The military-grade chopper sliced through the air, skimming past the final stretch of the restricted zone and breaching the perimeter of The Dread. After twenty tense minutes of hovering, Jasper leaned forward, the turquoise beads around his neck catching the dim light. "Gods," he whispered. "This wasn't a fire—it was a purge."
Below them, the landscape was a vision of ruin. Buildings stood as charred skeletons, streets drowned in ash, and silence hung heavy—punctuated only by the occasional hiss of smoldering debris. Everything else had been incinerated. Ash spiraled through the air like snow, and the stench of burn clung to the wind, stretching for miles.
Han, on seeing the sight, had none of his usual sarcasm. There were no bodies. No screams.
Mill's voice crackled through the comms, sharp and low. "Eyes up. What or who ever did this might still be here."
The helicopter's blades whipped the air into a frenzy as it descended toward the ruined city. Inside, Elaine gripped her rifle, her knuckles taut. "It is time," Mill orders as the four of them come sliding down from about Twenty feets above the ground, after which, the chopper leaves. As they touched down, their boots sank slightly into the ash. The air was thick with the stench of charred metal and something else—something organic, like spoiled meat.
They were walking war machines, their bodies encased in blackened combat armor that seemed to devour the light around them. Each one carried a high-velocity assault rifles, their barrels modified to fire micro-caliber explosive rounds—tiny, hyper-lethal projectiles designed to detonate inside flesh, turning innards into pulp. They moved with the lethality of a surgical strike team and the savagery of a death squad, no enemy unconquerable. Every piece of their kit screamed one truth: they were here to exterminate.
Deep in the heart of Dread, a white-haired man in his twenties prowls, his movements silent and predatory. Clad in a patchwork of monstrous hide and tree-bark boots, he blends into the forest's eerie gloom. His steps are deliberate, eyes sharp and unyielding, catching every flicker of movement in the shadows. All while his gaze stays fixed ahead, he snatches a butterfly by its wing from behind, his touch so precise it remains unharmed. His calloused fingers trace the wing's delicate veins, senses heightened, ears twitching at the faintest sound.
In a flash, he rolls forward, evading a jagged stake launched from a grotesque, bloated creature—like a monstrous frog, but far larger—perched on a gnarled tree. It fires two more stakes in rapid succession. He sidesteps the first, catches the second mid-flight, and with a powerful leap, spins in midair and hurls the six-foot stake back, impaling the creature, pinning it to a neighboring tree with a sickening thud.
"Bastard," he mutters, striding over to the twitching beast. He yanks it free, stuffs it into a rugged sack, and slings it over his shoulder before vanishing deeper into the forest's haunted depths.
"Hey, Boss."
Han knelt in the dirt, his voice low as Mill approached.
Mill studied the ground. "That is a rather strange-looking footprint."
Nearby, Elaine stretched her arms, her toned frame—all lean muscle and sharp definition—glistening under the tactical gear strapped to her. With a flick of her wrist, she pushes a button, and the outline of a drone protrudes. She then plucked it and threw it into the air. Immediately, it begins to levitate, humming to life, its tiny rotors whirring as it lifted into the smoke-choked sky, as she secures her headset.
A pause. Then, her voice crackled through their comms: "Movement."
"North sector. One heat signature—big, fast."
The rest comfortably raise their rifles in readiness to batter.
"Hmph, one?. Puhleese," Jasper said, proudly.
"An beast?" Han asks.
Elaine's gaze stayed locked ahead. "Yeah, huge, coming in hot".
The earth shuddered beneath their feet. A piercing screech split the air as a colossal form burst from the ruins—a beast, clad in jagged obsidian scales, its four glistening tongues whipping through the dust like serpents. Mill barely had time to lift his rifle before one tongue coiled around his torso.
"Krrr—SQUELCH!"
Blood sprayed across the ash.
"RUN!" Han shouted, his voice cracking as he and Jasper unleashed a hail of bullets. Small explosions spark danced off the creature's armored hide, useless. Elaine bolted, her pulse pounding in her ears. Behind her, Jasper's battle cry was abruptly silenced by a sickening thud.
She didn't turn back. She couldn't.
Suddenly, the dinosaur-like monstrosity lunged, its snout launching her skyward. Mid-air, Elaine twists, yanked the pins from three high-tech grenades, and hurled them into the beast's gaping maw.
"BOOM!"
The creature froze.
"BOOM!"
Its stomach ruptured, spilling gore across the rubble.
"BOOM!"
The final blow tears it apart, its innards painting the ground crimson, blasting into smithereens.
But the shockwave slammed into Elaine like a freight train, flinging her forward. She hit the ground headfirst—and everything went dark.
The white-haired man froze at the sound of distant blasts, his senses sharpening as he crept toward the chaos. Emerging from the shadows, he found mangled corpses, their torsos twisted and guts splayed, unmistakably dead. Nearby, a ruptured monster lay in a heap, its grotesque form torn apart. His eyes fell on Elaine, sprawled but unmarked by major wounds. Without pausing to check her pulse, he hoisted her into his arms. "You're lucky," he growled, his voice muffled through a rugged mask.
Elaine, fading and weak, managed a faint, "Who....are....you?"
"Call me Kael," he replied. "You'll live."
A piercing screech cut through the ruined landscape, and shadowy figures stirred in the swirling smoke. Kael tightened his grip and carried her swiftly away, towards the opposite direction.
Evening had fallen.
Elaine groaned, pushing herself upright. Her vision swam as she blinked—rough-hewn walls, a ceiling of woven branches, the chill of wind slicing through gaps in the bamboo and vines. A makeshift hut.
"You're lucky."
The voice was muffled. The man crouched near the entrance, face obscured by a mask.
"Where am I?" She tested her wrists—bound with coarse rope.
"Forgive the bindings." he said, backing her, with a weary tone. "Last person I helped nearly killed me. Just for showing my face."
Elaine's pulse spiked. " You're one of them, aren't you?"
The man went still. A long exhale. Then, slowly, he lifts the mask.
Even from behind, she saw it—something shifted beneath his skin.
Immediately, he faced her, she discovered his four glossy black eyes stared back. Rows of serrated, ant-like teeth glistened in a grotesque smile.
"You guess"