"If I focus, I'll be able to see them." Ray closed his eyes and took a deep breath — his surroundings halted, the sensation was similar to being submerged in black-and-white stillness.
Upon opening his gaze — he saw it. The forest was littered with them: recently departed souls, from men, women, to children, wandering aimlessly.
Some were beneath the autumn trees, whimpering with somberness in their chests, unable to accept the ruin of their own demise.
Each soul carried the brutal mortal wound that had led them to the afterlife; whether it was being beheaded, bisected, or twisted, it was clear that they all died at the hands of an anomaly.
But they could not seem to find the path to either hell or paradise — they were stuck here, in Limbo.
Instinctively, Ray raised his right hand that possessed the black ring on his wedding finger, pointing it at the location of the departed souls.
"Should I reap every single one of you now?" he said, yet he lacked conviction in his words.
"What are you doing, mister?" came a voice suddenly. It was from his right. Ray immediately retracted his arm — it was a little girl calling him, snapping him back to his senses.
"Nothing, just admiring the autumn view. It's beautiful, isn't it?" Ray said softly, slowly softening his expression into a far friendlier one.
The little girl seemed confused. "Mister, are you here to help us?" she asked.
Ray refused to look at her, his gaze still far into the horizon — still witnessing the departed.
"You could say that. I'm here to help in some way," Ray said, the first thing that came to mind. His breath was fogging, and the temperature dropping noticeably.
The little girl looked happier and even let out a giggle. "Yay! Hey, mister, can you help my mother? She's sick and needs medicine…" she asked gently, even tugging at Ray's sleeves.
Ray knew there was nothing he could do, but he couldn't say no. He decided it was best to ask one of the medics for aid. He conjured a smile for the child — then finally looked at her.
"Fine. Lead me to your moth—" Ray's eyes widened.
"What's wrong, mister? Let's go!" she said, holding onto Ray's sleeve, trying to make him move.
Ray saw only a child's spirit in bloodied clothes, the true brutality of her wounds blurred by his mind.
Only then did the hunter realize...
"I'm talking to an apparition..."
The little girl kept asking why he was so silent, repeating, "Mister? Help us! Mister? Help me! Mister, please help, please help, my mother, she's dying, please save us! Please, please, please, please, please!"
"I'm sorry," Ray murmured, covering his eyes and controlling his breathing.
A high-pitched ringing filled his ears, drowning out all else. When the images of the deceased finally ceased — silence took hold
He opened his eyes to the autumn forest, leaves drifting down like rain. His senses had returned, but the encounter with the paranormal still shaken him.
"I'll never get used to it," he said as he took out white mint tablets, giving himself three samples.
He tossed it into his mouth, savoring the cool, relaxing flavor. After swallowing, the mint left a sharp chill on his tongue as he exhaled.
"I'm not supposed to talk to the dead," he murmured, his expression was a mirror, trying not to shatter.
He cracked his neck and stretched his shoulders to get the blood pumping. "Move on, Ray," he said to himself, focusing on his objective: finding the chief.
Trying to steady his heartbeat, Ray made his way back to the camp. He scoured the refugee site and asked around, but got no clear answers.
Unable to find the chief, he settled beside the armored vehicle, unwilling to waste any more energy.
Idol Music blared from inside.
"These people love that kind of music," Ray remarked, perched on the edge of the transport doorway.
A grunt and heavy stomping followed, then a loud yell: "Can somebody turn down that damn music?!" The voice was gruff, and aged.
The guard who had played the pop music panicked — he immediately rushed to turn off the radio.
"Bunch of unprofessional bastards," the voice muttered. Ray then heard footsteps approaching him.
"Good afternoon. You Ray? The hunter sent by the Corporation?" The man who had yelled earlier approached.
"Apologies for the delay… took a good ol' piss. Can't rush that kind of stuff, eh?" It was none other than Chief Anderson himself, an older American man with an impeccable beard.
"He took him that long to take a piss? And I really didn't need to know that information," Ray thought, forcing the discomfort down as he turned to the chief. "I am… pleased to meet you."
The chief offered a handshake, and Ray stood up from the vehicle's doorway before firmly accepting it.
"Did he use the same hand he used when he took a piss?" Ray worried, he was unsure how to react.
He decided not to voice anything, hoping the old veteran had at least cleaned his hands before the handshake.
But realistically, the chief didn't.
After the handshake, the chief noticed how pale and ghostly the hunter before him was — interesting as it was astonishing.
"Are third-generation hunters always this young?" he asked, he felt genuine curiosity over the Anomaly Hunter.
"Pardon?" Ray replied.
"Ah, excuse me," the chief said as he straightened his posture.
