"To all exterminators beyond the depths or in any mapped havens—south, in a haven called Raval." Her tone sharpened, each word laced with worry, a worry never heard in her voice before. "A mutated human has been sighted. Threat level unknown. Please... to anyone who can hear this... help them, please."
Sabrina was a beacon to some. Her tough exterior kept recruits in line, made them wary of her—but it also served as a mask. A carefully crafted shield that only a select few knew even existed.
Inaki Fruenz was one of those people.
Sabrina cared—more than most. And despite the daunting, often suicidal missions she assigned to exterminators across the world, this was the first time he had ever heard her sound genuinely worried. That was what made those few so loyal. Loyal enough to dive headfirst into their deaths at her command.
"Still, isn't this a bit crazy?" A voice cut into his thoughts.
Inaki glanced over as Ross hurried to catch up, fumbling with the sleeves of his overcoat, his hands twitching as he struggled to pull it on properly.
They were the closest team to Raval, stationed just a few miles south. No matter how bad this situation was, they'd be the first ones on the scene.
"Hurry up, Ross." Inaki slung his twin hook swords over his back, the chain connecting them rattling as he adjusted the straps. His eyes flicked toward the door. "And where the hell is Alsa?"
"I'm updating my will," Alsa called from the next room, the scratch of pen against paper audible even over the storm outside. "My dad gets my dog, and my sister gets my dildo collection."
Inaki's expression remained flat. "This isn't the time to be fucking around, Rodriguez."
Alsa stood but said nothing, tucking the will beneath a book on the desk before standing. She passed by the weapon rack, grabbing a katana without breaking stride as she pushed through the door.
"You gotta give her some leniency," Ross muttered, struggling to fasten his weapon—iron gauntlets around his wrists. "We're most likely walking into our deaths. Anyone would be shaken up by that."
Inaki exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was too on edge. He knew that.
"You're right," he admitted. "I'm sorry." He turned to leave, his voice calmer now. "Help me talk to her—I'll be right back."
"Sure," Ross said, watching him go.
Inaki was, for all intents and purposes, the captain of their branch. Bordeaux was a small haven, its extermination unit just as small—twelve members split into four teams. The other three had been sent hundreds of miles away on distant jobs. That left only them.
As he walked down the metallic-slated hallway, his boots echoed with each step, the repeated clangs lost beneath the storm outside. He reached a door, hesitated for just a second, then turned the knob.
Inside the bathroom, the only sound was the steady drip of a leaking faucet.
He stepped up to the mirror, resting his palms against the sink's edge. His own reflection stared back—dark hair damp with sweat, sunken eyes, a scruffy beard that hadn't seen a razor in days. He studied his hands.
They were shaking.
But not because he was afraid.
He had never been afraid of myutants. Not of death, either.
No, he was afraid for his team.
He was leading them into the unknown, into something that had shaken even Sabrina. That meant something. Alsa had just turned twenty a month ago. She had her whole damn life ahead of her. He and Ross were pushing their mid-thirties, but she—she didn't deserve this.
But what choice did he have?
Even if he left her behind, even if he and Ross faced whatever was in Raval alone, the myutant would come here next. It would reach Bordeaux. It would kill her anyway.
He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, then turned the faucet on, splashing cold water over his face. When he looked up again, his grey-blue eyes reflected back at him like muddied diamonds, dulled by exhaustion and the weight of command.
He shut off the tap and stepped out, his hands dripping water onto the metallic panels of the hallway, each droplet vanishing into the dim, artificial lighting.
"We're ready," Ross called, slamming his fists together. The iron gauntlets clanged, the sound cutting through the thick, stress-filled air.
Inaki glanced over, his gaze landing on Alsa. She avoided his eyes, still bitter over his earlier words. He couldn't blame her. He sighed but didn't bother apologizing—not because he didn't want to, but because time wasn't on their side. Every second they lingered here was another second civilians spent dying.
Outside, the storm had only grown worse. The clouds were already dark when they left, but now they had turned into an abyss, fading into an even deeper shade of black. The crescent moon above was so thin, so faint, it was easy to believe it had vanished entirely.
The rain battered against them, soaking through their clothes, their hearts pounding as they reached the entrance of Raval. They all tilted their heads upward, scanning the sky, searching for anything unnatural.
Nothing.
"False alarm?" Ross asked, raising his voice to be heard over the downpour.
"Let's get closer." Inaki muttered, already moving forward.
A mutated human. After a hundred years.
