In the heart of a flower-filled meadow nestled within a dense, emerald forest, a small boy lay quietly asleep. The bed of blossoms beneath him was soft and fragrant, cradling his delicate frame. He appeared to be around five or six years old, dressed in a pristine white silk robe that shimmered faintly under the dappled sunlight streaming through the canopy above.
His peaceful slumber was gently interrupted by a soft, melodious humming that echoed through the air like the early chirping of birds at dawn. The sound wrapped around the surroundings, not as an intruder, but as if it had always belonged there—harmonizing with the wind, the flowers, the trees.
The boy slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the light as he tried to comprehend the strange and beautiful environment around him. Confusion clouded his young face. Everything felt too surreal, too quiet, too perfect. His senses sharpened as he turned his attention toward the source of the humming.
Following the direction of the sound, his eyes finally landed on a woman a short distance away. She was plucking flowers and placing them delicately into a jute-woven basket. She appeared to be in her early thirties, dressed in a flowing, light violet garment that shimmered like morning dew. Her hair was a cascade of curls, and her eyes sparkled a vivid blue, reminiscent of lapis lazuli.
Her humming continued—gentle, calming—filling the air around her as though she were not merely singing, but weaving the melody into the world itself.
It felt natural.
The boy, still unsure of where he was and who she might be, tried to call out to her. But as he opened his mouth, he realized with sudden terror that no sound came out. His throat moved, but no voice followed. Panic rushed over him like a wave. He stood up abruptly, stumbling slightly as he began to run toward the woman.
"Who is she?"
"Where am I?"
"Who... am I?"
The questions thundered in his mind as he drew closer. Sensing his presence, the woman stopped humming. She rose slowly, leaving her basket behind, and turned her gaze toward the boy. Her expression was calm, almost emotionless, as she studied him.
But then, her eyes slowly drifted from the boy to the sky—past him, toward something high above.
Curious, the boy stopped in his tracks and turned to follow her gaze.
His breath caught in his throat.
Towering behind him was a mountain—no, something far greater than any mountain he had ever imagined. It was so massive that its peak pierced the clouds, disappearing beyond sight. It loomed like an entire range bundled into one singular, colossal entity. And it was crumbling.
Massive chunks of rock were detaching from its peak and crashing downward with terrifying force. Each falling piece resembled a meteor, promising destruction wherever it might land. Avalanches of snow and debris cascaded like storm clouds breaking free from their prison in the heavens.
The boy stood frozen, his eyes wide with awe and fear. Yet beside him, the woman remained still, unmoved. Her face showed no fear, no surprise—only a faint, enigmatic smile.
Finally, she spoke, her voice serene and haunting.
"Do you believe ?"
The boy blinked, startled.
"Believe…? Believe what?" he thought, but no words came. Darkness began to cloud his vision, slowly consuming the edges of his sight. The breathtaking scene dissolved into shadows as a new sound pierced the fading world.
A voice—crisp and mechanical—rang in his ears.
"The target's approaching."
"700 meters."
"640 meters."
"580 meters."
"Sir?!"
"VESPER!!"
With a sharp breath, the boy—no, the man—snapped back to reality.
Vesper Vance, 25 years old, elite mercenary and designated "cleaner" for the Therus Empire, was crouched in a sniping position. His fingers rested on the polished steel of the Cleaner Mark II rifle. His eyes, just seconds ago lost in the dreamscape of a surreal nightmare, now locked onto the scope watching the world from high above the building from the sector.
Shaking off the remnants of the vision, he pressed a finger to his communicator.
"Yeah… Copy that, Reva," he replied, his voice rough from the mental whiplash.
Reva's voice crackled through the transmitter, irritated.
"Don't go dreaming in the middle of a job, idiot!" she snapped.
There was a short pause.
"Fool," she muttered to herself, clearly not intending for him to hear.
Vesper scoffed lightly and replied, trying to sound unaffected.
"I wasn't dreaming—I was just... a little too focused, that's all."
"Focused?" Reva snorted.
"Yeah, focused on hallucinating maybe. You've got twenty seconds before the target hits the sniping zone. Stay sharp."
Vesper adjusted his scope, exhaling slowly.
"Right. Give me the latest readout."
"Target is approaching fast. Moving at 15 clicks per hour, armored convoy. One high-priority mark inside. No aerial escorts confirmed. All other units are holding back for extraction. You're up, Vance."
