This is an emergency broadcast. I repeat, this is an emergency broadcast—Port Island is on fire. Remain calm, wear your gas mask, and stay inside—someone is coming for you.
A static hiss lingered for a few seconds before dissolving into a bittersweet melody, the song titled—’Everything Is Going to Be Okay.’ For seven long days, that music had been the only sound haunting the slums of Miraval City, echoing from every abandoned Hydro and every half-shattered loudspeaker that still worked in those deserted streets.
“Here we go.” A man hopped from the second floor of a façade-stripped building, landing on a hill of debris in the street below. He grinned as he shook the tungsten suitcase he had just secured, joyful as the metallic clink of its contents reassured him before he placed his prize into his [Inventory]. “One more left and I can finally leave this hell, and get a couple of nights of warm sleep.” His voice cracked beneath the round filter of his Carbon-Woven Helmet, his improvised gas mask turning words into a distorted whisper. “If I remember right, the last package is in the Industrial Zo—”
*Kaaaaa-BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!*
The blast cut him mid-sentence, and, instinctively, the man dropped to the ground, shielding the fragile filter of his mask with both hands as a chain of detonations thundered across Fisherman Plaza. However, within the once thriving market that had fed thousands of workers’ families, no screams could be heard—only the shrill whistling of incoming shells, the gut-wrenching roar of explosions, and the relentless rain of concrete and brick that buried the streets beneath, forming new dunes of debris.
Fortunately for him, the man was entirely clad in a Carbon-Woven Armor that left no skin exposed, ensuring both protection from the debris and practical invisibility from the Automatic Algorithms that decided where to direct the eerie symphony of the Korinthians’ cannons. So, he stayed on the ground for a couple of everlasting minutes, until the enemy moved its symphony of destruction to another neighborhood.
“I hate all of this, but worse—I’m risking my life for that piece of shit’s ’bright’ idea,” the armored man grumbled before forcing himself back on his feet and resuming the march. His eyes remained fixed on the columns of black smoke rising above the red roofs, and more than once he stumbled over jagged hills of debris—the narrow trails between them no wider than his own boots. Step by step, he reached what had once been the stomach of the city, only to be greeted by a grotesque spectacle.
The market stalls, once overflowing with riches for the tongue, were now infested with insect larvae that, along with rats and other vermin, feasted on the rotting carcasses of fruit, vegetables, and meat left to decay for nearly seven days. However, amid that orgy of putrefaction, there was an odd juxtaposition—dozens of human corpses lay scattered across the cobblestones of Fisherman Plaza, their flesh untouched even by the hungriest of stray dogs. The man knelt to examine them more closely, immediately noticing weird details—their skin was a mix of purple and yellow, their blood-red eyes were frozen in a horrific expression, and their hands were clenched to their mouths by rigor mortis, as if they had tried to keeping their mouth shut.
“Oh, 'Romantic Dreamer,' have pity and guide these innocent souls to Paradise.” He raised his index finger, tracing upon himself the Sign of the Holy Trinity—a circle on the forehead, a circle on the lips, and a circle on the heart—before kneeling beside the fallen. One by one, he closed their eyelids, corpse after corpse, murmuring silent prayers as he waited for the storm of artillery to drift further away.
*Squeak!* *Squeak!* *Squeak!*
The sound of iron scraping stone broke the silence of the funeral. A manhole slid open, and from its black hole emerged a wave of white rats. Hundreds of them swarmed across the plaza, and in perfect coordination, they started dragging the corpses—their tiny jaws and teeth gripped on the torn clothing, pulling in unison—and slowly yet steadily, the rodents hauled the bodies toward the open sewer, vanishing into the sewers with the war victims.
“At least their families will see them one last time,” the man whispered, a faint smile forming behind the Carbon-Woven Helmet. However, it was short-lived, vanishing the moment he caught the fine scent in the air beyond the plaza—the unmistakable stench of a territory claimed by a hostile being.
The neighborhood the man in Carbon-Woven Armor had stepped into was unlike the rest of Port Island. Here, the buildings stood with their facades untouched, with not a single brick scratched by cannon fire, and the streets were swept clean, with no rubble and no corpses—that terrified him. He kept to the left side of the road, shoulder pressed against the cold stone of the three-story complexes that flanked the road, ready to storm inside at the first glimpse of one of the enemy’s loyal pets.
