The Raider Armory was a massive hangar filled with the smell of sweat, oil, and gunpowder. It felt like a temple where soldiers checked their final magazines before going on a mission.
Eray threw the Standard Recon Form onto the counter in front of the logistics officer. When the officer saw the look on Eray's face, he asked no questions and turned toward the shelves behind him.
A few minutes later, a heavy pile of metal was placed on the table.
"MK-4 Steam-Assisted Exoskeleton. Light infantry model," the officer said, reciting from memory."One 'Lightning' model rifle. 7.62mm, fires rune-enhanced rounds. And a standard survival kit."
Eray examined the armor. As technology advanced, armor had not become slimmer. Instead, it had grown more brutal. A small pressure gauge was mounted on the chest plate, and a fist-sized Ether Crystal slot was embedded in the back. The crystal powered the hydraulics and reduced the weight, but the wearer still felt like a walking tank.
As Eray put the armor on, the officer handed him a small case.
"Special order from the General. He wants you to take two extra crystals. Said you might need them on the way back."
The way back… if there is one.
Eray said nothing. He locked the helmet into place. His field of view narrowed, and the metallic smell inside the suit grew stronger. He secured the rifle to his back with a magnetic lock. At his belt, he placed his personal relic: a short but heavy Trench Knife, its grip wrapped in black leather.
When he returned to Hangar 4, the dimensional gate was already operating at full capacity. The sound it made was like thousands of souls screaming at once. The gate had turned into a swirling tunnel of purple and black.
A technician standing at the platform raised his hand and gestured for Eray to go.
There was no ceremony.No farewell.Just a hand signal and the unknown.
Eray took a deep breath. This was the last air of Earth he would breathe. Then, with heavy metal steps, he walked toward the gate.
The moment he touched its surface, it felt like diving into icy water.
_ _ _
nterdimensional travel was nauseating even inside ships. Crossing alone, with nothing but armor, felt like feeding your body into a grinder.
Eray's vision darkened. His mind blurred. Gravity vanished. The static from his radio turned into screams. It felt as if every atom in his body was torn apart and forced back together.
Seconds stretched into hours.
Then, a sudden impact.
THUD!
Eray slammed into solid ground. The air rushed out of his lungs. The suit's hydraulics groaned as they absorbed the shock, but his ribs still ached.
He lay still for a few seconds.
And listened.
There was no endless machine noise like in the Raiders base. This place was silent. Not a peaceful silence, but the silence of a predator waiting for its prey.
He lifted his head and looked through the dust-covered visor.
This was Umbra.
The sky was a sickly shade of purple, and the clouds moved slowly, as if they were alive. There was no sun. Instead, a cracked, moon-like object hung on the horizon, casting dim light over the land.
Groaning, Eray pushed himself to his feet. The weight of the armor felt doubled under this dimension's gravity. He looked around.
He had landed in the middle of ruins. The structures did not resemble human architecture. They were curved, sharp towers made of glossy black stone. All of them were shattered, broken, and covered in reddish plant growth.
"Control," Eray said, pressing the radio."Control, do you read me? Code: Shadow-One. Landing confirmed."
Crrrrzzzz…
Only static. As expected.
Eray raised his rifle and disengaged the safety.
Click.
The sound echoed through the silence like thunder.
He checked the scanner on the rough screen attached to his wrist.
"Atmosphere: breathable, high toxicity. Oxygen level: eighteen percent. Ether density: four hundred percent."
Four hundred percent?
Eray narrowed his eyes. That meant magic was four times stronger here than on Earth. And four times more deadly.
He moved forward. His boots crushed the ash-like soil beneath him. His goal was to find traces of the missing recon teams the General had mentioned. Maybe he could learn what had happened to them.
After about a hundred meters, a familiar smell reached his nose.
Blood. And rotten flesh.
When he stepped around a rock, he saw the wreckage of one of the Raiders' heavy tanks. A Holy-II Crusher model. Its metal plates were torn and bent inward, as if it had been crushed like a tin can.
Eray approached the wreck carefully. The claw marks on the tank were as large as a human torso.
"What kind of thing could do this?" he whispered.
He looked inside. There were no bodies. Only blood splattered everywhere and… something shining on the ground.
He bent down and picked it up.
A Raider dog tag. Covered in bite marks.
At that moment, a sound came from the strange forest behind the wreck. Red vines twisted around the trees.
It was not a branch breaking.
It was a wet, heavy breathing sound.
Eray aimed his rifle in that direction.
Two yellow eyes glowed in the darkness.
Then two more.
And two more.
The General had been right.
This was not just a rich mining site.This was a hunting ground.
And dinner service had just begun.