[Win – 2:05 p.m.]
It starts with a sound we've never heard before.
Click.
Click-click.
Skkkrrrrrcht.
Metal scraping on stone.
Fast. Rhythmic. Not human.
Emily's head jerks up from her corner nap.
Palm immediately freezes.
"Did anyone else—?"
Kao stands up in one smooth motion, already gripping her axe.
That's all we need to know.
Something's wrong.
[2:07 p.m.]
Jack peeks over the edge of the rooftop, squinting.
"What the hell is that… crawling—"
He doesn't finish.
He stumbles backward, pale.
"Those aren't zombies."
We all rush to the ledge.
What we see makes my heart crawl into my throat.
They look like people.
But their backs are arched in unnatural curves.
Hands flat and wide, fingers broken backward like hooked limbs.
They crawl like spiders, fast and vertical, skittering up the side of the building like they've always belonged there.
Their faces…
Twitched. Peeled.
Their mouths constantly open.
But no sound.
Just the clicks.
Hundreds of them.
[2:09 p.m.]
Best whispers, "What the actual hell—"
Palm's already pulling people back from the edge.
"These aren't Basics. Not Screamers either."
Dean speaks for the first time in a while, voice monotone.
"They're Human Locusts. The crawling ones. You didn't know?"
We all turn to him.
Palm growls,
"And you're just casually dropping that now?!"
Dean shrugs.
"You never asked."
[2:11 p.m.]
Lin grips her halberd tighter.
Then winces.
She scratches at her shoulder, hard.
Then her thigh.
She looks down, confused.
"Why is my skin itching?"
No one hears her.
Or they do, and ignore it.
We're all too focused on the fact that the Human Locusts are now halfway up the walls.
Their fingers sink into window gaps, pipe cracks, chipped bricks.
Dozens of them.
Best says quietly,
"We've never fought them before."
Emily whispers,
"Do we even know how?"
[2:14 p.m.]
Palm tosses weapons out.
"Edge attacks. Don't let them reach the ledge."
Jack grabs his clarinet-blade.
FahFah tightens her whip.
Namtan loads bricks into a bag like grenades.
Lin scratches again — her neck this time.
"Damn it."
I glance at her.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. Just… mosquito bites or something."
She doesn't meet my eyes.
[2:17 p.m.]
Dean stands near the center of the rooftop, watching the walls.
Still no weapon.
Still no fear.
He mutters,
"These ones don't stop when you hit them. You have to break them."
Win gulps. "Break what?"
Dean looks at him and whispers:
"Attack their limbs . They don't die. They will shatter."
I look down again.
One of them has reached the final pipe.
Its neck twists.
And it smiles.
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