D-Animal
The air inside the meeting room was dense.
Not only because of the metallic scent of the environment — steel, heated circuits, synthetic oil, and the faint trace of ozone coming from the holographic panels — but because of the weight of what was being discussed. The future. Or what little remained of it.
Elara Pack, twenty-five years old, sat near the head of the long darkened steel table. Her legs crossed naturally, posture relaxed only on the surface. Inside, every muscle remained alert, as if she were still astride Fenrir, fleeing through burning streets.
She had changed.
Her hair, once long and light, was now tied into a functional low bun, a few loose strands falling beside a face marked by small, nearly invisible scars — reminders of shrapnel, falls, and sleepless nights. Her bicolored eyes carried something that hadn't existed at fifteen: silent authority. It wasn't arrogance. It was survival.
At the head of the table stood Malik Leonhart.
Upright, tall like a wall, his arms rested on the surface as he studied the floating maps projected in the air. Even after years of battle, the general remained an impossible presence to ignore. His heterochromatic gaze — one deep green, the other cold blue — scanned every detail with surgical precision.
The silence was broken by a calm but firm voice.
— "If we advance through here, we'll lose half the flank before even reaching the core," — Catherine Wolfe said.
She sat in an adapted wheelchair, the polished metal reflecting the room's cold light. Her legs lay motionless beneath a thermal blanket, but her posture was straight, assured. In her right hand, a tactical command wand projected luminous lines over the map.
— "But if we isolate this sector first," — she continued, pointing to a region marked in pulsing red, — "we force the Deletio to disperse. That buys us time. And time is all we have."
The faint scent of freshly prepared synthetic coffee came from somewhere in the room, mixing with the sterile aroma of air filters. Elara breathed deeply, recognizing that smell as something rare — artificial normalcy in a broken world.
— "That exposes the rear," — Malik pondered. — "They wouldn't hesitate to attack civilians if they noticed the maneuver."
Elara slowly uncrossed her legs, resting her elbows on the table.
— "There are no civilians in that zone," — she said, her voice low, firm. — "Not since the Fall of Orion."
Catherine nodded.
— "Exactly. Only Uthos and two Ferus concentrations. Nothing we don't know how to handle."
In the darkest corner of the room, a panel displayed fragmented images of Abyssopolis — one of the last federal megabases still operating. Black towers embedded deep underground, colossal gates sealed like jaws, and layers of defense that would make any ancient city seem defenseless.
Rafael wasn't there.
But his presence was felt.
— "Rafael should have reached the second level by now," — Malik said, without lifting his eyes from the map.
Elara tilted her head slightly.
— "If something were wrong, Cain would've sent a signal already."
Rafael S. Richter. Thirty-three years old.
Now one of the most efficient espionage agents in the D-Animal Special Intelligence Force. Still abrasive. Always distrustful. But precise. Lethal when necessary.
At that moment, he moved through the entrails of the Federal Base of Abyssopolis, accompanied by Kaiser, the hybrid metal ligre; Kaine, the king spider of concealment; and Cain, the black falcon slicing through the toxic skies above the city.
Information had arrived through an anonymous infiltrator.
A word repeated in fragments of stolen data.
Betrayal.
— "If Abyssopolis falls…" — Catherine began, but didn't finish the sentence.
No one needed her to.
After the emergence of the Deletio and Ferus, the world hadn't fallen all at once.
It crumbled slowly.
Entire nations collapsed. Governments vanished. Oceans became contaminated with the wreckage of colossal D-Animals. Cities turned into necropolises of steel and flesh.
Survivors learned quickly: unite, or be devoured.
Thus arose the Walled Federations — human fortresses sealed behind massive gates, each isolated yet connected by fragile pacts.
Elara recalled their names almost like a silent litany:
1. Heliopolis Prime — Solar Federation of the Western Desert
2. Nordheim Bastion — Northern Glacial Federation
3. Auralis Dome — Submerged Federation of the Old Atlantic
4. Vantyr Keep — Eastern Mountain Federation
5. Green Cenotaph — Reconstructed Forest Federation
6. Ironreach — Industrial Federation of the Old Urban Belt
7. New Kyoto Ward — Eastern Technological Federation
8. Sanctum Andes — Southern High-Altitude Federation
9. Abyssopolis — Deep Federal Federation
Closed gates. High walls. Humanity surviving like a cornered animal.
— "If we confirm internal betrayal," — Malik said, finally lifting his gaze, — "we're not talking about just one federation."
— "We're talking about the collapse of the last bond of human trust," — Elara completed.
The room's panel flickered briefly.
A symbol appeared.
Partial signal received.
She felt her heart quicken.
Meanwhile, thousands of kilometers away…
Lucas Pack, twenty-three years old, knelt amid a freshly silenced combat zone.
The smell of fresh blood mixed with wet earth saturated the air. Screams had ceased minutes earlier. Only the distant sound of disengaging gears and crackling residual fire remained.
