THUD.
Zero's knees hit the cold, hard floor as he vomited, the sound of his retching echoing in the pitch-black room. His naked body shivered violently, the chill of the floor seeping into his bones. He spat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his voice trembling as he muttered, "Fuck. Where is everyone?"
The only response was the faint hum of the capsule behind him, its dim glow casting long, eerie shadows on the walls. Zero staggered to his feet, his legs wobbling like a newborn fawn's. He called out again, louder this time, his voice bouncing off the walls. "HELOO! IS ANYONE HERE?"
Silence.
He walked over to the other capsules, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness. Each one was empty, their glass lids frosted over, as if they had been abandoned for years. He pressed his hand against one, the cold biting into his palm. "They're empty," he muttered. "Did they pull everyone out, or was it always like this?"
CREAK.
The sound of rusted hinges groaned as Zero pushed against the heavy iron doors at the far end of the room. The door slowly gave way, revealing a vast, cavernous space beyond. It was designed like a park, with pathways lined by withered greenery and a dry, cracked fountain at its center. The once-lush plants were now dead, their leaves brown and brittle, starved of light and power. The air was stale, heavy with the scent of decay.
"I don't remember this place," Zero whispered, his voice barely audible. His memories were fragmented, a blur of images and sensations that refused to coalesce into a coherent picture. He couldn't recall how he had ended up here or why the base looked so unfamiliar.
One thing struck him as odd: he could see perfectly in the darkness. His vision was as clear as if he were standing in broad daylight. He didn't remember having night vision, but now wasn't the time to dwell on it. He had to keep moving.
CRUNCH.
His boot crushed a brittle leaf as he walked through the desolate park, the sound unnaturally loud in the silence. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and rust. He reached a staircase and began to climb, each step a struggle for his weakened body. At the top, he found a door, light spilling through its edges. The faint scent of fresh air wafted through the cracks, a stark contrast to the stale atmosphere of the bunker.
"Hope they're still holding on without me," Zero muttered as he approached the door. But before he could reach it, his foot bumped against something. He looked down and froze.
CLINK.
A pile of bones lay scattered at his feet, some fresh, others weathered and yellowed. Human remains. Zero's stomach churned, but he didn't have time to process the sight. A low growl echoed from behind him, and he spun around just in time to see a massive black bear lunging at him.
WHOOSH.
Zero dodged instinctively, rolling to the side as the bear's claws swiped through the air where he had stood just moments before. The creature turned, its bloodshot eyes locking onto him, its muzzle twisted into a snarl. Zero raised his hand, pointing a finger at the beast. A dark beam of magic shot from his fingertip, piercing the bear's chest.
SCREECH.
The bear let out a guttural cry before collapsing to the ground, its body twitching as life drained from it. Zero approached the carcass cautiously, his eyes scanning its grotesque form. The bear's skin was pitch black, its fur patchy and missing in places. Its teeth were unnaturally large, protruding from its distorted jaw.
"A mutation?" Zero muttered, crouching beside the body. "I've never seen anything like this."
He stood, shaking his head. "I shouldn't waste time playing detective. I need to get back to Pyralis as soon as possible."
He turned his attention to the fresh corpses nearby, his eyes landing on one dressed in military gear. The uniform was familiar—a Middleville armor set, emblazoned with the insignia of a red dragon on a white background. The same emblem was etched into the shield lying beside the body.
Zero's hands began to tremble as he undressed the corpse, his heart pounding in his chest. He donned the armor, the cold metal pressing against his skin, and picked up the shield and sword. "Don't think about it," he whispered to himself, his voice shaky. "It's nothing. The fight must still be going on. We didn't lose anything."
With a deep breath, he raised the shield above his head, blocking his vision, and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see *it*—whatever was out there. He rushed through the door, bracing himself for the inevitable attack. But nothing happened. The only sounds were the chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves in the wind.
CRUNCH.
Zero stepped through the door, his boots crunching onto soft grass. The sudden shift from the stale, oppressive air of the bunker to the fresh, vibrant world outside was jarring. He lowered his shield and opened his eyes, blinking against the sunlight. The sight before him was breathtaking—but it didn't feel real.
At first, he froze, his body tense, his mind racing. This had to be a trick. A hallucination. The world he remembered was a wasteland, a graveyard of ash and decay. He took a hesitant step forward, his boots sinking into the grass. It was soft, cool, and alive beneath his feet. He crouched down, running his fingers through the blades, half-expecting them to dissolve into smoke. But they didn't. They were real.
His heart pounded in his chest as he stood, his eyes scanning the horizon. Lush trees stretched as far as the eye could see, their leaves glistening in the sunlight. Wildflowers dotted the landscape, their colors vivid and vibrant. The air was fresh, filled with the scent of earth and life. Birds chirped in the distance, their songs weaving through the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. It was too much. Too perfect.
