Zenjiro's fingers fumbled for the small earpiece in his jacket pocket, the communication device every Shadow Crane trainee received on their first day. He had rarely used it because he had nothing worth reporting.
But now, with that thing charging at him like a freight train, he jammed it into his ear with shaking hands.
"Code Red! Code Red!" Zenjiro gasped into the mic, his voice cracking. "Jonakvi High School, main gates. There are... these things... people are turning into monsters!"
The creature was ten meters away. Then five.
"Zenjiro?!" A female voice crackled through, sharp and familiar. Yuki. She was his age, eighteen, but already a full operative. While he struggled with basic forms, she had completed three actual missions. Infiltration, extraction, and one rumored assassination, though she never confirmed it. "Where the hell are you? What is happening?"
"Outside the school! There are these creatures...."
"HIDE!" Her voice made him wince. "You are not ready for combat! Find cover NOW!"
The creature lunged.
Instinct took over. Zenjiro threw himself sideways and rolled across the concrete in a moment of pure survival reflex.
Pain exploded through his already battered ribs, but the creature's claws scraped empty air where his head had been a second before.
"I can't hide!" He scrambled to his feet. "It is right on me!"
"Then RUN, you idiot!"
But he could not run. Behind him, students were still running out of the school building, panicked and oblivious. If he ran, this thing would tear through them. Miraza was back there somewhere.
The creature spun toward him with its neck cracking at an unnatural angle. Saliva dripped from its distended jaw, mixed with something black and viscous.
"I am engaging," Zenjiro said as he tried to sound braver than he felt.
"ZENJIRO, NO! You are not..."
He pulled the earpiece slightly away from his ear because he needed to focus. Master Kurogane's voice echoed in his head. A Crane does not face the enemy head-on. We strike from angles they cannot see.
The creature charged again.
This time he was ready. Sort of.
Zenjiro sidestepped at the last possible second, just like he had practiced a hundred times in the dojo. The creature's momentum carried it past him, and he drove his fist into what he thought might be its kidney area, or where a kidney used to be before it became whatever this thing was.
His knuckles connected with something hard and wrong. It felt like punching a bag of rocks wrapped in rubber.
The creature barely flinched.
"Shit," he breathed.
It whirled around faster than anything that size should move. One massive arm swept toward him. He ducked and felt the air whistle above his head. He needed to counter-attack. Go for the joints. The weak points. He aimed a strike at its knee.
His fist bounced off uselessly.
"Zenjiro, status!" Yuki's voice was frantic in his ear. "Answer me!"
"It is not working!" He dodged another swipe with his feet dancing backward. "Nothing I do is hurting it!"
The creature was learning his pattern. Each dodge was getting closer, its claws grazing his uniform and his hair. His body screamed in protest from the beating he had taken earlier. His ribs felt like they were grinding together with every breath.
He threw another punch, a strike aimed at its throat. It connected. The creature's head snapped back.
For one beautiful second, he thought he had done something.
Then it looked at him, and if that thing could smile, it was smiling.
Its claw shot out faster than he could react. He tried to dodge, but his battered body was too slow.
The impact felt like being hit by a car.
Zenjiro flew backward, his body ragdolling through the air before slamming into the concrete. The world spun. The taste of blood filled his mouth. He tried to stand, but his legs would not cooperate.
The creature stalked toward him and took its time now. It knew he was finished.
"Zenjiro!" Yuki was screaming. "ZENJIRO!"
He could hear her, but his voice would not work. He tried to push himself up, but his arms gave out. The creature loomed over him, its shadow swallowing him whole. Its jaw unhinged impossibly wide, revealing rows of jagged teeth dripping with black ichor.
He did not want to die.
The creature's head shot down toward his throat.
Then a blade erupted through its skull.
Black blood sprayed across Zenjiro's face, burning like acid. The creature's body went rigid with its jaw frozen inches from his neck. Behind it, standing on its back, was a figure in dark tactical gear.
Master Kurogane.
He twisted the blade, a sleek and matte black combat knife, and the creature collapsed sideways like a puppet with its strings cut.
The master landed in a perfect crouch. Even in the chaos, he made it look effortless.
"Stupid boy," he groaned. "You should have listened to Yuki."
He grabbed Zenjiro's jacket collar and hauled him to his feet with one hand. Zenjiro stumbled, his legs barely supporting his weight.
"I had to. The students..."
"You nearly died." His eyes were hard behind his mask. "Your form is sloppy. Your reaction time is too slow. You don't know the kill points on these things yet." He shoved something into Zenjiro's hand. It was a small, black cylinder. A smoke grenade. "You're not ready for this level of threat. You'll only get yourself killed, and I don't have time to keep saving you."
"I know, but..."
"Silence." His tone left no room for argument. "When I say run, you run. Understood?"
Before Zenjiro could answer, three more of those creatures burst from around the corner of the school building. They moved together, coordinated like a pack of wolves.
Master Kurogane's stance shifted subtly.
"Run. NOW."
Zenjiro did not argue. He pulled the pin on the smoke grenade and dropped it. White smoke billowed out instantly and engulfed everything. Through the haze, he could hear the master moving. The whisper of his blade. The wet sounds of impact. The screeches of the creatures cut short.
He ran.
Behind him, the sounds of combat faded into the smoke. His earpiece crackled. He slightly adjusted it back.
"Zenjiro! Kurogane found you?" Yuki's voice was slightly calmer now. "Listen carefully. We are establishing a rally point at the old warehouse on Seventh Street. Can you make it there?"
"I..." Zenjiro looked back at the white smoke, now tinged with black. "Master Kurogane is..."
"He can handle himself. We need all operatives at the rally point. The whole city is going to hell."
He wanted to argue. He wanted to go back and help, but he knew the truth. He would just be in the way. Master Kurogane had saved his life because he was too weak to save his own.
