Kain lifted the tent flap and stepped inside. On the filthy ground before him, three bodies lay on stretchers—two young boys and an elderly man. A flicker of guilt stirred in his gut, but he forced it down, repeating the same words he had told Nyla: We do what we must.

  His gaze swept over the scene, noting that the soldiers hadn't bothered to restrain their captives. A reckless oversight. He opened his mouth to correct them but hesitated. The tranquillizers they had administered were already pushing the limits of what could be considered safe for human consumption. There was no need for further precaution. No need for more harm.

  Without another word, the soldiers hoisted the stretchers and carried the unconscious bodies outside. Kain watched them disappear into the night, a shadow of doubt settling over him.

  He gestured for one of the new recruits to gather the belongings of the tent’s residents. Where they were going, they would probably have better lives, he told himself. But they’d be living as prisoners. Any small personal item might make the transition easier, a fragile tether to the life they were being torn from.

  Kain sighed and stepped outside, trailing after the soldiers. That’s when he noticed the disturbance.

  A commotion had broken out near the edge of the alley. As he moved closer, his eyes locked onto the source of the chaos—the elderly man had regained consciousness. Despite his frail form, he had managed to twist his stretcher onto its side, using it as a makeshift barrier between his grandsons and the advancing soldiers. His arms trembled, his breath came in ragged gasps, but his stance was firm, protective.

  Kain cursed under his breath. Damn it. He wasn’t supposed to wake up yet.

  "REPORT!" Kain barked, pointing to the nearest soldier.

  "One of the targets suddenly regained consciousness and caught us off guard, sir!" Paul responded— a man in his thirties with sharp black eyes and unkempt brown hair.

  Kain's jaw tightened. "How is that possible?"

  "Maybe he didn’t eat the candies," a voice crackled through the radio on his shoulder.

  Damn. Now Alexander was involved.

  "Units! Switch to tranq guns! Do not approach!" Kain ordered.

  The soldiers followed his command without hesitation. No one wanted to get too close to an identified Seed— not when a sudden manifestation could turn the entire mission into chaos.

  "On my mark!" Kain’s voice was cold, unwavering.

  The old man still stood his ground, trembling but unyielding, the stretcher a feeble shield between him and the inevitable.

  "FIRE!"

  A dozen tranquillizer darts shot through the air, their sharp hiss cutting through the night and they all stuck to their target with success.

  The old man dropped to his knees, his frail hands still clutching the stretcher as if sheer willpower alone could keep him standing. His breath was ragged, his body trembling under the weight of exhaustion and chemicals flooding his system.

  Kain didn’t move. He raised a hand, signaling the soldiers to hold their positions.

  "Wait," he ordered, his voice steady.

  They needed to be sure. The tranquilizers had been measured to the brink of what was safe, but an old man’s body was unpredictable. If they approached too soon and he had even a sliver of strength left, things could turn ugly.

  The seconds stretched, tense and silent, as they watched him waver. Finally, his grip on the stretcher loosened. His fingers slid away, his body slumping forward.

  Only then did Kain give the signal.

  "Move in."

  *****************

  "The shots were successful," Emily reported, watching the scene through her binoculars from atop a nearby building. She and Nyla were stationed there with sniper rifles, their vantage point giving them a clear view of the operation. Alexander had joined them as soon as the mission was set in motion.

  Nyla adjusted her own scope, tracking the target. The old man had fallen to his knees, his trembling hands still clutching the stretcher. Her stomach twisted in knots of guilt.

  "Something's not right…" Alexander murmured, suspicion lacing his voice.

  Nyla frowned. The old man had definitely eaten the candies. The tranquilizers should have kept him under for hours. How was he awake?

  "What do you mean, sir? The target is neutralized," Emily responded, her tone steady.

  Alexander exhaled sharply, lowering his binoculars. "Maybe I’m just imagining things."

  Nyla let out a breath, beginning to relax—until she noticed something. Through her scope, the old man’s body looked… bigger. She adjusted the focus, a creeping sense of unease settling in her bones.

  Then, an ominous feeling started to cloud her mind.

  Her fingers tensed around the trigger.

  Before she could voice her concern, Alexander's voice cut through the radio like a blade.

  "HALT ALL UNITS! DO NOT APPROACH THE TARGET!"

  Then, without hesitation, he jumped from the building.

