So now we're running like full-on track stars out of a half-destroyed mall, adrenaline kicking in real hard.
Every mall cop who wasn't crushed under a pillar or cement block, was now sprinting after us, shouting, wheezing, blowing whistles like that would somehow slow us down. Well it didn't. If anything, it made us faster. Right then, I had never been more grateful for Micheal's brutal training sessions. We were dusting them.
But the moment we hit the streets, it got worse.
Sirens. Real ones. Police cruisers rounded the corners. Lights flashing. Tires screeching. People shouting. Paradise had just turned into a nightmare.
"We don't even know the way back!" I shouted as we sprinted down the sidewalk.
"Even if we did," Tucker huffed next to me, "we'd lead them straight to the resistance. We can't go back."
Panic set in. But we kept running.
"Through here!" Tucker suddenly yelled, veering hard into a side alley.
I didn't even hesitate.
We ducked into the alleyway, barely dodging a vendor cart, and sprinted through a narrow gap that opened into a grimy stretch under a concrete bridge. It reeked of old food and burnt rubber. A few makeshift tents and oil-drum fires told us we'd hit a small homeless camp.
I jumped over a crate and shouted, "Do you even know where you're going?!"
"Nope!" Tucker called back without looking. "Does it matter?!"
Fair enough I guess.
We tore through the underpass like animals, zig-zagging between blankets and mattresses laid out across the concrete. I muttered apologies as we rushed past people just trying to survive, but there wasn't time to stop. Behind us, sirens blared louder.
Then—A deep, thunderous thud exploded in the distance.
I skidded to a stop.
The world tilted slightly. My ears began ringing, sharp and high, like the whine of a broken speaker. Tucker stopped too, stumbling a bit before catching himself. He turned to look forward, eyes wide.
His cheeks puffed up slightly like he was holding something in, maybe fear, maybe disbelief.
I followed his gaze.
Something was standing in front of us. Blocking the exit of the underpass.
And judging by the pressure in the air… it wasn't a cop.
The thing stepped out of the shadows.
No… not a thing.
A nightmare with legs.
Towering over us at what had to be nine feet tall, it emerged slowly, red like firetruck paint, its glossy exoskeleton reflecting the flickering lights of the underpass. At first, I thought it was a ladybug.
A giant, mutated ladybug.
But then I saw the rest of it.
Its hair—yes, hair—was jet black and slicked back like a 1950s greaser. Its eyes glowed a piercing yellow, sharp and narrow, like it hadn't blinked in weeks. Heavy, dark bags hung beneath them, this thing looked like it hadn't slept since the dinosaurs.
And its legs? Two of them. Horse legs. Just… horse legs. Not insect legs, not human legs, straight-up, muscular stallion limbs. Like someone had tried to build a monster in a lab and halfway through said, "You know what? I give up. Just slap on some hooves."
Tucker and I both just… stared.
There was silence.
Tension.
And then, my cheeks puffed up.
I tried to hold it in, I really did. But I couldn't stop the tiny chuckles slipping out of my mouth. I hunched over, covering my face as I wheezed.
"Bro," I said, shaking. "Is that a horse-legged, sleep-deprived, anime reject ladybug?!"
Tucker blinked. "I was gonna say, he looks like a Pixar villain who got rejected for being too weird."
I lost it.
We both burst out laughing.
The ladybug thing didn't move. Didn't flinch. Just stood there like an ominous statue.
Which made it even funnier.
Tucker caught his breath first. "Yo, imagine getting chased through a mall, destroying half of it, then getting hunted down by Bugsy Malone over here."
I wiped a tear from my eye. "Bro, tell me why he look like he about to drop a sad jazz album called Sleepless in Choreees. Timmy Tough Knuckes over here."
That was it. Tucker had to lean against a pillar just to breathe.
But then… it spoke.
A low rumble echoed from deep within its chest, vibrating through the concrete under our feet. The voice that followed was slow, smooth, and deep, way too deep. Like someone had pitched it down just to freak you out.
"…Laugh now, die later."
The laughter stopped instantly.
That voice didn't just command silence, it stole it.
The ladybug stepped closer. The ground trembled with each hoof-fall. His antennae twitched ever so slightly.
He tilted his head down at us.
"I am Asura."
That name hit like a bomb. Not because we knew exactly who he was…
But because something inside me recognized it. Like my body remembered a nightmare my brain hadn't caught up to yet.
And judging by Tucker's clenched fists and frozen posture, he felt it too.
Asura didn't blink. Didn't shift. Didn't even flinch.
His glowing yellow eyes bore into us like a curse spoken in silence.
