The television buzzed softly in the dimly lit room, as Hannah’s was resting on the med bed, thin blankets pulled around her, one hand absentmindedly resting on her stomach. Her other hand held the small remote loosely. Her body still weak, but her mind sharp.The news anchor’s voice could be heard,“We warn our viewers, what you are about to see contains graphic imagery. Viewer discretion is advised.” The broadcast switched to shaky, handheld footage.Smoke.Screams.The camera jerked wildly as someone sprinted across a downtown street — others running behind him, scattering like ants."They're burning alive!" a woman shrieked off-camera.The footage cut to a clearer angle. A man stood in the middle of a parking lot, convulsing violently. His body shimmered as if his skin couldn't contain him.Then —with a horrible, wet pop — flames erupted from his chest, swallowing him and the nearby cars.He staggered backward, mouth open in a silent scream as his body burned from within."Help me!

Andrew moved down the corridor, his hand brushing against the wall almost tenderly, as if feeling for something only he could sense. The heavy front doors—armored, sealed with biometric locks—slid open at his mere presence, no authorization requested. Ash trailed after him in curling tendrils as he crossed the courtyard, mist pooling around his ankles. Above, the clouds stirred like restless giants. Andrew didn't run. He simply left—moving like a man half-dreaming, half-called by something older than thought itself. He had to return to where it all began. By dawn, Andrew was gone. Hours later, his jeep rolled to a stop at the crater's edge. It was worse than he remembered. The ground was scarred black and gray, craters pockmarked the terrain like old wounds. Shattered stone glistened under a heavy sky. Andrew climbed out, boots crunching across jagged gravel. He descended carefully into the heart of the impact zone. There, half-buried under centuries of volcanic glass and twist

Andrew staggered toward the center, barely conscious. His boots dragged deep furrows in the dust. The Ash on the floor clung to his skin like a second layer, seeping into his pores. He barely noticed the, black helicopters that descended silently beyond the ridge. From the shadows spilled a force of thirty—no, forty—soldiers. Their gear was matte-gray, body armor stitched with strange, moving patterns. Some carried rifles crackling with blue energy. Others bore nothing but their bare hands... and their eyes glowed faintly At the head marched Commander Voss—tall, bald, skin like weathered steel, a jagged scar carving down one side of his skull. He adjusted his earpiece and spoke into his comm, “Commander Voss to all teams. Confirmed visual on Subject. Authorization: Kill on sight.” He raised a single hand — and the signal was given. Behind them, more operatives fanned out, raising barrier generators. Meanwhile back at the safehouse, Taylor sat hunched over the command console,

But she didn’t stop. Not when the world was collapsing around her. Leon and Frederick fought like devils, but the more of their men where holding heavy with plasma guns, with the cry of sonic beams shattering rocks around. Two operatives with skin like molten silver flanked Frederick, striking with inhuman speed. Frederick blocked one blow but was caught by the second as he was punched in the stomach as he was sent sprawling into the dirt, coughing blood. Leon shot one in the head—only for his body to keep moving for two more steps before it finally collapsed. Frederick rolled under a stream of blue fire, flanking and snapping the arm of the fire wielder with a vicious elbow strike — only to be blasted back by psychic force. Taylor shouted from the comms: "EMP pulses offline! They're using hybrid tech—supernatural and engineered!" Another squad broke through, energy whips was being manipulated from their gauntlets. Hannah skidded to her knees beside Andrew, trying to lift him.

Leon gripped the wheel, tires spitting ash and dirt behind them as the battered jeep barreled across the wasteland.Ahead, buried half into a hillside, the reinforced bunker doors of their safehouse came into view—steel and concrete masked by camouflage netting and crumbling stone.Leon didn’t slow down. He hit the brakes at the last second, skidding them into a rough stop right at the blast doors.Taylor's voice crackled urgently through the comms:"Security override! Unlocking now!"The heavy doors groaned, splitting open just wide enough.Leon and Frederick were already out, dragging Andrew and Hannah’s unconscious bodies.Inside, sterile lights buzzed to life, illuminating the cold, cavernous main hall of the safehouse.Dr. Yuen sprinted toward them from the medbay wing, already snapping on a pair of surgical gloves.His face went pale when he saw the condition they were in."Get them inside!" Yuen barked.They rushed into the medbay—a makeshift operating room carved into the ston