The Light Squadron in the Shadows
The darkness of the Amazon jungle was not mere absence of light. It was presence. An ancient whisper embedded in the trees, in the damp earth, in the perpetual hum of the air. And Rob could feel it.
From the moment he marked the mosquito, his perception of the world changed. He didn't just see—he felt where the enemy was hiding. A dense pull guided him like a psychic beacon, all pointing to a single place: the border between Colombia and Brazil, a region forgotten by maps and surveillance systems.
According to the Survival System, this was the area where a persistent energy anomaly had been recorded—one that distorted satellite signals, disabled drones, and caused memory loss in explorers.
Rob knew then: it was time to face the heart of the network.But this time, he wouldn't go alone.
In the underground base in Bolivia, beneath a dome reinforced with titanium and adaptive ceramic, Rob observed the floating projections of enemy territory. At the center of the map pulsed a red, abstract shape—resembling either an eye or a distorted flower. Around it, waves of data fluctuated, revealing breaches in environmental logic, fractures in human perception.
Before him, four warriors watched in silence. Each one a survivor of a different story. All of them chosen for their strength… but also for their balance.
"This won't be a normal mission," Rob began, his voice low but sharp as a blade. "We're about to enter the core of the enemy's network. And I want something clear before we continue."
He turned to face the four of them.
"I'm not a savior. I'm not a saint. And I'm not here for glory. I'm here because someone has to be."
"I don't seek vengeance, but I don't forgive at random either. I'm just to those who deserve it… and ruthless to those who've chosen to do harm.I don't leave loose ends. I've learned that loose ends… come back as knives in the back."
All eyes were fixed on him.
Rob pointed to the center of the projection.
"Inside that, the one responsible for millions of deaths awaits. For psychic slavery. For stealing lives without touching a body. This isn't just an enemy. It's a conscious curse.And we're going to exorcise it."
The first to respond was Lucía, the young Argentine with violet eyes who radiated abnormal serenity. Her ability, Psychic Anchor, allowed her to stabilize her squad's minds amidst mental distortions.
"What's the secondary objective?" she asked, always precise.
"Extract information, if possible. But if not… purify it. Or destroy it," Rob replied.
Thiago, the Brazilian tracker, crouched to adjust his energy-sensor gauntlet. His ability, Energy Seeker, allowed him to sense living sources of power within several kilometers.
"We can't rely solely on the system inside. If the network is what I think… its nodes will be camouflaged, disguised as harmless entities."
"That's why you're here," said Rob with a nod. "If there's an entrance, you'll feel it before anyone."
Camila, from Paraguay, remained silent. Her ability, Inner Light, created a spiritual barrier that counteracted mental illusions. She wore an old rosary tied to her wrist. She touched it without speaking.
Rob looked at her for a moment, then nodded.
"You're our light if the enemy tries to blind us with our own shadows."
Finally, Nando, the Uruguayan with scar-covered arms, smiled with the calm of someone who's seen too many friends die. His ability, Blood Thorns, made him a living wall of attack and defense.
"And if the nest's full of things that don't want to die?"
Rob looked him straight in the eye.
"Then you make sure they don't forget you as you push them into hell."
Nando chuckled darkly.
"I like that."
Hours later, they departed.
The thermal-camouflaged light aircraft flew over the still-clear skies of southern Colombia. From above, it looked like a pristine world, an untouched jungle. But Rob knew that was a lie. That calm was the mask of something monstrous.
Thiago, from the observation post, pointed ahead.
"We're entering the distortion range. Temperature dropping. Oxygen showing psychoactive fluctuations."
Camila sat in a meditation pose. Her golden aura began expanding slowly, like an invisible shield embracing the five of them.
"Don't let what you see make you forget who you are," she murmured.
Rob stood, watching the approaching landscape.
On the horizon, the jungle seemed to bend. As if the trees breathed. As if the land itself had eyes.
"This isn't just a nest," Rob said, gripping his sword tightly.
"It's the broken mirror of everything we could've been… and weren't."
And they were about to step into it.
The Fog Frontier
The first symptom was the smell.
Not of rot, nor death. But of things that shouldn't have a scent—nonexistent flowers, cold smoke, burned wood in a place that never caught fire. Loose aromas, encapsulated memories floating in particles. Borrowed memories.
Rob noticed it even before Thiago signaled it on his interface:
"We've crossed the boundary. Everyone… eyes open, minds grounded."
