Year 1: Flesh Falls
Avian flowed through the cloud-filled sky, his wings brushing against the mist as though it were silk. For once, his mind was free of burden. No enemies to fight, no wars to win—only the endless sky and the quiet whisper of the wind.
To the people below, he was more than a legend. He was Earth's guardian, its chosen vessel. A bird-man hybrid. Once, he had nearly doomed them all, convinced that mankind was a disease upon the planet. But with the help of Red and a handful of others, he had come to see their flaws as beauty, their chaos as something worth protecting.
For a year now, peace had been his companion. He laughed with farmers in their fields, sat with musicians in the city streets, traveled with nomads, trained with soldiers and even learned the strange tastes of their food. They had revealed to him things even Earth itself had kept hidden. And for the first time in his long existence, Avian felt something dangerously close to joy.
Until three months ago.
It began with a glimmer in the void of space. Avian squinted upward, dismissing it at first as the dying breath of a star. But then he noticed the way the angelic warriors above shifted—spears raised, wings flaring wide. Time soldiers bristled, their rifles locked on the heavens. Something was wrong.
The first barrage lit up the sky.
From the darkness fell white shards—bones, hundreds of them—crashing like meteors into the upper atmosphere. The soldiers fired, beams of light and burning plasma cutting across the void. But through the hail of fire slipped things far worse.
Flesh monsters. Armies of them.
Avian's eyes widened as he watched them tear through armor, their bones deflecting shots meant to destroy tanks. Warriors screamed as they were dragged apart, their wings shredded, and their cries cut short.
"No," Avian whispered, his voice trembling.
He dove headfirst into the storm, summoning thunder from the clouds. Bolts of lightning lashed out, turning the abominations into ash. But it was too late for many. He landed beside a fallen angel, blood soaking through shattered armor.
The warrior's eyes were glassy, his last breath already gone. All around him, corpses floated like broken dolls.
Before Avian could rise, a sharp pain tore through his leg. He gasped, staring down as a jagged bone erupted through his calf, dragging him back. His eyes widened in horror as the dead soldiers convulsed.
"No… you can't…" Avian says.
Their bodies twisted, flesh tearing as bones erupted outward, impaling them like grotesque scaffolding. Their lungs filled with blood, choking on gargled cries. Faces were streaked with tears even as their limbs clawed forward.
"Mother Earth, protect me…" Avian muttered, wrenching himself free, blood streaming from his leg.
He soared upward, heart pounding. Whatever infected them—it's in me, too. But I'm not changing. Is it my bond with Earth, the fact I'm still alive, or just luck? Doesn't matter. If I lose myself, it means the end for people of this planet. I'll have to end it before I become that.
With a cry, he unleashed Earth's fury. Mountains answered, hurling stone into the heavens. Lightning scorched the void. Lava spewed upward, a fiery shield against the invaders. Even the air itself turned to blades, shredding the flesh hordes.
For the first time, the tide seemed to turn. Earthlings joined the fray—fighter jets streaking through the smoke, energy turrets firing from the ground, soldiers risking their lives in desperate charges.
But then—he dropped.
Year 1: Warfare, The Front Lines
The earth shook as another monster slammed into the soil, its spine bursting outward like jagged glass. The barricades groaned, metal tearing. Behind the rubble, Earth soldiers braced, rifles blazing.
"Shit, it's not going down!" a private Lee yelled, fumbling for another mag. Sweat ran down his face.
Beside him, a time soldier didn't flinch. His rifle was sleek, humming with strange blue coils. He exhaled once, squeezed the trigger—The bullet rippled, splitting into three, all hitting the beast's skull a heartbeat apart. The monster collapsed in a heap, spasming.
The human blinked. "What the hell was that?"
The time soldier's visor glinted. "Efficiency. Something you seem to lack."
The private barked a laugh. "Efficiency? Buddy, I call that cheating."
Another soldier popped up, spraying rounds into the next wave. "Hey, don't argue with cheating if it keeps us alive!" said Sergeant Duran
The private pointed at the time soldier. "Nah, I'm serious. He fires one bullet, kills a tank. I fire a whole mag and just piss it off."
The time soldier reloaded calmly. "Perhaps you should work on your aim."
The private snorted. "Oh, that's rich. Next you'll tell me to breathe slower, visualize the shot, feel the wind like some Zen sniper bullshit. Newsflash, spaceman—we don't all have chrono-toys that rewrite physics!"
Another beast lunged over the barricade, screeching, bone shards raining down. The human and time soldier dove together, blasting it apart midair. They landed hard, coughing.