After ten minutes of slow and silent marching, he began to notice the first dark stains marring the walls, all beneath crude craters formed with brute force. That was the sign—it was time to act. By using the Gaussbow magnetically fixed to his right arm, he hit straight at the keyhole of the nearest door, breaking it and rushing inside the building as if his life depended on it. He swiftly climbed the stairs to the third floor, where he took shelter in one of the apartments.
Inside, he paused to look in the dusty frames atop every piece of furniture in the living room. A smiling father, a mother with gentle eyes, a boy clutching his sister’s hand at the beach—immortalized in those pictures, dozens of private moments of a family that had done its best to survive the expensive life in Miraval City. “Dad…Mom…mmh…where are they?” The black visor of his Carbon-Woven Helmet reflected the horror show sprawled across the floor—two corpses in a pool of dried blood. Their faces were twisted in half-screams, pieces of their torsos were gnawed away, and most of their limbs were missing. However, what unsettled him most was the lack of two little yet main actors. “Anyway…now…I have a chance of surviving.” He clenched his jaw as he peeked through the window blinds at the narrow alley below. “Now, I just need bait for the Sphin—”
“WE DID IT—WOOOOOO!!!” The sudden cheer sent a shiver down the armored man’s spine. He immediately moved toward the window overlooking the main road, spotting two strangers staggering out of a notorious gambling den with bags overflowing with cash—tears of joy streamed down their faces as they hugged each other in disbelief.
“These idiots…aaah…at least I won’t waste the lives they’re so kindly offering me.” He took a magazine from his [Inventory], loading his Gaussbow before firing bolts into the building across the narrow alley—three per floor. Each bolt got stuck into the brickwork, its tail flashing in rhythmic pulses, a signal that they were waiting for further orders. “And now…I just wait.”
“With this money, we’ll pay our debts and go back to our families—we’re finally FREE!” One of the thieves exulted, his face shining with ecstasy as his trembling hand dropped a stack of bills onto the pavement—banknotes scattering in the wind like confetti. However, his companion wasn’t celebrating—his expression had frozen, eyes bulging, and throat clogged. “Bro? What’s with that face—we’re free now!” No reply, but only a shivering arm, slowly rising to point behind him. The first man turned, his joy vanishing in less than an instant.
*GRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!*
A roar tore throughout the entire neighborhood as a colossal gorilla hammered its chest with a thunderous succession of blows. ”D-E-A-T-H T-O A-L-L R-E-A-C-T-I-O-N-A-R-I-E-S!!!”. The beast stood half as tall as the adjacent apartment block, its shoulders as broad as the walls themselves, and its bloodshot eyes sparkled with delight as they fixed on its next meal.
“No…not now, not when I’m finally free…” The gorilla’s lips twitched, and for a brief instant, the thief thought he saw a mocking sneer. “RUUUNNNN—!” He barely had time to turn and glimpse his companion for one last time before the beast, despite its colossal size, moved at a surreal speed, and in one fluid motion, it seized the man in its left hand, squeezing until his ribs snapped like crackers. “Oh…Adam…please sav—”
The prayer was cut short as the gorilla tore the man’s head away with its other hand. Then, the monster raised the headless body to its lips and started sucking, draining blood, organs, and even the bones until nothing remained but a deflated skin. Then, with casual boredom, it launched the human peel at the surviving thief, pinning him to the road’s cobblestones beneath his friend’s empty flesh.
“This…this is just a dream…It has to be!” The Korinthians had a name for such monstrosities—the Sphinxes, colossal beasts bioengineered for psychological warfare. To maximize terror, the Sphinxes rarely granted their prey the mercy of a swift death. Instead, they loved playing Hide-and-Seek with them, stalking their victims for hours—sometimes days—until their muscles snapped, lungs collapsed, and bones cracked beneath the strain of fatigue. Unfortunately, the game was rigged from the first step because the beasts had been genetically modified to detect every single particle released by their prey. Hence, despite his heart hammering and adrenaline flooding his veins, the thief’s brain had already accepted the harsh truth, and with no way out, it opted to deny reality, aiming at a painless death. However…
”What…” As his eyelids closed for what he thought would be the last time, a ray of light struck his eye. His head jerked instinctively toward its source—the steel of a Gaussbow, gleaming in the hands of a man clad in armor on the third floor of the building to his left, whose index finger silently pointed toward the narrow alley below—a new path of survival. The thief’s brain channeled every drop of adrenaline into his legs, and in less than a heartbeat, he was up, sprinting toward his final thread of hope.
*GRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!*
The gorilla was infuriated yet thrilled by its prey’s desperate courage, roaring out of excitement as it went after him.