It shouldn't have been possible.
Decades of research, of testing, of desperate attempts to understand the pollutant had all led to one conclusion: humans didn't mutate like wildlife did. Yet here they were, standing at the precipice of something no one could explain.
But now wasn't the time to dwell on the impossibility of it.
Weapons at the ready, they advanced into the haven, their movements practiced, covering each other's blind spots. The streets were empty, the houses still intact. No bodies, no blood, no destruction—no signs of a myutant attack at all.
Still, they remained on edge. The rain had a way of masking things, dulling the scars left behind by myutants. But this wasn't just an absence of destruction.
It felt like the absence of anything.
No footsteps imprinted in the mud.
No buildings slightly destroyed in passing.
He couldn't explain it, but the scenery felt too controlled, too perfect.
Myutants were mutated creatures—animals, insects—mindless beings that hunted with one sole purpose: food. That was the root of their destruction, the cause of so many ruined havens and lost lives.
But when Sabrina said this was a humanoid myutant...
Wouldn't that mean—
He turned his gaze toward the heart of the city, narrowing his eyes to adjust to the dark.
Slowly, the devastation came into focus—the broken structures, the blood-soaked streets, the trail of destruction left in the myutant's wake.
"It's watching us!"
The sky split open with a bolt of lightning, illuminating the rain-soaked streets in a stark flash of white. And in that brief moment, Inaki saw it.
A silhouette standing in the storm.
Two legs. Two arms.
It looked human.
And it hunted like a human.
Before he could react, the creature moved—its arm cutting through the downpour in a blur. A loud crack rang out as its strike connected, slamming into Inaki's chest and sending him hurtling through the rain. His body crashed into the side of a building, the structure breaking from the impact.
Humans were more intelligent than any other species on the planet.
This myutant knew that.
It had studied them. It had set a trap. It had hidden its tracks, ensured no buildings near the entrance were destroyed to avoid raising suspicion. And when they let their guard down, it took out the leader first.
This much intelligence was terrifying.
"Inaki!" Ross shouted, eyes locked on the towering figure before him.
The myutant turned, its eyes locking onto him next. Then, it lunged.
Ross barely dodged, the creature's massive fist swinging through the air, its sheer force parting the rain in its path.
Quickly, he rushed forward, his boots kicking up mud as he closed the gap. With one precise movement, he leaped onto an uneven, protruding limb from its abdomen, using it as a foothold to launch himself higher.
His iron-clad fist met its jaw with brutal force.
A crunch echoed through the night as the myutant's head snapped backward, its jaw dislocating, its neck twisting unnaturally. Blood sprayed from its mouth, spilling onto the rain-slicked ground.
For a second, it seemed like a victory.
Then, as if nothing had happened, the bones cracked back into place. The flesh stitching itself together.
"Retreat!" Ross yelled, grabbing Alsa and hauling her over his shoulder as he sprinted through the rain.
The downpour masked their movements, but it also blurred his vision. He barely registered the ruined streets before barreling through the door of a building.
They crashed inside, soaked and breathless. The only sound was the rain hammering against the half-broken ceiling.
There were six ranks in total—both for exterminators and for the creatures they hunted. Myutants classified as threat level three were known for their ability to regenerate, but the speed of their healing dictated just how high they ranked.
The fastest regeneration ever recorded had belonged to a level six myutant. Five seconds.
This one had healed in less than one.
Ross's fingers clenched into fists. If he had to classify it now, there was no doubt—this thing was a threat level ten, maybe much higher than that.
"We can't win," he muttered.
Alsa, still catching her breath, reached for her earpiece. "We can call for backup, right? Someone's gotta—"
Static. Nothing but static.
The storm was interfering.
Ross exhaled sharply, glancing at her. "Listen to me. Get out of here. Head back to base, gather your things, and go beyond the depths, anywhere... just run."
Alsa's head snapped toward him. "You're joking, right? Is this about what I said back at base? I didn't mean it, I was just—"
"There's no time for this." Ross stood, rolling his shoulders, cracking his neck.
A sudden crack echoed across the room.
The roof was torn away in an instant, rain flooding the building as the myutant loomed above them. Its third eye flickered in the darkness, scanning—tracking—more attuned than the others.
It wasn't just looking at them.
It was studying them.
Ross took a slow breath, planting one foot behind him, bending his knees.
