The air was heavy.
Nero stepped forward.
Seraphine's five orbs spun—light forming between them. Not warm. Not soft. Just… pure. It stretched outward, shaping itself into a perfect circle. The other side couldn't be seen—only white.
Everyone, including the General, saluted.
Nero returned it.
Then he stepped through.
The portal closed behind him.
Inside, there was nothing but light.
No shadows. No depth. Just white—endless, stretching in every direction. The ground beneath his feet felt solid, but everything else felt… absent.
Nero didn't look back.
He didn't stop.
He just walked.
Each step echoed, hollow and distant—the only sound besides his breathing. There was no path, no direction. So he moved toward what felt like forward.
After a few steps, something changed.
A shape.
Faint at first—then clearer. Color bleeding through the white.
Nero's pace quickened.
Then faster.
Then he was running.
The echoes sharpened, footsteps chasing themselves.
"Finally… something that's not white," he muttered.
He pushed forward—
—and stepped through.
Thud.
Pain cracked across his forehead.
"Fuck—"
Leaves rustled overhead.
A low branch hung just low enough to catch him.
Nero blinked, steadying himself.
Behind him, the portal sealed shut.
"What a great start," Nero muttered, rubbing his forehead.
He looked around.
Forest.
Dense. Quiet. The kind of quiet that didn't feel natural.
Inside his mind, Angelo spoke.
"There's something strange in the air."
Nero's eyes narrowed as he scanned the surroundings.
"You're right. But it's not just in the air."
A brief pause.
"Yeah," Angelo replied, voice steady. "And we don't have time to figure it out. The portal's gone, and the sun's already setting. We need to get out of this forest—or at least find somewhere safe—before we run into anything dangerous."
Nero glanced at the sinking sun.
Then he turned away from it and moved.
East.
Twigs snapped. Dry leaves crunched under his boots as he pushed forward, carving small marks into the trees with his knife as he passed.
After a while, he stopped.
A tall tree stood ahead, its branches stretching above the canopy.
"We should climb," Angelo said. "Get a better view while there's still light."
Nero didn't answer.
He just moved.
Hands finding grip. Boots pressing into bark. He climbed with practiced ease, his pack still strapped to his back. Birds scattered as he rose, wings beating against the fading light.
At the top, he paused.
And looked.
The forest stretched endlessly—green swallowing the horizon in every direction.
"…It's massive," Nero murmured. "Miles, at least."
Angelo went quiet for a second—then,
"There. Slightly east. A clearing."
Nero focused.
A break in the trees. Small, but enough.
"Head there," Angelo said. "We'll lose light soon."
Nero didn't waste time.
He dropped down, branch to branch, controlled and precise until his boots hit the ground.
Then he ran.
The light faded fast.
By the time he reached the clearing, the sun had already dipped below the treeline—darkness creeping in from all sides.
He moved quickly.
Scouted the area.
No immediate threats.
Good enough.
Without wasting time, Nero set up his tent.
No fire.
Too risky.
The forest already felt wrong—he wasn't about to announce his presence.
Inside the tent, he flicked on a small flashlight. The beam cut through the darkness as he pulled out a pack of dry rations and ate in silence.
No comfort. Just fuel.
When he finished, he placed Oblivion beside him.
Protector stayed in his right hand.
Safety off.
"Just in case," he muttered.
Then he closed his eyes.
The forest was alive with sound.
Crickets. Owls. The soft rustle of leaves in the night.
Two hours passed.
Then Nero stirred.
He opened his eyes with a faint frown.
"Shouldn't have drunk that much water…" he muttered.
He stepped out of the tent, both weapons on him.
The air was cool.
Still.
He walked a few steps away and stopped by a tree.
Relieved himself.
And then—
The forest went quiet.
Not gradually.
All at once.
The crickets stopped.
The owls fell silent.
Even the wind seemed to die.
Nero's expression hardened.
He finished quickly, pulling the zipper up without taking his eyes off the darkness.
His hand moved instinctively.
Protector was in his grip.
He turned, slow and controlled, and started back toward the tent—every step measured, every sense alert.
Something was wrong.
As the tent came into view, the feeling sharpened.
He wasn't alone.
Something had followed him.
Nero flicked on his flashlight.
The beam cut through the darkness, sweeping across the trees. Birds burst from the branches, startled into flight.
Silence returned just as fast.
Then—
Crack.
A twig snapped.
Nero turned sharply.
The light caught it.
A wolf.
Low to the ground, teeth bared, a deep growl rumbling from its throat.
Nero raised his gun, finger settling on the trigger.
More shapes moved.
One.
Two.
Then several.
They stepped out from between the trees, surrounding him—growls overlapping, eyes reflecting in the beam.
"This is bad," Nero muttered.
He fired.
The muzzle flash tore through the darkness—
For a split second, everything was visible.
He was surrounded.
The shot echoed through the forest, sending distant wildlife scattering.
