Sixty-seven warriors stood in the Oyster Bay plaza, each carrying their own agendas, their own strengths, their own reasons for being here.
At the edge of the gathering, Mayor Elias Crowe approached with a handful of aides. His steps were steady, his posture calm. Years of politics had taught him how to look in control, even now.
"We'll provide food, supplies, and shelter while you're here," Crowe said, his tone smooth and measured. "But we won't be sending any of our people to fight."
The words landed heavy, drawing silence from the plaza.
Noah studied him carefully. Crowe wasn't afraid, he was being selfish. He wanted Oyster Bay to survive, but he wasn't willing to risk his own troops in the fight.
Marcus folded his arms. "You're choosing to wait this out?"
Crowe met his eyes without flinching. "I'm choosing to keep this Safe Zone intact."
Nevin gave a low whistle. "So you get to sit safe while we go deal with the problem?"
Crowe's expression didn't change. "You came here by choice. So did we."
It was clear he wasn't going to bend.
Marcus exhaled, glanced once at Noah, then gave Crowe a curt nod. "Then we won't waste any more time."
None of the groups accepted Crowe's offer of food or shelter. Without another word, they turned their backs on him and walked out, stepping into the Pink Fog while the people of Oyster Bay stayed behind their walls.
The government had solid intel on the Caller Fade, a vampire who named himself the Crimson Count. He had taken over a ruined city near Oyster Bay inside the Pink Fog, turning it into his base.
The march was quiet. The mist curled around them as they advanced in their Glint forms. What stood out most was the silence. No Fades appeared to block their way. Normally the fog swarmed with them, but here it was empty. Every Fade nearby had already been pulled under the Crimson Count's command.
Thomas drove the hammer truck at the back, moving at his own pace and chewing on fragments. He let the others take the lead, showing no signs of slowing down for the day.
Noah and Marcus kept to the front, eyes sharp as they scanned the fog ahead. The others followed in steady lines. The only exception was Big Roz and the DMW Gang, who marched with noise and swagger, shouting and laughing as if the fog itself bowed to them.
The ruins spread out as they drew closer to their destination. In the distance, a fortress loomed through the haze.
It was an old castle. Its stone walls were cracked, its towers broken, yet it still stood tall. Once a tourist attraction, now it was the Crimson Count's domain. Across one of the outer walls, a massive vandal marked the stone. The words Crimson Count were smeared in red and black paint, maybe even blood. That was how the military learned his chosen name.
Even from afar, the air grew heavier. It felt like the fortress itself was watching.
Inside the old castle, the Crimson Count had already noticed their approach. A faint smirk crossed his mouth as he looked back into the shadows behind him. Dozens of glowing eyes lit up in the dark. More than a hundred Fades gathered there, ready to strike at his command.
Iris suddenly felt uneasy, though she could not explain why. A chill ran down her spine, and she turned to glance back toward Oyster Bay, just once.
She had a bad feeling.
Later that night, Oyster Bay's quiet was broken by a scream.
It came sharp and panicked, tearing through the streets. At first it was one voice. Then another. Then more. Within minutes, the entire Safe Zone was filled with shouts, cries, and the sounds of chaos.
Near the western gate, a man stood in the doorway of his home, breathing hard, his hands shaking. His wife lay motionless on the floor, blood pooling beneath her. His young daughter stared at him in confusion, waiting for him to speak.
His head throbbed. His chest pounded. The moon above looked red in his eyes.
Something was wrong in Oyster Bay, and nobody understood what was happening. People were turning on each other without reason, their eyes wild, their minds broken. There was no warning, no pattern. One moment they were normal, the next they were killing the people closest to them.
A man stepped outside with the bloody knife in his grip. His gaze locked onto the Safe Zone's meteor fragment, glowing at the center of the plaza. To him, it wasn't protection anymore. It was the enemy. The glow stabbed into his mind, burning from the inside. The glow stabbed deeper into his skull, the pain unbearable. It felt like his head was splitting open, and in that agony his mind snapped.
He raised the knife again.
Across the street, another door slammed open. A woman ran out with blood on her hands, gasping for help. She barely made it two steps before her husband tackled her down.