  "Nyla! Shoot him! NOW!" he barked as he sprinted toward the soldiers surrounding the old man.

  Nyla turned her attention back to the scope, her heart hammering. Now she understood why Alexander was reacting this way. From the soldiers’ perspective, the old man was still hunched over, weakened. But from her position, she could see it clearly.

  He was changing.

  Thick hair sprouted from his skin, consuming his body like wildfire. His limbs twisted and swelled, his frail frame expanding into something monstrous.

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  He was manifesting.

  Nyla swallowed hard and shifted her aim. A headshot. Quick, clean. The best way to end a manifestation before it fully took hold—just like they had drilled into her.

  Her finger hovered over the trigger.

  Then—nothing.

  Her body refused to move.

  A cold wave of fear gripped her, locking her muscles in place. She knew what she had to do, but an invisible force kept her frozen.

  "NYLA, SHOOT!" Alexander’s voice rang through her earpiece, urgent, commanding.

  But she couldn't. He cursed under his breath and sped up pulling out his sword.

  She could only watch in horror as the soldiers below finally saw what she did. The old man—no, the thing that had once been an old man—lifted its head.

  And then, he opened his mouth and screamed.

  It was too late.

  ********************

  Kain pressed his palms against his ears, trying to block out the deafening shrieks that tore through the air. He crouched low, using the jagged remnants of a half-collapsed wall as cover. His mind raced, but his body remained tense and focused, eyes flickering back and forth between the chaos and his units. They needed to keep their heads down—they had to.

  The seed’s screams were now guttural, raw. Each shriek seemed to pulse with power, his body distorting unnaturally. The flesh was swelling—pushing, stretching—and it wasn’t just the seed anymore. It was as though his body was shedding itself, layers of skin and sinew ripping away, leaving behind something new. The excess flesh didn’t fall to the ground. No, it grew. Like some twisted mockery of life, it began to shift, to move—and with terrifying precision, it coalesced into a new form.

  Kain’s breath caught in his throat. The first thing he saw was the hulking silhouette of a bipedal creature, its outline looming against the dim, blood-streaked sky. A daemon—its monstrous limbs twitching as they took shape. Damn, he thought bitterly. This one’s gonna be a tough one to take down.

  The creature’s skin was mottled and writhing, as though it was constantly shifting between forms, a grotesque amalgamation of flesh and fury. Each step it took sent tremors through the earth, its presence suffocating, its screeching far worse than the seed’s cries. It was like a living nightmare, breathing death into everything around it.

  His eyes darted to the ground, where two young boys lay, still unconscious, just behind the chaos. His heart clenched. They were vulnerable, caught in the wake of this abomination’s birth. They didn’t deserve this, he thought. We failed them.

  It was their fault—their mission—that had led to this. He couldn’t let those boys become casualties of their mistake. They needed to be saved. No matter the cost. The thought spurred him into motion, a deep sense of urgency flooding his veins.

  He gripped his weapon tighter, forced himself to focus despite the overwhelming dread that threatened to drown him. He had to act—they had to act.

  But how?

  The seed’s screams abruptly cut off, and a chilling silence descended over the battlefield. Kain’s heart pounded in his chest as he scanned the chaos. The daemon, still writhing and struggling to take its true form, twisted in on itself, its massive limbs thrashing like a grotesque marionette. It was a disgusting, shapeless thing—a creature caught between life and death, searching for its final form.

  Kain’s eyes snapped back to the seed. It had collapsed to the ground, its body now a limp, lifeless heap. The once-violent screams had died with it.

  His breath caught. This was it. The seed was vulnerable, but the daemon was still very much alive. And as it continued to twist and pulse, Kain knew that if it managed to fully manifest, nothing would be able to stop it.

  A sharp, garbled voice screeched through the crackling radio on his shoulder, snapping him from his thoughts. "Ka..! ..in! Can y... he... me? H... ing!"

  Kain gritted his teeth, trying to make sense of the distorted transmission. His ears still rang from the seed’s horrific screams, making everything sound distant and muffled. “What did you say?” he barked into the radio, voice rising with frustration.

  "I said hang in there!" Emily’s voice screamed back, clearer now, though still strained. "Alexander is coming!"

  A sudden surge of hope flooded through him. Alexander. The one man with the power to turn this around. Kain’s mind shifted into overdrive as a plan began to form. They needed to keep the daemon distracted. They needed to buy time—time for Alexander to arrive, time to save the boys, time to neutralize this nightmare before it fully came to life.