But the wolves didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
They held their ground.
Watching him.
Angelo's voice cut in, low.
"These wolves… something's off."
Nero's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Yeah."
The light steadied on one of them.
A horn.
Straight. Sharp. Protruding from its forehead.
"…They've got a single horn."
The wolves didn't attack.
Didn't retreat.
They just watched him.
And Nero watched back.
The wolves began to circle.
Slow. Measured. Patient.
Leaves shifted under their paws—soft, deliberate. A quiet rhythm forming in the dark.
Nero didn't move.
Didn't turn to follow them.
He only adjusted the flashlight slightly—keeping what he could in front of him.
Then—
Snap.
A shift in the rhythm.
Behind him.
A low growl cut through the silence.
Nero moved.
He turned instantly and fired—twice.
The muzzle flashes tore through the darkness, lighting up his face and the trees around him.
For a split second—
Everything was visible.
The first shot grazed the wolf's side.
The second missed.
Both rounds struck the tree behind it with a dull crack.
The wolf hit the ground with a pained whimper, missing Nero by inches as it slid past him.
No pause.
More movement.
More bodies.
They came from different directions.
Nero didn't look.
He listened.
A shift of leaves—he stepped aside.
A breath too close—he turned and fired.
A growl—low, rising—he moved before it peaked.
Each shot gave him a fragment.
A flash.
A position.
A pattern.
The darkness didn't lift—
But Nero began to understand it.
From the darkness beyond the circle, one wolf watched.
Bigger than the rest.
Jagged streaks of yellow ran across its body—like lightning frozen into its fur.
Nero had noticed it earlier.
But never long enough.
Never clear enough.
Then—
Crack.
A sharp, splitting sound tore through the forest.
A deafening howl followed.
It hit Nero like a shockwave—his body locking for a heartbeat, senses thrown off balance.
And just like that—
The attacks stopped.
Every wolf froze.
Nero's mind raced.
What was that…?
The big one?
Then they howled.
All of them.
Together.
The sound rose and collided, shaking the air itself.
Nero turned toward the source.
The pack leader stood still—watching him.
Its horn began to glow.
A dim yellow at first—
Then brighter.
Its fur lifted, standing on end as sparks began to crawl from the horn, spreading across its body in thin, violent lines.
Lightning.
Alive.
Breathing.
The others followed.
One by one—
Then all at once.
Their horns lit up.
Their bodies tensed.
Electricity spread through the pack, dancing across fur, snapping through the air.
The forest filled with the sound—
Cracking.
Snapping.
Like a storm building with nowhere to go.
Nero's eyes widened slightly at the shift.
Then they moved.
Faster.
Sharper.
Each lunge came like a bolt of lightning—followed by the delayed crack of thunder tearing through the forest.
Nero moved.
Barely.
A step too slow—air split where his neck had been.
A fraction too late—claws brushed past his coat.
It took everything.
Every sense.
Every instinct.
And still—
They were getting faster.
Brighter.
Harder to track.
The rhythm he had started to build… was breaking.
From the back, the Alpha watched.
Still.
Waiting.
Then it moved.
Lightning surged violently across its body as it lowered itself, muscles coiling.
From its perspective—
Nero was cornered.
Finished.
But Nero…
smiled.
"This just got easier," he muttered.
He let the flashlight fall.
Darkness swallowed everything—
Except the light.
His hand moved.
Oblivion.
Drawn in one smooth motion.
The moment the Alpha lunged—
Nero fired.
The shot roared like thunder itself.
The muzzle flash split the night—
And for that instant—
Everything became clear.
The bullet tore forward—
And struck.
The Alpha dropped.
But the pack didn't stop.
If anything—
The loss of their leader only drove them into a frenzy.
Feral.
Unstable.
Lightning snapping wildly across their bodies as they lunged again.
Nero adjusted.
Now—
He didn't chase sound.
He hunted light.
A flash—
He fired.
Another—
He turned, shot.
Miss.
A wolf grazed his side—
Claws tearing fabric, heat flashing across his ribs.
He stepped back.
Reset.
He tracked the moving lights, firing in rhythm—never wasting a shot—until the chamber held one round.
His hand dropped to his pocket.
Magazine out.
Fresh one in.
The motion was practiced, automatic.
Another flash—
He didn't hesitate.
Shot.
Hit.
One dropped.
Then another.
The forest became a storm of brief, violent illumination—lightning and gunfire tearing through the darkness in fragments.
Each second bought with precision.
Each mistake punished instantly.
Twice, Oblivion reached its last round.
Twice, Nero reloaded on instinct—never letting it click dry.
Then—
Silence.
The last glow flickered—
And died.
Nero stood still, breath steadying.
Around him—
bodies.
Burnt fur.
Faint smoke curling into the night air.
The storm was gone.
The forest stayed silent.
Too silent.
… Not even the insects came back.