At first, the Ijo seemed to recoil, likely because of the gunfire that, like a rain of glass shards, pierced its body. The creature, however, remained completely still, staring straight into Hansen's eyes as he advanced, firing wildly with his rifle aimed at the monster, as if he had seen it before—almost as if he knew it.
Before darting away at high speed and vanishing into the darkness of the corridor, the beast let out one final growl directly at the armed man, almost as if it were laughing. Its teeth seemed to gleam, especially because of the blood dripping from them, reflecting a faint, eerie light.
At that moment, Hansen rushed first to Toria, trying to wake her with light taps on her cheek.
"Doctor Skylar! Wake up!"
It was useless.
"Soldier, you take her," Hansen ordered.
"Yes, Sergeant," the soldier replied, lifting the girl into his arms while Hansen moved toward Abner, who could barely move, breathing with difficulty and emitting metallic, choking sounds.
"Lieutenant Abner!" Hansen knelt beside him, trying to lift him. "We have to get you out of here, sir!"
"Go… away…" The man's voice was completely distorted, like a broken radio filled with static.
"Don't worry! We'll get you to safety!"
Then, the Ijo attacked.
First, it targeted the two soldiers in front of it, disemboweling them before they even realized what was happening.
The monster then focused directly on Hansen. Moving swiftly to evade its blows, he kept firing at strategic points. During the first attack, as the creature lunged from above, Hansen shot it straight in the throat, then quickly rolled to the left as the monster slammed into the ground, driving its claws into the concrete and shattering it on impact.
The beast turned toward him again, visibly irritated, roaring in his face before launching another, more aggressive assault. Hansen dodged once more, firing repeatedly. Despite the sheer volume of bullets, they seemed to have no effect. The creature crashed into the wall, blasting a large hole through it, releasing smoke from ruptured pipes and producing a deafening boom.
The fight continued—Hansen and the soldiers firing and repositioning constantly in an attempt to wound the beast. Out of the ten of them, only three were armored, protected by dark blue Hertz-Type suits, rusted and worn with age. The monster leapt onto them, crushing them like rag dolls, hurling them around, tearing off limbs one by one, turning the corridor into a lake of blood and metal.
The Ijo began tearing the soldiers apart, one by one.
One of them—a young man, barely twenty—was inside a Hertz-Type suit.
Inside, the air was unbearably hot, suffocating due to the overheated, smoking engines. The boy was drenched in sweat, flushed, struggling to breathe, almost hurting himself with the effort. But worse than the heat was the fear—watching the creature slaughter and devour others in such cruel, sadistic ways. Frozen in terror, eyes locked on it as if staring at a monstrous insect, his rifle kept firing uncontrollably. All he could do was survive as long as possible.
Each breath grew heavier. His heart pounded wildly, as if it would burst out of his chest. The Ijo had already marked him. It knew he was prey worth taking.
Before going after him, the beast finished off a sixth soldier—ripping off his uniform, then tearing the skin from his face down to his chest in a single motion. The man writhed, trying desperately to escape, overwhelmed by the unbearable stench, crying in agony as even his tears burned against his flayed flesh. The creature scraped violently at the exposed tissue, completely destroying his face, ending his life in a grotesque manner.
Hansen watched in horror, stunned, utterly unable to save him. The man reached out toward him, screaming for help in a voice filled with despair, staring at him with his last remaining eye—bleeding, trembling—while his entrails were flung aside like discarded clothing.
Hansen couldn't react.
"I don't know what to do…"
He stood there, shaken. A splitting headache hit him, followed by a wave of nausea as he stared at that ruined mass of flesh.
And yet, despite everything, he gripped his rifle tighter than before and fired again.
Each shot felt heavier than the last.
For a brief moment, Hansen poured all his hatred into the creature. His expression turned feral. His eyes reddened, veins bulging at his temples. His lips twisted unnaturally, teeth grinding so hard they seemed ready to crack.
Terror and rage consumed him.
And something else.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at what remained of his comrade. The disgust he felt wasn't for the blood, the exposed flesh, the scattered organs, or even the eye slipping from its socket and bouncing faintly against the floor with a sickening sound.
No.
The real disgust was for himself.
He hadn't saved anyone.
They were all dead.
And he didn't even blame the monster.
He blamed himself.
I know I'm weak… I always have been. How can I protect my daughter if I can't even protect myself? What kind of father am I? I'm pathetic… I've always been pathetic. I hate it. I know it—and that just makes me even worse…
There are five of us left… what can we even do? We're just meat. Just disposable flesh… flesh that isn't worth keeping alive…
Flesh… flesh…
FLESH! FLESH! FLESH!
"You're going to die, bastard!"
Hansen was drenched in blood that wasn't his own. His shattered soul suffered for others—it always had. He wanted to protect.
Instead, he brought death.
That was what enraged him. What consumed him. What slowly devoured him from within, like jaws grinding endlessly in a dark, unrelenting mental torment.
That was what made him perfect for Oberhaupt.
If only I had my armor… I'd tear you apart… he thought.
Despite his gunfire, Hansen couldn't harm the creature. It was as if it were immune.
Then, suddenly, he ran out of bullets.
The Ijo slowly turned its gaze toward him.
It didn't attack.
It simply looked at him—almost with interest.
Hansen, on the other hand, felt a terror unlike any other. His mind began to fracture. He had felt this before.
And he didn't want to feel it again.
The creature understood him completely. That single flicker of fear, those small backward steps, the ragged breathing—those were enough to tell it his moment of defiance was over.
Done playing hero? it might as well have thought.
Then it shifted its attention to the boy in the Hertz-Type.
The boy panicked, firing wildly at the monster, which once again remained completely unaffected.
A few seconds passed.
Darkness fell—like a sunset collapsing into night. Everything turned cold, silent.
The boy stared at the Ijo in pure terror.
The gaze was returned—but not with fear.
Even though the creature had no visible eyes, the boy couldn't stop seeing them—pale, white eyes with a single black iris, ringed with blood and black smoke. He saw dozens of them. Hundreds. All staring at him.
All smiling.
Then, suddenly, he was on the ground.
The creature had leapt onto him, tearing apart the mechanical layers of his armor to reach him.
The boy lay there, paralyzed, unable to feel anything but terror. As the beast drew closer, he seemed to understand his fate—without ever accepting it.
To him, it felt like a sudden, inevitable event. Like catching a fatal illness. Like a car crash. Like falling backward and hitting your head. Like a heart attack.
Horrible.
But inevitable.
And so, it had to end this way.
The Ijo tore him apart, reducing his body to shreds.