The shape that emerged from the Grey Silence was not a monster of fangs and claws, at least not in any way Mai had ever imagined. It was humanoid, tall and gaunt, its form shimmering and indistinct at the edges like an image seen through distorted glass. Its skin was the same sickly grey as the mist, stretched taut over bone, and its limbs moved with a jerky, disjointed unnaturalness that made Mai's stomach clench. It wore rags that might once have been the uniform of a Đại Việt Quốc soldier, or perhaps the simple áo of a farmer, now fused and corrupted, trailing wisps of the suffocating mist.
But the worst was the face. Or lack thereof. Where eyes and a mouth should have been, there were only smooth, grey indentations, like features worn away by time or erased by a careless sculptor. Yet, Mai felt the terrifying certainty of its gaze, a void staring back that saw everything and nothing.
The dragging sound accompanied its movements, a wet scrape of corrupted fabric and bone over the broken earth. It stopped perhaps ten yards from their hiding place, the strange, distorted humming starting again, louder this time, a buzzing in her ears that felt like it was trying to unmake her thoughts.
"Fire!" Toàn hissed, his voice tight with terror and training.
They both squeezed their triggers. Rifles barked, sharp and loud in the oppressive quiet. Bullets tore into the grey form. They ripped through the rags, through the grey flesh, but there was no cry, no blood. The holes simply... closed. The mist seemed to flow back into the wounds, knitting them shut, leaving only faint, grey scars.
The figure didn't falter. It accelerated its shambling gait, lunging forward with surprising speed.
"Bayonet!" Mai yelled, fumbling to fix the dull blade onto her rifle. Toàn was doing the same. There was no time to reload.
The Hư Vô-Twisted figure was on them in moments. It moved with a disturbing lack of self-preservation, its grey arms reaching, fingers elongated and bone-white at the tips. Toàn met it first, thrusting his bayonet. The steel sank into the grey chest with a sickening thud, but it didn't stop the creature. Its hand snapped out, grabbing Toàn's rifle barrel. With impossible strength, it twisted, snapping the wood and metal like dry twigs. Toàn cried out, stumbling back, clutching his now useless weapon and his wrist.
Mai didn't hesitate. Driven by raw fear, she lunged, plunging her bayonet into the figure's side. Again, the blade went in, meeting unnatural resistance, but the grey flesh didn't yield or bleed properly. The creature turned its featureless face towards her. The humming intensified, vibrating through her bones, filling her mind with a chaotic buzz.
Another arm shot out, long, grey, unnervingly fast. Mai ducked, the hand missing her by an inch, but the momentum carried her forward. She ripped her bayonet free, grey mist clinging to the blade, and slashed wildly. The steel bit into the figure's side again.
But more forms were stirring in the mist behind the first one. Dim shapes, following the sounds of the struggle.
"Mai! Fall back!" Toàn yelled, his voice strained. He was cradling his injured wrist, his face pale.
She didn't need telling twice. This wasn't a fight they could win here. Not against... this. Not when it didn't fall like a man.
Mai scrambled backwards, keeping her rifle pointed at the figure. It didn't pursue immediately, standing still for a moment, its featureless head tilting as if listening. The humming stopped. The silence that rushed in felt even louder than the noise.
More footsteps sounded from the mist. Closer now. More than one.
"Run!" Mai grabbed Toàn by his good arm.
They turned and ran, splashing through the muddy puddles that dotted the ruined landscape, away from the encroaching grey, away from the silent, humming horror it contained. Behind them, they heard the slow, dragging footsteps resume, joined by others. They weren't being actively chased at speed, but they were being followed. Relentlessly.
They ran until their lungs burned and their legs ached, not stopping until they reached the relative safety of their company's secondary line, a network of shallow trenches dug days ago, manned by soldiers who looked just as weary and scared as they were.
They collapsed into the mud, gasping. A grizzled sergeant, Bùi Văn Khoa, knelt beside them. "Mai? Toàn? What the hell was that noise? We heard shots."
Mai, still trembling, forced the words out. "Hư Vô... it sent something. Figures... grey... they don't die like men." She looked at Toàn's broken rifle and his swelling wrist. "Toàn's hit. Rifle's gone."
Sergeant Khoa's face, already grim, hardened further. He glanced back towards the direction they'd come, towards the silent, ever-spreading mist. He'd heard the rumours, seen the terrified refugees, received the chilling reports from the front lines that rarely reached the ears of the high command. But hearing it from his own soldiers, seeing the evidence...
"Get Toàn to the aid tent," Khoa ordered a nearby private. "Mai, report to the Captain. And tell him... tell him the Grey Silence isn't just mist anymore. It's starting to walk."
Mai nodded, pushing herself up, the metallic taste of Hư Vô still lingering on her tongue, the distorted lullaby echoing in her ears. They had survived this small encounter. But looking at the weary faces around her, the makeshift trenches, the grey line on the horizon that was slowly but surely creeping closer, she knew this wasn't a war they were winning. It was a slow, agonizing surrender, one brutal step at a time. And she was just one tiny piece caught in the terrible machinery of it.