UNSEEN [Vol 1]

K1. Another Battle.

 Will death finally catch me here? The question digs into me, relentless and bitter. My mind starts to wander as I stare at the destruction before me. The research facility is a blazing ruin, casting a sickly glow over the masses of the Torn below. It feels distant, like I'm watching a nightmare that isn't mine.

"Eleven survivors, this research facility is lost. Clear the terrace for the airlift and escort all living survivors for evac," the Warden's voice snaps me back, harsh and commanding through the comms.

The door of our small vessel swings open in the midst of our flight, and without hesitation, we leap out into the night, hurtling towards the fiery inferno of a 14-story building below. Hordes of the Torn swarm the area, their twisted forms illuminated by the flames licking at the structure.

We are simply shadows in this burning night, risking our lives in a place that won't remember our names.

We spread our arms wide, activating the gliding mechanisms built into our suits. The rush of wind whips past us as we soar through the air, using the aerial view to assess the chaotic scene below. Smoke billows from the building, obscuring our vision, but our helmets are equipped with visors that provide enhanced visual capabilities even in adverse conditions. They also run bio-scans on the building, analyzing the structure and detecting where life signs are within.

How many more missions until one of us doesn't make it back? How many more lives will we fail to save? The loneliness of this duty gnaws at my soul, each leap into the unknown a reminder of our unseen sacrifice.

Taking the lead, I instruct through microphones that are also built into the helmets. "The plan is clear—There are 4 survivors holed up in a room on the 5th floor. I'll enter through the 4th floor to barricade the lower levels off. Joshua, keep the terrace clear. Kuna and Robert, clear out the Torn as you descend and rendezvous with me on the 7th floor."

With a quick nod of confirmation, we adjust our trajectories and each of us focused on our assigned task.

I burst through the window on the 4th floor, rolling into action as the chaos unfolds before me. Four of the Torn rush towards me, their twisted forms a blur of mangled claws and unearthly screams. With instinctual precision, I evade their slashes, feeling the rush of adrenaline heighten my senses.

Taking a deep breath, I channel the aura within me, and blue electricity crackles around my body, time seeming to slow as I move with unparalleled speed and agility.

With deadly efficiency, I maneuver between the four adversaries, each strike aimed with lethal accuracy, crushing skulls with powerful punches.

As time resumes its normal pace, blood splatters in all directions as the lifeless bodies of the Torn crumple to the ground.

The sound of blood will never leave me unfazed. They were once living, they once had lives—Now look what they've become.

"Initiate a building scan," I instruct my helmet. A small window materializes in the top right corner of my visor, providing real-time data without obstructing my field of vision.

With a burst of lightning, I dash down the hallway, leaving a trail of headless bodies in my wake. Reaching one of the staircases, I focus my aura into my right fist, swinging downwards with a force akin to thunder.

A surge of energy erupts from my fist, shattering the stairwell and sending debris cascading downwards, blocking off the path.

I deploy four small barrier devices in each elevator, creating a formidable obstacle to prevent any threats from passing through. These Torn appear to be of the thrall type, with a danger level of Midra, so these barriers should hold.

I rush to the other staircases, tearing through anything that stands in my way. I destroy the staircases, cutting off any chance for the thralls to reach the 5th floor. With the staircases gone, I make my way up, every muscle tense with urgency. The screams of the survivors pierce through the roaring flames and the chilling growls of the Torn.

I never get used to the carnage, the smell, the sight of what these monsters have done to humanity. But I keep moving forward because stopping means giving in to the horror.

The special gloves adorning my hands ignite with a brilliant blue glow as my aura surges through them, electricity crackling along my arms. Like the swiftness of lightning rending through a tree, I surge forward, tearing through the ranks of the Torn as blood splatters the walls in my wake.

Flying down the corridor with unstoppable momentum, I reach a cafeteria-like area where I catch sight of a room to my right where the survivors huddled up behind makeshift barricades, their desperate efforts to keep the Torn at bay evident. As I approach, the Torn become aware of my presence, their frenzied lunges directed towards me with vicious intent.

With swift and calculated movements, I evade their clumsy lunges, effortlessly slipping past their grasp. Pitiful, I think, as they charge towards me with hunger in their eyes—They've lost all their humanity.

I unleash a flurry of punches in every direction, each blow landing with deadly precision. My body moves with fluidity and grace, weaving between them like one of those old MMA boxers from ancient "TV" shows. Blood sprays through the air as I dispatch 26 of these monsters.

Approaching the door where the survivors are holed up, I inquire about their safety. They confirm that they are secure and that no one can breach the room. With a nod, I run a bio-scan from outside, ensuring there are no signs of XenoS infection among them.

Assured of their well-being, I place a barrier in front of the door and instruct them to wait momentarily while I clear out the remainder of the fifth floor. Once it's secure, I return to escort them to safety and rendezvous with Kuna and Robert.

"We've cleared out floors 14 through 10. Encountered 4 survivors, but they are all unfortunately infected," Kuna reported, her voice tinged with remorse.

"All neutralized, proceeding downwards," Robert followed up over the comms moments later, his tone grim but steady.

"That's unfortunate, but I am hopeful that there are other survivors," I respond, trying to maintain a semblance of optimism.

But the truth is, every life lost weighs on me. These were people—innocents—who never really got the chance to live. I hate that I'm not doing enough to save them. Every failure feels like a reminder that I'm inadequate, that I'm not doing my job well enough. How many more will slip through my fingers before I finally crack under the weight of it all?

Out of the 11 initially scanned, only 6 were not infected. The number of survivors in these rescue missions is diminishing.

After rendezvousing with Kuna and Robert, my thoughts drift off again. Every life we fail to save feels like another piece of my soul being chipped away, a relentless gnawing at my conscience. I can't shake the fear that one day there won't be anyone left to rescue—that all our efforts will be for nothing.