Lucas wore the white-gray uniform of the Advanced Field Medics, sleeves stained dark red. His movements were quick, precise, yet carried an almost impossible gentleness for that setting.
Above his shoulder hovered Ella.
A small metallic hummingbird, wings vibrating at high frequency, emitting a soft blue-green glow. Hybrid Class: Spiritual / Sniper.
As Lucas pressed an open abdominal wound on a soldier, Ella fired micro-beams of stabilizing energy, sealing vessels, keeping the heart beating.
— "Breathe with me," — Lucas said, his voice calm, steady. — "One… two… that's it. Don't close your eyes."
The soldier obeyed.
On the battlefields, Lucas had earned a name.
Hands of Healing.
Not because he felt no fear.
But because he never let fear defeat compassion.
Back in the meeting room, the signal finally stabilized.
A distorted image appeared.
Rafael.
His face partially shadowed, sweat running down his temple, cold blue eyes focused on something beyond the camera.
— "Confirmed," — his voice crackled. — "There's unregistered internal movement. Security protocols tampered with."
Kaiser growled in the background, a deep sound of tense gears.
— "It's not just Abyssopolis," — Rafael continued. — "It's bigger. Someone is feeding the Deletio."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Elara closed her eyes for a brief moment.
And when she opened them, there was no hesitation left.
— "Then this isn't just a war for survival," — she said. — "It's a war for truth."
Catherine placed a hand on the table.
Malik straightened.
The world had changed.
But one thing remained.
As long as there were people willing to fight — not only against monsters, but against human darkness itself — tomorrow still existed.
The silence after Rafael's words wasn't immediate.
It spread.
Like an invisible, heavy wave, crossing the meeting room, sliding over metallic panels, seeping into the lungs of everyone present. The air felt colder. Thinner. Even the constant hum of the base's systems seemed to diminish, as if the installation itself were listening.
Elara was the first to move.
She rose slowly, boots making a dry sound against the reinforced floor. The movement was calculated — not rushed, not aggressive — but charged with intent. When she stood, all eyes converged on her without need for request.
— "Whoever is feeding the Deletio," — she said, circling the table, — "isn't interested only in chaos."
She stopped beside Catherine, resting a hand lightly on the back of the wheelchair. The gesture was subtle, almost imperceptible, but firm. Support. Presence.
— "Chaos is a consequence," — Elara continued. — "The goal is control."
Malik narrowed his eyes.
— "Control of what?"
Elara lifted her gaze to the holographic maps, where red points pulsed slowly, marking areas of active Deletio presence.
— "Of us."
The smell of ozone intensified as Catherine adjusted the projection, zooming into a specific sector. The luminous lines flickered before reorganizing, revealing hidden logistical routes — subterranean corridors, ancient tunnels, maintenance ways linking supposedly isolated federations.
— "These routes," — Catherine said, her voice steady despite the tension, — "haven't appeared in official records for years."
— "But someone still uses them," — Malik finished.
Over the communicator, Rafael took a deep breath. The metallic sound of something being adjusted echoed behind him — likely Kaine repositioning sensors.
— "It's not just anyone," — he said. — "The codes I found… they're old. Pre-Fall. Federal contingency protocol."
A chill ran down Elara's spine.
— "That means—"
— "—that the betrayal didn't come from outside," — Rafael cut in. — "It came from within. From the start."
For a brief moment, no one spoke.
Because everyone understood the weight of it.
Humanity wasn't just being attacked by out-of-control D-Animals.
It was being pushed.
Shaped.
Tested.
— "Who?" — Malik asked, his voice now lower, dangerous.
Rafael hesitated a second before answering.
— "I don't have a name yet," — he admitted. — "But I have the symbol."
The panel flickered again.
An emblem appeared in the air.
An incomplete circle, cut by three irregular vertical lines — like claws tearing through a wound.
Elara recognized it in the same fraction of a second.
Her heart tightened.
— "That symbol…" — she murmured.
Catherine nodded slowly.
— "It's appeared before. In zones where Deletio emerged too quickly. Where Depletio Affinitatis was artificially accelerated."
Malik clenched his fists.
— "So they're forcing Nexus breaks."
— "Yes," — Elara confirmed. — "They're turning grief into a weapon."
The smell of heated metal now mingled with something subtler — forgotten coffee cooling, human sweat, pure tension.
Elara walked to the head of the table and placed her hands on it, leaning forward slightly. The dominant posture wasn't performance. It was consequence of everything she'd lost.
— "We can't just react," — she said. — "If we do, we'll lose federation after federation."
She raised her wrist, activating the D-Armilla. A soft blue glow pulsed beneath her skin, almost like a heartbeat.
— "We need to anticipate."
Malik stared at her for a long moment.
— "You're suggesting—"
— "—a surgical offensive," — Elara finished. — "Not against the Deletio. Against those who create them."