"I'm used to second-generation hunters — usually folks in their mid-thirties. Seeing an Anomaly Hunter this young… well, that's not something you see every day."
Ray wasn't surprised, it was an expected reaction. "I understand, third generations are quite new."
The chief let out a thoughtful hum. "Hmmm… so what's the difference between each generation?" he asked.
"If you really want to know, third-generation hunters like me are resistant to both the Red Plague and radiation," Ray explained, holding up his wedding finger. "This… is something only we possess — an anomalic artifact."
The chief took a closer look at the ring. He felt chills run down his spine. It looked like an ordinary, bad ring, but it carried the aura of an omen!
"Kid… does that thing actually do anything?" Anderson asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.
Ray gazed into the chief's eyes and said, "Indeed. This artifact allows us to harness the power of an anomaly."
The chief couldn't hide his bafflement. He took a step back. "Holy shit… are you hearing this?" he said to a nearby guard, who just shook his head in disbelief. "This kid's got a whole anomaly trapped in his ring! Unbelievable!"
The hunter couldn't waste any more time; he didn't want to be caught out at midnight. "May I know the situation?" he asked, attempting to change the subject.
Anderson collected himself and ordered the hunter to meet him inside a nearby tent for a briefing. Ray understood, but first, he went back into the armored vehicle.
He searched for his attaché case, perched on the narrow upper deck.
"There you are…" he muttered, carrying it with him to the largest tent within the refugee site.
Ray entered the tent and set the attaché case beside the main table. The surface was occupied with maps, documents, and scattered notes, the room dimly lit by a single overhead lamp.
Anderson motioned for him to take a seat across from him. "All right, Ray," he said, his voice serious. "Here's the situation…"
Ray nodded, resting his hands briefly on the table as he prepared himself.
"One week ago in Redpines Town, about three kilometers west of this refugee site, they were attacked by Caro Class anomalies," the chief began, showing disturbing images of physical entities — undead/humanoid anomalies.
"These people had no choice but to abandon their homes in Redpines and seek refuge here. We did what we could to protect them with the few personnel we had," Anderson added.
The Anomaly Hunter felt a growing intrigue as he inspected the images, slowly realizing the scale of the threat.
"Chief, does that mean the anomalies moved out of their districts and attacked towns outside? They hadn't left their districts in over a decade. What could have made them move?" Ray asked, his voice a mix of perplexity and concern.
The Redpines were far from the nearest anomalic districts far west — Districts 19, 18, and 17 — making such an attack all the more alarming.
Anderson took a deep breath. "We don't know. And more of them are gathering in the town as we speak. If all the anomalies suddenly start moving out, the towns further northeast won't stand a chance. We don't have enough personnel to stop them."
A paused as Anderson suddenly gave Ray a serious look.
"What's your move, Anomaly Hunter? Think you can do something about this? Can you even handle all of it?" the chief asked. He hoped that this man sent by the Corporation could perform miracles — but Ray was only one man, and the chief couldn't think of any realistic way for him to handle the entire predicament.
"I'll see what I can do…" Ray replied weakly.
"I'm not denying your capabilities, young man, but you are only one person. Why didn't Helix Corporation send more hunters and leave just you?" The chief didn't receive a response.
"I'm asking again — are you truly capable of handling all of this?" the chief pressed, his tone unyielding. This was a life-or-death situation, and he wasn't about to let it go.
Interestingly enough, Ray took out his mint tablets again and ate three of them, calming his nerves. "Chief Anderson, not to sound cynical, but I am more than capable of committing an entire genocide on my own. Rest assured, I'll dispatch all of them."
The sudden shift in his tone caught the chief's interest — It wasn't just that, Ray's dark red eyes were intensified with murderous intent.
Yet the chief chuckled, a deep, gravelly sound. "This is ludicrous! Forty-five years ago, I'd have roasted you for talking like that. Hell, the words coming out of your mouth barely make any sense!" He let his laughter roll on, shaking his head, while Ray stayed silent, letting the old veteran finish his musings.
The chief reached for his olive-green canteen, unscrewed the cap, and took a long pull. The metal hissed slightly as he replaced the cap, the corners of his mouth curling into a brief, tired smile.
He turned toward the flap of the tent. "Ray," he said, "I'm entrusting not just my life, but the lives of all these refugees to you. Take your time to prepare… make sure you're ready."
With that, he slung the canteen over his shoulder and slowly stepped out of the tent, the soft thud of his boots on the ground — It was his departure.
Ray was alone with his thoughts, the responsibility of the mission heavy on his shoulders. He let out a deep sigh and slowly carried his attaché briefcase to the table.
Placing it on the seat, he opened it with a click of its locks to reveal a neatly molded layout of various tools.
"Business as usual," he murmured.
Chapter End.