The acidic stench of melted flesh lingered in the air as the last of the warped beasts dissolved into the cracked gray earth. Their bodies hissed and sizzled, leaving behind only steaming puddles and the bitter taste of survival. The silence that followed was unnerving, thick with exhaustion, tension, and the knowledge that worse might still be ahead.
Alexander wiped his blade on a torn strip of cloth, eyes scanning the perimeter while his system flickered with faint alerts. Nothing solid, nothing clear—just tremors of something waiting, watching.
"We need to keep moving," he said, his voice clipped. "That wasn't even a real wave. Just a scout pack."
Zeke nodded, adjusting the straps on his gear. "Then we move fast. Stay sharp."
They didn't speak much as they pressed forward. The terrain grew stranger—twisted foliage bleeding from ancient fissures in the stone, flickering lights in the mist that danced like ghosts. Alexander kept an internal timer running. The beacon tower was still hours away, and already fatigue was setting in.
Calen lagged slightly, clutching his arm where a warped beast's claw had grazed him. The wound wasn't deep, but it throbbed with unnatural heat.
"You good?" Milo asked, dropping beside him during a brief pause.
Calen grimaced. "Yeah. It's nothing. Just stings."
Milo didn't press further. But when they resumed walking, he kept close.
An hour later, the terrain shifted.
The cracked ground gave way to a jagged canyon, its edges shrouded in thick fog. A single stone bridge arched across it, worn and narrow. Beneath the fog, the canyon pulsed with violet light.
"That's not natural," Jace muttered.
"Nothing about this place is," Zeke said.
Alexander stepped forward. "We go one at a time. Quietly. Weapons ready."
They moved in order—Alexander first, then Zeke, Jace, Calen, and Milo at the rear. Halfway across, the wind shifted. A low, chittering noise echoed up from the canyon below. Calen froze.
From the mist, something lunged.
A tendril-like appendage wrapped around Milo's leg and yanked him off his feet. He screamed as he was pulled toward the edge, scrabbling at the stone.
Alexander spun and grabbed him, anchoring his feet.
"Hold on!"
Zeke and Jace dove to help, each grabbing a limb as the tendril began pulling harder. Milo's barrier flickered, but held long enough for Jace to slice through the appendage with a twin-blade strike.
The tendril recoiled with an unearthly shriek, retreating into the mist.
They hauled Milo back.
"Okay," Milo gasped. "New rule. We don't stop moving."
No one disagreed.
They reached the far side and pressed on, the trees here twisted into skeletal shapes that whispered in the wind. At some point, Jace broke the silence.
"Alright, since everyone else trauma-dumped last night, it's Milo's turn."
Milo snorted. "I didn't think you noticed."
"Of course I did. You talk too much not to have a backstory."
Milo sighed. "Fine. I guess I owe you that much."
They walked in silence as Milo spoke.
"My family runs a tech enclave on the outer rim. I was supposed to follow my brother into the weapons division—smart, obedient, efficient. But I wasn't him. I liked making things, not destroying them. When I refused the bloodline oath, they disowned me. Said I wasn't worthy of the name."
He kicked a stone off the path.
"So here I am. Trying to prove to myself I matter."
Calen looked over, something flickering in his eyes. Respect, perhaps. Or kinship.
Zeke's voice came low. "Bloodlines are overrated. Mine nearly got my entire family wiped out. Only my father and little sister survived. I grew up in hiding. Learned to fight so I'd never have to again."
Alexander listened, committing their words to memory. They weren't just teammates anymore.
They were his.
Night fell faster here, and the mist thickened. When they finally glimpsed the spire of the beacon tower, it loomed through the fog like a monolith from some ancient era—twisted metal, broken glass, and an aura of foreboding.
"We're close," Alexander said. "Check systems, Eat & No fires."
They huddled beneath a crumbled overhang, ration bars exchanged without complaint. Calen adjusted the transmitter tool he'd kept tucked in his gear.
"We can boost the signal range if we rig this to the beacon core. But we'll have to climb to the top. The lower levels are blocked."
Jace groaned. "Of course they are."
"We'll go at first light," Alexander decided. "Get what rest you can."
Zeke took the first watch.
As Alexander lay beneath the stars—or what passed for them here—his system pulsed softly.
EXP: 43,120
SYSTEM NOTE: Passive Skill Resonance Mode remains locked.
Suggestion: Emotional threshold approaching trigger level.
He dismissed the alert. He couldn't afford that now.
Dawn arrived as a blood-red smear across the horizon. They moved quickly, navigating the debris-filled base of the tower before reaching the central lift shaft.
Zeke took point, leaping between support beams. Milo followed, using repulsor bursts to hover in brief jumps. Calen climbed methodically, double-checking his grip.
Alexander moved just behind Jace, who complained the entire way up.
"This is the worst field trip ever."
"You say that every five minutes," Alexander said.
"Because it keeps being true."
They reached the top after a tense climb. The beacon core sparked with latent energy, the control panel long-dead.
"I can fix it," Calen said. "Just give me five minutes."
Alexander nodded. He and Zeke stood guard as Milo monitored the system interface. The moment Calen activated the override, the beacon pulsed.
And the mist screamed.
A sonic wail tore through the Barrens, loud enough to crack stone. Below, shadows surged.
Alexander gritted his teeth. "Brace for company."