Then he said it, in that deep, bone-vibrating voice:
"…Cael has failed to take care of you."
He took one slow step forward.
"Therefore…"
Another step.
"I will."
And then, he vanished.
Gone in an instant.
Wind exploded outward like a shockwave. My instincts screamed, but it was too late.
A monstrous uppercut slammed into both Tucker and me at the same time, like he split reality just to double-hit us. My stomach folded in on itself as we were launched into the air like ragdolls.
We crashed through a tarp-covered structure nearby, a makeshift shelter. It collapsed in a spray of splintered wood and shredded cloth. We landed hard, the air knocked clean from my lungs. Someone nearby screamed. Then a whole chorus of voices followed as the people in the area, shoppers, bystanders, the homeless community tucked under the bridge, scattered in a full-blown panic.
The whole underpass emptied in seconds.
Dust filled the air.
Tucker groaned beside me, shaking off debris as he sat up. He held his stomach, wincing, then glanced at me.
"It's okay," he wheezed, forcing a grin. "It's 2-on-1. We got this."
I coughed and sat up too, adrenaline starting to kick in. "He hit like five people with one punch, man."
"Still counts as one!" Tucker snapped, forcing himself to his feet.
Asura stood in place, completely unfazed. His inhuman yellow eyes locked on us like a predator with all the time in the world.
Nearby, lying beside a popped tire, was, of course, a rusty katana. At this point, I was starting to think these things just spawn next to me. I didn't question it. I grabbed it.
Tucker gave me a nod and sprinted toward Asura without hesitation. The creature didn't flinch, just mirrored the charge. Their fists collided in a blur of movement, but this time Tucker weaved low and launched upward, slamming a rising uppercut straight into Asura's chin.
It connected. But Asura barely moved.
His head snapped back into place with a sickening crack, and those glowing eyes immediately zeroed in on Tucker again, dead, unblinking, inhuman.
I lunged in, katana raised, and brought the blade down on his neck.
It shattered on impact—splinters of rusted metal crumbling in my hands.
What the hell is this guy made of?
I landed hard and retaliated with a full-strength kick to his legs, his weird horse legs, mind you, but he didn't even flinch. Instead, he calmly raised one leg and launched me backward into a pile of garbage with the force of a cannon.
Tucker roared and channeled every ounce of Strength Presence into his fist. It radiated heat, like it was cracking from the inside. He drove it into Asura's stomach.
A shockwave exploded out from the impact… but Asura didn't budge.
Instead, he calmly raised a hand and slapped Tucker so hard he bounced off the wall and rolled like a kicked can.
It was then I knew.
We had to stop messing around.
We got up, fast. Not because we weren't hurting, but because fear doesn't matter when the alternative is death. We surged forward again, this time in sync. Punch after punch, kick after kick, moving like blurs, ghosts of ourselves, bodies glowing with Presence energy, fists cracking with strength and dripping with fear.
We were hitting him harder. Faster. I saw it.
He stumbled once. Blocked a few.
Blood. A thin line of it ran from his nose.
We backed off, breathing hard. There was hope now. We could hurt him. We could win.
That's when the cold hit.
Not physically, spiritually.
Like something reached inside my chest and grabbed my heart.
My limbs locked.
My vision narrowed.
It felt like a void pressed itself against my skin. Terrifying.
I tried to speak, but my mouth wouldn't move. I couldn't even look at Tucker. All I could do was stare forward.
That's when I saw them.
Shadows, red, ghost-like entities, floating behind Asura like twisted specters. Dozens of them. Thin and skeletal, with no faces and no forms. Just mouths. And hands. So many hands. Reaching.
Their fingers stretched out toward us like they were feeding. Hungry.
I gasped.
One touched me. And everything went black.
The cold was instant. Violent. It wasn't just a chill, it was death. Not the act of dying—but the feeling of having already died.
Thoughts came in waves, isolation, war, betrayal, loneliness, suffering.
Memories that weren't mine. Pain that wasn't mine. And yet… I felt all of it. Like it had always been there, hiding in the corners of my soul, waiting for this moment to rip me apart.
My knees hit the floor, I think. I couldn't see anymore. But I could feel it. A million needles tearing into my skin. My bones ached. My head burned.
I screamed… but it didn't make a sound.
And somewhere, in the space between sanity and hell, I heard the laughter of something ancient.
Then, I felt it again.
Another hand.
Colder.
Stronger.
And everything slipped away.
NARRATOR
A new terror takes the stage. The Crimson Warden of fear—Asura. His weapon? Not fists. Not fire. But the soul-deep panic that crushes warriors before the battle is won.