Zero's hands trembled as he reached out, touching the bark of a nearby tree. It was rough and solid under his fingertips. He pressed his forehead against it, closing his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. "This can't be real," he muttered, his voice shaky. "It can't be."
But it was. The warmth of the sun on his skin, the coolness of the grass under his boots, the sound of the wind through the trees—it was all real. He stepped back, his eyes wide with disbelief. The mountain loomed behind him, its peak cutting into the sky, but everything else was alive. The valley below stretched out in a sea of green, dotted with trees and wildflowers. A river sparkled in the distance, its waters catching the sunlight. Zero couldn't remember the last time he'd seen water that wasn't polluted or stagnant.
He dropped to his knees, his hands sinking into the grass. It was soft, cool, and real. He plucked a blade, rolling it between his fingers, marveling at its simplicity. He hadn't seen grass like this in years—not since the war began. The world had been a wasteland of ash and decay for so long that he'd almost forgotten what it felt like to stand in a place untouched by destruction.
Tears welled in his eyes, but he didn't try to stop them. He let them fall, his body shaking with a mix of relief and disbelief. "We won," he whispered, his voice trembling. "We actually WON."
He lay back, the grass cushioning his body as he stared up at the sky. It was a deep, endless blue, unmarred by the smog and ash he had grown accustomed to. Clouds drifted lazily overhead, their shapes shifting in the breeze. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the sun wash over him. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt peace.
He laughed—a soft, genuine laugh that bubbled up from deep within his chest.This was pure, unrestrained joy. He sat up, looking around again, as if to confirm that this wasn't some cruel illusion. The world was alive again. The war was over. The sacrifices, the pain, the loss—it had all been worth it.
He stood, brushing the grass from his armor, and took a deep breath. The air was sweet, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and fresh earth. He walked to the edge of the cliff, peering down at the valley below. The drop was sheer, the bottom so far down that it made his stomach churn. He picked up a small stone and tossed it over the edge, watching as it disappeared into the abyss. Seconds passed before he heard the faint clink of it hitting the ground.
For a moment, he just stood there, taking it all in. The world was alive again. The war was over. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders, a burden he hadn't even realized he was carrying. He smiled, a real smile, for the first time in years.
He pointed a finger at the sky, summoning a ball of fire to celebrate. But as the flames gathered in his palm, he froze. The fire was wrong. It wasn't the bright, fiery orange he was used to. Instead, it was dark, an absence of light, as if it were consuming the very air around it. He stared at it, his smile fading.
BOOM.
A fireball streaked across the horizon, crashing into the earth with a deafening explosion. The ground trembled beneath his feet, and the sound of screams echoed through the valley. Zero froze, his eyes fixed on the distant plume of smoke rising into the sky. Another fireball followed, then another, each one closer than the last. The air filled with the sound of thunderous booms and the distant clash of metal.
Zero didn't hesitate. He turned and sprinted for the path, his boots skidding on the loose gravel as he began his descent. The jungle pressed in on all sides, its thick canopy blocking out much of the sunlight. Vines hung like serpents from the trees, and the air was alive with the chirping of insects and the distant calls of birds. But Zero didn't notice any of it. His mind was blank, his body moving on instinct.
The path was slick with moss and loose rocks, forcing him to move quickly but carefully. The further he descended, the heavier the air became, the scent of decay creeping in beneath the freshness of the foliage. His boots squelched in the mud as he pushed through the undergrowth, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of danger.
Then he saw her.
At first, he thought it was a pile of rags discarded in the underbrush. But as he drew closer, he realized it was a girl—or what was left of her. She couldn't have been older than twelve, her small body twisted and broken. Her eyes and ears were gone, the sockets hollow and dark. Her chest had been ripped open, the ribs splayed outward like the petals of a grotesque flower. Flies buzzed around her, their droning filling the air.
Zero stared at her for a moment, his face expressionless. He didn't feel anything—no anger, no sorrow, no disgust. He simply noted the details: the way her hands were clenched into fists, the way her mouth was frozen in a silent scream. Then he turned and kept walking.
The jungle seemed to close in around him, the shadows growing darker, the air thicker. The further he went, the more signs of death he found. Bodies littered the ground, some fresh, others little more than skeletons. Men, women, children—none had been spared. Their wounds were brutal, their bodies mutilated in ways that spoke of unspeakable cruelty.
A man hung from a tree, his throat slit, his blood staining the bark. A woman lay nearby, her stomach ripped open, her hands clutching at the dirt as if she had tried to crawl away. A child's body was impaled on a broken branch, their small frame twisted and broken. The air was thick with the stench of death, the buzzing of flies a constant drone.
