The streets were a graveyard.
Once buzzing with traffic and noise, now only echoes of distant screams and the crackle of dying fires remained. Aron Piper walked at the front of the formation, eyes sharp, body tense. Behind him followed a squad of ten gang members — loyal to Sin, armed by the military, all on a mission that felt more like a robbery than survival.
Their destination: the National Reserve Bank.
Sin's plan was clear — while the world burned under alien assault, they would gather wealth, not weapons. "When the world resets," Sin had said, "the richest will rebuild it."
But to Aron, the order stank of desperation… or something worse.
Inside the bank, the air was thick with dust and silence. The massive vault doors still stood, untouched by looters. No one had made it this far… or dared to. Explosives were set, and with a controlled detonation, the gates of greed were blasted open.
Stacks of money, gold bars, loose diamonds — untouched fortune glistened under emergency lighting.
They began loading everything.
But Aron felt uneasy. Too easy. Too clean.
"No bodies, no aliens… just treasure?" he muttered, scanning the darkness.
"Maybe we're lucky," Jalen, one of the soldiers, replied.
"No such thing in war," Aron said coldly.
Minutes passed. The bags were nearly full. And then — silence shattered.
*A deep growl.*
The air shifted. The vault's lights flickered. From a far wall, a hulking shape emerged, shadow stretching across the room.
It wasn't a Level 1.
This one was massive — easily over eight feet tall. Thick armored skin shimmered with black-green scales. Tentacles slithered from its spine, and eight glowing red eyes pierced the dimness like spotlights.
*A Level 2.*
"Fire!" Aron shouted instantly.
Bullets flew.
But they did nothing.
The alien surged forward, smashing into the group. One tentacle pierced a man's chest and yanked his soul — a sickening glow pouring into the alien's body as the victim turned grey and lifeless.
Screams filled the chamber.
Grenades exploded, momentarily engulfing the creature in smoke and flame — but as the dust settled, it remained, only angrier.
Aron sprinted behind a pillar, panting, heart racing. "We're outmatched!"
"Keep fighting!" someone yelled.
Another man was ripped apart. Two more were slammed against the walls. Within seconds, half the squad was dead.
Aron rolled and grabbed a plasma rifle. He aimed for the creature's eyes — and hit one.
It shrieked, staggering.
That gave him hope.
The team rallied. A barrage of concentrated fire slammed into the monster's face. Another eye burst. It howled, enraged.
But then… it adapted.
Tentacles snapped forward, slicing through their formation. One tentacle impaled Jalen and flung him across the room. Another grabbed two men and smashed their heads together like melons.
Now only Aron and two others remained.
"We need to fall back!" one cried.
They never got the chance.
A tentacle shot from the shadows and wrapped around the man, squeezing until bones cracked. The last survivor charged the beast with a grenade in hand — screaming — but was swatted midair like a fly, his body splattering against the vault wall.
Now Aron stood alone.
He was bloodied, limping, ribs shattered from a previous blow. Still, he stood firm.
"Come on then," he muttered. "Let's finish this."
He reached for a high-powered energy grenade — the last one.
As the alien charged, Aron sprinted forward, ducked a tentacle, and shoved the grenade directly beneath the monster's legs.
The explosion rocked the vault, sending debris flying.
The creature roared, stumbling. It had lost balance, one leg partially blown.
Aron took his shot.
He charged, blade in hand, leaping onto its back. He stabbed downward — but the blade bounced off.
The alien twisted, wrapped a tentacle around his waist, and slammed him into the ground. Then again. And again.
Bones cracked.
Blood poured from Aron's mouth.
He struggled to move, but his strength was gone. His vision blurred.
The alien loomed over him, eyes glowing, tentacle raised.
Aron's last thought was of Louisa.
Then darkness.