Further along, a boy screamed as he ran into the open, only for his father to charge after him, swinging a crowbar.
House after house erupted with the same madness. People stumbled into the streets, attacking each other with whatever they could grab. They were not transforming, they were not Fades. They were ordinary people, losing their minds all at once.
It spread like an infection, and no one knew why.
Mayor Elias Crowe had been in his office when the first scream came. He ignored it at first. But now he stood in the plaza, staring in horror as his own people tore each other apart.
He shouted over the chaos. "Everyone, return to your homes! Guards, contain the situation!"
No one listened.
The infected didn't hesitate, didn't recognize friend or foe. They weren't turning into monsters, but they had lost all control.
Elias snatched the radio, his grip tight. "Report! What's happening out there?"
Static filled the air. Then a panicked voice.
"They… they're attacking us! It's, AAAGH!"
The line went dead.
Elias's jaw clenched. He grabbed his pistol and rushed into the streets with his guards close behind. He had to stop this before it spread.
But it was already too late.
The infected were no longer attacking each other. They were all drawn to the meteor fragment at the center of Oyster Bay. Dozens staggered and ran toward it, clawing at their heads as if the glow was drilling into their skulls.
Elias's breath caught. "Stop them!" he shouted.
The guards froze. These were not enemies. These were their neighbors, their families.
That hesitation sealed Oyster Bay's fate.
The first rock slammed against the meteor fragment, sending out a sharp crack that echoed across the plaza.
Then another strike followed, this time from a crowbar, the metal ringing against the glowing stone. Another man rammed his head into it until blood streamed down his face. One after another, the infected struck the fragment with stones, pipes, and bare fists. They hit with unnatural strength, far beyond what normal humans could manage.
"NO! STOP!" Elias roared. He raised his gun and fired. One attacker dropped, but the rest did not even flinch. They kept hammering at the fragment like nothing else existed.
The glow flickered as cracks split wider with each blow.
Elias pushed forward, screaming, but he could only watch as the meteor fragment finally gave way.
With a deafening crack, it shattered.
Light exploded outward, flooding the plaza in a blinding flash before collapsing into nothing.
The Pink Fog poured in at once. It swept across the Safe Zone like a flood, swallowing homes, streets, and screaming voices in seconds. Buildings vanished. Families vanished. Everything was gone.
Elias stood frozen, his chest heaving as he watched the city crumble before his eyes. The Safe Zone he had fought to protect, the control he had clung to, all of it was erased in moments.
There was nothing left to save.
He turned and ran, the mist rolling in behind him, erasing Oyster Bay from existence.
The five groups reached the entrance of the castle. The gates were massive, cracked, and covered in blood-colored vines. The stone walls were worn and broken, showing their age.
A sudden silence spread over the ruins. Then came the sound of scraping, followed by slow, dragging footsteps.
Red eyes lit up in the mist. Then more appeared, dozens of them.
The first thrall stepped out. Its body looked human but was warped and wrong. Its skin was pale and stretched tight over its bones, patches of hair clinging to its head. Its eyes glowed red, its mouth lined with jagged teeth, and its long fingers had turned into claws that scraped against the stone. It let out a rattling hiss and charged forward. More followed, pouring from the ruins, crawling over broken walls and stumbling from doorways, until the plaza swarmed with them.
Marcus Hale moved first.
He was already in his Glint form, an armored mammoth. His four thick legs stomped the ground with crushing force. Plates of natural armor covered his body from head to back, and his heavy skull was reinforced with bone, built to ram through anything in his path.
He lifted his head and let out a thunderous horn-like bellow, the sound shaking the ruins. Then his deep voice followed, steady and commanding. "Hold the line!"
The military unit called Hounds moved in unison. Each fighter shifted into position, covering gaps with their unique forms. Some lowered sharp horns, others raised claws, while a few swung heavy tails or braced thick hides. Together, they created a living wall of beasts, different in shape but united in discipline.
The first wave of thralls burst out of the mist and crashed into the Hounds, snarling and clawing, as the real battle began.