As the van was coming through the passage road to the town, the van slowed down, and passed through people on either sidewalk or the road itself. The people didn't care if a passing vehicle came and honked their siren at them. They didn't give concern or two shits of anything that'll do to solve their problem. It was in their eyes and facial expression you could tell things apart from civil abiding to who gives a shit. They've gone through a lot of horrific events that led them here; as they are not about to turn heads and head back. That be suicide!
"What happened to them?" Said Alice as she peeked out her window and saw the people of aggem. What remained of them.
It was no mistaking how absurd this was looking. The people were bruised, injured, bleeding, and some but not all, lost a limp or two, or three. She couldn't quite tell; there was too many of them. It had been an hour they left and, an hour later, the town so happened to come crashing down. This just can't be, Alice told herself as she gripped hard on the wheel.
Other than the sense of hopeless meaning in your bones, Ben, for that matter, stayed as still as he would. He was in control.
"We should hurry up," he said.
"Yeah...your right," quivered Alice.
Even as they passed the survivors of Aggem, what were they going to find, was what Alice was pondering. Since these is what remained of them, should they clear away the road, wait, and let the real helpers - as in the military - be involved. These thoughts---these thoughts of safety and regularity made sense not to ignore, for now that is, because since her arrival into foreign land it has been nothing but her mission to gain the upper hand for her superiors and meet the requirements that, if they could, it may just be their time to succeed the top leaderboard. Now.... that dream just seemed meaningless. She did not expect causalities. REAL causalities.
The van came into the town. The area was empty. There was no one.
Alice stepped out of the van and came to a halt in front of the van. "What happened to those people...isn't right."
She turned to Ben. He too was standing still and looking outward.
At the back of the van, there was definitely a cargo hidden there, to which Alice didn't recognize---with the shape of it revealed by a cloth---she was a bit shocked when Ben unveiled the crate.
"Where did that come from!?" She confronted.
"I'm not too sure," he said. "To be frank, this wasn't my idea to begin, just that my colleague thought it be a great idea to sneak this in." He looked at Alice, "...for safety purposes of course."
What was in the crate was a custom assault rifle specifically made and attuned with various attachments. Ben took a good look at it and then went on to inspect it, took a magazine from the crate and connected. He trained his eyes on the scope as his hands were gripped tightly on the handle and the barrel like a trained marine as if he was about to pull the trigger on a suspecting target. He then strapped the other magazines on his chest clipped on a vest.
'I don't even have a weapon,' Alice thought helplessly.
The two made their way (out of distance) from the van, and made their way into the heart of the town.
The focus member of the group was Ben. He trained his weapon in the front while Alice followed.
"Why is it so quiet?" Alice would ask and scan the area for any signs of life. "There isn't a person around this place?"
And she was right.
Despite the destruction concurred on the building shops, window glasses shattered and flames erupting inside, and the road of many cars deformed and flown into collisions of cars and road amenities, there was still that weirdness of a lack of people.
Then a roar blasted---GRGHHHGRR!---coming just up ahead.
The two took caution. When they reached the end and were in the clear, they were horrified.
"What the HELL---bhuugggg!" Alice said horridly before a rush of distaste from the sight caused a rush and she ultimately vomited, disgusted...
What she saw were the ones that didn't make it. The ones that were prey. The ones, that their bodies became, of nothing but melted sacks of rotting flesh and churned bones.
From the dark alley they came from, and the clearing they saw, the dead was many.
The two made their way through the countless, unspeakable horrors, of corpses that rotted away. It was a view meant to be called more than a typical crime site. Alice stayed close to ben as they carefully treaded their steps. One corpse stood out from the rest and many other. The chest cavity was open. Its ribs stretched open like the jagged spikes protruding out of the flesh as the skin was ripped apart and the stomach and intestines revealed a grotesques chemistry reaction. The smell was repugnant. Blood was dried but the disfigurement left an unsettling shiver as to who could have done this, or yet the better question is, WHAT could have done this?
Alice forced her gaze around the other bodies that displayed similar dismemberments: a male body without a head; a female body seated next to a wall, leaning, head down, with the left arm ripped off and bleeding from the right stomach; the next was a collision between two vehicles. A service bus and a jeep. First of all, the jeep driver didn't make it. His body still seated on the front wheel and his entire body torched as if he didn't mean to struggle and was unconscious and was late to escape. Second---the service bus--- crashed into a nearby shop. The bus looked empty (thankfully) and escaped through the back door as the opened door gave it away as well as the signs of dusty footprints. Probably.
Apart from that, there was still a lot that was going one that Alice couldn't bring herself to describe in detail. There was just too much. It was better to not tinker too much on the dead. She kept her head down.
__________________________________
BOOM!--- A huge explosion erupted. The smoke was big. From that big smoke, Phass popped out of the smoke and was sent flying in the air to which he landed on top of a building roof.
"I'm not done yet!" He spoke.
He sprinted for it. The staffance on hand and headed for the edge of the building and jumped.
Two-three Scalhounds were unsuspectedly below him.
"Take THIS!" He shouted with a defining voice as he held the staffance with both hands, the edge of the staffance faced down as he was about to prepare an air-to-land strike.
Vshhhhhhh! It was the sound of the staffance's vibration like a future techno whisp but very loud and defeaning---and in total, the whole Scalhounds were blasted from all sides.
The fight continued as other Scalhounds rushed him.
Phass hit the ground with force, though his substitute footwear—sports shoes—grinding against the fractured concrete as the aftershock of his previous strike rippled outward through the ruined street. For a fleeting moment, he caught himself thinking, let's hope these don't wear and tear right away... because they're the best option I've got for footwear right now.
