Elena was still trying to find her way home—but in a city she didn't know, where every corner looked the same, that was easier said than done.
The Glassen Belt might've been enclosed and structured, but District 3 was a maze. The train station signs were unfamiliar, the streets twisted, and everything felt half-abandoned. Her ankle throbbed from earlier, forcing her to limp down narrow alleys and shadowed walkways. Above her, the moon hung full—cold and distant, casting fractured light on empty storefronts and cracked pavement.
She reached into her skirt pocket for her phone.
Empty.
Elena groaned aloud, voice thin against the night.
"I really should've asked for directions…"
Rain began to patter—soft at first, then steady. Her school blouse clung to her arms. Her footsteps echoed as she crossed a tight avenue, knocking on the occasional door out of desperation. No one answered.
Then she heard it.
Thud-thud… thud-thud… thud-thud…
Heavy, deliberate. Followed by a rising chant echoing up a sloped hill, just past a ruined sushi bar where the neon sign buzzed uselessly.
"Hut! Two, three, four! HUT! TWO, THREE, FOUR!"
She crept closer, hopeful.
At the top of the slope, just across the street, stood a fully armed Enforcement Platoon, their armor lit by flashlights and kinetic emitters. Elena stepped into view, confused and a little relieved.
"Excuse me—do you know where I can find the nearest train station?"
The soldiers froze.
"Uhh… sir, is that a civilian on the field?" one asked nervously.
"Did I give you permission to speak, Private?" barked the commander. "That's fifty push-ups—for all of you!"
"YES, SIR! SORRY, SIR!"
A chorus of grunts followed as soldiers dropped to the ground.
The commanding officer—a tall, weathered man with silver streaks in his hair—stepped forward. His voice was steel.
"And you. Girl. What the hell are you doing here? You didn't get the emergency evacuation alert?!"
"No. I… I lost my phone," Elena admitted, stepping back instinctively.
"Tch. Figures. Name's Commander Alaric Vorn—and this sorry excuse for a platoon is Delta Unit. You need to leave. Now."
"Why? What's going on?"
Before he could answer—
BOOM.
A ripple tore through the asphalt behind them. Windows shattered.
Vorn's comm crackled.
"Dispatch, this is Delta Commander. Code Black. I repeat—Basilisk has eyes on a Vireborn. One that talks."
The rain turned violent, slashing across the street like falling blades. Thunder rolled. A hulking silhouette emerged through the dust of a collapsed plaza.
Red skin. Wide grin. Glowing eyes.
The Vireborn raised one hand, waving with exaggerated cheer.
"HEY, METAL MEN!" he roared. "BRAKKA'S HERE! BRAKKA'S HUNGRY! BRAKKA'S BORED! WHICH ONE OF YOU WANTS TO FIX THAT?!"
The soldiers froze. Their mouths parted. Their fingers hovered over triggers.
Elena blinked. She had never seen a creature like this. Not in simulations. Not even in Vireborn documentaries.
He was huge. Too fast. Too… human.
"OKAY, LITTLE TIN MEN! BRAKKA'S STILL HUNGRY! BRAKKA STILL WANTS TO PLAY!"
His laughter echoed like a death knell.
Commander Vorn shouted: "Formation Alpha! Echo Team—deflect line! Hammer Team—plasma rigs active! Move!"
Unit Composition:
Commander Alaric Vorn – field overseer
Sniper Team Rook (2 units) – clock towers above the plaza
Ground Assault Squad Dagger (5 units) – kinetic-assisted firearms and CQC
Heavy Support Team Hammer (2 units) – plasma mortar specialists
Shield Core Team Echo (3 units) – kinetic-deflect users (frontline)
The snipers fired first—two kinetic lances straight into Brakka's glowing eye sockets.
They hit.
He staggered—just one step.
Then he laughed.
And leapt.
The left clock tower snapped on impact. Rook-1 never screamed—just vanished beneath stone and flame. Rook-2 fled, but a slab of debris impaled him mid-slide.
"GO HARD OR GO HOME!" Brakka bellowed, smashing through the plaza.
Dagger Squad responded with fire—blue kinetic bolts stitched across the Vireborn's chest.
He blurred forward.
Snatched Dagger-1 by the leg, used him like a club to smash through Hammer Team's rig.
BOOM.
The plasma tank exploded. The operator's scream cut short.
Dagger-3 charged with a kinetic blade—aiming for the spine.
Brakka turned.
Grabbed his head.
Crushed it.
"S-Sir, he's too strong!" a soldier radioed. "Tactics failing. Bullets are useless. We need a—"
The voice was silenced by bone cracking over comms.
Vorn stood paralyzed.
Elena could hardly breathe. She watched grown men die—real men, not in VR sims, not in broadcasted replays. They died screaming. And no one could stop it.
Echo Team held.
"Form wall!" shouted the captain.
Three shimmering kinetic barriers rose. Brakka slammed into the first—it shattered like glass.
The second slowed him.
He reached in, tore the user out by the spine.
The third overloaded, taking its operator with it.
Only two soldiers remained.
They ran.
Brakka appeared behind them.
"WHERE ARE YOU GOING? FUN'S NOT OVER!"
He crushed one by the neck. Ran claws through the second.
Vorn still couldn't move. The commander stared at the carnage of his unit—men with families, children, gone in seconds.
"Wow, metal man," Brakka said. "Brakka thought HE was the monster. But YOU? You just watched."
A blade clattered beside Elena. One of the fallen soldiers' Ash Steel blades.
She picked it up.
Stood between Brakka and the commander.
Hands shaking. Rain running down her face.
"Hahh—hahh—hahh… don't… don't you take another step, damn it!"
Brakka's wide grin grew wider.
"You smell… delicious. Brakka likes you."
She tried to swing—her sprained ankle gave out.
She fell.
Brakka reached down. Lifted her like a ragdoll.
"In my MOUTH you go!"
"GOD, your breath stinks! Ever heard of a mint?! Let me go, you freak!"
She kicked, but couldn't break free. Her heart pounded. This was it.
"Is this how I die? In the jaws of this bastard…?"
She closed her eyes—
And reopened them in someone's arms.
Tank.
He stood, backlit by lightning, holding her protectively.
Brakka' s face planted to the ground with a shoe print on his face, nearby, stunned.
"Owie… Brakka has a boo-boo…"
"Elena, are you alright?" Tank's voice was soft, steady.
"Y-Yeah… just shaken."
He placed her down gently, then turned. His eyes glowed purple.
Not the boy they knew.
A Vector.
"Hey. Ugly. I assume this is your mess?"
"Brakka just wants to play…"
"Good. Because I need to blow off steam."
Tank's steps were slow, lethal.
He looked at Vorn.
"Get up. Protect that girl with your life. Got it?"
"Kid, he's too strong. You'll die—" "I'm not like you," Tank said coldly. "
"I'm a soldier born for this."
"I'm a Vector."
Lightning split the sky.
Rain fell harder.
And war began again.