There are monsters the world creates by accident.
Not forged by hatred.
Not raised by cruelty.
Not shaped by prophecy or fate.
They are born.
From the first breath they draw, fear follows them—
not because of what they do,
but because of what they are.
The world does not reject such beings immediately.
It watches.
It waits.
And when it realizes it cannot control them—
It trembles.
A dark tent stood on the edge of the battlefield.
Outside, war raged without pause. Steel clashed. Flesh tore. Blood soaked into soil already swollen with death. No one noticed the tent. No one cared.
Inside, a child was born.
There was no cry.
No wail.
No struggle for breath.
The infant lay unnaturally still.
Those present exchanged uneasy glances. Midwives stiffened. Soldiers guarding the tent felt a pressure crawl along their spines—an instinctive warning they could not explain.
Then—
The child opened his eyes.
Blue.
Not bright. Not warm. Not alive in any comforting way.
They were deep, hollow, endless—like an ocean that did not reflect the sky.
The moment those eyes focused—
The battlefield convulsed.
Not violently. Not explosively.
It shuddered, as if the land itself had felt something brush past it.
And then the sound came.
At first, distant. A thin, distorted wail.
Then another.
Then thousands.
Screams erupted from beneath the earth.
Not the wounded. Not the dying.
These were wrong.
Agony without breath. Terror without lungs. Voices layered atop one another, collapsing into a single chorus of despair that tore through the battlefield.
The dead screamed.
From mass graves long buried.
From forgotten killing fields.
From places where blood had soaked too deeply to be washed away by time.
Men dropped to their knees. Veterans' feet trembled.
Some vomited. Some clawed at the ground as if trying to escape the sound.
Others froze, eyes wide, minds unraveling under its weight.
The screams did not ask for mercy.
They begged for release.
Animals fled in blind panic. Monsters howled and scattered. Creatures born for slaughter recoiled, instincts screaming louder than hunger.
Children cried for no reason, sensing terror that crawled through the world. Every living soul screamed in warning: something primal had awakened.
Inside the tent, the child remained silent.
His blue eyes observed.
The screaming intensified—stretching across distance, across borders, across places no living man stood. The world itself seemed to echo with unrest, as if something ancient had been disturbed.
Then—
Silence.
Absolute. Worse than the screams.
Those present gasped, chests heaving, hearts pounding as though they had narrowly escaped drowning.
Slowly, trembling eyes returned to the child.
He blinked once. Calm. Unbothered. Unmoved and his eyes closed back.
Far above, in the upper echelon, the surrounding chamber was heavy with gloom.
"What… what is going on?" someone screamed.
"This is almost the same phenomenon that happened twenty-nine years ago," another whispered, teeth gritted.
"It's happening again…" someone else muttered, clenching his fist so tight his knuckles cracked.
They shivered, as if reliving forbidden memories, haunted by what they had hoped never to see again.
The command came: search the cause of this phenomenon.
Eyes swept across the room, but nothing was there—only a faint shadow, stirring, then disappearing, as if it had never been there.
The world was scarred due to this phenomenon that just happened but it was observing waiting dreading.another new age of mass slaughter is coming would it be worse than what they are facing through now nobody knows but they are waiting amd try to defend itself when the time comes.