"How many fucking more are there?!" Duncan screamed, paralyzed by terror as he continued to spray his submachine gun at the countless Ijo swarming him, his comrades, and five other soldiers in a desperate flight through the dark corridor. "And why won't they die?!"
In just a few hours, Base Florio had become a literal slaughterhouse. The three Ijo that had initially appeared had multiplied one after another, completely invading and infesting every room, mercilessly slaughtering anyone in their path.
Duncan, Raiko, and David were the only Oberhaupt unit soldiers present in those labyrinthine tunnels deep in the base's sub-levels. The place was rotted by mold and reeked of stale urine; it was almost pitch black, illuminated only by the rhythmic muzzle flashes of their gunfire. Despite wearing their armor, they hadn't sealed their helmets, which remained open in three sections—two on the sides and one at the back of the neck—like the petals of a flower. Activating them was a resource to be used with the utmost discretion and precision.
At least four Ijo were hot on their heels, their forms more inhuman and distorted than the human mind could conceive. They were made of rotting, open, pulsing flesh. Some were vaguely humanoid but moved with animalistic speed, running on four or more limbs like feral dogs. Their sharp teeth were exposed on grotesque faces scarred by spines and small horns, and they emitted roars and ear-splitting shreaks that intensified as they echoed through the tunnel.
"Can anyone hear me?!" one of the soldiers shouted into the radio near his collar while frantically firing at the advancing Ijo. "We're trapped in the sub-levels! They're hounding us through the whole basement! I don't know how, but they seem coordinated—it's a trap! We need reinforcements!"
As he spoke, desperate and distracted, he didn't notice he was falling behind the others. They began to call out to him, urging him to run faster.
Suddenly, his ankle gave way. The soldier hit the ground hard, his back and the base of his skull slamming against the wet concrete floor. The impact split his head open, and blood immediately began to pool beneath him.
The boys saw it. Only David reacted. "Hey! Get up!" He tried to stop and turn back to help. He was immediately intercepted and violently shoved back by Duncan, who threw an arm across his chest, struggling to hold back his friend as David begged him to let go.
"We have to save him!"
"David, stop it and run!" Duncan implored, fighting against the boy's strength. In that exact moment, David witnessed the Ijo's brutal onslaught upon the fallen soldier. Time seemed to slow down for the man on the ground, giving him the fleeting illusion of a chance to escape—though in reality, it was just a pause, a tiny moment of peace meant to break his tension before the imminent massacre.
In that moment, staring fixedly at the monstrosities charging him, his heart racing and his body wracked with hysterical tears and uncontrollable spasms, the soldier began to imagine a different world. He let his mind wander, trying to meet death with at least a faint smile. At first, it was subtle: he found himself at home, curled up on the sofa sleeping after a long day at school, covered by a warm, woolen brown throw blanket speckled with grey dust motes. Then, his mother's voice called out softly, "Ettore, dinner's ready!" The boy didn't answer, lost in a deep sleep, his head wrapped in the blanket with only his nose and slightly open mouth peeking out. Shortly after, he heard slow, pleasant footsteps—tock... tock—against the hard tiles. Then, he felt a hand gently stroking his back, from top to bottom, a touch of warmth that made him smile in his sleep. "What a sleepyhead you are... come on, get up! It's time to eat!"
The child felt a flicker of unease. His mother's sweet voice began to distort; slowly, it grew deeper, taking on a metallic edge and emitting horrible rasps that terrified him. Then, he felt heavy, foul-smelling drops hitting the blanket and splashing onto his face, soaking his ear.
Suddenly, he was in a silent, empty hospital room, dimly lit by the faint light coming through an open window along with a cool breeze. A young girl lay in the bed, her exhausted, weary gaze illuminated by the orange glow of the sun, which made her brown eyes shimmer before she turned away, blocking the light to look down at the swaddled infant in her arms. The man approached slowly, eager to meet his newborn son. As he drew near, the woman looked him straight in the eyes with a sweet, lingering gaze, as if she had been waiting for nothing but him. But then, his happiness was violently shattered. The baby he hoped would be the most beautiful child in the world was a hideous, larval creature with sharp legs and large, shiny black eyes covering its body. Its beaked mouth opened to emit bone-chilling whimpers, revealing small, blood-stained teeth as it aggressively devoured the woman's breast. Only then did the man notice that the bed and floor were dripping with blood spilling from her chest—torn wide open and chewed through, leaving a gaping hole from her neck to her lower abdomen. Her few remaining intact organs no longer gave off heat, only a stench of rot. Looking back at her face, he saw it was lifeless, her eyes covered in mold; one of them liquefied in that exact moment, followed by the rest of her body.
In that moment, the man felt more than just terror; the world seemed to collapse on him. A wave of shame hit him with such force that he felt himself drowning in despair, condemning himself for being unable to build happy memories, blaming himself for having a rotted conscience that didn't deserve salvation. The truth was, he never knew his mother—she had abandoned him as an infant. He had wanted to marry that woman; she was the joy of his life. But that hellish virus had consumed her flesh before he could ever confess his feelings, turning every future plan into a nightmare to be sealed away forever.
Seconds later, he was gone.
The soldier was devoured alive by the monsters. He didn't even have time to let out a final breath.
David stared at the scene, petrified. Raiko did the same for a moment, equally traumatized—not just by the monsters' brutality, but by the young man's mangled body. His disfigured, blood-stained face, with eyes and jaw hanging loose, were the last things she saw.
What truly terrified them was the sudden appearance from the shadows of yet another Ijo. It stood upright, its pale grey body pulsing with a faint orange light with every spasm. Though it appeared slender, it was nearly seven feet tall. It possessed two pairs of long, corded, venous arms, along with other shorter, stubbier pairs integrated into its torso and belly—arms that looked as if they had been grafted on later, stolen from butchered carcasses. It seemed to be doing the same with the young soldier's corpse, violently ripping at it, the sound of scraping skin and tearing flesh making a disgusting, obscene noise.
Finally, it turned toward the fleeing soldiers and let out a scream so powerful and violent that it generated a massive shockwave through the sub-levels, shaking the very air and the walls, staggering the boys for a brief, heart-stopping moment.