The private groaned, rolling to his feet. "See? That's teamwork. You, me, and a lot of bullets. Nothing fancy."
The time soldier tilted his head. "If you'd like, I can purposely miss a few shots to make you feel useful."
The private froze, then grinned. "Did… did you just make a joke?"
The time soldier didn't answer—he simply reloaded.
The private chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah. You're warming up to me. Don't deny it."
A shriek echoed across the battlefield. A shadow fell as another monstrosity clawed its way forward, larger than the rest. Jets streaked overhead, dropping payloads. Angels clashed in the skies.
The Sergeant spoke up. "Guess war's still the same, no matter what century you're from." He walks beside the 2 weapon cocked and ready.
The time soldier glanced at the beast, visor catching the firelight. "Bloody. Chaotic. Loud."
"Don't forget terrifying." Private added.
The sergeant raised his rifle, the chrono-core humming. "Terrifying… but glorious." sergeant Duran grinned, as private Lee slapped another mag into his rifle. "Then let's make it hell for them." Duran said
And side by side, they rose to fight again.
Year 1: Warfare, Sky Front
Above the trenches, the skies thundered with fire and wings.
Fighter jets streaked through cloud cover, missiles locking onto descending flesh-mounds. Explosions lit the night as black ichor rained down, tracer fire painting bright scars across the heavens.
"Fox Squadron, keep them out of the atmo! Push them higher!" commander Nile barked over comms.
"Copy that!" a pilot rolled his jet past a bone shard volley, releasing two missiles, and clipped a monstrosity's wing. The creature spun in a spiral of flesh and bone before colliding with another, both detonating in fire.
Golden lances of light carved through the smoke as angelic warriors joined the formation. Their spears flared, piercing through monsters the jets couldn't lock onto. One angel dove, cleaving a beast in half with a burning arc, then swung wide to clear a path for an escaping squadron.
A pilot's voice crackled over comms. "Whoever's on my six—thanks for the save!"
"Stay steady, mortal," the angel's voice resonated through his comms, calm and steady despite the chaos. "Your fire clears the path, our light drives it home."
The pilots cheered, pulling back into formation. For a fleeting moment, the partnership worked seamlessly—jets harrying the beasts with missile barrages while angels swooped in to finish the kill.
But the monsters pressed harder. A beast unfolded jagged wings of bone, hurling shards like living flak. An angel moved to intercept, wings shielding a formation of jets. Shards rattled off his golden armor, one piercing through—but he held the line, buying the pilot's time to fire a payload straight into the beast's chest.
"Angel down! We need to cover fire now!" another pilot cried.
Jets roared in, unloading everything they had. The creature was blown apart midair, raining gore across the battlefield.
From the ground, soldiers in the trenches tilted their heads skyward, watching in awe as light and metal fought side by side against the darkness.
Private Lee nudged Duran as he reloaded. "Y'see that? Angels and jets, actually working together. Looks like we got ourselves a dream team up there."
Duran spat into the mud, but a faint grin tugged his face. "Enjoy the sight while it lasts, Private. Sky's holding for now… but it won't forever."
Above them, wings and engines cut through the night, a fragile alliance keeping the heavens intact—for now.
Year 1: Warfare, The Evacuations
Solar City burned. Sirens wailed, smoke choking the sky. Families shoved through collapsed streets, clutching children and bags, rushing toward underground bunkers.
"Keep moving! Keep moving!" Sergeant Alan bellowed, waving his squad forward. "Don't look back!"
A woman tripped, dropping a crying child. Alan lunged, scooped the boy up, and shoved him back into her arms. "Go!"
Next to him, a time soldier swept his chrono-scanner over the crowd. Lines of light flickered across his device. "Your method is inefficient. If you stagger them in thirty-three second intervals—"
Alan snapped his head toward him. "Thirty-three seconds?! Lady over there barely has three before that rooftop comes down on her head!"
The time soldier's voice stayed calm, detached. "Panic is lowering your throughput. You are losing civilians by attempting to save them too quickly."
Alan shoved a boy down the hatch, glaring. "You're telling me I care more about efficiency than screaming kids? Screw your math."
A shriek split the air. A beast dropped from a collapsed roof, tearing into soldiers at the rear. Alan spun, firing, while the chrono-soldier lifted his weapon.
Time staggered. The monster froze mid-pounce, splitting apart in delayed fragments. Blood rained down in slow motion, then sped up as time snapped back.
