The battlefield had become a deranged orchestra, producing a chaotic symphony of screams, gunfire, and explosions.
"Aghhh!!!"
"Die, you damned b*stards!"
"Man down! I repeat, man down! We need a medic over here!"
(BOOM)
The ground quaked with each detonation, and smoke rose in thick, choking plumes as the acrid stench of burning flesh mixed with the sweet metallic tang of freshly spilled blood.
The Unknowns, the conductors of this orchestra, ran rampant, leaving death and destruction in their wake.
The remaining soldiers, their numbers thinning by the second, fought desperately against the nightmarish abominations that had clawed their way into the world.
The Tear pulsed ominously behind them, a malevolent wound in reality still bleeding horrors into their world.
A grim reminder that there were more Unknowns yet to come through…And though they came.
Despite their relentless fire, the abominations waded through the flurry of energy rounds, their grotesque forms illuminated in flashes of searing light.
It was still early in the morning, but the battlefield was as bright as noon.
However... The light show did little to alleviate the army's crisis.
For every monster the soldiers shot at, another appeared shortly after, emerging from the fissure with guttural screeches and gnashing teeth.
The soldiers gritted their teeth, their hands slick with sweat and blood, their weapons feeling heavier with each passing moment.
It was a battle of attrition and one that they were quickly losing.
While there were reports of reinforcements en route, they didn't have the luxury of patiently waiting.
Not when more of them were dying by the second.
At that moment, Commander Whitaker, along with a few other officers of a higher rank, finally sprung into action.
Apart from Linda, all of them were First Lieutenants of the army, all of them having the rank of 1-Star.
Unlike the rank-and-file soldiers, the officers had waited at the perimeter, allowing the creatures to sustain as much damage as possible before engaging.
Now that the barricades crumbled and the beasts prowled forward, it was their turn to fight.
Among them was Mark.
In contrast to the rifles used by the soldiers around him, Mark gripped a long spiked mace, its metallic head gleaming with raw power.
He surged forward, his muscles coiling as he swung the weapon down in a wide arc.
(BANG)
The mace connected with a sickening crunch, sinking deep into the abomination's bony hide.
The creature lurched forward, its body convulsing as ash-grey blood oozed from the jagged wound. It staggered, releasing the half-eaten soldier it had been feasting on.
The Unknown's nine bulbous eyes swivelling in crazed unison before locking on Mark.
Mark smirked, his breathing heavy.
"What? Did I interrupt your lunch?"
"SCREEEEEEH!"
The creature responded with a banshee-like screech, its clawed hand slashing through the air toward him. Mark barely had time to react before the force of the blow sent him skidding backward, his ribs shuddering under the impact.
"Phew!"
Mark scowled as he spat a mouthful of blood onto the cracked pavement.
He had most certainly suffered some kind of internal damage from the shock, but that wasn't all.
His arms trembled under the force of the ruthless blow, his mace barely hanging in his grasp.
He was hurt... Quite severely, in fact. Mark was already beginning to lose feeling in his arms.
Sadly, though, he had no time to rest.
Around him, the other First Lieutenants were locked in their own battles.
The number of monsters had already swelled to nine, their grotesque forms twisting and lunging at the soldiers who fought tooth and nail to keep them at bay.
Now, no semblance of the previous barricade remained. They were completely gone, tossed aside like paper by the relentless assault, and the soldiers had no choice but to retreat.
For the ordinary troops, the outcome of the battle was now out of their hands.
With their rifles already proven ineffective against the grey abominations, all they could do was pray—pray reinforcements would come soon and that their superiors could hold the line long enough.
If there was any solace, it was that the Tear had finally begun to close, and it didn't look like any more of the hellish creatures would claw their way out.
This was the final wave.
Now, it was up to fifteen First Lieutenants and their Captain to put an end to this nightmare.
Most of the Lieutenants had paired up, their combined efforts keeping seven of the creatures occupied. Captain Whitaker faced her target alone, and though she fought fiercely, even she bore the signs of battle.
Mark, however, had drawn the short straw... He had to face this monstrosity alone.
Unlike his superior, who was a 2-Star, Mark and the rest of the Lieutenants were still only 1-Stars.
While it made them leagues stronger than the normal humans that were their subordinates, fighting creatures from a Rank 2 Tear was above their capabilities... Much less all on their own.
A grim determination settled over him as he took a deep breath.
The colour of his caramel skin shifted, deepening to a molten red, and tiny wisps of white smoke curled up from his pores.
His muscles tightened, his breath turning ragged as an unnatural heat coursed through his veins.
