rama reached the stairwell. Four floors between him and Sekar’s command center. He took stairs three at a ti, Champion-enhanced speed making him blur of motion.
On Champions wing, different battle unfolded.
Six operatives versus fourteen Champions. Nurical advantage reversed. But operatives had equipnt specifically designed to counter System abilities.
Stun batons that disrupted [Champion’s Presence]. Tranquilizer darts loaded with sedative that affected Champion-enhanced physiology. Flashbangs calibrated to overwhelm heightened perception.
Dewi took flashbang directly. Blinded. Disoriented. Operative swept her leg, she fell, tranquilizer dart to thigh, unconscious in seconds.
Reza blocked stun baton with forearm—electrical discharge conducted through his Champion-enhanced body differently than normal humans. More pain. Worse disruption. He scread, stumbled back into Adi who was engaging different operative.
Both went down under coordinated assault. Two more Champions unconscious.
"CHAMPIONS FALLING!" Sri shouted from her position. "Equipnt is countering our abilities! We need support!"
But support was engaged elsewhere.
Rama reached fourth floor. Three floors from command center. Heard combat below—guards fighting desperately against superior force.
Guard-7 managed to drop two operatives with perfect tranquilizer shots. Professional work. But third operative used his falling teammate as shield, closed distance, stun baton to Guard-7’s neck, electrical surge, guard collapsed.
Four guards down. Three still fighting. Against nine operatives who knew exactly what they were doing.
Rama hit second floor. Heard Sekar’s voice through comms.
"Five operatives breached command center floor! Sri and two officers defending outside my door!"
He accelerated. Pushed Champion abilities to maximum. Legs burning. Ribs screaming from tournant injuries. Didn’t matter. Had to reach her.
First floor. Ground level. Command center was basent level. One more flight.
Explosion below. Smaller than breaching charge. Concussion grenade.
"SRI DOWN!" Soone shouted. "Officers down! Door is breached!"
No. No no no. Not Tiline 1 repeat. Not again.
Rama hit basent level at full sprint. Saw the scene:
Sri unconscious against wall, bleeding from head wound. Two officers down from concussion grenade. Command center door blown off hinges. Smoke pouring out.
Five operatives entering. Sekar alone inside.
Tiline 1 mory overlaid reality. Sa situation. Different timing. Sa terror.
Not again. Never again.
Rama didn’t think. Didn’t plan. Just moved.
First operative through the door never saw him coming. Rama’s fist connected with his temple—full Champion strength, no holding back—operative’s head snapped sideways, unconscious before hitting ground.
Second operative turned toward the movent. Too slow. Rama’s elbow to throat, crushing strike, operative gasping, down.
Third operative raised tranquilizer gun. Rama caught his wrist, twisted, bone snapped audibly, gun dropped, knee to solar plexus, operative folded.
Three down in four seconds.
Fourth and fifth operatives had ti to react. Both firing tranquilizer darts.
Rama dodged first. Second caught his shoulder. Sedative entered bloodstream. Champion physiology processed it differently than normal humans—slower effect but still impairnt.
Vision blurred slightly. Reaction ti decreased fractionally. Enough to matter in combat.
Fourth operative charged with stun baton. Rama blocked with forearm—electrical discharge conducted through tournant-injured ribs, agony exploded, vision whited out montarily.
Fifth operative used the distraction. Got behind Rama. Arm around throat. Chokehold. Professional execution.
Tiline 1, this is how I failed. Distracted by pain. Overwheld by numbers. Arrived too late.
Tiline 2 has to be different.
Rama activated [Regressor’s Determination]. The passive ability that granted temporary boost when defeat was imminent. Energy flooded his system despite tranquilizer and pain.
He gripped the choking arm. Pulled forward sharply. Used the operative’s own hold as leverage to throw him over shoulder. Operative hit ground hard.
Fourth operative with stun baton ca again. Rama didn’t dodge. Took the hit deliberately—right side ribs, already broken from tournant, electricity amplifying agony to unbearable levels.
But pain brought clarity. Tiline 1 had taught him—sotis you had to take damage to create opening.
While operative was committed to the strike, Rama grabbed the baton. Pulled it toward himself, pulling operative off balance. Other hand to operative’s throat. Precise strike. Nerve cluster. Operative’s eyes rolled back. Unconscious.
Fifth operative rising from throw. Rama t him with knee to face. Brutal. Decisive. Down permanently.
All five operatives unconscious in command center entrance.