The bunker doors slammed shut as the last civilians were shoved inside. Alan, panting, leaned on his rifle. "Okay… I'll give you this one. That was badass."
The chrono-soldier lowered his rifle. "Acknowledged."
Alan squinted. "… Is that your way of saying 'thanks'?"
"Correct."
Alan barked a laugh. "You're impossible."
The chrono-soldier glanced at the hatch. "We bought eighty-nine seconds. Use them wisely."
Alan muttered as they sprinted toward the next wave. "Eighty-nine seconds. You and your goddamn numbers…"
Year 1: Skyfall
It began with a scream across comms.
"Fox-Three! I've lost control—something's on me!"
The pilot's voice cracked into static as a shadow blotted out the moon. From the clouds emerged a beast unlike the others—massive wings stretched as wide as city blocks, its chest splitting open into rows of gnashing maws that howled like hurricane winds. It seemed to have a torn lab jacket over what remained of its body.
It unleashed a storm of bone shards, each volley exploding like anti-aircraft fire. Jets scattered in frantic maneuvers, trails of exhaust cutting across the night as missiles were loosed blind into the swarm. One pilot wasn't fast enough—the shards tore through his fuselage, and his jet spiraled down in a burning arc, slamming into the battlefield below with a thunderous bloom of fire.
"Fox-Three is gone! Repeat, Fox-Three is down!"
"Hold formation!" Commander Nile barked, but even he knew the sky was fracturing.
The angels surged forward in response. A formation of six burned bright as they dove, spears igniting with heavenly fire. Their wings cut golden trails across the black canvas, a living barrage of light against the beast. For a moment, hope shined through—their lances pierced deep, staggering the monster mid-flight.
Then the beast adapted.
Its body convulsed, sprouting jagged spines that spun outward in a whirling storm. The halo of bone shredded through the angelic formation, cutting wings, shattering armor. Two angels dropped like meteors, their burning bodies streaking across the sky before slamming into the trenches with ground-shaking impact. The others scattered, wings torn, bleeding ichor that glowed faintly in the dark.
"Angels down! Angels down!" a pilot shouted, voice breaking. "We can't hold the airspace!"
Jets dove in, unloading payloads to cover the retreat. A stream of missiles pounded into the beast's torso, tearing chunks of flesh from its midsection. The monster reeled, but instead of falling, it shrieked and split apart into a dozen smaller winged horrors, each screeching with the same hive-mind hunger.
"Oh, hell no…" one pilot whispered as his radar lit up with fresh targets.
The swarm dove past the fractured line, streaking toward the ground like falling stars of black fire. Angels scrambled to intercept, wings burning white, but the numbers were overwhelming. For every creature slain, three more slipped through, clawed wings slicing through the smoke as they descended toward the trenches.
"Skyline breach!" the commander roared into comms, voice breaking under the weight of what it meant. "They're in the lower atmosphere—we've lost containment!"
On the ground, soldiers watched in horrified silence as the heavens themselves split open. Jets blazed overhead, angels screamed war-cries, and yet the swarm broke through, blotting out the stars as it fell.
Private Lee's jaw slackened as he stared upward. "Dear God… they're falling straight into us."
Duran shoved a fresh clip into his rifle and spat into the mud. "Then we don't look up, Private. We aim up—and make sure hell regrets comin' down."
The earth rumbled as the first of the broken sky spawn slammed into the no-man's-land, clawing forward with bones. The line in the heavens had shattered, and the weight of the skies was about to crash down on humanity's trenches.
But then, a roar cut through the chaos—thunder itself answering the call.
From the storm clouds above, Avian descended like a meteor of lightning and wind. His wings spread wide, eyes burning with the fury of the earth itself. In his wake volcanoes erupted, incinerating these monsters. He struck the massive beast at full speed, his body wrapped in a vortex of crackling storm. The collision split the night with a blinding flash as he drove the monstrosity upward, away from the ground, the shockwave flattening clouds in every direction.
The radios erupted in stunned silence before one soldier whispered, "The Guardian…"
Another voice broke in, trembling with relief. "He's still with us!"
High above, Avian wrestled with the giant beast, fists pounding like thunderclaps, each strike laced with fire and lightning. The monster shrieked and thrashed, wings beating hurricane winds, but Avian forced it back, dragging the fight away from the descending swarms.
The skies were bleeding, the lines broken, but for one fleeting moment, the earth's guardian bought them time.