He steadied his breathing.
"Understood. I've got eyes on the package."
But in the back of his mind, as he lined up the shot, the woman's haunting question echoed again.
"Do you believe? "
Soon, Vesper's thoughts were violently shattered by a sudden, earth-shaking crash that echoed through the structure. The rear wall of the building exploded in a burst of rubble and concrete, sending tremors up through the floor.
He jerked his head around, just in time to see the cause of the destruction.
"Zogus," he muttered, eyes widening.
Then louder—through the transmitter—
"A fucking Zogus?!"
Zogus – A massive, lizard-like beast, standing nearly 20 meters tall and weighing over 15 tons. These ancient creatures are infamous for their unpredictable behavior and erratic flight patterns. Largely blind in broad daylight, their poor sense of direction makes them a menace in urban areas. Native to the Rose Hills region, Zogi (plural) are known to shift temperament without warning—from docile to deadly in a matter of seconds.
The towering beast roared, its guttural cry sending nearby buildings trembling. It swung its tail violently, knocking off the rooftop where Vesper had been stationed. With no time to react, he was flung from the building, disappearing into the thick cloud of debris below.
A beat passed.
Then, from the swirling dust, a glint of metal shot outward.
Vesper.
He launched a grappling hook mid-fall, the cable locking onto one of Zogus's feet. Using the momentum, he yanked himself upward, landing harshly on the beast's thick, armored back. His balance teetered as the Zogus bucked and twisted, its scaly hide slippery and uneven. Without hesitation, he fired a second grapple into one of the creature's dorsal fins, anchoring himself in place.
The wind howled around him as the beast ascended into the air. Vesper steadied his rifle, swaying with every unpredictable movement. His breathing was sharp, focused. He took aim—fired.
The shot rang out, piercing clean through one of the Zogus's fins. The massive beast shrieked, its balance faltering as it swerved off course.
Seizing the moment, Vesper advanced toward the creature's head, climbing quickly along its ridged back. But just as he raised his rifle for a final, killing blow—
Crash!
The Zogus collided with a neighboring skyscraper, shattering the upper floors. The force of the impact hurled Vesper from its back. His grapple cable snapped loose. Now airborne and spinning out of control, he gritted his teeth, ignoring the searing pain in his limbs. His vision blurred.
But he wasn't done.
Mid-fall, he braced the rifle against his shoulder, adjusted for wind resistance, and fired again—this time at full energy capacity. The bullet, glowing with charged kinetic force, soared through the air and embedded itself directly between the Zogus's eyes.
The beast went still.
With a last, thunderous roar, the Zogus plummeted from the sky, crashing down into the Decon Store sector—a commercial zone known for its tightly packed energy depots and scrap vaults. The shockwave from the impact shook the district. Smoke and fire rose in the aftermath.
Silence followed.
Then, from the wreckage, a silhouette emerged—staggering but upright.
Vesper.
His body was a brutal mess—his left arm mangled beyond recognition, blood leaking from a fracture along his skull. Any ordinary man would be dead. But as he took a slow, deliberate step forward, something remarkable happened.
His body began to heal.
Torn muscle twisted back into place, skin stitched itself together in real time, and shattered bones fused and mended. Within moments, he stood tall—completely restored. Only the bloodstains on his clothes hinted at the battle he'd just survived.
A crowd had started to gather at the edge of the destruction. Civilians, shopkeepers, children—dozens of them, all staring at him as he walked toward them through the smoke.
But their expressions weren't filled with relief.
Not gratitude.
Not awe.
Disgust.
They looked at him the way one looks at an insect crawling on their dinner plate. Whispers began to ripple through the crowd—low, sharp, and accusatory.
"Disgustingly flighty…"
"They call themselves cleaners but can't even choose where to crash their beasts."
"I heard he's El-dritch. One of them."
"They say his blood moves when he commands it—like a pet. Even regrows him."
Vesper heard it all. Every muttered insult. Every fearful whisper.
He always did.
None of this was new.
He walked forward without reacting, shoulders squared, head held high—but inside, the weight of their words pressed heavy on him. They weren't wrong. Not entirely.
He had heard these things for as long as he could remember. Ever since he was a child.
And worst of all—he couldn't even deny most of it.