Rama stumbled into the room. Ribs were definitely re-broken. Tranquilizer was affecting motor control. Blood from sowhere—his? Theirs? Didn’t know.
Sekar stood in the center of command center. Tactical display showing headquarters layout. Combat markers everywhere. She’d been coordinating entire defense while under direct assault.
And she was bleeding. Shoulder wound. Tranquilizer dart embedded. She’d pulled it out partway but sedative had entered system.
"You ca," she said. Voice slightly slurred from drugs. "Always... co..."
"Always. Every tiline." Rama reached her. Checked the wound. Shoulder. Not fatal. But sedative was working. She had maybe sixty seconds before unconsciousness.
"Champions... six down... operatives too skilled..."
"I know. Network guards?"
"Five down... two still fighting... overwheld..."
The tactical display confird it. Defense was collapsing. They’d inflicted casualties—eight operatives down across building. But seven were still active. And defenders were nearly broken.
Tiline 1, this was the mont everything fell apart. When superior numbers and professional coordination overwheld desperate defense.
Sekar’s legs buckled. Rama caught her. Sedative taking full effect.
"Sorry..." she mumbled. "Should’ve... listened... you were right... protect..."
"No. You were right. Partnership. Trust. I should’ve—"
She went unconscious mid-sentence. Dead weight in his arms. Breathing steady. Alive. Just drugged.
Not Tiline 1 severe injuries. Not bleeding from broken ribs and collapsed lung. Just sedated. Already better outco.
Rama laid her gently on the floor. Activated panic button on her desk—direct alert to police and dical services. Then returned to hallway.
Sri was stirring. Head wound bleeding but conscious. Two officers still unconscious but breathing.
"Sri. Status?"
"Concussion. Possible fracture. I can fight." She stood unsteadily. "Sekar?"
"Unconscious. Sedated. Safe for now. Building status?"
"Champions—six down, eight still fighting. Network guards—five down, two active. Operatives—eight down per your count, seven still active. We’re losing."
Seven operatives still active. Against eight Champions and two guards. Numbers were even but operatives had equipnt advantage and professional training.
"Where’s the main assault force now?"
"Three heading back toward Champions wing. Four moving toward—" She checked tactical display. "—toward us. Command center. They know Sekar’s here."
Four operatives coming. Rama still impaired from tranquilizer. Ribs broken. Exhausted from combat.
But this was Tiline 2. Different from Tiline 1. Better prepared. Better defended.
Four operatives appeared at basent stairs. Saw Rama. Saw unconscious teammates. Assessed threat.
Lead operative spoke into radio. "Target secured but Champion Rama is defending. Requesting backup for extraction."
They weren’t here to kill. They were here to extract Sekar. Take her alive. Use her as leverage against Rama and Eternal Bond.
"She’s not leaving," Rama said. Voice steady despite pain and drugs. "You’re not taking her."
"We have superior numbers. Superior equipnt. You’re injured and drugged. This ends one way."
"Tiline 1 taught —fights don’t end the way they look like they’ll end. Surprising outcos happen when people refuse to quit."
He activated [Champion’s Presence] fully. Aura visible. Golden light emanating from his body despite tranquilizer impairnt. The pressure of Champion-level power filling the hallway.
All four operatives felt it. The weight of soone who’d died fighting Level 167 void entities and ca back stronger. Soone who’d survived impossible odds through absolute refusal to accept defeat.
"Last chance," Rama said. "Leave now. Or I stop holding back."
Lead operative’s hand moved toward tranquilizer gun.
Rama moved first.
Tiline 1 technique. One he’d learned dying six tis before perfecting. Called "Void Step"—movent technique that exploited Champion perception to predict opponent’s action and counter before execution completed.
Lead operative’s finger touched trigger. Rama was already moving. Closed five ters instantly. Strike to gun hand, weapon clattered away. Follow-up to solar plexus, lead operative gasping, crumpling.
Second operative swung stun baton. Rama’s hand caught it mid-swing. Yanked. Operative pulled off balance. Knee to face. Down.
Third and fourth operatives attacked simultaneously. Coordinated. Professional.
Rama fought both. Trading hits. Taking damage. Stun baton to ribs—electricity through broken bones, agony. Tranquilizer dart to thigh—more sedative, vision blurring worse.
But also dealing damage. Throat strike. Nerve cluster hit. Joint hyperextension. Tiline 1 experience against opponents stronger, faster, better equipped.
Thirty seconds of brutal exchange.
Then both operatives down. Unconscious. Bleeding but alive.