Year 1: Warfare, Line breached
The defenses groaned under the endless wave. Almost 7 hours had passed, Fighter jets screamed overhead, dropping payloads into the dark clouds of monsters, their explosions lighting the night like artificial suns. On the ground, energy turrets fired until their barrels melted red. The angels circled above, refusing to come close after seeing what had happened to their brethren, lances of holy light spearing down from a distance.
And still, the flesh kept coming.
Private Lee slammed another mag into his rifle, firing until the barrel smoked. "They just keep getting back up!"
"They're not getting up," Sergeant Duran shouted, tossing a grenade into a knot of the beasts. The explosion tore them apart—only for their bones to snap outward, knitting them into something new, more twisted. "They're changing!"
A time soldier nearby lifted his chrono-rifle, squeezing off a burst. The rounds staggered the creatures for a breath, slowing their mutations. But it wasn't enough. "Adaptation rate is accelerating. Containment impossible. Probability of holding this position—" the time soldier was cut off.
"Don't you dare say it!" Duran barked, slamming another shell into his shotgun.
Then the line buckled.
The monsters hit the barricades all at once, their bone spires slamming through plating like paper. One turret vanished in a spray of sparks and gore as a beast ripped the gunner out with its Sharp and dense, bone limbs. Another tore through the trenches, dragging screaming men through the mud into their graves. It lifted anything it could impale up into the sky and then filled all the soldier's entire bodies with bones, piercing them from the inside out.
But this was not the end. Fallen angels, time soldiers, and even human bodies started to convulse, in some dark twisted revival they sprung back to life.
The angel's wings now broken to parts only connected by extended bones, with the rest of their bodies equally disfigured.
Time soldiers infused their bodies with the chrono-cores of their weapons, giving them the unique ability to time jump as they jumped forward through time, basically appearing all over the battlefield impaling soldiers with their claws of bone.
The human victims were like any other, held up by bone limbs, constantly choking on their own blood, and spewing out bones like rifle rounds. But unlike the others these were the toughest to kill, the indomitable human spirit was warped and used to this viruses advantage.
The angels rained fire from above, but their light dimmed under the sheer tide.
"Fall back!" Duran roared, shoving Lee by the shoulder. "Fall the hell back!"
The retreat was chaos. The bunkers were closed off to prevent breaches, so soldiers were scrambling through cities to lose them. The earth itself shook under the stampede. Air carriers overloaded, jets scrambling just to keep the skies clear of bone shards. Soldiers fought street by street, firing from windows, throwing explosives from rooftops.
One by one, those rooftops collapsed.
Lee tripped over rubble, only to be yanked up by a time soldier. His visor flickered, sparks running down his armor. "You fall, you die. Don't fall."
Lee coughed, stumbling as he fired blindly. "Very reassuring!"
A scream ripped through the comms as Solar City itself began to sink, great chunks falling from the sky like flaming meteors. Whole neighborhoods plummeted, crushed under their own collapse.
Duran stopped for half a second, staring at the sky with clenched teeth. "We're losing everything…"
Then the ground split open with a deafening crack. A fissure tore through the streets, swallowing barricades and bunkers alike.
The line had broken.
And all that remained was survival.
the city still burned. The barricades were gone. Angels lay broken in the streets, their golden blood mixing with human red.
A squad of humans and two time soldiers crouched in the ruins of a bank. Ammo was nearly gone.
Private Aaron reloaded shakily, his hands trembling. "We're screwed. We're so screwed."
The time soldier beside him checked his rifle, its chrono-core sputtering. "Probability of survival: four percent."
Lee stared at him. "Four percent?! That's the pep talk you're going with?!"
"Couldn't give a worse one if you tried." Said lieutenant Lia
Sergeant Duran spat blood. "Hell, I'll take four percent. I've worked with worse odds."
Aaron groaned. "You're insane."
"No," Duran growled, cocking his rifle. "I'm Earthborn. We don't quit when numbers get ugly."
The second time soldier tilted his head. "Statistically, stubbornness rarely improves outcomes."
"Statistically," Lee muttered, "you're an asshole."
Duran laughed, hoarse and sharp. "Don't worry, Privates. When we die, we'll haunt them. Four against Two across time. They'll hate it."
The time soldier paused, considering. "… That would be… inconvenient."
The squad chuckled weakly, despite the thunder of the oncoming monsters.
Private Lee peeked over rubble, firing a last burst. "What's the plan? Do your time-soldier manuals say what to do when all odds are garbage?"
The time soldier hesitated, then said quietly: "Hold until death is inevitable. Then improvise."
