The city lay in ruins. Collapsed buildings formed mountains of concrete and steel, and the screams of survivors echoed through streets drowned in panic. Columns of smoke rose into a darkened sky, while the red moon, still hanging above the chaos, faintly illuminated the horrors of the day.
Monsters continued to emerge from the earth's depths—some towering like skyscrapers, others smaller but equally vicious. Every scream, every movement caught their attention. They didn't seek to dominate. They only came to annihilate.
The population fled in every direction. Children wept. Parents screamed out names. Roads were filled with abandoned cars, corpses, and blood. This was the apocalypse.
Meanwhile, Doplamine, his face marked by exhaustion, held tightly onto a small orphan's hand. Around him, twenty children, all without families, marched silently. They had fled the orphanage at the first signs of attack. He had led them through burning streets and screams, dodging debris and horror, until they reached the sewers.
— "Hold on… almost there. Just a few more steps…", he whispered, more to himself than to the children.
Underground, the smell was unbearable, but it was the only place the monsters hadn't reached yet. Doplamine knew he had no other choice. Survive—for the children. Some sobbed, others were frozen. He sheltered them in an old maintenance room, covering their mouths with damp rags to ease their coughs. His heart pounded.
Elsewhere, Jason from the present, still wounded in his shoulder, ran through the ruins. In his right hand: a revolver. He fired with precision, taking down a medium-sized monster lunging at an old woman.
He dropped to one knee and quickly reloaded.
— "We need to move now, ma'am. Follow me—quick!"
They turned a corner, and Jason saw a red spray-painted sign: "Shelter B". Without hesitation, he entered. It was an old civil bunker, poorly maintained, filled with survivors—men, women, children, and the injured. All eyes turned to Jason.
He closed the steel door, set down his revolver, and collapsed against a wall, panting.
— "It's not over… not while that damn moon's still red…", he muttered.
At the city's center, the military was deployed. Tanks fired at massive creatures, helicopters scoured the sky. Soldiers shouted orders, trying to hold the line. But despite their bravery and firepower… it wasn't enough.
A captain looked at the moon through thermal goggles. He saw the anomaly: a dark spot pulsing at the center, like an inverted heart.
— "As long as that moon remains, they'll keep coming…", he said to his radio operator.
— "And if we don't stop them soon… there'll be nothing left to protect."
At that same moment, in the other country where they had fled, Tailer — Léon's older brother — had become a slave. He had been captured by the Rebels during their desperate escape and was forced to work like a mere pawn in their dark, oppressive camps. His hands bore the scars of chains, and his eyes had long since lost hope... until today.
The monsters had crossed borders. Chaos was spreading beyond nations, and even the Rebels — once powerful and organized — were being overwhelmed. Their base, long considered untouchable, was now surrounded by strange creatures born from the depths of the Earth. Screams rang out, explosions echoed, and the scent of fear filled the air.
Faced with this incomprehensible threat, the Rebel leaders made a desperate decision: they unleashed all the children they had captured, throwing weapons at them without a word. It was their final gamble.
Everyone had to fight — even those who had never held a weapon.
Tailer was one of those children.
The chains fell to the ground with a loud clang. A rusty, almost useless rifle was tossed into his hands. But the moment his fingers closed around the grip, something awakened inside him. He knew he could die at any moment, but he also understood that running was no longer an option. He no longer had the luxury of waiting for a savior.
He looked around and saw other children like him — scared, lost. He also saw the Rebels, armed but overwhelmed. The monsters were approaching, claws outstretched, mouths wide open.
Then Tailer shouted:
— "We don't have a choice! If we don't fight, we all die here!"
And without hesitation, he launched himself into battle. He ran, dodged, fired. His body moved with a precision he never knew he had. Every shot was an act of survival. His heart pounded in his chest, but his mind was razor sharp. It was as if a fire had been reignited deep within him.
The ground trembled under the monsters' steps, screams echoed through the red-tinged night. The blood-red Moon still loomed above like a cursed omen.
Tailer fought. Not for the Rebels. Not for glory. He fought to live. To one day see Léon again. To understand why the world had turned into a nightmare.
And as a massive, gaping-mouthed beast charged at him, he raised his weapon, eyes filled with a new kind of determination.
— "I won't die here..." he whispered. "Not now."