The aircraft descended over a natural clearing absent from any maps. As they neared the ground, the mist began to engulf the fuselage. But this wasn't ordinary fog. It moved against the wind, climbing over the structure as if it were breathing.
When the squad disembarked, the world became something else.
The vegetation at the Amazonian border was dense, yes—but also too quiet. Unusually quiet. No bird calls, no monkey howls, not even insects. Just the sound of their own footsteps among thick roots, wet branches, and mist that distorted depth perception.
Each tree stood too still. As if watching.
"Is this… alive?" Nando asked, brushing the knotted trunk of a giant ceiba.
"Not like you or me," Camila replied. "But yes. It feels."
Lucía kept her gaze forward, alert to any mental distortion. So far, her Psychic Anchor kept the squad emotionally stable.
Then… something broke.
Thiago stopped abruptly.
"Five meters ahead," he whispered. "There's a body. Human."
Rob raised his fist—a silent signal to halt.
They approached. It was a soldier. Not part of the Survival System, but a civilian with improvised gear, likely part of a lost search patrol. He stood upright, frozen, eyes wide open. His mouth formed a grotesque, forced smile.
"Is he… alive?" Lucía whispered.
"No," Rob replied firmly. "He's used."
Before they could react, the body collapsed—like a puppet cut from its strings.
Then, the others emerged from the forest.
Ten figures. Human—in appearance.
They moved like insects, twitching between steps. Eyes completely white, mouths shut. They held weapons, but not like soldiers: they carried them like religious relics, without clear purpose.
Thiago's face went pale.
"I didn't detect them. They're not alive… but not dead either."
"They're conscious nodes," Camila said, raising her golden light.
Rob stepped forward.
"Don't engage until I say."
The figures approached. One of them—a woman in a Brazilian uniform, with an open chest wound that didn't bleed—extended her hand.
And spoke.
"You see us… and still you doubt?"
Rob said nothing.
"Why break what's already been rebuilt? There is no pain here. Only obedience. Judgment has already been passed. You… are out of place."
Lucía stepped forward.
"They're trying to get into our heads. Hold your ground."
The woman tilted her head like a curious insect.
"You know it too, Rob. You know there is no salvation without submission. Join us. Or remain… alone."
Rob raised his voice—not shouting, but firm, like a judge tired of excuses:
"I've seen civilizations fall. I've seen innocents burn for others' sins.I didn't come to negotiate. I came to end this."
He unsheathed his sword.
"Final warning."
The woman smiled.
"Warning accepted."
They attacked.
What followed was controlled tactical chaos.
Rob moved like a living shadow, using gravitational energy to disarm the first two enemies before they even touched the ground. His sword didn't cut—it sealed, knocking bodies unconscious without damaging brain tissue.
Nando, with thorns extending from his forearms, intercepted three figures in a spinning dance. His thorns grew with every drop of enemy blood, but he controlled them to avoid killing.
Camila projected a field of light over Thiago and Lucía, shielding them from mental distortion that tried to drown them in false visions.
"Focus! We are not what we hear!" Lucía shouted, anchoring Rob's perception with her psychic link.
One of the enemies screamed with a voice that wasn't theirs:
"Justice doesn't work in the dark, Rob! Mercy is weakness!"
Rob struck them with a spear of shadow—but didn't kill. Just rendered them unconscious.
"That's not mercy…" he said through heavy breaths. "It's justice… for those who still can be saved.And for those who can't… I won't give them second chances."
When the battle ended, only the five of them remained standing.
None of the enemy had died. All were unconscious, immobilized, and tagged for future tracking.
Lucía, sweating, approached Rob.
"Why didn't we kill them?"
Rob looked toward the forest returning to silence.
"Because someone was still inside them.But if we reach the core and find only darkness… I won't be merciful."
The fog around them thickened—denser, more alive.
And ahead, a massive root veiled a natural cavern… from which pulsed not energy, but shared memory.
The real nest was near.
And the judgment… had only just begun.
The Invisible Nest
Part 3: The Core of Horror
The living root opened like a wound. It wasn't stone or wood. It was something in between—moist, fibrous, pulsating. Camila shuddered as she touched it, sensing human emotions on its surface. Pain. Surrender. Silence.
"This… was once a person," she whispered.
Rob moved forward without hesitation. He had crossed too many lines to doubt now.
Thiago scanned the path with his modified sensors, but the readings made no sense. The energy flow changed every three seconds—as if the nest rewrote its own structure to avoid being understood.
"We're entering something that wasn't meant for humans," he muttered.
"Maybe it wasn't made," Rob replied. "Maybe it grew… like an idea ignored for too long."