Aaron blinked. "… That's it? That's your grand time-travel plan?"
Lieutenant Lia sighed in disappointment.
Duran grinned through bloody teeth. "Guess that makes us the same after all."
The monsters roared, shaking the ground. Shadows closed in.
Duran stood tall, raising his rifle. "Alright, listen up. When they write about this—"
Lee interrupted, panicked. "I doubt dead men will write about dead men."
"Shut up, Lee! When they write about this," Duran bellowed, "they'll say Earth didn't break. Even when Heaven bled. Even when Time faltered. We held. Got it?"
Silence for a beat. Then every soldier nodded, eyes blazing despite the fear.
The second time soldier lifted his rifle, voice flat but steady. "… Then let's hold."
The ground shook harder. The first monstrosity stepped into view, bone spears dripping black blood.
Duran cocked his weapon. "Four percent, huh?"
Lia grinned. "Four percent's better than zero."
United in war, the group braced themselves, then opened fire once more. When they ran out of ammo they used anything they could from pocket knifes, to left over bones from the creature rampages. They might all die, but they'll be damned if they go out quietly. Only the fires of war may claim their souls.
Year 1: Warfare, Carnage.
Smoke rolled across the battlefield like a living tide, blotting out stars and choking the lungs of the survivors. The trenches were mangled beyond recognition—walls caved in, weapons bent or broken, corpses scattered where the lines had once stood. Above, the sky was scarred by burning wreckage: falling jets, broken angel wings, and the drifting husks of monsters burned to cinders.
Private Lee stumbled through the mud, his rifle hanging by the strap, breath ragged. "God… we're still here?"
Duran limped beside him, one leg bleeding through his armor. He scanned the broken no-man's-land with weary eyes. "Don't thank God yet, kid. Look around. This ain't a win. This is… leftovers."
Across the battlefield, angels regrouped with their mortal counterparts, forming shaky circles of defense. Time Soldiers shimmered back into the present, their chrono-armor flickering with sparks as they held position beside battered Earth infantry. For once, rank and origin meant nothing—mortal, holy, or chronos, all were just survivors in the smoking ruin.
Above, the last of the massive sky-beast reeled, its form cracking under a storm of lightning. Avian held it fast, tearing the abomination apart in a final, thunderous strike. The soldiers below erupted in cheers, voices rising hoarse but defiant.
"He did it!" Lee shouted, pointing skyward. "The Guardian! He's—he's winning!"
Even the angels, weary and bloodied, bowed their heads in reverence. "He is the vessel of Earth," one muttered. "So long as he fights, this world breathes."
But the celebration died as quickly as it rose.
Avian fell.
His body slammed into the earth with a force that shook the battlefield. Dust and debris billowed outward, knocking men and angels alike to their knees. Silence followed, heavy and tense, all eyes fixed on the crater. None dared to step forward, afraid of what they might see. It was no stranger to their ears, and even through the impact the sound of flesh tearing could be heard. Then the hum of a red light shined through the dust. The soldiers and warriors readied themselves, unsure of will happen next.
Then the figure stepped out.
It was Avian—yet it wasn't. His wounds should have left him broken, but his body stitched itself together with alien light. A symbol burned above him, warping the air with a pulse that reeked of power. His once calm eyes now swirled with malice, his aura a storm of twisted elements.
"Avian…" Duran whispered, voice tight. "What the hell's happened to you?"
The figure's lips curled into a smile that wasn't Avian's. "Avian is gone." His voice boomed like cracking stone, cruel and mocking. "The earth does not need a Guardian. It needs a Conqueror."
The ground shuddered. Bunkers burst upward from beneath the soil, ripped from hiding like prey dragged from dens. Screams echoed as civilians, once safe, were thrown into the open. At the same moment, elemental beasts tore free from fire, water, stone and more—walking cataclysms born from Earth itself.
"No…" one angel gasped, wings faltering. "Not him. Not the vessel."
The soldiers stared in stunned horror. The Guardian who had once stood as their salvation now raised his hands against them, laughter cruel and sadistic as the beasts roared.
Private Aaron dropped his rifle into the mud. "He's… he's turned on us."
Duran grabbed him by the shoulder, shoving the boy back into cover. His jaw was tight, his voice shaking with rage. "No. He's not Avian anymore." His eyes locked on the monster before them. "That's something else entirely."
Lieutenant Lia tried to keep her form steady, but she was shaking with fear, this feeling was swallowing her whole. It made her knees buckles as she felt powerless.
