Tee made a conscious choice not to interrupt Kie. Something in the cadence of his voice and the fire in his eyes warned her that breaking the thread would unravel the spell of his storytelling. She leaned forward slightly, hands resting on her lap, and let herself be drawn deeper into his words. Every syllable carried weight. Every pause left her breath suspended in her chest.

  Kie’s voice resonated with that particular kind of intensity people carried when retelling something both dreadful and unforgettable. His words were not simply a story; they were a battlefield bleeding into the present.

  “Once our group safely descended from the rooftop, leaving our hoverboards behind,” he began, his tone dropping into a deliberate rhythm, “our squad leader wasted no time in briefing us on the objective: locating the Xenosapian. We couldn’t afford to let it escape, grow stronger, and claim more lives. Even worse, time was ticking.”

  The timbre of his voice deepened, and Tee pictured the rooftop vanishing behind them, the metal hum of hoverboards fading into the void of the night. She imagined the squad, boots clattering on steel ladders, shadows stretching across the damp streets, tension already coiled around their shoulders.

  Kie pressed on, recalling his leader’s exact words with unnerving clarity. “‘No heroics. We were to split into squads of six,’” he explained, a faint grin tugging at his lips as though even now he could still hear the command echoing. “‘If you come into contact with the Xenosapian, call for backup immediately and track its movements.’”

  “One trooper didn’t like the leader’s words. Shouldn’t we leave and wait for the real MG offs to come and do their job? she asked him. But he ignored her.” Kie chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. The sound was not warm; it carried a bitter aftertaste, the laugh of someone who had long since stopped expecting easy answers. “It seemed that particular trooper had ulterior motives. Maybe she was aiming for an A-level ranking.”

  He reached for his glass, the faint clink of liquid breaking the silence, then set it back down. “We moved cautiously, our backs turned to each other, weapons at the ready. The air was thick, damp with fog that clung low to the ground, making every shadow tremble like it was alive. I remember glancing back a couple of times—the others’ figures were fading silhouettes, their outlines faint, legs ghosting in and out of the mist. Only the faint glimmer of light above gave us bearings.”

  His eyes narrowed, as though reliving that exact instant. “Then a voice came from my voice-com. Calm at first. Too calm. But within seconds it broke into a high-pitched scream.”

  The words dropped like a blade. Tee stiffened, the image surging in her mind—calm shattering into hysteria, the invisible line between routine patrol and nightmare suddenly crossed.

  “Wasting no time, we rushed toward the location,” Kie said firmly, his tone gaining a sharp edge. “The Mid-Guard voice-coms have GPS trackers at the back in case…” His voice trailed into a mutter, speaking down more to himself than to them, before pulling back into focus.

  Tee parted her lips to speak, but he cut the silence before her words could emerge.

  “Exiting the maze-like alleyways and stepping onto the streets, I came face to face with the monster,” Kie continued, his brows knitting tight. His gaze shifted downward, as if staring into the memory itself, unable to fully lift his eyes to his listeners.

  “I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was the largest Xenosapian I had ever seen. Darkness swallowed its hulking figure, but the streetlight above carved just enough illumination to reveal it. Its bulging veins caught the pale light, ridges of shadow making its entire form look sculpted from nightmare.”

  A cold ripple coursed through Tee, settling in her spine. She could almost see it through his words—the faint flicker of a sickly yellow lamp above, stretching horror across a creature that shouldn’t exist.

  “This beast had arms and legs six times the size of an average human’s,” Kie went on, his voice low but taut with conviction. “It moved with terrifying speed, each swing of its limbs stirring gusts of air strong enough to stagger us. And its mouth…” He paused, jaw tightening. “Its gaping mouth could swallow a person whole without effort.”

  Tee found herself marveling not just at the story but at Kie himself. The precision of his language, the weight behind his descriptions—he clearly read a lot, studied a lot. He had a knack for words, even if those words painted horrors better left unseen.

  “Eight bodies laid dead on the ground,” Kie said flatly, stripping the sentence of any emotion.

  The group fell silent. Tee’s chest tightened, the bluntness of his words striking harder than if he’d wept. She imagined it: eight soldiers sprawled lifeless, their breath stolen by something that was barely flesh, barely natural.

  “I’m not sure what happened there,” he admitted. “But I remembered my orders. It was to note its location and not to engage in the attack. But I wasn’t going to listen…”

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  Zod, Miko, Tee, and Saeda exchanged puzzled looks, confusion etching their faces. Their eyes returned to Kie, silently demanding an explanation.

  He sighed, long and weary, the sound of a man confessing something both foolish and inevitable. “An A-level rank is your golden ticket to being, as they say, a king or queen in the MG—and landing any future job. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” he said, grin widening even though his eyes remained shadowed. “Besides, I wasn’t the only one thinking it. That was clear.”

  Their faces softened with a mixture of understanding and unease. They knew what such ambition meant, the temptation of prestige weighed against the cost of lives.

