"09" lay across the vast frozen plains, the solemn silence broken only by the whispering of the cold wind and his own breath. His body was attuned to the ground, sensing the slightest vibration, the faintest movement across the ice-covered expanse. Suddenly, as if someone had yanked a massive carpet from beneath the universe, all the snow vanished.
It didn't melt—it evaporated in the blink of an eye, leaving behind a barren land exhaling cold vapors. "09"'s pupils widened in absolute shock, his face painted with disbelief and deep suspicion. Wasting no time, he snatched his watch from his wrist and called "Cloe."
09: (voice rising with alarm and astonishment) I don't know what's happening here, but brace for the worst! The snow… it's gone! An attack could begin at any moment. This isn't natural. It's very likely human-planned!
Cloe: (calm yet commanding) Understood. I'll start monitoring all channels and alert everyone to be on standby. Don't move from your position.
At that moment, on the newly revealed plains, terror began to creep forward. A herd of Terrans emerged.
These were no ordinary beasts; they were nightmares in primitive forms. Massive, muscular bodies resembling prehistoric bulls, yet their eyes were dark and coal-like, devoid of any insight, radiating pure hatred. Their broken, twisted horns dripped with burning energy, hissing like oil on a blazing fire. Their cracked, thick hides resembled parched soil under a scorching sun, releasing acidic steam with every breath, contaminating the air with a sulfurous stench.
Though these Terrans were classified as the weakest (Shadow tier), their true danger lay in their sheer numbers. They moved as one, a massive flesh barrier, smashing and destroying everything before them with blind, instinctual force. The greatest fear: among the hordes might lurk a Terran of the Iron tier, far stronger and more ferocious.
A seasoned soldier might take down one with a strike, but facing the entire herd, terror sets in, their collective roar a lethal wave of horns, flesh, and rage. Terrans are drawn to the scent of fresh blood, growing more frenzied with human screams, as if created to feed on chaos itself.
On a tall tree nearby, Kyle watched the horizon, witnessing this magnificent yet horrifying scene: a sea of horns and shadows that sent shivers down the spine. A grim, resigned smile appeared on his face. He inhaled deeply and let out a long exhale, before yelling into his watch: "Do I have to fight all of this?! This is madness!" Then, in a mocking tone, he contacted Chloe: "They're in the thousands! I can't even estimate their number! They're heading straight for the city, north!"
Cloe: Stay in position. I'll try to send reinforcements to your location to redirect them.
Kyle: (hysterically) Have you lost your mind?! You think I'll face this alone?
Before she could respond, Chloe's watch received a flood of simultaneous reports from other teams:
"Team 65 here, we have a herd of Iron-tier beasts! Wolves! Not many, but they're Iron! Immediate support required!"
"Team 12, engaging a pack of bears!"
"Team 88 under attack!"
At least six teams were now engaged in battles.
Cloe issued orders with unwavering composure. She commanded non-engaged teams to send half their forces to the nearest pressured unit, ensuring no location was abandoned completely, and to try to distract or divert the beasts from the city—except positions 1, 2, 3, and 4 (Kyle, 09, and Vail's location).
Kyle called again, his voice full of panic and rage: "Chloe! They're only six hundred meters away! I won't fight alone! Send help, or I'm leaving now!"
Cloe replied coldly, a sly laugh in her voice: "Do you realize who I placed in the camps behind you? Your sister's team. You could abandon your position and leave her there. Let's see if they can hold and protect her." She cut the call abruptly.
Grinding his teeth to the point of hearing them, Kyle's fury and inner struggle twisted his face. All he wanted was to take his sister and flee, but he knew the consequences: they would become wanted criminals, a life he wouldn't allow her to live. He restrained himself to the breaking point.
With a furious roar, Kyle lunged at the herd like a living whirlwind. His fists exploded with devastating force, turning every Terran in his path into a spray of flesh, bones, and blood with a single blow. He cut, smashed, and threw them as if they were leaves. But the numbers were overwhelming—a never-ending sea. And amidst his slaughter appeared Iron-tier Terrans.
