—Fire! … Run! Quickly!—people shouted; the scorching flames were devouring their homes. No one could tell whether it was dusk or nightfall.
The sky had disappeared, swallowed by a thick mass of black smoke that covered everything.
There was no ray of light left, only ash suspended in the air. The crackling of embers mingled with hurried footsteps.
Everything was chaos in the village. People rushed from one side to another, fearful, colliding with each other… Everything resounded like a vibration without order, as if the ground itself were trembling.
Amid the uproar stood a girl with jet-black hair and ocean-blue eyes in which the flames were reflected.
—Dad… Mom!
She seemed lost, searching for her parents. She wandered aimlessly when someone passed in front of her and stepped into the mud.
Splash!
Muddy water splashed onto her face; some of it entered her eyes and mouth.
Cough… cough
She coughed; everything became blurry. She could barely make out human shapes running, bodies distorted by smoke and fear.
Then her pupils dilated. Goosebumps warned her of danger, and her ears were deafened.
Tap. Tap.
Firm, regular footsteps advanced at the same rhythm; a sound too perfect. Though she did not perceive it consciously, her mind interpreted it.
From behind the curtain of smoke emerged dark silhouettes. Men dressed in black garments, covered from head to toe. These uniformed men could be described as immaculate; they stood out amid all that.
The girl was absorbed by the scene. Those figures carried weapons in their hands… They were a dull metallic silver, like pieces of steel assembled without any recognizable form; along the length of the weapon ran a strip of violet light. The violet light pulsed from left to right. Each pulse was accompanied by a deep hum, like the heartbeat of a living machine. The sound grew in intensity, entering a charging cycle, as if the weapon were holding something about to be released.
The girl did not understand what those things were. Something inside her told her she should not keep looking.
She turned her head and ran hastily through the crowd.
One of those men raised his weapon. Beside the girl, a completely distracted villager was shot directly in the head. The man's face was completely disfigured.
The girl's face froze in horror.
—Hii…—
She let out a whimper. She was about to cry out loud, but held back; she closed her eyes and kept running, sobbing.
—MOM!— she screamed desperately as tears streamed down her face.
The men seemed to laugh loudly; she did not hear them. As she stumbled forward, the girl saw the shots from those weapons strike the faces of many people she knew—people who had once treated her kindly, offered her food and drink. Ahead, women fled with their children in their arms; the flash struck them from behind. Bodies collapsed, lifeless, into the mud.
Young people who had treated her like a little sister tried to shield her, push her into an alley, and make her run faster. The few who survived—and they were few, because the shots were precise and almost perfect—only did so when other bodies covered them. But it was not enough. The beams reached them one by one.
—Agh… aaaagh!
—Kyaaa!
—Snif… snif
Those who had not been shot in the head agonized. The villagers screamed; it was clear that being dead was better—or at least that was what crossed their minds. Anything but enduring this torture. The loud cries of women holding the corpses of their children could be heard, and some could not even find their voices.
Her heart pounded, her chest hurt; she wanted to scream, but no sound came from her mouth. An unbearable pressure, an agony that a girl her age should not be able to feel. Fear, guilt, confusion.
—Catch her!—
The shout cut through the smoke. The invaders advanced without stopping, firing relentlessly and mercilessly. Their weapons emitted the deep hum of the charging cycle, unleashing bursts of light that cut through the air, disfiguring bodies.
—Damn it!
A villager shouted, raising a shovel to try to strike one of those uniformed men. Any hope of landing even a single blow vanished; he did not even get the chance to swing his improvised weapon. How reckless… but brave.
In response to that reckless attempt, the armed men fired without even aiming for the head.
Splash! Splash!
The violet beams pierced him violently one after another through his torso. Like monsters, those men did not sweat even a little over such a ruthless act.
—DAD!— The blue-eyed girl witnessed her father's body collapse onto the ground.
She ran toward him, but a young villager stopped her, holding her in his arms.
—Run… please, run, Noah— the man on the ground whispered with his last strength, until his voice faded away.
—Tsk… you're pretty tough, beggar— a uniformed man clicked his tongue as he prepared to shoot once more.
—Hey, Marc… he's already dead— one of his companions said, touching his shoulder.
A smile spread across his face; to him, it was just fun. —*Dead? Dead would be too little, HAHAHA**— Marc laughed. —**This is another one of my masterpieces**— he said, pointing his capture device.
The brave man lay in the mud, covered in filth, without a single sign of ever having had life. The crows would not honor what remained of the body, and sure enough, they hurried over it, fighting for the small scraps of skin that were still left.
Those men were similar to those inhuman crows.
—Waaa… snif, snif!
Noah cried in horror as her throat burned as if it were closing; she choked on her tears and helplessness. "I wish this were a nightmare", thought the young man as he tried to keep his composure for the girl in his arms.
—STOP! Stop right now!— shouted a uniformed man who was keeping pace with them. Thanks to his training, it was easy for him to grab the young man by the collar, making him stumble and fall to the ground.
—Run, girl!
The young man struggled over the weapon with that man. Without thinking, Noah crawled through the mud; her hands slipped. She tried to stand and take a few steps, but it was useless—she fell face-first again.
—Come on! What are you waiting for, you damn brat!? Run!— the young man shouted desperately as he continued to wrestle for the weapon.
He did not want to curse, but the circumstances did not allow him to think clearly. If that man did not kill her, he himself would. That thought crossed his mind.
Rage.
The girl managed to run, clenching her fists, and this time, completely helpless, she felt a knot in her throat. "I can't do anything," she thought, remembering all the people who had been kind to her, those who had cared for her, her father.
She clenched her fists until her nails dug into her skin, and blood smeared her hands. The only thing she could still do was find her mother, hoping she was still safe.