The name carried across the battlefield like a curse:
Aviros.
The last of Earth's hope had become its executioner.
Year 1: Virex
The sky tore open as something vast plummeted through the clouds. The angels above turned to meet it, but their formation shattered in seconds.
A figure crashed into their ranks, moving with the speed of a falling star. Wings of bone and flesh flared grotesquely, shredding through their divine armor. Blood sprayed in arcs, angelic screams cut short as bodies were torn in half or swallowed in shadow.
Avian froze mid-flight, staring in horror. He recognized the face beneath the mangled flesh, the form buried in that monstrous silhouette.
"Ragna…?" he whispered.
But it wasn't Ragna anymore.
His chest heaved with wet, choking sounds, every breath a gargle of his own blood. Black ichor streamed from his mouth, staining his armor, dripping down jagged ribs that jutted from torn flesh. His eyes, once sharp and calculating, were now rolled back white with veins crawling across them like cracks in glass.
The virus had made him a puppet. A broken body with only one instinct left—kill.
He convulsed, letting out a hideous, gurgling roar. It was the sound of drowning mixed with fury, the sound of a man who could no longer breathe yet was forced to fight.
Then he launched himself at the jets.
Avian intercepted his path, the collision was like a comet striking the earth. Avian barely got his arms up before jagged bones pierced into his guard, tearing through his stomach. Sparks of lightning lashed out in reflex, but the creature didn't even flinch—it only pushed harder, choking on its own blood as it tried to drive Avian into the ground.
Avian kicked off, wings exploding with wind. He soared higher, hurling a lance of fire down. The blast struck dead-on, engulfing Ragna in a storm of flame. For a moment, the monster staggered, howling in a strangled, bubbling cry.
But then he kept moving. The fire clung to his skin, burning it away, but beneath was only more warped flesh and exposed bone knitting itself back together in jagged knots.
Avian's heart pounded. "He doesn't even feel it." He said to himself.
The monster leapt again, faster this time. Bone talons speared through Avian's thigh, lifting him like prey. Avian screamed, he formed cosmic energy to create a neutron star and strike the monster with all he has. The smell of scorched flesh filled the air, but the creature only choked louder, blood spraying across Avian's face as it reeled him closer.
"Ragna! Fight it!" Avian shouted desperately.
But there was nothing to answer. Only the drowning gurgle and the sound of tearing flesh as the monster ripped Avian from the sky and hurled him earthward.
The impact left a crater mile wide. Avian lay broken, gasping, blood pouring from his wounds. The infected form descended slowly, dragging itself on twisted wings, every step squelching with blood.
Avian forced himself up, summoning the fury of the planet. Lava burst from the cracks, lightning stormed down, winds howled to tear the monster apart.
It hit all at once, a storm of destruction meant to erase this thing. The battlefield shook. He added one final part, the energy of nature itself, he drew power from the entire galaxy to erase this creature.
When the smoke cleared… the figure still stood.
Ragna's ruined face twitched, mouth hanging open in a perpetual scream, blood streaming as bones rearranged themselves grotesquely. He raised one arm, jagged and unnatural, and drove it through Avian's stomach.
The guardian's eyes widened. He felt the cold bone spear punch through his spine. He coughed blood, choking.
The monster didn't roar this time. It only let out a broken, wet wheeze as it lifted him higher, holding him up like a torn banner. Then, with sickening strength, it ripped him in half and hurled the pieces aside.
The monster then bolted off to spread more carnage to the remaining soldiers and warriors already suffering to the flesh monsters. The dust stirred and another figure appeared.
"It is rare," the figure said softly, "to find a specimen such as you. Not ordinary, but not extraordinary when it comes to your potential. A vessel wasted on mediocrity." He lifted a hand. "But worry not. I will make you anew."
Avian's broken halves twitched as a symbol formed in the air—glowing, jagged, alive with impossible power. Energy laced his flesh together, sewing him back, rewriting him.
The figure smiled faintly. "Power of Z. Symbol of Virex."
And with that, Avian was gone.
In his place, Aviros arose—wreathed in a spiral of flame, stone, storm, and tide. His laughter shook the earth, a cruel, twisted sound.
"Subject this world to Z," Virex commanded, turning away. "Take prisoners. Kill the rest. Slaughter all that is needed."
The earth trembled. Bunkers split open, dragged screaming to the surface. From the soil itself, elemental beasts crawled forth, natural disasters given form.
Aviros raised his hands high, his smile vicious. "Let the symphony begin."
Hell has arrived on Earth.