"Understood," he whispered. "I am heading there now."
"And Zenjiro?" Yuki's voice softened slightly. "I am glad you are alive. Even if you are a stubborn idiot."
The line went dead.
Zenjiro started running through streets that had become a warzone, weaving between abandoned cars and fleeing civilians. Screams echoed from every direction. Buildings burned.
His body was failing. He froze when another creature ran toward him.
He screamed inwardly at himself to move. Move, you idiot!
But his legs would not obey. He stood there, frozen, as the thing took a step toward him. Then another. It was savoring the moment, like it knew he could not run.
A car horn blared.
Someone grabbed his arm and yanked him backward just as a pickup truck swerved between him and the creature. It clipped the monster's shoulder and sent it sprawling. He did not see who saved him. They were already gone, swallowed by the chaos.
"Zenjiro!"
He spun around and saw Miraza running toward him from across the street. Her school uniform was dirty and her hair was a mess, but she was alive. Thank God, she was alive.
When she reached him, her eyes went wide. "Oh my God, your face! Is that blood? Are you hurt?" Her hands reached for him, trembling as she checked for injuries.
"It's not mine." He wiped at the black ichor still burning on his cheek. "It's from one of those things."
"Those things?" Her voice cracked. "Zenjiro, what the hell is happening?"
"I don't know. But we need to move."
"My parents are still at home!" Her voice broke. "I need to get to them..."
"That's stupid." Zenjiro grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "Your house is on the east side, right? We'd have to cross through the commercial district. That's where most of the attacks are happening."
"But my parents..."
"Will want you alive," he cut her off. "We need to get somewhere secure first. The old community center, the police station. Anywhere with walls and other people. Then we figure out how to reach them."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she nodded. "Okay. Okay, you're right."
"Come on." He grabbed her hand. "Stay close."
They ran.
The streets were a war zone. Cars were abandoned in the middle of the road, some still running with doors hanging open. Store windows were shattered. Fires burned unchecked. Bodies lay in the street. Some were still human, but some were already changing.
Zenjiro tried not to look at the bodies. He tried not to think about the fact that he knew some of these people. The baker who always gave him extra bread. The old man who fed the stray cats. All gone.
They cut through an alley, their shoes splashing through something wet Zenjiro did not want to identify. Behind them, the snarls and screams continued. The creatures were spreading too fast.
"There!" Miraza pointed ahead.
A group of people had gathered near the old community center, maybe fifteen or twenty of them. Some were trying to board up the windows while others stood guard with whatever they could find. Baseball bats. Pipes. Even a fire extinguisher.
They sprinted toward them.
"Help! Let us in!" Miraza screamed.
A guy maybe a few years older than them saw them coming and waved frantically. "Hurry up!"
They were almost there when Zenjiro heard a low, guttural growl right behind them.
He glanced back and his heart stopped. Three of them. Three of those twisted, mutated things running on all fours like rabid dogs. They were fast. Way faster than they should be.
"Do not stop!" the guy yelled as he pushed the door open wider.
Ten feet away. Five feet.
They dove through the entrance, and hands immediately grabbed them, pulling them inside. Someone slammed the door shut just as one of the creatures crashed into it. The impact shook the entire frame. Claws scraped against the wood, and that horrible snarling echoed through the building.
"Are you bitten?" a woman demanded. She grabbed Miraza by the shoulders and checked her over.
"No! No, we are fine!" Miraza gasped as she bent over to catch her breath.
The woman checked Zenjiro next, her hands rough but efficient. "You are lucky. One bite is all it takes. I have seen people turn in minutes."
Minutes. That was all it took to lose your humanity. Minutes.
Zenjiro looked around the room. Most of the people here were in shock and sitting against walls with blank stares. A few were crying quietly. One man was frantically trying to call someone on his phone, but Zenjiro could hear the automated message even from there. All circuits are busy.
"What crashed in the forest?" Zenjiro asked the woman. "What started this?"
She shook her head, her face pale. "No one knows for sure. Some think it's a chemical weapon, a virus. Maybe even bioterrorism. The news was reporting on it this morning before the broadcasts cut out. They said scientists were being sent to investigate, but..." She trailed off, looking at the door where claws still scraped against wood.
Zenjiro's jaw tightened. A chemical weapon. A virus.
But he knew better.
He stepped away from the group, moving to the boarded-up window. Through a crack in the wood, he could see shadows moving in the street. More of them gathering.
"The same corporation that made those poor animals turn into Alimabies," he whispered to himself, his breath fogging the glass, "is likely responsible for innocent humans turning into beasts."
Gimda Corporation.
It had to be. Three years ago, the first Core landed and animals transformed overnight. The government called it a natural phenomenon, but the Shadow Cranes knew better. There were rumors. Whispers in the archives about corporate experiments, about gene manipulation research that predated the first Core by years.
And now humans were turning.
His hand curled into a fist against the wall.
This wasn't an accident. This was deliberate.
Outside, the scratching at the door continued. More of them were gathering, drawn by the noise and the scent of prey trapped inside.
"We can not stay here," a teenage boy said from the corner. He was holding a metal pipe so tight his knuckles were white. "They will break through eventually. We need to find somewhere more secure."
"Like where?" someone snapped. "The whole city is overrun!"
"The police station! The military base on the outskirts!"
"You think they are still standing? Wake up! This is everywhere!"
The argument escalated. Voices rose and panic spread like its own infection.
Zenjiro tuned them out. His hands were still shaking from the fight. He looked at his bruised knuckles, the ones that had bounced off the creature's skin like it was armor. He wasn't just outmatched; he was obsolete. If Gimda had turned the world into a game of predators and prey, he was currently at the bottom of the food chain.
I need to be stronger, he thought.