  Kie lowered his gaze, fingers brushing the rim of his glass as he continued. “Armed with my blade, I couldn’t resist the temptation to engage with the Xenosapian. Our blades—sleeker and quicker than the older swords—were built for precision. Contrary to the reports, the creature wasn’t attacking with its tongue. Looking closer, I saw why: most of its tongue had been severed.”

  The revelation hung in the air like a bitter draft.

  “Any hope that discovery gave us was short-lived,” Kie went on, his voice dipping. “With its massive hands, that abomination hurled troopers like rag dolls—into walls, into the pavement, into each other. The sounds of bone shattering and metal scraping still claw at my ears.”

  His expression hardened, grief threaded through his words. “Those struck directly by its blows… they didn’t get back up. When I ducked, the wind of its strike brushed my hair, cold as a scythe, reminding me I was seconds away from joining them.”

  His left hand unconsciously rubbed his shoulder, the phantom ache resurfacing. “I remember it grabbing a trooper, twisting until his arms tore clean off. The monster didn’t hesitate. It shoved the dismembered pieces into its maw like meat scraps.”

  Saeda’s hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes watered as she fought the rise of nausea. She regretted asking him to relive that.

  “I couldn’t believe it,” Kie said, voice trembling between disbelief and anger. “That man had been alive beside me moments before. And then… darkness spared us the worst of the sight, but I knew what lay there in the shadows.”

  The tension broke with another grim tale. “As the Xenosapian tilted its head back to force a body down its throat,” Kie said, a ghost of a grin curving his lips, “the trooper who had questioned our plan—the one who said the MG offs should’ve handled it—charged forward. She screamed, blade raised in one hand, hoverboard clutched in the other.”

  A spark of amusement lit his eyes. “I hadn’t realized she still carried her hoverboard. Didn’t know what she planned to do with it either. It was solar-powered, meant for getting back to the station, not for combat.”

  “As the monster advanced, each step rumbling through the street, she made her move. She threw herself flat on the hoverboard, hugging it like a lifeline, and shot beneath the monster’s legs with stunning speed.”

  Kie’s excitement sharpened. “With her blade, she struck true—slicing one of its legs clean off. For a second, just a second, it staggered. But pain? No. The only thing it felt was hunger. Realizing it had lost another meal, it howled with rage.”

  Tee, however, wasn’t lost in excitement. A darker thought tugged at her. What if the reports were wrong? What if Xeno-victims weren’t truly separate from Xenosapians? What if they could feel pain? A chill prickled her arms as the possibility slithered through her. If true, nothing would change. The MG offs would still hunt, still kill. Only the strong survived, and the weak were nothing more than prey.

  Kie’s words dragged her back. “The severed leg melted into black goo, only to reform within seconds. Dark mana filled the gap, reshaping it. Slimmer, yes, but functional. We were back to square one.”

  Then a sound echoed above the chaos—soft yet chilling. Ringtones.

  “The voice-coms,” Kie explained. “Every one of them, even those belonging to the dead, began chiming in unison. It hit us then. We were still in the field past curfew.”

  A wave of despair pressed against them, his words soaking the air like heavy rain. “Some of us wondered—should we retreat? Let it go? Live to fight another day? But what of the dead at our feet? Would their sacrifice mean nothing?”

  His voice grew harder, heavier. “No. We pushed forward, even if it was hopeless. The Xenosapian raged on, tossing troopers aside like broken dolls. One swing caught me too—I went flying, smacking against the ground, rolling until every nerve screamed.”

  Gasps broke out.

  “No way,” Zod blurted, eyes wide, almost unwilling to believe Kie had survived it.

  Miko’s chest ached for him, but Tee and Saeda remained still, faces unreadable, but their silence brimmed with weight.

  Kie’s hand brushed his temple as he continued. “Blood trickled. Dizziness blurred my vision. But I forced myself up. Then I saw him. A trooper slumped against the wall, legs outstretched.”

  The room grew hushed, everyone leaning in.

  “His face—half of it caved in from a direct hit. Yet he clung to life, his eyes locked on something in his hand. A red, circular object. A death-ball.”

  Zod froze, jaw slack. He knew what that meant. Death-balls were no joke.

  Kie’s voice softened. “He must have sensed me… or maybe he simply let go. The ball slipped from his fingers and rolled toward me. Every ounce of pain, every fragment of will, poured into that act.”

  He shook his head, glass raised halfway to his lips. “Why he did it, I still don’t know. But when I picked it up, I knew—it was real. Not a dream. There was a monster to kill. A debt to pay.”

  He lifted his gaze, eyes locking on the memory of the fallen leader. “He hung his head, still forever. Gone. But the ball lay before me. Behind me, the sounds of battle dimmed into exhaustion. Too many had fallen already. Too much blood wasted.”

  “Too many lives lost,” he whispered, his voice tightening into steel. “That beast had to pay. Summoning every shred of strength, I stood. Two troopers caught sight of the death-ball in my hands. They gave me their nods. We all knew what came next.”

  Kie’s voice dropped to a hushed finality. “We agreed to do the death-ball maneuver.”