Catherine smiled faintly.
— "Finally."
Over the communicator, Rafael let out a short sound, almost a humorless laugh.
— "Thought you'd never say it."
The panel indicated hostile movement in a secondary sector of Abyssopolis.
Rafael moved.
— "I have to cut transmission. Cain detected an unregistered patrol."
— "Be careful," — Elara said immediately.
There was a brief pause.
— "Always," — he replied, before the signal dropped.
The silence returned.
But now it was different.
It wasn't paralyzing.
It was sharp.
Malik took a deep breath.
— "If this is confirmed," — he said, — "the world will change again."
Elara nodded slowly.
— "It already has," — she replied. — "The difference is… now we know."
She turned back to the map, bicolored eyes reflecting the cold light of the holograms.
Somewhere, behind massive walls, in cities protected by steel gates and fragile hope, humans waited.
Unaware.
And while the Deletio roared in the shadows, and alliances fractured in silence…
Elara Pack knew one thing with absolute certainty:
The next war wouldn't be fought only with weapons.
It would be fought with choices.
And this time, she didn't intend to lose anyone without fighting to the very end.
📁 CRIMINAL FILE — RESTRICTED ACCESS
Classification: SIGMA-BLACK
Status: ACTIVE (Under Continuous Monitoring)
---
IDENTIFICATION
Full Name: Rafael Siegfried Richter
Age on Record: 23 years
Date of Birth: ███/██/████
Nationality: Brazilian (original record)
Height: 1.85 m
Weight: 92 kg
Blood Type: O−
Current Rank (at the time): B
Current Status: Alive
Known Location: Variable / Non-fixed
---
APPEARANCE & IDENTIFYING MARKS
Large and naturally strong physical build
Moderate muscular definition (non-professional)
Visible scars:
1 old cut above the left eyebrow
2 deep scars around the left eye
Extensive burns:
Right thigh
Upper back
Eyes: Light blue with a red ring around the iris (neuro-implant anomaly)
Tattoo:
From the back of the right hand to the forearm
Irregular pattern (no known symbolic meaning)
---
BIOTECHNOLOGICAL IMPLANTS & ALTERATIONS
⚠️ STATUS: UNAUTHORIZED / EXPERIMENTAL
Neural and bloodborne nanorobot implants
Amplification of strength, reflexes, and senses
Cognitive limitations imposed by conditioned obedience protocols
Documented adverse reactions:
Temporary motor slowdown under magnetic fields
Episodic neurological pain
Abnormal resistance to physical trauma
---
REGISTERED D-ANIMALS
1. Kaine — King Spider
Class: Concealment / Espionage / Cyber Attack
Status: Active
Note: Control of smaller swarms
2. Cain — Black Falcon
Class: Surveillance
Status: Active
Note: Real-time visual sharing
3. Kaiser — Ligre (Self-Creation / Illegal)
Class: Hybrid (Fury / Warrior)
Status: Active
Origin: Reused parts from Utho D-Animals
⚠️ Severe violation of D-Animal biosynthesis laws
---
CRIMINAL HISTORY
🟥 CONFIRMED OFFENSES
Ages 15–17:
Association with a criminal organization specializing in theft and dismantling of D-Animals
Possession of illegal D-Armilla technology
Armed escape during police operation
Sole survivor of an explosion involving stolen D-Animals
Age 18:
Unauthorized experimental surgery
Medical record suppressed by classified military contract
Age 20:
Severe physical assault (self-defense not formally recognized)
Excessive use of force in a subway station
Incident involving electrical device (modified taser)
No conviction — case archived due to "strategic interest"
Ages 22–23:
Illegal construction of D-Animal (Kaiser)
Violation of Utho recycling protocols
Government systems intrusion (mid-level)
Refusal to cooperate with civilian authorities
---
PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION (23 YEARS)
Mental State: Unstable, functional under extreme stress
Behavioral Profile:
Hostile
Distrustful
Highly reactive to threats
Strong aversion to authority figures
Associated Disorders:
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (severe)
Attachment Disorder (extreme avoidance)
Affective emotional blocking
⚠️ Evaluator's Note:
> "Subject demonstrates extreme selective empathy. High potential for violence, however directed exclusively toward the protection of vulnerable third parties."
---
LEGAL STATUS
Judicial Situation:
🔺 Not convicted
🔺 Not acquitted
🔺 Maintained under monitored freedom
Reason:
> High strategic value in D-Animal combat scenarios and Deletio containment.
---
FINAL OBSERVATION — CONFIDENTIAL LEVEL
> "Rafael S. Richter is not a common criminal.
He is the direct product of social neglect, domestic abuse, and failed governmental decisions.
Treat him as an unstable weapon — or you will lose control of it."
Signed:
Federal D-Animal Evaluation Commission
Strategic Intelligence Division