Thud, thud!
Leroia led the squad swiftly through the tangled streets of the town.
The winding roads were lined with decrepit signs swaying in the wind, shattered window glass littering the ground as if the entire town had long since fallen into decay.
The heavy footfalls of magnetic boots and the grind of Titan armor echoed unnaturally loud in the silence, like hammers pounding directly on the nerves.
Meanwhile, a drone silently swept across the sky, its faint engine whine barely audible.
High-precision lenses continuously scanned, projecting the town's layout and movement onto the tactical display in Leroia's helmet.
Gray buildings, seemingly empty streets, and dense clusters of red markers in certain areas were clearly outlined on the radar.
"Large crowd detected at the southern intersection."
With data fed from the drone, Leroia's eyes narrowed as she raised her hand, signaling to advance.
The Glory warriors immediately shifted into combat formation, hugging the walls and deliberately dampening the noise from their boots—like predators stalking prey.
As they turned a corner, the scene that met them made the air itself freeze.
A large fire station loomed at the end of the street.
It was a typical North American brick structure. The red exterior walls were peeling and weathered, the fire department emblem above the entrance long broken.
But what stood out most wasn't the building—it was the "crowd" surrounding it.
Hundreds of ragged, barely human figures surged around the station.
Their skin was unnaturally pale. Some bore open wounds with exposed muscle and flesh still wet with half-clotted blood.
Yet these grotesque injuries, which should've caused agony or death, elicited no pain—instead, their faces twisted in frenzied ecstasy.
One man ripped the flesh from his own arm and held it aloft like a work of art. Another drove nails or iron pins into his chest or genitals, bleeding while laughing maniacally.
Bang—! Bang bang—!
Gunfire flashed from the second floor windows of the fire station.
Small-caliber rounds struck shoulders and limbs, misting the air with blood, yet none of the shots brought the crowd down.
Instead, those hit screamed in joy.
"HAHAHA! YEAH—!"
"Shoot me again! Come on!"
"I'll f***ing kill you!"
"I'm gonna eat your tongue and your—!"
Their voices were hoarse, broken, soaked in vile and unspeakable obscenity.
Their very words tore at sanity, flooding the mind with chaos.
Leroia stood in the shadows at the corner, eyes cold as she observed through her visor.
Red dots swarmed the screen, practically blanketing the fire station.
The defenders on the second floor fired with grit, but their ammo was limited—each volley downed only a few.
Even more disturbingly, many who had fallen twitched and rose again, staggering back toward the building.
"Lunatics…"
One of the Glory warriors cursed under his breath, his voice tinged with metallic weight through the comms.
Leroia didn't respond immediately. Her brow furrowed with icy calm.
She was noting the details.
The infected bore the same cross-shaped, red blisters as the corpses they'd seen. And their eyes—
Sunken. Pupils dilated. Minds lost completely to frenzy and desire. This was no mere infection, but something deeper—an assault on the spirit itself.
'These aren't victims of disease. They're sacrifices... driven by something else.'
She reached a silent conclusion.
Gunfire from inside continued, but with longer and longer gaps. The defenders were almost out.
"Commander," a warrior asked, "shall we engage?"
Leroia remained silent for a moment, surveying the road ahead.
Sunlight glinted coldly off her power sword hilt.
"Drone, continue lock-on. Confirm number and position of defenders."
She gave the order quietly.
Her HUD loaded the battlefield data. A 3D layout of the building unfolded—stairs, windows, halls. Entry points and blind spots marked in glowing lines.
Despite her childish demeanor around the Emperor or close friends, in battle, Leroia was calm and unflinching.
The scene before her was horrific, but she knew better than to charge in without full intel.
More importantly, these things outside weren't survivors.
They were warped, diseased products of something monstrous.
Gunfire rang out again—brief, desperate bursts. The infected howled in rage, slamming the fire station doors. The iron shutters screamed under the assault.
"OPEN UP! I'M GONNA F***ING RAZE YOU!"
"I'LL EAT YOUR EYES!"
Their grotesque roars echoed like demonic chants, rattling the broken glass in surrounding windows.
Once all data had been verified, and the area confirmed free of ambush, Leroia tapped her screen, marking the twisted crowd as "Infected."
Her eyes flicked between data and reality with surgical detachment.
The red dots clustered thickly around the station, and the first-floor shutters were now deformed—on the brink of collapse.
Leroia's brow tightened. Her voice dropped low and firm, reverberating through the comms with unmistakable authority:
"Terminate the infected. Leave a few alive for the Bio Division."
"Yes, Commander!"
The six Glory warriors responded as one—their voices ringing like iron striking flame.
Their long-held battle hunger exploded from their chests.
And in the next instant—the silence shattered.
CLANG—CLANG CLANG—!
Six bolt rifles roared at once. Muzzle flashes burst like volcanic fire.
.50-caliber explosive rounds screamed through the air with ear-splitting cracks. Shockwaves blasted dust into the sky. Even the decaying walls trembled from the assault.