"Go." His muscles tensed. "If you run into more exterminators—"
"I don't want to go, Ross! I can help you—"
"Tell them," Ross interrupted, his voice steady despite the nervous smile on his lips, "that its regeneration is the fastest we've ever seen. That if we don't kill this little shit right here—" He let out a breath, something between fear and exhilaration flickering in his eyes. "—the whole world's gonna burn."
"But I can—"
"GO!"
Ross launched himself into the air, his fist crashing into the myutant's face. His gauntlet met regenerated bone—dense, unyielding, like tungsten.
His hand shattered on impact. Bones splintered, pain lanced through his arm, but even then—the myutant staggered.
They crashed outside, the downpour drowning everything else out. Ross landed on top of the creature, his legs locking around its torso in a tight mount. The myutant's cheek, barely scratched from his blow, was already knitting itself back together.
"What?" Ross scoffed, blood dripping from his fingers as he raised his ruined hand. "You didn't think I'd get through that tungsten face of yours?" He slammed his fist down, fresh blood spraying across the myutant's jaw. "You must not know how hard a grade two can punch!"
The myutant thrashed beneath him, but Ross held firm. Through the sheets of rain, he caught a glimpse of Alsa sprinting toward the haven's entrance.
Good.
"Come on disphit," he goaded, tilting his head. "Not gonna fight back?"
The myutant's gaze flickered to him—then past him.
At Alsa.
Ross snarled, his gauntlet already swinging before the creature could move. His fist slammed into its eye, the force caving it in, the impact hammering the beast into the ground.
Again.
And again.
But with the next punch, something went wrong. His other arm snapped, the impact rebounding through his body.
The myutant's wounds were already gone.
No. Worse. It was healing faster.
Ross exhaled, his breath shaky. He spat blood into the rain.
"You're a fucking monster."
Ross grinned, his bloodied teeth bared in defiance. Both arms hung limp at his sides, useless, broken. His body screamed in protest, but still, he forced himself forward, slamming his forehead into the myutant's.
Pain exploded through his skull, blood spilling down his face, but he didn't care. The myutant, pinned beneath him, merely stared—studying him, as if trying to understand why he continued to fight.
But that didn't matter anymore.
Alsa should've gotten far enough by now.
That was what he had wanted, and even if he hadn't done any real damage, even if all his attacks had barely made a dent, they had all been aimed at its head.
Which meant whoever fought this thing next—if anyone was unlucky enough to face it—they'd at least have an entire body to hit. Where it hadn't already regenerated into a thicker layer.
It wasn't much.
But it was his own personal fuckyou to the creature.
"Do it dipshit," Ross slurred, his vision swimming. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body moments from collapse. "You wanna kill me, don't—"
The myutant didn't hesitate.
Its massive fists slammed together—Ross caught in between.
A brutal smash.
Blood misted into the rain, his upper half reduced to nothing. His lower body crumpled sideways, lifeless.
The myutant rose, stepping over what remained of him.
Ross's lower half slumped into the mud, lifeless. The rain washed away the blood in thin, crimson rivers, until even that was gone—leaving nothing behind but the empty space where he used to be.
Thestormragedon.
No cheers of victory. No sound at all.
Just the steady drip, drip, drip of rain against flesh, against ruined streets, against the corpse of a man who had fought until his very last breath.
For a moment, the myutant didn't move.
It stood there, head tilted slightly—staring down at Ross's remains with something eerily close to curiosity.
As if confused. As if it had never encountered something like him before. A creature that should have run. That should have begged. That should have broken.
Instead, Ross had laughed in its face.
And now he was gone.
The myutant exhaled, its breath misting into the cold air.
Then—
A twitch.
Its body jerked. Its head snapped to the side.
Its third eye spun wildly in its socket, locking onto something in the distance. Staring—
Through the downpour.
Through the dark.
At Alsa, running for her life.
The myutant began its lunge, instincts screaming at it to stop Alsa before she could escape. If she made it out, she'd return with reinforcements—more people meant more problems. Its legs tensed, muscles coiling as it prepared to launch into the air—
"Killing my partner is a crime punishable by death!"
Something tore through its tendon. A sharp force wrenched it back down, its massive body crashing into the mud.
Inaki stood behind it, his overcoat soaked in blood, the crimson blending into the rain-slicked fabric. His grip tightened around his hook swords, chains rattling as he pulled them free from the creature's flesh.
"That was for Ross Salaemakr–" he spat, blood splattering onto the muddy ground, his chest rising and falling with each strained breath. A bead of sweat trailed down his forehead, masked by the downpour.
"Disphit!" He added.