As his face twisted into a demonic scowl, a loud, loud war cry escaped his lips.
"RAAAAGGGHHHHHHH!"
Lifting his mace with much greater ease, he swung his weapon, intercepting the creature's claw mid-strike.
The impact sent a resounding shockwave through the battlefield, the air itself quivering from the collision.
The abomination shrieked as its blackened talon cracked under the force, but Mark wasn't unscathed.
His arms were screaming in protest, while his weapon was barely holding itself together.
However, Mark no longer had the capacity to pay attention to such things.
Pain no longer registered in his frenzied mind... All that mattered to him was the killing of the enemy before him.
In fact, Mark looked no less deranged than the creature he was locked in combat with.
It was a relief that no one else was around him; otherwise, they might have gotten caught in the crossfire.
Mark's changes not only made him stronger and faster but also thoroughly dulled his sense of pain.
While it was a blessing, it was also a curse.
Again and again, Mark furiously lashed out. His body had become a blur of red.
Each exchange of strikes sent fresh waves of blood spilling onto the shattered ground as Mark's body was riddled with progressively more wounds.
But every time he was pushed back or fell down, like a zombie, he stood right back up to rechallenge the abomination.
However, everything has its limits, and Mark soon met his.
Growing annoyed by the cockroach-like human, the abomination had enough.
With a monstrous roar, the creature lunged forward, slamming its full weight against him. Mark's already failing defences finally shattered.
His mace, already battered from the relentless assault, gave in with an ear-splitting crack.
Mark was sent flying backwards with a resounding bang.
Hitting the ground hard, his breath was torn from his lungs as he tumbled across the pavement.
Mark's body twitched as he tried to stand up once more, muscles spasming from exhaustion, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move... Not this time.
His body was broken.
His organs were shredded, his muscles were torn, and his bones fractured.
Mark's strength had finally failed him... He had lost.
Across the battlefield, the other Lieutenants fought desperately, but they fell one by one in a similar manner.
The creatures, as if emboldened by their impending victory, pushed forward.
Only Captain Whitaker stood victorious before her deceased foe. Still, even she was barely holding on to life by a thread.
As if realizing his fight was over, Mark's flushed skin returned to its natural colour. Still, the countless red gashes and blue, purple, and black bruises remained.
"Arghhh…."
Feeling his mind return to normal along with his senses, Mark gritted his teeth as he was bombarded with all of the accumulated pain he had endured during his berserk transformation.
"Damnit… Damnit, all to hell…" Mark cursed under his breath.
The ten-foot-tall abomination loomed over him, its eyes gleaming with sadistic glee. The creature reached down, grabbing him by his mangled arms, lifting him up like a broken doll.
Mark felt another surge of pain as his battered body cried out in protest against the creature's manhandling.
The creature brought him close to its face to study him, intrigued by the strange resilience of its prey.
Mark, however, had no intentions of humouring the monster's morbid curiosity.
His lips curved into a bloody scowl in repulsion.
"F*ck you."
Before the creature could react, he spat a glob of blood straight into one of the creature's nine eyes.
The abomination flinched, caught off guard by the act of defiance, and Mark felt the tremor run through its body.
"SCREEE!"
After recovering from its momentary shock, the creature glared at Mark with deranged madness.
However, before Mark could get a chance to spit another mouthful of blood, the creature's maw opened wide once more, aiming to finish its prey off once and for all.
Mark gave the creature one last look of revulsion before silently accepting his fate.
However, before the creature could bite his head off like the soldiers it had eaten not too long ago, Mark heard what appeared to be a crackle of thunder.
The creature's head jerked violently, its mouth opening wide... Too wide, even for the creature's malformed body.
Then, the entire upper half of the Unknown's skull slid cleanly off, landing beside Mark with a dull thud.
"It's… dead?"
Unable to properly speak anymore due to his injuries, his voice was reduced to a soft murmur.
Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, the abomination's body convulsed, twitching one last time before falling backward.
Mark's limp body fell like a ragdoll onto the deceased monster's lanky stomach, too weak to properly comprehend what had just happened.
Then, through the haze of his fading vision, Mark saw a silhouette standing several feet away.
A lone figure, no older than sixteen, his auburn hair wild with motion, stood among the battlefield.
His sword, shining white with pure, unbridled power, was already lodging itself in the chest of another nearby abomination.
Recognizing the youth, Mark chuckled weakly, a faint smile tugging at his lips as the remainder of his consciousness failed him.
"About damn time they showed up..."