Was it then?
When Luka started fighting the Darkin?
Perhaps. But no time for that.
Luka knew the real problem now. He and the girl were separated. No way for protection.
He instantly bolts for her.
Glancing to his right.
One of the Darkins reacts to his movement.
No time.
Luka's feet drag on the ground using every ounce of strength to get in front of the girl. He slides in time putting his hands up and positioning his body for impact. Before shouting—
"HANG ON TIGHT!!" to the little girl.
She clutches on his legs, tears still rolling from her eyes.
The Darkin closes in with its gaping mouth wide open.
The camera shifts between Luka then the Darkin, back and forth. Until—
It stops.
The footsteps. The growls.
The Darkin stops.
Luka little by little tries to look up moving his hands so he can see.
VvzzDUMPPP—
From behind to the right of the Darkin, Luka's left. A limb decimates Luka clean.
He rolls and continues to hit the ground until he gets stopped by a metal fence from the houses.
The first one who wakes up is the little girl.
A little shaken up, but nothing serious.
Luka managed to protect her.
Looking around then down at Luka.
The girl's breath trembled as she slowly turned her head. Her gaze now shifting toward the Darkins.
At first, she didn't understand what she was looking at.
Just shapes.
Dark. Unclear.
Her vision still blurred from panic and tears.
But then, her eyes adjusted.
And what she saw was nothing short of terrifying.
Three figures.
Standing in the distance.
Watching.
She started trembling. Something deep inside her had recognized danger before her mind could even process it.
They weren't moving at first.
Just… standing there.
Wrong.
Everything about them felt wrong.
Their silhouettes bent in unnatural ways, limbs slightly too long, slightly too thin—like something trying and failing to imitate a human form. The streetlight behind them flickered faintly, casting shifting shadows that made their bodies look like they were constantly… twitching.
Her lips parted.
No sound came out.
Then—
one of them moved.
A slow step forward.
A dragging motion, like its limbs didn't fully belong to it.
Then another.
And another. The others followed.
Not rushing. Not hesitating.
Just walking.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Like hunters who already knew their prey had nowhere to go.
The sound came next.
A faint scraping against the pavement.
Krrrk… krrrk…—
Their limbs bent as they walked, joints shifting in ways that shouldn't be possible. One of them tilted its head too far to the side, then slowly corrected it with a series of soft, cracking noises.
Her chest tightened violently. Air wouldn't come in.
Her vision shook.
They kept coming.
Closer.
Step by step. Unbothered. Unafraid.
Certain.
Her hands began to tremble uncontrollably.
"No…" the word barely escaped her lips, broken and fragile.
Tears welled up instantly, spilling over before she could stop them.
"No… no, no…" her voice cracked.
Her knees weakened. But her body refused to move. Refused to run.
It was like the ground had swallowed her whole.
Her heart slammed against her chest.
Ta-dump, ta-dump, ta-dump—
Too fast. Too loud.
She could hear it in her ears. Feel it in her throat.
The creatures drew closer, their shapes becoming clearer in the dim light. One of them dragged its fingers along a nearby fence—
Krrrriiiiiss—
The metal screeched under its touch.
Another let out a low, distorted sound—
Ghhrr… ksssss…
Not a growl. Not a voice. Something in between.
Something horrifying.
She broke.
A sob tore through her as her legs gave out beneath her. She collapsed beside Luka, her hands immediately grabbing onto him—
"M-mister—!" her voice came out desperate, shaking.
"Mister please, wake up! Please—please wake up!" she shook him frantically, her grip uneven, weak from fear.
Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably, her vision blurring again as panic and fear took over completely.
"They're coming—please—please, get up!" her voice rose, breaking into full sobs now.
Her hands trembled as she kept shaking him, over and over again, as if forcing him awake was the only thing keeping her from completely falling apart.
Behind her—
the sound of footsteps continued.
Slow. Patient.
Closing in.
Then—
Luka stirred.
Not suddenly. Not sharply.
The girl's screams reached him as if from far away—muffled, distant, like sound traveling through water—
"Mister—! Please—please wake up!"
His eyes twitched slightly, but his body refused to respond. Every muscle felt heavy. Drained. Like something had squeezed all the strength out of him and left nothing behind.
The camera shifts into his point of view.