Zero walked past them all, his face blank, his movements mechanical. He didn't stop, didn't look away. Each step took him closer to the village, and each step brought him face to face with more horror. The jungle seemed to go on forever, a nightmare of death and decay.
Finally, the trees began to thin, and the village came into view. It was a small settlement, nestled in a clearing at the base of the mountain. Once, it might have been a peaceful place, but now it was a charnel house. The houses were burning, their thatched roofs collapsing in showers of sparks. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid stench of burning flesh.
Zero walked into the heart of the village, his boots crunching over broken glass and charred wood. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid stench of burning flesh. His eyes were fixed on the massive tree at the center, its branches now a grotesque gallows. Corpses swayed in the wind, their lifeless eyes staring into the void. Soldiers laughed as they strung up another body—a child, no older than ten. Zero's jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his sides.
"Is this the cost of victory?" Zero whispered, his voice barely audible over the crackling flames. Then, he laughed—a low, guttural sound that bubbled up from deep within his chest. It grew louder, more manic, until it echoed through the village like the cry of a wounded beast. His eyes were wide, his smile unhinged, as he took in the carnage. The ash, the screams, the smell of burning flesh—it was all too familiar. He had seen this before, in Pyralis, in the war. The monsters had won after all.
"YOU THERE! GET A MOVE ON!" a soldier barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. Zero didn't respond. The soldier marched toward him, his face contorted with anger. "For God's sake, I'm talking to—"
The soldier's words died in his throat as he saw Zero's face—hollow eyes, a river of blood running down his cheeks, and a smile that sent chills down his spine. "MONST—"
SHINK.
A massive, shadowy needle erupted from the ground, impaling the soldier and lifting his body into the air. Blood rained down as the other soldiers froze, their faces pale with terror.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!" one of them screamed, his voice cracking.
"KILL IT! KILL IT NOW!" another shouted, raising his sword. A group of soldiers charged at Zero, their weapons gleaming in the firelight. For a moment, it seemed like they might overwhelm him—until Zero moved.
FWOOSH.
Dark beams of magic shot from Zero's fingertips, striking the first wave of soldiers. Heads exploded, bodies crumpled, and the air filled with the sound of screams and the sickening crunch of bone. A soldier swung his axe at Zero's head, but Zero caught the blade mid-air, his hand unflinching. With a flick of his wrist, the axe shattered into pieces.
CRACK.
Zero's fist connected with the soldier's chest, caving it in with a single blow. The man flew backward, crashing into a burning hut. Another soldier lunged from behind, aiming a spear at Zero's back. Zero didn't even turn. A shadowy tendril shot from the ground, wrapping around the soldier's throat and lifting him into the air. His legs kicked uselessly as the tendril tightened, then—SNAP—his neck broke like a twig.
"FORM UP! FORM UP!" a commander yelled, his voice trembling. The remaining soldiers scrambled into a defensive formation, shields raised, spears pointed at Zero. For a moment, it looked like they might stand a chance. Then Zero raised his hand.
WHOOSH.
A wave of darkness surged forward, slamming into the soldiers like a tidal wave. Shields splintered, armor crumpled, and bodies were sent flying. One soldier managed to stay on his feet, swinging his sword wildly at Zero. Zero sidestepped the blow effortlessly, grabbed the man's wrist, and twisted. The sound of bones snapping echoed through the village as the soldier dropped to his knees, screaming.
THUD.
Zero kicked him in the chest, sending him skidding across the ground. The soldier tried to crawl away, but a shadowy spike erupted from the earth, piercing his chest and pinning him to the ground. His screams died in a gurgle of blood.
"RUN! SAVE YOURSELVES!" a voice cried out, but it was too late. Shadowy tendrils shot from the ground, skewering the fleeing soldiers like insects. Their cries echoed through the village, a symphony of terror and pain. Zero didn't stop. He couldn't stop. His laughter mingled with the screams, a chilling soundtrack to the massacre.
CRUNCH.
Zero stomped on a soldier's chest, the sound of ribs cracking beneath his boot echoing in the silence. He leaned down, his face inches from the dying man's. "You thought you were the monster," Zero whispered, his voice icy and detached. "But you're just prey."
SNAP.
He twisted the soldier's neck with a single, effortless motion, then stood, his body drenched in blood. The village was silent now, save for the crackling of flames and the occasional groan of the dying. Zero walked through the carnage, his footsteps steady, his breathing calm. He stopped at the base of the tree, staring up at the corpses swaying in the breeze.
"Victory," he muttered, his voice hollow. "This is what it looks like."
He stood alone in the silence, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. The blood on his hands felt cold, the laughter in his throat now a distant memory. He didn't know if he was crying or laughing. The pain was too much to bear. The victory he had fought for, the peace he had dreamed of—it meant nothing. The world was still broken, and so was he.