The wind howled through the ruined city, tearing at the skeletal remains of the once towering buildings. A cold mist crept across the ground, rolling like thick fog, damp and oppressive. The moon hung low in the sky, casting weak light over the empty streets.
It was all wrong. Everything was wrong. The planet was dying, and the human race had failed. But that was why he was here. His mission was clear. Kill them all.
He stood on the crumbling rooftop, looking down at the devastation below. His eyes scanned the wreckage, seeing the signs of a battle long since lost. There were no more screams, no more desperate cries for help. Just the silence. And the dust.
His name was Thaln. He wasn't human, not by any stretch of the word. His skin, a dull greenish hue, stretched tight over his frame, veins pulsing in the dim light. His eyes were like black holes, sucking in all light around him.
He was born to end things, born to destroy. His people were dying, their home planet withering away under a dying sun, and Earth had been chosen as the next home for his kind. But the humans... They couldn't live here. They couldn't keep Earth.
His orders were clear. Annihilate them. All of them. Every single one.
He took a step forward, the wind catching his cloak, wrapping it around his body like a living thing. His footsteps were heavy, unnatural, yet they made no sound as he moved. A piece of debris, half-buried in the street, crunched under his boot. It echoed through the night, a sharp, hollow sound.
There were a few humans left, scattered across the city. They had tried to fight, tried to resist. But resistance was futile. They had failed.
Thaln's heart, if he could still call it that, ached. But not for them. Never for them. He could feel the weight of the task upon him, the immense responsibility that he could not deny. His people needed this. And their needs always came first.
The streets ahead stretched into the distance, empty and forlorn. He had been tracking them for hours, but they were elusive, hiding in the dark corners of the ruined city. He had already found their strongholds, torn through their defenses, slaughtered every man, woman, and child he came across. But there were still a few left, somewhere out there.
Thaln paused, his eyes narrowing. He could feel something. Something different. A faint sound reached him, too soft to catch fully, but there, undeniable. He turned his head, scanning the area around him.
There.
A flicker of movement.
Thaln's hand shot out, the power in his fingers crackling like lightning as he shot forward, faster than any human could react. He landed in the alley, his feet barely touching the ground before he was upon them.
A man. Old, ragged, hunched with age. His eyes widened with fear as he stumbled back, hands shaking, clutching a rusted knife in his grip.
"I-I won't go down without a fight!" the man shouted, his voice hoarse and trembling. His body was frail, barely able to stand, yet he was still ready to die fighting.
Thaln's lips curled into a mockery of a smile, the deep blackness of his eyes reflecting the fear in the man's.
"You should have run," Thaln said, his voice cold, like the very wind that blew through the empty streets.
The man tried to raise the knife, but Thaln moved before he could even blink. One swift motion, and the man's weapon fell from his grip, clattering to the ground. Thaln seized him by the throat, lifting him off the ground with ease, the old man's feet kicking uselessly in the air.
"Please... Please..." the man rasped, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. "We didn't know... We didn't know..."
Thaln tightened his grip, watching the man's face turn pale, his body spasming in desperation. But Thaln didn't care.
"You knew," Thaln said, his voice unyielding, the dark gravity of it sucking all hope out of the man's soul.
He snapped the man's neck with a sickening crack.
The body slumped in his grasp, lifeless. Thaln let it fall to the ground, stepping over the fallen human as if it were nothing. The night was quiet again. His mission was simple. His people needed this. He couldn't fail them.
But as he stood there, looking down at the broken form of the man, something in him twisted. Something old and lost, something that had been buried for so long, began to stir in the cold, hollow space within him.
Thaln turned away, the unsettling feeling gnawing at the back of his mind. He continued his march down the desolate streets, each step heavier than the last. The eerie silence wrapped around him, pressing against his skull, seeping into his thoughts like a poison.
He'd done it. He'd killed another one. Another human. Another failure. Another burden lifted.
Yet he couldn't shake the feeling. The weight. The sadness.
The emptiness of the world around him began to feel unbearable. It was wrong. Everything about it was wrong. His mission. His people. The future.
He could still hear it, the faint crackling in the air, like the very fabric of the world was unraveling. It was as if the planet itself was screaming, though no one could hear it. The ghosts of the past swirled around him, pulling at his consciousness, reminding him of what had been lost.
Thaln paused again, his eyes darting to the dark alleys, the buildings that had once stood tall and proud. Now they were nothing more than hollow shells, remnants of a dying world. His world.
He stepped into one of the alleyways, his eyes searching the shadows, sensing a presence. He was not alone.
A woman stepped forward from the darkness, her face shadowed, but her eyes gleamed with something. Something strange. Thaln froze. He didn't recognize her. He didn't know why, but her presence felt... familiar.
"You don't have to do this," the woman said, her voice low, but not weak. There was something defiant in her tone. "You can still stop. You can still save them."
Thaln's chest tightened. His mind screamed at him to ignore her. But something in her voice stopped him. Her words cut through the cloud of his thoughts like a knife.
"I've killed them all. Every last one," Thaln said, his voice hoarse, but firm. "They were in the way."
The woman didn't flinch. "They weren't. You're not supposed to be here."
The words hit him harder than he expected. The familiar feeling gnawed at him once again, this time sharper, more intense. He stepped forward, his power crackling in the air. But the woman didn't move. She stood there, unwavering, waiting for him.
"You don't belong here," she said again, her voice filled with a quiet certainty. "You don't understand what you're doing."
Thaln didn't answer. He couldn't. His hands clenched into fists, his body tensing as if to strike, to end this, but his thoughts were too clouded, too muddled.
The woman stepped closer. "You've killed them all. But you can't undo what you've done. It's too late."
And just like that, it clicked. A shudder ran through him.
He turned, facing the distant ruins. The dead city. The world he had come to save.
But he couldn't shake the feeling.
The emptiness. The finality.
And then it came crashing down.
Thaln felt it—his own death. The explosion of nothingness within him. He looked down at his own body, his hands trembling as his power drained from him. The energy that had kept him alive, that had driven him to do what he had done, faded away. The woman had been right.
The world had been destroyed. His people had lost. And so had he.
With nothing left, nothing to keep him anchored to this dying place, Thaln fell to his knees, the cold stone pressing against his skin. His vision blurred, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
And for the first time in his life, he felt it. Fear.
His body trembled as the last remnants of his power drained away, leaving him weak, vulnerable. He reached out, but there was nothing. The earth had nothing to offer him. No salvation.
He couldn't even fight.