Meanwhile, in Flemur…
This is a port town located in the southern part of Breybar province, stands as a solemn sentinel between the mountains and forsaken wastes. In these vast spans of land between Flemur and Fracklosk, no dwelling lies between, save for the ruins of sundry dead towns long abandoned to time.
This desolation is no accident, considering Flemur wasn't part of the Drudal Empire in the past. It was wrenched away from the Kingdom of Amalyra during a brutal war two decades ago. The conflict left the surrounding region a graveyard of scorched earth, silent ruins, and whispers of lives erased by fire and steel.
Not far from the port, on a small island called Litchmer Riff, stands a research center, a relic of Amalyra's scientific ambition, now owned by the Governor of Fracklosk's arms company. But the lab, once a bastion of cutting-edge experimentation, has become a site of chaos following a catastrophic accident two weeks prior.
"Still can't get the generator working?" grumbles a heavyset cop, his flashlight beam shaking with frustration.
"They are working on it!" Another officer replies half shouting.
The fat cop curses under his breath. "Damn it. How the hell are we supposed to investigate in the dark like this?"
You may ask, why don't just do it later in the day. Well, daylight offers no solution, because most of the research center was built underground. Time isn't on their side either. The three missing scientists must be found, and every second spent fumbling in the dark inches them closer to another tragedy.
The team proceeds cautiously, relying on their flashlights to navigate the labyrinth of damaged hallways. Their anxiety is warranted. This lab once birthed chimeras for military purposes, and those same creations are believed to be behind the accident.
Reaching the captivity ground, the team halts. They are shocked to find every cage stands empty, with glass fronts shattered into jagged shards.
"If they don't get the generator up soon, we'll have no choice but to leave. It's suicide staying here without power," someone mutters.
Just then, the overhead lights flicker and, with a hum, illuminate the area. Though some rooms and corridors remain dark due to the extensive damage, the team presses forward.
In the faint glow, several dead chimeras come into view. Their twisted forms sprawled across the floor. These creatures, small as kindergarten children, possess thick fur, grotesquely muscular limbs, and claws like polished blades. Their faces are eerily cute, with elongated mouths resembling guinea pigs, a disarming contrast to their deadly design.
"So, this is what they've been creating here," one officer murmurs grimly.
"Mole chimeras," says Detective Martin, the fat cop, his voice heavy with disdain. "They were designed to tunnel beneath enemy fortifications, to attack from below."
"And they used those skills to break out of their own cages. Ironic, isn't it?" other cop chimes in sarcastically.
Martin doesn't reply, his gaze fixed on the shattered cages. The walls, floors, and ceilings are made of steel, looking clean without a scratch. Only the 10 cm-thick glass fronts lie in pieces, and it's clear to him that the damage isn't entirely natural. He doesn't believe it was done by these cute moles either.
"Check the monitor room," he orders. "See if the CCTV recordings survived."
As the team disperses, Martin lingers, crouching near the shards of broken glass. Something about their edges catches his eye, they're too clean, too precise.
"A sword?" he mutters to himself, shaking his head. "Impossible. No blade could cut through this thick glass."
"What about a laser blade?" A voice asks from behind him.
The fat detective looks back, and sees his partner, a young skinny cop with messy beard, coming to him while lighting a cigarette.
"No," Martin replies firmly. "A laser blade would leave burn marks. These cuts are… surgical. Smooth and precise."
"One thing for sure, it's the work of some outsiders," Arthur says, his tone low.
Martin nods, his unease growing. "Let's hope the CCTV caught something useful."
As Martin moves toward the exit, Arthur lingers, scanning the area with a grim curiosity. His flashlight sweeps over the devastation, searching for clues. But then, without warning…
Sraakk!!!
"Aaaargh!!!"
Arthur screams. The fat detective is shocked and immediately looks back. To his surprise, the partner is being dragged into the ground, his body already buried up to his chest. Only his shoulders and head remain visible as he struggles, clawing at the floor.
"Captain!" Arthur cries, his voice trembling with terror. "Help me! Something's got my feet!"
Martin races forward, his massive frame heaving as he drops to his knees and reaches for Arthur's hands. But just as their fingers brush…
"Arthur!"
That young detective vanishes into the dark maw of the earth, his screams echoing down a tunnel that seems to have appeared from nowhere.
"Captain! Help!"
Martin stares helplessly into the abyss, his flashlight trembling as he tries to peer inside. The beam reveals nothing but darkness, no bottom, no sign of Arthur, only an ominous silence.
His breath quickens, and cold sweat beads on his forehead. His mind spirals into claustrophobic dread, imagining the suffocating blackness Arthur must be trapped in.
"Arthur!" he yells. "Hang in there! I'll get help!"
But as he turns to leave, a faint noise stops him. Something stirs within the tunnel. He swings his flashlight back, his hand shaking violently. As he takes a peek back into the tunnel, there he sees it, something in the dark.
Deg!
At that moment, Martin's face goes pale. His lips quiver, but no sound escapes. His knees suddenly buckle, and then he collapses to the ground. By the time his team arrives, he's already unconscious, foam pooling at the corners of his mouth.
"What the hell happened here?!"
"Where's Arthur? Wasn't he here earlier?"
One stays behind to check Martin's pulse while the rest, guns drawn, cautiously checking the area with high alertness.
"Arthur!"
"Hey, Arthur!"
They came here to find three missing scientists, but instead lost one of their own. They try to look for a few moments, but none dares linger for long.
Whatever horror happened to Arthur and Martin, they want no part of it. Thus, they carry their fallen captain back to Flemur, leaving the darkness behind.