The morning sun hovered just above the misty tree line as the team's military-grade supply truck crested a hill overlooking the valley that cradled Aulia Town. Blanketed in a delicate, silvery fog, the settlement looked like something pulled from an old painter's dream—quiet, hidden, and almost unreal. Crisscrossing canals shimmered faintly beneath the haze, lined by crooked trees and collapsed lamp posts, remnants of an older, once-glorious era. The ruins of forgotten technologies jutted out of cracked walls and overgrown sidewalks, a stark reminder of the post-apocalyptic world.
Ash "Smoothride" Angel was at the wheel, carefully guiding the vehicle down a gravel path scarred with time. "Looks like something out of a storybook," he muttered.
"More like a graveyard pretending to be a town," O'kuyo Moukoko added from the passenger seat, adjusting the cracked lenses of his goggle.
In the back cabin, General Alan "Shadowstrike" Vorheus reviewed a crinkled hand-drawn map while Michael Lambda, his steady and analytical vice leader, sorted through their ammo ledger. Ryland Vorheus sat near the window slit, staring at the rising haze with silent curiosity. Luke-Man was in his usual spot, tightening cables on their mobile power hub and checking for engine rattles.
"Whole place looks half-asleep," Luke-Man muttered. "I don't trust places that quiet."
Erac "Ironbringer" Wilson, the group's Chief Operational Officer, was reading field reports and fielding location notes based on regional patterns. His focused expression hadn't changed for hours.
Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the soft rumble of the truck.
"You really were going to leave me behind, huh?"
Everyone turned.
Betty was perched between cargo containers, munching on a dry biscuit, goggles hanging around her neck and her boots still dusty from the depot.
Ryland blinked. "Betty?! Since when were you in here?"
"Since before we loaded up the last crate," she grinned. "Ash helped."
Ash gave a sheepish shrug from the front. "She guilt-tripped me. Said she'd make us something better than dry rations. I gave in."
Alan turned to Erac. "You knew?"
Erac closed his field journal calmly. "I suspected. She vanished just before departure. And Ash can't lie to save his life."
"But you let her come?" Ryland asked.
Betty leaned forward proudly. "He gave me a med kit, a utility belt, and told me to sit tight. That's as good as permission."
Erac sighed. "You were going to follow us either way. Better to have you under watch than wandering alone. Besides, someone has to fix our meals before Ash kills us all with another bag of flavorless cubes."
Betty beamed. "That's why I'm here! Official cook of Team Shadowstrike. You'll get real food now."
Alan smirked. "Fine. Just don't get in the way. We're walking into unknown territory."
Soon after, they parked the truck at the edge of a collapsed warehouse near Aulia's outer rim—an open clearing filled with wreckage, overgrown roots, and a few rusting husks of vehicles. They stepped out into the lingering fog.
Aulia Town was sprawled out before them. It was an eerie place—half-forgotten, half-rebuilt. Narrow stone paths wove through clusters of buildings covered in moss and ivy. Walls bore old graffiti and signs in forgotten dialects. Rainwater gathered in deep potholes. Makeshift repairs using salvaged metal and plastic adorned most homes.
Wooden signs swayed on rusty chains. Shops were functional but aged: a barter store with stacked boxes of random tech scraps, a smithy where a one-armed blacksmith forged tools out of scavenged steel, and a small café cobbled together from metal shutters and glass panels.
Children ran barefoot through the debris-strewn alleys, while older residents sat near fire pits and makeshift garden beds. Cats darted between trash piles and carts. The people of Aulia moved with caution, glancing at the strangers in armor and tactical gear.
"This place is hanging on by threads," Michael murmured.
Betty stepped closer to Ryland, eyes scanning the cracked mural of a coiled serpent painted on a crumbling wall. "That's no coincidence. Looks like one of the monsters your lizard told you about right."
"Hey, be nice. Don't call him a lizard. He's a 'dragon' you know." respond Ryland. "If what he said is true - a serpent, a panther, and a stag - all legendary creatures of this place suddenly appeared again, creating havoc in the area."
"Let's start gathering intel," Alan said. "We're not here to tour."
The team split into pairs, walking the uneven streets and speaking to shopkeepers, scavengers, and old-timers. Most were hesitant, but a few offered warnings—stories of monstrous shapes seen through the fog, echoes in the night, and strange symbols left on doorways.
Near the broken remains of what might once have been a radio tower, Ryland spotted a hunched figure leaning on a silver-tipped cane. His cloak was tattered but clean, and a raven-shaped brooch glinted at his collar.
"I hoped you'd come," the man said as the group reassembled. "I'm Delric. I serve as mayor here, for what little good it does. You must be another team that's come chasing legends."
Alan nodded. "We are. We want to help."
Delric's expression darkened. "Others before you had tried. But none come back to tell us their stories. Three monsters—each one tied to our town's cursed history. Guardians turned nightmares. Some say they were protectors once. Others say they were sealed away. But something woke them. Now they hunt again. People vanish. Livestock torn apart. The forest and the lake aren't safe anymore."
The mist thickened around their boots, curling like breath from some slumbering beast.
"Come to my home tonight," Delric continued. "I'll tell you everything I know. The names, the warnings, the truths we buried. But be cautious. In Aulia, even the shadows remember."
He limped away, disappearing into the haze.
As the group exchanged glances, tension lingered in the air. Somewhere in the twisting alleys, hidden eyes watched from behind shattered glass.
Aulia had new guests.
And something had been waiting for them.