Hunter Sector 10 – Southern Wastes
The gates didn't just open.
They vomited monsters like a flood of nightmares. Crawling, screeching, slithering. The sky was torn, the land cracked, and bodies were already piled high around the trenches where Sector 10's front line had collapsed.
Hunters screamed into radios, begging for reinforcements. Most signals didn't even get replies.
And then they came.
Not from the sky.
Not through teleport.
They walked.
Slowly. Proud. Like gods walking through fire.
Seven shadows.
And at the front—
Eron Thorne.
A tall man in a blood-red coat that dragged behind him like a noble's funeral shroud. Hair white as frost, slicked back. Eyes—empty. Not calm. Not cold.
Void.
Like he didn't see people. Only toys.
He raised one gloved hand as they approached the battlefield.
Behind him, the six others of the Thorne family stopped in a perfect arc. Each one SSS rank. Each one wearing a variation of that same long coat. Their presence distorted the air.