She felt she had run too far. Though the village was small, she had only reached halfway—to the center of the village, from where the fountain could be seen. But a uniformed man stood in front of the fountain; she tried to retreat until she saw at the man's feet.
Badump
Her heart lurched.
—No, Mo… mom… Nooo!
Like a roller coaster, her emotions surged again, clouding all reasoning. She ran to the fountain and grabbed an ornamental, rusted bar shaped like a spear—an old decoration of the fountain.
The uniformed man looked at the act with contempt and mockery, dismissing it. "What importance could that have? She's just a crying brat," he thought.
The girl, determined to strike him however she could—no, she wanted to kill him. She raised the bar toward the man's stomach; he merely turned to the right and struck behind the girl's knee, making her fall easily to the ground.
—Was that all? Hahaha… come on, get up.
The girl took the bar again.
Crunch
The man responded with a front kick to her jaw, sending her small body spinning through the air.
Splash!
Her body let out a crack as it hit the ground, and still conscious, with clouded eyes, she tried to get up.
—Ahh, you really don't understand— the man said, sighing. —You're weak; just stay there and wait for your mommy to breastfeed you…
He stopped, covering the wide grin that spread across his face.
—Oops! Sorry, hahaha, she was your mother, right? HAHAHA. Was she? Right? Hahaha— the man roared with laughter, humiliating the girl and her mother.
GRRRAH!
The girl lunged without thinking, the pipe coming down with all her strength.
HNG!
The pipe pierced the man's body; the air escaped his chest in a harsh exhalation. Blood flowed along the pipe, staining the girl's hands.
—Damn… you…— the man's blood-stained lips whispered.
Hah… hah
The girl exhaled heavily. The man opened his mouth and from it poured dark, thick, bubbling blood.
—I did it, but…
The girl knew it; it was already too late. She gathered courage, but it was too late. She raised her bar once more and stabbed him again. She feared he might still be alive. She needed to make sure. He was not worthy of any treatment; she would not allow such undeserved generosity.
The man tried to inhale one last time, but no air entered—only more blood. His breathing broke into irregular gasps; his hands trembled… and then stopped moving.
—Stop right there!— They surrounded her.
The girl looked up. She wanted to kill them; she wanted them dead. But they were all aiming at her. Her act was already over.
"Why are they aiming at her? She's just a girl," one of them thought.
—Drop the weapon— one ordered, raising his voice.
Despite her rage, the girl was not stupid… or at least that's what she believed. She let the metal pipe fall, still stained with her bloody fingerprints. It bounced on the ground, kicking up dust.
She tried not to collapse. She wanted to cry, to run, to hide. She wanted to go back home and have dinner with her parents. But it was no longer possible…
—You, take the girl and bring her with the others— one of them ordered the nearest man.
The man hurried over, took her in his arms, and placed automatic cuffs of dark metal on her.
—That's it. Everyone, move.
The men advanced, carrying girls and a few boys with them. They walked among the corpses; the moon rose red, like blood, standing out against the black sky. The metallic smell invaded the girl's nose. Her eyes were clouded with tears; her face, haggard, without a trace of the smile she once had.
She saw those humble villagers—once cheerful and dignified—become food for wild beasts. "At least they didn't despise them," she thought.
Other girls remained beside her: some cried silently; others were too frightened to react.
—Wow… this girl really made me sweat— commented a gray-haired man, wiping his neck.
—For your age, it's incredible you can still sweat, old man— replied a black-haired young man with slanted eyes, wearing a crooked smile.
—This is village number sixteen— said another, looking at a device on his wrist.
—Are there still many left?
—It seems so. We were ordered not to stop until we find the perfect material.
—That again… a hundred children have already died. Do they really plan to keep going?
—Orders. If you don't like it, resign. You know what that entails, right?— he replied coldly.
—…Yeah~.— he answered resignedly.
—Good. Take the children to the ship.
The girl was dragged along. She raised her head.
A ship loomed over the platform like a resting predator: low, sharp, its body extended forward like a spear. Elegant and threatening. Its hull was formed by angular plates of dark gray metal, almost black, treated not to shine. The hangar light slid over its surface, as if being absorbed. There was no visible cockpit—only a sealed, opaque, unsettling section. At the rear, the engines emitted a deep, constant hum, so low it could be felt in the stomach.
A metal ramp descended from the ship's belly, striking the ground with a dry crash.
The girl turned her head and, with what little strength she had left, bit the hand of the man carrying her.
—Agh… brat!
The man growled and punched her, knocking her unconscious.
—Hahaha… looks like you caught a rabid dog.
—Very funny— he replied ironically. —You carry her. She's filthy.
—What are you talking about? Rabid dogs are the cutest— the young man replied with a carefree smile. —I've got one at home, his name's Toby.
The laughter was brief.
The girl hung unconscious between them, covered in dust, blood, and mud. Without hope. No—hope had been taken from her.
…
White lights flooded her vision. She felt cold; the ceiling vanished into height, and the room was far too large for a single girl. In front of her, a metal table held orthopedic tools and aligned devices: transparent cylinders, fine needles, cables pulsing with faint light.
—You woke up~
A man in a white coat watched her. He wore glasses, had disheveled hair, and a light smile, like someone examining a toy. The girl tried to move, but her body did not respond. Everything was slow.
—Where… am I…?— she murmured.
—Don't strain yourself— he said kindly.
—You're in the incubator.
—Incubator…?
—That's right.
The man in the coat walked around her.
—Tell me, little one… do you remember your name?
Blurry images crossed the girl's mind. —My name is…— she whis
pered.
The words did not come out.
The man took a syringe.
—It doesn't matter— he smiled. —It's good that you no longer remember. I'll call you by your serial number, which is…
The needle pierced her body, and she fell back into a deep sleep.