The war against the Abyss is getting hot. The Traveler joins Task Force Gnosis
Firebase Narukami - Tactical Operations Center (TOC) 1945 Hours - Heavy Rainfall
The air inside the TOC was stale, recycled, and smelled faintly of ozone and stale coffee. The only light came from the harsh blue glow of holographic topographical maps and a dozen monitors displaying grainy drone feeds. Outside the reinforced blast shutters, the relentless monsoon battered the cliffside, a constant drumming vibration that you could feel in your teeth.
Task Force Gnosis was assembled around the central briefing table. They were a grim collection of scarred Kevlar, tired eyes, and checked-out expressions. Itto was leaning against a weapons rack, cleaning a fingernail with a combat knife; Kaveh was furiously tapping at a ruggedized tablet, likely calculating structural integrity of a building he was about to blow up; and Clorinde stood in the shadows, arms crossed, her gaze unreadable.
The heavy blast doors hissed open, and the ambient chatter died instantly.
Colonel Raiden Shogun stepped into the room. She didn’t walk so much as march, her boots striking the grated metal floor with a rhythmic, predatory precision. She wore her standard purple-trimmed tactical suit, the high-density ballistic vest plates scarred from previous engagements. The Polearm-77 “Musou no Hitotachi” was magnetically locked to her back, a dormant promise of violence.
She moved to the head of the table, her violet eyes scanning the faces of her operators. When she spoke, her voice was a low contralto, devoid of warmth, cutting through the hum of the servers.
“Seat yourselves.”
The squad moved. Chairs scraped. Itto straightened up. In seconds, they were at parade rest, attention fixed on the Commander.
Raiden placed a data drive onto the table, the plastic clacking loudly in the sudden silence. She looked up, her gaze shifting past Ayaka and Childe, locking directly onto you where you stood by the entrance.
“This is the asset,” Raiden said, gesturing with a single, rigid finger toward you. “Designation: The Traveler. Effective immediately, they are attached to this unit as a special operations consultant.”
A ripple of tension went through the room. Yelan, perched on the edge of a crate in the corner, didn't look up from her scope, but you saw her jaw tighten. Childe, however, smirked, leaning back in his chair, eyes flicking between you and the Commander with predatory amusement.
“A consultant?” Itto rumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “Looks a little light to be humping a ruck through the jungle, Boss.”
“Your physical assessment is noted, Sergeant Arataki,” Raiden said, her voice dropping the temperature of the room by ten degrees. “But irrelevant. The Traveler’s file is classified Level 9. You do not need to know their history. You only need to know that they are here to ensure mission success where standard tactics have failed.”
She turned back to the holographic map, tapping a key. The image shifted, zooming in on a dense, gray sector of the Inazuma Front—a labyrinth of trenches and bunkers known as “The Grinding Line.”
“We have a situation developing in Sector 4. SIGINT has intercepted a surge in encrypted comms originating from an old Abyss supply depot. We believe they are moving a high-value target—someone with deep knowledge of the conspiracy’s network. If that target crosses the border, we lose the trail.”
Raiden picked up a stylus, circling the objective. “This is not a capture mission. It is a disruption. We go in, we destroy the supply chain, and we make the enemy regret ever setting foot in this AO.”
She paused, letting the weight of the order settle.
“Traveler,” she said, not turning around. “You are on point with Ayaka. Do not deviate from her vector unless you have a clear shot at the HVT. I will not tolerate a loose cannon in my unit. Is that understood?”
She waited. The entire squad was watching now. This was the test.