"Damn it, those things won't stop chasing me!"
A young boy with messy black hair cursed as he sprinted through the ruins of a collapsed building. His clothes were soaked in sweat, torn and filthy. Cuts and bruises covered his body, and his breathing was uneven from exhaustion.
Fear burned in his chest. He kept glancing over his shoulder, eyes wide, heart pounding.
Behind him, something let out a twisted, eerie scream.
"Craasskkk—!"
The sound pierced the air—high-pitched, glitching, like a robotic voice breaking apart.
Chasing after him was the Spinehounds—bone-legged beasts with mechanical jaws that clicked and whirred as they ran. They moved like wolves, fast and fluid, but their bodies were wrong. Their heads had been replaced with rusted mech frames, their glowing eyes flickering like dying lights. Wires and tubes snaked out from their necks and spines, connecting to the exposed machinery fused deep into their flesh.
There were eight of them chasing the boy without a rest, their limbs pounding the ground in an endless, relentless hunt.
The boy darted around a corner, his body screaming from exhaustion, and rushed into another half-collapsed building. Without thinking, he leapt over a cracked counter that looked like it once belonged to a reception desk from the old world. He crouched beneath it, pressing his body into the shadows.
Finally, he had a chance to breathe.
He sucked in air desperately, lungs burning, his chest rising and falling like he hadn't taken a breath in hours. Sweat ran down his face. Every muscle in his body trembled.
But it wasn't over.
He knew he couldn't hide forever—not from Spinehounds. These creatures weren't normal predators. They were part machine, and their mech heads were equipped with ultra-sensors—devices capable of scanning their surroundings in precise detail.
The boy froze as he heard the faint sound of claws scraping against tile. Four of the Spinehounds had entered the building.
They growled and let out sharp, glitching screeches, signals meant to inform the rest of the pack. One of them stepped forward, its head jerking toward the desk. With a sharp hiss, the metal plate on its forehead slid open, revealing a glowing sensor.
The scanner activated, sweeping the room in slow, pulsing waves.
The boy's breath caught in his throat. He could hear them now, just meters away. Their limbs creaked.
Quietly, he looked down at his left hand—the thing he'd been clutching tightly since the chase began.
Mach Gen 1.
An old outdated 10mm pistol, barely functional. It was one of the earliest models ever produced after the fall of the old world. The metal was cold in his grip, and the safety switch was half-broken, but it was the only weapon he held.
(Why would they give me something like this ?)
The boy muttered under his breath as he brought the pistol closer, inspecting it in the dim light.
He ejected the magazine and checked it.
(...What? Only eight bullets?!)
His heart sank when he realized there were only eight bullets left. Normally, all Mach Gen models carried fifteen.
(They gave me a half-loaded piece of junk...)
Even with that cruel truth, the boy didn't flinch. There was no fear in his eyes—only silence. He couldn't afford to panic. Not now.
In his life, there had only ever been two choices:
Fight to survive… or die like an animal.
Expressionless, the boy slowly rose from his crouch, lifting his head just enough to meet the gaze of the monster.
His name was Kema—a boy who had long stopped running from death.
He raised the pistol with both hands, aimed directly at the Spinehound that still scanning the room with its sensor, and pulled the trigger.
[BANG!]
The shot rang out like thunder.
The bullet pierced clean through the creature's sensor. Sparks exploded from its head as metal and wires burst apart. It let out a glitching shriek before collapsing with a crash, its lifeless body slamming against the broken floor.
The other three Spinehounds instantly turned toward him. Their glowing red eyes locked onto their target.
With a terrifying metallic snarl, the Spinehounds leapt straight toward Kema.
Kema swiftly ducked out from behind the desk and ran deeper into the building. He couldn't afford to waste another bullet—not with only seven left.
Instead, he had to outsmart them. Let them lower their guard, then strike. He also realized something else—his best chance was to fight them in a narrow space. Somewhere tight, where they couldn't jump or rush at him one at a time.
He dashed through the ruined corridors, making sharp turns at every chance.
The Spinehounds followed relentlessly, but their large bodies struggled to move as quickly. A few collided into walls or skidded across broken tiles trying to catch up.
Then—luck bestowed upon him.
Kema spotted a collapsed stairwell leading into what looked like an old underground passage. A faint breeze and dim light could be seen. Without hesitation, he slipped inside, sliding down the dusty slope.
As he ran, he knocked over every loose piece of debris he could find—rusted chairs, shelves, shattered crates—anything that might slow the monsters down.
Behind him, the Spinehounds roared and crashed their way into the passage. Their snarls echoed louder and louder, but Kema didn't stop.
As he ran deeper, the broken hallway opened up into what appeared to be an old-world research lab. Shattered glass walls lined the area, and rusted metal tables sat covered in dust and forgotten tools.
Kema ducked into one of the rooms with a broken viewing window facing the passage he had just run through. He crouched low behind the shattered frame, his breath shallow, pistol tight in his grip.
Then came the sound—the snarling growls of the Spinehounds.
Three of them crept into view, crawling through the corridor with slow and alert.