The air around him still shimmered faintly with residual blue energy, like heat distortion trapped in the atmosphere. Smoke curled through broken structures and collapsed facades, drifting low across the battlefield and partially swallowing the silhouettes of advancing shapes. He exhaled once, steady and controlled, then lifted his head—eyes locking onto the next incoming threat without hesitation.
The next wave arrived immediately.
Ten Scalhounds surged out of the haze ahead, moving as a single coordinated mass, low to the ground and unnaturally fast. Their limbs struck the pavement in violent rhythm, claws scraping sparks from stone as they closed distance with mechanical precision. Phass didn't step back or reposition; instead, he brought the staffance up in one fluid motion, the weapon responding instantly as if anticipating his intent. The upper assembly split and elongated, energy condensing along its spine until it formed a blade of concentrated blue light, unstable at the edges and humming with contained power.
The first impact came within seconds.
Phass met the charge head-on, sweeping the energy blade in a tight, controlled arc that carved through the leading Scalhounds before they could fully commit to their leap. The motion was clean and economical—no wasted movement, only direction and intent. Flesh and bone gave way instantly under the blade's pressure, and the remaining momentum carried severed bodies past him as he pivoted through the motion. The others behind them attempted to adjust mid-charge, but the formation had already collapsed into chaos under the precision of his strike.
Four more Scalhounds broke from the distance almost immediately, emerging from fractured streets and broken building lines to flank him from multiple angles. Phass didn't chase them with his body; instead, he shifted his stance and rotated the staffance into a tighter configuration, the blade collapsing and re-forming into a focused barrel-like structure. A low, rising tone built inside the weapon's core, growing sharper with each fraction of a second until the energy stabilized into a coherent firing state, aimed with absolute precision.
He fired without delay.
Blue plasma rods erupted from the staffance in rapid, controlled bursts, streaking across the battlefield like compressed lightning. Each shot carried a rigid trajectory with slight adaptive correction, striking targets even as they attempted to evade. One Scalhound dropped instantly, another was struck and violently destabilized mid-run, while the remaining two were eliminated in staggered impacts that tore through their movement and left them collapsing in broken motion. The shots faded into the smoke, leaving glowing traces in the air like fading scars of light.
For a brief moment, the battlefield seemed to pause.
Then the swarm returned from above.
Scalhounds began descending from rooftops, shattered ledges, and partially collapsed buildings, pouring into the space around him in overwhelming numbers. They dropped in coordinated waves, some leaping, others climbing down walls with unnatural speed before launching themselves directly toward Phass. He tilted his head upward, tracking the incoming mass without panic, and the staffance responded—its core beginning to glow more intensely as energy compressed inward, condensing rather than expanding, building toward a singular release point.
When they closed the final distance—
The staffance detonated outward in a massive blue explosion.
The blast expanded in a perfect sphere, consuming air and space in a violent surge of force and light. Scalhounds caught within the initial radius were thrown backward mid-air, their bodies ripped from momentum and flung into walls, debris, and fractured ground. Some were killed instantly by the shock pressure alone, while others were critically damaged, falling out of the sky in uncontrolled spirals before hitting the ground. The shockwave rolled outward afterward, cracking pavement and scattering rubble across the street like shrapnel.
As the light faded, the battlefield re-formed into something quieter but no less dangerous.
Many of the Scalhounds lay broken and unmoving, their assault effectively neutralized.
But those still functional did not hesitate.
They recovered almost immediately, regrouping through pain or damage without slowing their advance, and surged forward once again toward Phass with renewed aggression. He tightened his grip on the staffance, lowering his center of gravity as the weapon's glow steadied once more, and stepped forward into their charge—choosing to meet the remaining swarm directly, without distance, without delay.
Two minutes later, the battlefield had gone quiet.
Phass stood among the wreckage, breathing steady as the last traces of blue energy faded from his staffance. Bodies lay scattered across broken concrete, the remains of the Scalhound swarm reduced to stillness and ruin.
He walked forward without urgency, eyes locking onto one that still barely moved—half-living, barely holding on. It tried to shift, but its strength was gone.
Phass ended it with a single motion.
The staffance drove cleanly into its eye. The creature stiffened once... then went still.
"Anyone else?" Phass asked, his voice cutting through the settling silence.
He stood amid the wreckage, eyes sweeping over the dwindled remains of the Scalhounds. Smoke drifted between broken walls and shattered ground, but nothing moved with intent anymore—only fragments of twitching bodies and collapsing stillness. The glow of the staffance had dimmed, yet it still hummed faintly in his grip, ready if the battlefield decided to answer back.
No response came.
Only the wind moved through the ruins.
What answered him wasn't words. It was rage. Pure rage.
The remaining Scalhounds locked their gaze on him, their eyes burning with an unnerving, animalistic fury. Then, as one, they began to howl—a layered, discordant sound that scraped against the air like metal dragged across bone. It rose higher and higher, until it became less like a call and more like a signal.
Phass's grip tightened instinctively on the staffance. "What are you—" Before he could finish the thought, they moved.
The surviving Scalhounds surged together, piling onto one another in a chaotic mass of limbs, flesh, and snapping jaws. At first it looked like panic or desperation—until the shapes stopped behaving like separate bodies. Bones shifted. Muscle stretched and rethreaded itself. Skin tore and reformed as if rewritten mid-motion.
Phass narrowed his eyes, watching the impossible unfold. "No..."
It was already too late. The mass stopped being individual creatures. It became something unified. Something bigger. Something still forming.