The route back to Base Alpha was going to be a hassle.
A real pain in the ass, Matteo thought.
He jogged through the woods, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, eyes flicking left and right. The snow was falling heavier now, blanketing the ground in a layer thick enough to soak through his boots and numb his toes. Every step felt like fire and ice had formed an alliance just to torment him.
Behind him, somewhere far back beyond the trees and broken stone, Baseline Charlie was barely holding on. And the Titan?
It was still out there.
Hunting.
He didn't know what the hell that thing was, but the image of it—towering above the forest like a living mountain—burned behind his eyes.
He moved faster.
The trail back to Alpha had been hastily marked during their initial run—ribbons of red cloth tied to trees, arrows carved into bark with a short blade. Matteo followed them, keeping his breathing steady.
Then, something shifted.
A shadow flitted between the trees just ahead.
His body moved on instinct—reflexes honed by desperation and whatever that Aether nonsense had done to his nerves.
Bang.
The shot cracked through the silence of the forest. His pistol recoiled with a satisfying kick. A high-pitched whine echoed from the brush, followed by a thump.
Matteo advanced slowly, pistol still raised. Snow crunched beneath his boots as he approached the fallen figure.
It was a wolf. But… not.
The beast was larger than any normal animal. Its fur was a gleaming white, almost crystalline in the moonlight. Two jagged antlers curled from its skull like twisted branches. Its mouth, still slightly ajar, revealed two sets of fangs.
Matteo grimaced. "Same as the ones near Charlie…"
It wasn't alone. That was the worst part.
Where there was one, there were likely more. Monsters always traveled in packs—he'd seen enough to know that.
"Okay… Gotta get outta here. Fast."
He picked up the pace, boots thudding against half-frozen mud, the trees rushing past in streaks of black and white. All the while—
The Mask wouldn't shut up.
---
"Ooooh, that was close!"
The voice inside his head sang with delight. "Let me out! I wanna play! You're boring when you're alone—at least when you're bleeding, it's exciting!"
"Shut up. You'll get your turn later."
"You always say that," the voice sounded mock-dejected. "Boo-hoo. What a meanie. I just want one little murder—"
"Please," Matteo muttered under his breath. "Be quiet."
The mask chuckled, the sound echoing between his ears like nails tapping glass.
---
Fifteen minutes later, he broke through the edge of the woods, spotting the torchlit walls of Base Alpha. A scout called out, and within seconds, the gate creaked open.
"Soldier returning!"
He stumbled in, shivering slightly as warmth hit his face. Guards eyed him, and a familiar voice shouted across the camp.
"You! Back so soon?"
It was the Captain—the same blonde lion of a man with blue eyes that burned like cold steel. His name still hadn't stuck in Matteo's memory. Something with an "L." Leon? Whatever.
Matteo stopped to catch his breath.
"I have a report. Baseline Charlie's overrun. Barely standing. Survivors in hiding. They'll need an escort."
The Captain frowned, brows tightening. He turned to a nearby officer and barked a few orders before glancing back at Matteo.
"Good. You did well. Better than expected, honestly."
Then, without warning, the man stepped aside.
"Then you're going back—with reinforcements."
"What?"
"You made it once. You'll make it again." He gestured to a group of six soldiers gathering gear nearby. "You lead them back to Charlie. Escort the survivors to Alpha."
"Alone?" Matteo looked around. "What about Mira, Elric, and Lena?"
"They're still at Charlie, aren't they?"
Matteo sighed. "…Fantastic."
---
Later That Night
The new team—six hardened soldiers and one anxious Matteo—moved quickly through the woods. They kept their formation tight, weapons drawn, every shadow scrutinized.
And still, it wasn't enough.
Because what they weren't prepared for—
Was the spider.
The snow gave way to slush as they entered a clearing. A sudden noise—a hissing rasp—sent everyone dropping low.
Too late.
A massive shape lunged from the trees, black limbs slamming into the snow like steel spears. The creature loomed above them, eight eyes glowing, legs sharp as blades, its body the size of a small cabin. Chitinous armor shimmered with dripping venom.
One soldier screamed as a leg pierced his chest, lifting him clean off the ground before flinging him like a doll.
Another opened fire. Useless.
Its armor was too thick.
"This is bad!" one of them yelled. "We have to retreat!"
But Matteo stood still. His heart pounded. His hand trembled as it slid beneath his vest.
He felt the mask.
And it was laughing.
"Ohhh, now this is what I'm talking about!"
"No choice," Matteo muttered.
He brought the Mask of Mischief to his face.
It locked into place.
---
Everything shifted.
His spine straightened. His posture changed—relaxed, but predatory. His white hair shimmered in the moonlight, falling around his shoulders like silk. His eyes burned faintly purple, filled with joy. Or madness. It was hard to tell.
His mouth curled into a wide grin that never left his face.
"Now this is my kind of party," he chuckled.
Voice the same. Personality… not.
The other soldiers stared. One of them stepped back. "What the hell…"
The masked Matteo didn't respond. He simply pulled out his pistol, spun it around his finger, and charged.
The spider shrieked, lunging—
—and Matteo slid beneath it, firing three shots in rapid succession at the underside of its joints. Weak points.
The beast reared back. Another leg came crashing down.
Matteo danced out of the way like a drunken performer on a stage. Laughing the whole time.
"You should smile more, sweetheart!" he yelled at the monster. "You've got eight eyes—and not a single good one!"
With a leap, he landed on its back, driving his knife into a thin seam in its armor. Purple ichor sprayed across the snow.
Then to finish the job, he jumped forward to its face. And emptied a clip right into it's eye.
The monster screeched—and collapsed.
Dead.
The soldiers stared in stunned silence as Matteo stood atop the corpse, arms spread like he was expecting applause.
"Thank you, thank you! I'll be here till I die!"
Then—
He ripped the mask off.
And fell to one knee, coughing.
His white hair faded. The glow vanished. The grin disappeared from his face.
"I hate that thing," he muttered.
One soldier stepped forward slowly. "What… was that?"
Matteo got to his feet.
"Don't ask."
He turned toward the trees again.
"We've got a job to finish."