Luckily, the rest of them didn't have the ultra-sensor like the one that he had shot.
Kema stayed completely still, crouched in the darkness. The only light came from a faint emergency lamp still powered by the building's aging solar system, casting flickers of orange across the cracked walls.
He listened closely, focusing on the timing, distance, and rhythm of their footsteps.
The creatures growled as they stalked forward, unaware that death was watching them from just a few feet away.
Then came the moment.
As the monsters passed by the room's window, Kema stood up, raised his pistol over the edge of the broken window, and pulled the trigger.
[BANG!]
The second bullet tore through one Spinehound's skull from the side, sending sparks and bone fragments into the air as the creature dropped instantly before its head erupted with flame.
Kema quickly turned his pistol toward the second Spinehound—but he was a second too late.
The creature lunged and slashed at him with its deadly claws, raking across his left arm.
"Aagh!"
Kema cried out in pain as blood burst from the deep gash. Gritting his teeth, he clutched his wounded arm and staggered out of the room just as the two remaining Spinehounds leapt inside behind him.
He didn't stop to look back.
With what little time he had bought, Kema bolted down the hallway and ran deeper into the underground ruins. The dim lights flickered overhead, barely guiding his path through the debris-filled corridors.
His left arm throbbed. The cut was deep, and blood poured freely from the wound, trailing behind him.
Panting, Kema ripped a piece of fabric from his torn shirt. With his right hand still gripping the pistol tightly, he used his mouth to help knot the cloth around his arm, tying it as tightly as he could to slow the bleeding.
It wasn't perfect—but it would have to do.
The Spinehounds didn't stop.
They kept chasing Kema through the twisting halls—relentless, wild, and hungry.
Kema crouched low in the shadows, pressed against the cold metal wall. Blood from his wounded arm had already soaked through the fabric, dripping slowly to the floor beneath him.
He had one trick left: an ambush. Surprise them in a narrow space—take them down before they could react.
It had worked before.
But as Kema waited, eyes fixed on the corridor, he noticed something that made his blood run cold.
The Spinehounds were adapting.
After he shot the second one, the remaining two had reacted instantly, launching toward his last known position without hesitation. And now—he could see it clearly—they were moving differently. Slower. More cautious. Their glowing red eyes scanned the dark hall carefully, as if expecting him.
They had begun to understand his pattern.
Kema gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the pistol. His left arm burned with pain, nearly useless. If he killed one more, the last would surely come at him the moment he pulled the trigger.
After a short wait, the moment has arrived.
One of the Spinehounds crept slowly toward Kema's hiding spot, its claws tapping softly against the floor. As soon as it was close enough, Kema didn't hesitate—he rose from the shadows and fired his pistol, aiming straight at the side of its head.
But this time… it dodged.
The Spinehound moved with blinding speed, its head jerking out of the bullet's path. Kema's eyes widened in shock.
Before he could fire again, the creature lunged forward and slammed its armored head into his side.
[CRACK!]
The impact threw Kema across the hallway like an object. He crashed into the wall on the other side and hit the ground hard.
"Aghhh!"
Pain shot through his body. His wounded arm tore open even more, blood spilling freely. Worse, something cracked inside his chest—ribs, maybe more. A sharp jolt ran up his spine, and blood rose in his throat before he coughed it out onto the floor.
Still, shaking and gasping, Kema forced himself to his feet.
Kema raised his pistol, his gaze sharp despite the pain. Blood dripped steadily from his torn left arm, soaking into the fabric at his side.
Five bullets left. Two Spinehounds remaining.
They both charged toward him, moving fast and low through the corridor.
[BANG!]
He fired—but the first one dodged with ease.
[BANG!] [BANG!] [BANG!]
Three more shots rang out. The Spinehounds weaved through the bullets with unnatural agility, dodging left and right with terrifying precision.
Kema's breathing was heavy, but his focus was absolute.
(They're reacting... always to the same pattern. When I shoot to the left, they dodge right. When I aim right, they move left.)
His eyes narrowed.
(They're not just fast—they're mech.)
Two bullets left.
He aimed at the first Spinehound again, watching closely. It veered left, just like before.
[BANG!]
This time, Kema anticipated the movement. He fired to where it would dodge—not where it was.
The bullet tore through the side of its mechanical skull. Sparks erupted as the creature let out a garbled shriek, its body crumpling mid-leap. One down.
But before he could recover—
The second Spinehound was already on him.
It lunged, jaws wide open.
Kema twisted his body just in time to avoid the full bite, but the impact knocked him backward. He crashed to the floor with a grunt, his injured ribs flaring in agony.
"Aghh—!"
He tasted blood in his mouth. His vision swam. He had one bullet left.
Dragging himself to his knees, he aimed—
But the Spinehound paused, pacing in a wide arc. Smarter. It had learned from the others.
Kema's legs wobbled. He could barely hold himself up. His left arm was limp. The pain was becoming unbearable.
He turned and stumbled toward the hallway, forcing his broken body forward.
Up ahead—a metal door. Slightly open.
He rushed inside and slammed it shut just as the Spinehound lunged. The metal door shook violently from the impact, but it held.