Though not much larger, their aura radiated raw power and ferocity. One strike from them could equal hundreds of weak-tier foes. Engrossed in the killing, one lunged from behind, ramming Kyle and sending him flying several meters.
Kyle laughed manically, blood covering his face and clothes: "You're nothing! Just amusement for me!" He lunged at the Iron Terran, grabbed its horn with lightning speed, and with a single savage kick, obliterated its head.
Yet the herd did not falter. The frenzy continued, some moving randomly, others heading toward the city. Kyle realized this was no longer just combat; he had to lure them away, even if it meant abandoning his position.
He contacted "09": "I'll draw the herd away. Send someone to cover my position!" Without hesitation, he slashed his arm with a knife, letting his blood flow onto the ground to bait the savage Terrans. The pungent scent spread like a siren. Feigning weakness, he retreated in a staggered manner to ensure pursuit. Despite the success of his tactic, a group of monsters, instinctively fearful, scattered unpredictably.
As he fled, he was suddenly surrounded. Not just Terrans—emerging from the trees and dust were three more beasts: massive wolves and bears from all directions. Among them were three others, not Iron-tier, but Majestic.
Their presence was entirely different, radiating overwhelming suppressive force. One's eyes burned with infernal fire, another's skin cracked, exuding dark energy, and the third moved with ghostly speed. Each wielded devastating strength and unique abilities.
Kyle, trapped in this circle of death, pressed his bloodied, sweat-soaked hands to his face and laughed—a hysterical, deep laugh, surrendering to his fate. "You abandoned everyone to come to me? Haha… this will be your end."
Meanwhile, 09 observed calmly at his post. Placing his palm on the frozen ground, he breathed steadily, in stark contrast to the chaos around him.
09: (whispering into his watch) I'll extend the ice. Prepare for the temperature drop.
From beneath his hands, frost spread—not ordinary freezing, but crashing waves of glowing blue ice crystals slithering like serpents across the land, consuming everything in their path. They penetrated fields, snaked through trees, reaching the other besieged teams. The ice was alive, sensing every step, every movement, every breath. It empowered 09, but drained him as well. He remained seated, rooted like an ancient tree, his consciousness expanding to encompass the battlefield.
At Team 65's position: Hell Unleashed
The team, led by Yun, faced a pack of Iron-tier wolves. It wasn't a battle—it was a calculated slaughter. Unarmed soldiers courageously fired Ethereal rifles, not to kill, but to distract, serving as bait.
Behind them, Fox, the team's priest, whispered ancient incantations, a soft green aura enveloping the soldiers, healing wounds, and restoring their strength. Yun, obsessed with proving his worth after past failures, pushed forward, using flight briefly to redirect attacks.
With brutal precision, he carved through foes, sacrificing anything to protect his men, keeping the pack at bay until reinforcements arrived.
Catastrophe at Site 85
Through the ice, 09 sensed another disaster. 90% of Team 85 had been slaughtered by rampaging bears. He calculated that even with incoming support, survival was unlikely.
Without hesitation, he manifested a solid ice clone to guard his post, then teleported to the approaching reinforcements, swiftly eliminating threats with deadly efficiency.
Meanwhile, Kyle fought ferociously, bound by hand, relying solely on raw physical strength. Three Majestic-tier beasts, supported by countless Terrans, surrounded him. Despite injuries, his eyes shifted—white to crimson, pupils glowing a toxic green, energy erupting in a black-red-green haze. He had unleashed his sealed power.
Monster Classification Reminder:
Shadow: Weakest; most soldiers handle them with Ethereal weapons or abilities.
Iron: Requires skilled soldiers; high endurance and combat capability.
Majestic: Overwhelming strength; only elite soldiers or dedicated squads can handle one.
Royal: Only three ever defeated; near-unbeatable.
Catastrophic: Extremely intelligent; near-impossible to survive.
Cosmic: Unknown; only Moathan has faced one.
Note: Eye transformations indicate hybrid status. Kyle hides this to avoid being treated like a lab subject or experiment.