Blurred shapes. Flickering light. Movement he couldn't quite make out.
His breathing was slow, uneven.
Then—
his vision started to focus.
Laying there, he turned his head slightly to the left. His eyelids darkening half the screen.
And saw them.
Three figures. Getting closer.
Slow. With intention.
His eyes widened just a fraction.
Not fear—recognition.
"○…If I don't move… it's over." the thought came quietly. Clearly. No panic. Just truth.
The girl's hands shook him again, pulling his attention back.
"Mister! I beg of you!! Please, get up!" sobbing uncontrollably.
His gaze shifted toward her—tears streaming down her face, eyes wide with terror.
For a moment—his body didn't move.
Then—
his fingers twitched.
A small movement.
His arm followed, slowly pressing against the ground as he forced himself to respond.
"○Move."
Nothing.
"○Move!"
His teeth clenched.
His muscles screamed in protest, but something deeper pushed through the exhaustion.
He planted his hand harder. Forced his body up.
His upper body lifted slightly off the ground, shaking, unstable, but moving.
The girl's grip loosened for a second in shock.
"M…mister..?"
He didn't answer. He couldn't.
His breathing grew heavier as he dragged one knee under him. Then, the other.
Each motion slow. Painfully slow. Like lifting his own body against an invisible weight.
But he kept going.
"○Get up!"
His head dipped forward as he pushed down harder, gathering what little strength he had left.
His leg straightened.
Rising—
bit by bit.
He had no energy. Fighting all night. Getting thrown around and claws cut his skin. Exhaustion caught up quick. But his will couldn't let go.
With sheer will alone—
he stood.
Not fully. Not yet.
His legs held him up, barely, but the rest of his body still lagged behind—torso slumped forward, head hanging low, like gravity itself was trying to drag him back down.
For a moment—
he looked broken.
The girl stood behind him, frozen, her breath uneven, her hands still trembling. She didn't understand how he was even up.
Neither did he.
Silence stretched between them and the approaching Darkins. They themselves stopping feeling the temperature in the air shift.
Then—
his hand moved.
The camera close on Luka at a 3/4 angle just above him from his left.
Excruciating pain. Slow. Rigid. But his hand, it didn't stop.
His fingers twitched first, stiff and unresponsive, before curling inward one by one.
Thumb.
Index.
Middle.
Ring.
Pinky.
Until—
his hand closed into a fist.
Tight.
It started to shake.
Not from weakness—
but from strain.
From something pushing past its limits.
That was the first thing that rose.
Rising close to the camera.
Then the rest followed.
His shoulders tightened, muscles trembling as they pulled upward. His spine straightened little by little, resisting the weight pressing down on him. His head lifted just slightly—still tilted, still heavy, angled downward and to the right, like it cost him everything just to keep it there.
His breathing deepened.
Uneven.
Dust clung to his clothes. Leaves stuck to his back and shoulders. Dirt smeared across his arms, mixing with streaks of blood that hadn't fully dried. Bruises darkened his skin in uneven patches, some fresh, some already swelling.
His left arm hung limp at his side.
Useless. Completely damaged.
Blood trailing faintly down his fingers.
But his right—
his right was clenched into that fist.
Raised slightly in front of him.
The ground beneath his feet was cracked and scattered with debris, small pieces of rubble shifting as he adjusted his stance. One leg slightly forward, the other braced behind, knees bent just enough to hold balance—but not fully stable.
He was barely holding the pose.
But standing.
Behind him, the girl remained.
Small. Fragile.
And he didn't move from that spot.
Didn't step aside. Didn't look back. He didn't need to.
Everything about his posture said it.
He was the wall now.
The Darkins still paused looking at him.
But something had changed.
They all felt it.
Something that refused to fall.
His head remained slightly lowered, tilted to the right, shadow covering his eyes—but beneath that shadow, something burned.
Something that didn't break.
His fist tightened further, the tension running through his entire body like a current. The electric feeling slowly firing up.
Every muscle screaming. Every nerve protesting. Pain shot to his brain.
And yet—
he stood firm.
Not because he could, but because something inside him simply refused to stop.
And no matter how broken his body became—
that part of him would not fall.
His indomitable spirit still glowing, unable to be extinguished.
His mouth slowly opening—
.
"C..." blood gushing out.
.
.
"Come."