  Kain’s gaze locked onto the writhing creature once more. His hand tightened around his weapon, a grim resolve settling in. He wasn’t going to let this monstrosity finish what it had started. Not while those boys were still alive.

  "Get ready," he muttered to himself and gestured to his unit, his voice cold and steady. "This isn’t over."

  The unit moved swiftly and silently into formation, weapons raised in a show of defiance, though Kain knew—deep down—that their guns were nothing more than toys in the face of a daemon’s might. But it was the only weapon they had, and sometimes, sheer willpower had to be enough.

  They crouched low behind whatever cover they could find—broken walls, rusted debris, anything that might offer a moment of safety. Every man and woman in the unit knew the drill by now. Stay low. Stay quiet. Wait for the signal.

  Kain’s heart thudded heavily in his chest as he surveyed the battlefield. The daemon was still struggling, its grotesque limbs spasming and stretching like the twisted growth of some malignant plant. It hadn’t fully formed yet, still struggling to find its shape. This was their window.

  His eyes flicked over the soldiers, gauging their readiness. No one was trembling—fear was something they’d learned to suppress in the line of duty. But Kain could see the tension in their movements, the slight quiver of muscle as they waited for his command.

  The lieutenant had to pick the right moment. He knew that if they rushed too early, they’d be slaughtered before Alexander could arrive. If they waited too long, the daemon might fully manifest, and that would be the end for everyone.

  Kain gripped his weapon tighter, his fingers going white with pressure. His pulse raced, but his gaze remained sharp, calculating. Every second felt like an eternity. He wasn’t sure if it was the anticipation of the battle or the gnawing guilt at the two unconscious boys just a few meters away, but Kain couldn’t afford to hesitate.

  He looked once more at the writhing creature, its size growing, its form nearing completion. His mind raced with possibilities, every one of them worse than the last.

  Finally, Kain raised his hand—slowly, deliberately. The signal.

  And then he froze. A soft groan reached his ears, barely audible over the cacophony of the daemon’s thrashing. His eyes darted to the two boys, still lying unconscious a few meters away. One of them was stirring.

  Ari’s eyes fluttered open, his face pale, his gaze confused as he took in the scene before him. The chaos. The daemon still struggling to form. His expression shifted from dazed to alarmed as he became aware of his surroundings.

  Kain’s heart clenched. The boy couldn’t be more than twelve, and yet he had just woken up to this nightmare. The last thing they needed was for him to panic and draw attention to them—especially now.

  “Stay down,” Kain muttered to himself, not daring to voice the command aloud. His mind raced. If the boy made a sound, if he even moved too quickly, their position could be compromised. The daemon could sense them. It could kill them all before Alexander even had a chance to arrive.

  The boy shifted again, his gaze now focused on the writhing daemon. He looked terrified, his small body trembling. Kain cursed under his breath. There was no time for this.

  “Stay down. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound,” Kain silently willed him, willing his voice to reach the boy through the chaos. The boy’s chest heaved with shallow breaths, his eyes wide, locked on the daemon, but he remained still.

  Kain’s hand hovered over his weapon. His instinct was to act, to give the order. But now, everything had changed. They couldn’t attack yet. They couldn’t risk the boy’s life or the mission for a single second.

  But they were running out of time. The daemon was growing stronger. Kain had no choice. He needed to make a decision.

  He lowered his hand just slightly, signalling for the soldiers to wait. The tension hung thick in the air as Kain’s mind worked furiously.

  Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of movement. Alexander. He was running toward them, his figure cutting through the chaos with purpose.

  “Get ready,” Kain murmured to himself, his muscles coiled, ready to spring into action. He only had moments. The boy couldn’t last much longer, and neither could they. The confusion and shock of seeing a daemon for the first time had frozen the boy in place, but that would not last.

  Ari’s eyes flickered from the monstrous creature towering in front of him, its limbs still twisting and contorting into something barely recognizable, to the figure lying unconscious at its feet. His breath hitched, and without thinking, his legs propelled him forward.

  "Grandpa!" he shouted, his voice raw with panic. Before anyone could stop him, he sprang to his feet, stumbling and scrambling towards the old man. His heart was pounding in his chest as he raced across the dirt, blind to the danger.

  And that was when all hell broke loose.