Rama stood over four bodies. Swaying. Vision graying. Multiple tranquilizer darts in system. Broken ribs grinding. Electrical burns covering torso.
Sri watched in shock. "That was... that’s not normal combat technique. What was that?"
"Tiline 1. Where I died learning how to fight opponents I shouldn’t be able to beat." He checked tactical display. "Building status?"
"Champions secured Champions wing. Six operatives down there. One escaped. Final operative is... oh no."
"What?"
"Heading toward Sekar’s office. The reinforced one you built. He’s trying secondary objective—if he can’t extract her from command center, he’ll fortify position in her office and hold it until backup arrives."
One operative. In Sekar’s reinforced office. The one with blast doors and panic buttons and hidden caras.
Fortifications ant to protect her now being used against them.
"How long until police arrive?"
"Panic button was triggered. Maybe five minutes."
Five minutes. One operative fortified in blast-resistant office. Rama barely functional from injuries and sedatives.
Tiline 1, this was where everything went wrong. When single operative held position long enough for reinforcents to arrive. When delay turned tactical victory into strategic defeat.
Tiline 2 had to end differently.
Rama started toward the stairs. Heading to Sekar’s office. Each step agony. Vision swimming. Body screaming to stop.
But Tiline 1 had taught him—sotis you fight when body says stop. Sotis victory requires pushing past limits. Sotis love ans moving when movent should be impossible.
He reached Sekar’s office floor. The reinforced door was closed. Locked from inside. Blast-resistant. Built to withstand assault.
Built to protect Sekar.
Now protecting her enemy.
Rama’s phone buzzed. ssage from inside the office. The operative had Sekar’s phone.
Unknown:I’m fortified. Police coming won’t help—I’ll be gone before they breach this door. Your reinforced office buys ti. Ironic. Your protection becos my escape route. Dragon’s Gate sends ssage: next ti, we bring more. Next ti, she doesn’t wake up. -Operative #9
Rama stared at the ssage. Then at the blast door. Five minutes until police. Four minutes until operative escaped through ergency exit Rama knew existed but couldn’t reach in ti.
Tiline 1, the operative escaped. Returned with intelligence. Led to worse assault three months later. Led to Sekar’s severe injuries. Led to six deaths.
Tiline 2 had to cut this cycle.
Rama approached the door. Placed both hands on blast-resistant surface. Felt the reinforced structure he’d installed to protect his wife.
And activated every Champion ability simultaneously.
[Champion’s Presence] at maximum. [Tactical Overseer] analyzing structural weaknesses. [Perfect Coordination] synchronizing his entire body’s power into single point.
Plus one more. The ability he’d never told anyone about. The one Tiline 1 had granted through regression.
[Regressor’s Absolute Strike].
One-ti ability. Usable once per major combat encounter. Condensed all of his Champion power, Tiline 1 experience, and desperate need into single devastating hit.
Cost: Complete exhaustion after execution. Possible system shutdown. Guaranteed unconsciousness.
Benefit: Anything hit by it broke. Regardless of durability.
Rama pulled back his fist. Every muscle in body aligned. Every ounce of power focused. Every second of Tiline 1 combat experience channeled into single mont.
"Tiline 1, you escaped. Tiline 2, you don’t."
He struck.
The blast door shattered.
Reinforced steel designed to withstand explosives crumpled like paper. Entire door fra tore from wall. The operative inside turned in shock.
Rama stepped through the destruction. Vision nearly gone. Body failing. Running on pure determination.
"You’re not leaving," he said. "Tiline 2 ends different."
The operative raised tranquilizer gun. Fired. Dart hit Rama’s chest. Fourth dose. Enough to drop S-rank hunter.
Rama kept walking. Five steps. Three steps. One step.
Operative’s eyes widened. "You should be unconscious. Four darts. That’s lethal dose—"
"I’ve died before. Ca back. Drugs don’t kill Regressors. They just make us angry."
Final step. Rama’s hand closed on operative’s throat. Not killing. Just holding. Just ensuring he didn’t escape.
"Tiline 1, you got away. in this tiline, you face justice. That’s ssage. Dragon’s Gate doesn’t win this ti."
Operative struggled. Rama held firm. Vision going black. Body shutting down. But grip maintained.
Sirens outside. Police arriving. Backup coming.
Rama’s legs gave out. Collapsed. Took operative down with him. Both on floor. Rama’s hand still on throat. Refusing to release even as consciousness fled.
Last thing he heard before darkness: "Officer! In here! Hostile secured but—soone check the Champion! He’s not breathing right!"
Then nothing.
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