The entire intersection was lit with the storm of fire—as if lightning had struck.
High-velocity rounds traced sharp lines across Leroia's HUD.
Thunk—SPLAT!—BOOM!
The first wave of infected was shredded, their flesh and bones atomized by the explosive rounds. Bloody mist coated the surrounding walls.
Limbs fell like meat from a butcher's block, still smoking faintly.
This time—they did not rise again.
The bolts didn't just kill—they erased.
?!
But as the outer ring was cleared, the horde's attention shifted instantly.
Hundreds of sunken eyes locked onto Leroia and her squad.
They didn't scatter in fear as ordinary raiders might. No—like beasts spotting prey, their lust and violence surged.
"HAHAHAHA! NEW TOYS!"
"SNIFF SNIFF! WOMEN! I SMELL WOMEN!"
"THERE'S A WHORE IN THERE—HAHA! I'LL BREAK HER—!"
The filthy chorus rose like a tidal wave, dark and thunderous.
They were insane.
Twisted by something beyond recognition.
Leroia's eyes darkened. Her HUD updated. The red dots converged into an arrowhead formation—rushing her position.
"Hold formation. Focus fire. Cut through the densest clusters first," she ordered coldly.
"Yes, Commander!"
The squad adjusted. Backed against a broken wall, they formed a crescent fire net. Gun barrels crossed to cover the full street.
Then—
CLANG CLANG CLANG—BOOM! BOOM!
Another barrage erupted.
Bolt rounds tore the front line of infected into chunks. The blast waves hurled the rear ones back like rag dolls.
Blood filled the air in thick mist. The whole street turned crimson.
But even this carnage didn't stop them.
They grew more frenzied.
Mangled bodies twitched. Some crawled forward with a single arm and leg, spitting obscenities.
"I'LL LICK YOUR EYES!"
"I'LL SHOVE IT DOWN THAT WHORE'S THROAT—HAHA!"
Their voices were a grotesque blend of laughter and sobbing—human language twisted into madness.
And the sheer filth of their screams pounded Leroia's ears like toxic sludge.
The Glory warriors' expressions tightened—but at the front, Leroia simply drew a breath.
Then—
Her right hand lifted.
Her power sword flew from its sheath.
WHRRR~!
With its activation, the blade lit with searing plasma, buzzing like a bloodthirsty beast roused from sleep.
THUD THUD!
She surged forward, stone tiles shattering under her charge.
Leroia flew like a silver warhead straight into the horde.
BOOM—!
Her sword carved a brilliant arc.
Three infected were split in half in a blink. Their bisected bodies sprayed hot blood across the street.
"AAHAHAHA—!"
"THE WHORE'S HERE!!"
But instead of fleeing, the crowd shrieked with glee.
Dozens of arms reached to grab and consume her.
But she was faster.
SHHK!
One horizontal swing—ten heads flew into the air. Blood geysered from necks, dyeing the road crimson.
THUD THUD THUD—!
Skulls, limbs, and entrails rained down in a macabre symphony.
Leroia had become a silver whirlwind.
Her sword moved too fast to see. Each strike roared as it tore through steel and flesh.
One infected lunged behind her, teeth bared.
She spun—sword sweeping wide.
SPLAT!
It was bisected at the waist. The upper half rolled into its kin, flinging guts and blood like trash.
Another charged with a metal rod, eyes gleaming with lust.
"Heh."
Leroia scoffed. She stepped in and stabbed.
CRACK—!
Her blade pierced its skull. Plasma flared and—
BOOM~!
The head detonated into red mist.
Limbs flew. Blood boiled.
The horde was torn apart by the storm.
Leroia stood alone in the center, her silver armor gleaming like a war goddess. Blood steamed from her sword, evaporating in energy fields—like crimson flames engulfed her.
At last—the horde hesitated.
Their screeching fell into uneasy silence. Their steps faltered.
Instinct recoiled from the pressure she radiated.
"Your blasphemy and filth shall be burned away."
She whispered—ice-cold.
Then she swung again.
And continued reducing the lunatics to pulp.
Fortunately, she hadn't forgotten the mission to keep some alive. After felling half the horde, she retreated back to the squad's line.
Two Glory warriors immediately switched weapons—unslinging stun rifles.
Click!
Special energy rounds chambered with a mechanical snap.
BOOM BOOM—KRAK! KRAK!
Two arc stun grenades exploded amid the crowd.
Blue-white lightning surged like vines, crackling across bodies.
More than a dozen infected seized and collapsed, twitching violently and snarling through clenched jaws.
"Targets subdued. Proceed with cleanup."
With confirmation, the firing resumed.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Precision shots pierced heads and chests—ending the final cries.
In mere seconds, the street was cleared.
Scorched blood, dismembered corpses, and shattered walls littered the ground. The air was thick with iron and burnt powder.
"Haa."
Leroia exhaled beneath her helmet, eyes drifting to the fire station.
The gunfire there… had fallen silent.
______
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