*Grah?!*
However, the place was too narrow for its size, forcing itself to squeeze between the two walls, slowly but steadily, stretching its arms at the shivering man at the end of the dead-end alley. The thief pissed himself as the Sphinx’s massive fingers came closer and closer, screaming for the man above to save him, and the exact moment he felt the fur over his skin, the Armored man fulfilled his prayer.
”Sorry.”
*Kaaaaaa-BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!*
The bolts stuck in the walls detonated one after another, raising the temperature in the alley by several hundred degrees, a storm of fire and debris swallowing both the gorilla and the roasted man alike.
*GRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!*
The Sphinx’s head raised from the ruins, roaring with all its fury as it struggled to free itself. However, the moment its mouth widened open, a new volley of bolts pierced his throat.
*Kaaaaaa-BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
A column of fire erupted from within the beast, boiling its skull from the inside and liquefying its brain. The monster’s head deflated with a grotesque hiss before collapsing lifelessly onto the ruins.
“And now, let’s fuck off.” The armored man didn’t know whether a Sphinx could regenerate like that roasted chicken he knew, but he had no interest in finding out either. Hence, after activating the boosters in his modified Carbon-Woven Sabatons, he moved to the roof, jumping from building to building until the alley and its scorched nightmare were behind him, moving towards his true destination.
***
It took him an hour of methodical and careful movement to reach the place of his last commission of the day—a small condo. Its narrow rooms, once designed for single immigrants during their twelve-year residency, were, over time, flooded with entire families of illegals packed together with their misery.
It almost feels like home.
The armored man gently opened the door.
*beep* *beep* beep*
As he walked through the narrow corridor, it was difficult to avoid the corpses that carpeted it. Their full-open eyes bled, and their hands over both mouths and noses were frozen by rigor mortis. However, unlike the victims in the plaza, these bodies were completely purple, their veins grotesquely visible, almost plastered, on their skin.
Idiots. In such a confined space, your own pores are enough to kill you.
*beep* *beep* beep*
He climbed the stairs to the third floor, opening the door of the seventh apartment.
*beep* *beep* beep*
Inside the cramped room—kitchen, living, and bedroom all in one—a woman, an old man, and a boy sat silently at the table, each with a bolt lodged in their left eye. On the floor lay another man, skin violet and eyes bloody, still clutching a Tigress.
MAM Model D. Reliable weapon…slow reload.
He traced the Sign of the Trinity, then gently closed their eyelids.
*beep* *beep* beep*
He shoved aside a heavy closet and punched through the wall behind it, revealing a hidden safe.
Twelve to the right, twelve to the left, twelve to the left, and one to the right.
A feeling of accomplishment surged in his chest as the lock clicked open.
*beep* *beep* beep*
He gently opened the safe door.
*beep* *beep* beep*
”Waaah! Waaah! Waaah!”
*b—
”[Adrenaline]!” In less than an instant, he grabbed both the suitcase and the unforeseen problem, then threw himself out the window, landing hard on the street below. Although he was hyperventilating from the low [SP], he felt a surge of pride as he glanced down at the baby wailing in his arms—the greatest reward he could have hoped for.
”Waaah! Waaah! Waaah!”
“Shh…you’re safe now. Stop crying.” The man pulled out from his [Inventory] a spray can and decontaminated them both. Then, he gently lulled the baby, her sobs quietening into hiccups. “Good. I know you’re hungry, but you’ve got to resist. Soon, we’ll be in a safer place, I pro—.”
*RAAAAAAARRRGHH!*
However, their sweet moment was interrupted by the guttural roar of a beast blocking the road. A dog, as huge as a Griffin, sported a diabolic grin that made no secret of its intentions.
”Damn…” The man retreated, only to freeze soon after as, from the opposite end of the street, a colossal bear stomped into view, its bloody jaws holding the remnants of some unfortunate soul.
”Oh, c’mon…” He lifted his sight toward the rooftops, but there was no escape high there. An iron gate and its many spikes sported dozens of impaled men—some still alive—flanked by a vulture of the size of a wagon.
”Really?!” Then he looked down, hoping to find a manhole. However, he found the sewer grate already opened, a forked tongue sliding out from the darkness, backed by two glowing topazes.
”Waaah! Waaah! Waaah!” The baby’s cries had attracted the Sphinxes, who now surrounded the armored man from all sides. However, he didn’t flinch, securing the child to his chest with a strip of torn sheet. Then, he took a flashbang from his [Inventory].
“I told him we weren’t meant to be heroes,” the Young Butcher thought aloud as the beast charged at him.
*BAAAAAAAANG!*