The inside of the nest was a massive cavern lit by bioluminescent growths, with ceilings as high as cathedrals. But there was no symmetry. No logic. Everything twisted like a diseased thought: hallways that folded in on themselves, stairways that led nowhere, liquid mirrors that reflected nothing.
But the most terrifying part wasn't the design.
It was the content.
Humans.
Hundreds of them, suspended in organic pods. Some cried. Others laughed in silence. Their eyes darted around erratically, as if trapped in dreams. Each had a filament connected to the base of their skulls—like inverted umbilical cords.
Lucía dropped to her knees.
"God… this is a hive. A system. Every one of them… is processing thoughts for the mosquito."
Camila extended her light. Several bodies twitched but didn't awaken. They couldn't. They were trapped in a shared mental network.
Nando clenched his jaw.
"Are they alive?"
"Their bodies are. Their minds… no longer belong to them," Rob said grimly.
At the far end of the chamber, a spiral descent led to a deeper level. Ancient carvings covered the walls—not human glyphs, but symbols... familiar symbols.
Rob approached. His heart stopped for a second.
They were the same symbols from the Survival System.
Lucía joined him. Camila watched from behind.
"What does it mean?" she asked.
Rob touched one of the symbols. The wall vibrated slightly, and a hidden core activated. A holographic figure, projected in natural light, emerged from the symbol. It was a message—but not from now. It was ancient.
The figure spoke in an unknown language, but the system's translation auto-activated:
"Whoever reads this, know that the cycle has no beginning. It only repeats judgment upon those already judged.When the world forgets its balance, the sky sends two: one to observe… and one to act."
Rob closed his eyes.
"Two…"
Camila shivered.
"You… and the mosquito?"
The projection continued:
"The Observer fails if he doubts. The Actor falls if he is corrupted.The cycle resets if both lose their purpose. But if one remembers—if one resists—then the cycle can be… redefined."
Rob stepped back.
"I'm not someone's actor. I'm no piece in their game."
The projection responded, as if it had heard him:
"Every player says that… until they remember why they were chosen."
A tremor shook the structure—not a physical one, but psychic. As if the mosquito had sensed their presence. The entire hive seemed to groan.
Lucía clutched her head.
"He's sensed us!"
Camila used her light to stabilize the mental field, but even her aura flickered. Nando positioned himself in front of the group, ready to fight.
But Rob didn't move.
"No. We haven't been detected. We've been recognized."
A wall at the back began to open.
And beyond it… there were no more pods.
There was an altar.
Covered in markings identical to those of the system—carved by human and non-human hands. At its center, a human figure slept inside a capsule of black crystal. It was impossible to tell if they were alive.
Thiago approached with caution.
"Its energy… it's not the mosquito's. But it's similar. Like…"
"Like one of us?" Rob asked.
Camila knelt. Peered inside the capsule.
"Rob… this person has been here for centuries."
Silence.
Then, the capsule began to open.
A hand moved.
Rob didn't draw his sword.
Not out of hesitation.
But because for the first time since this all began… he felt there was something the system couldn't control.
Something that might change everything.
Or destroy it.
Visions of the Cycle
The air thickened like tar.
The black capsule finished opening with a muffled hiss, as if exhaling centuries of accumulated history. Inside, the human figure—slender, almost ethereal—slowly opened its eyes.
They weren't white.They weren't red.They were mirrors.
Rob felt a pull in his chest before the figure said a single word.
"It's not real…" Lucía murmured, trembling.
"Yes it is," Camila replied, gripping her shoulder. "But not here."
And in that moment, the world collapsed.
Rob didn't fall to the ground. He fell into himself.
His senses shut off. His mind was ripped from his body like a seed plucked from a tree. He didn't feel pain—he felt revelation.
When he opened his eyes, he stood in an impossible space.
A sky without stars.A ground without shape.A universe breathing slowly, as if half-asleep.
And in front of him…the mosquito.
But not as he had seen it before. It didn't float. It walked. Its wings were smoke. Its face, undefined, shifted with emotion. It had a humanoid form—but it wasn't human. It was a thought wearing skin.
"Welcome to the cycle," it said without moving its lips. "I didn't think you'd make it this far without breaking."
Rob didn't respond.
The mosquito circled him.
"Do you know how many came before you? How many thought they could defy the rules of the Sky?"
With a snap of its fingers, distorted human figures appeared — men and women with system marks on their chests, their eyes gray, their gazes broken.
"They all failed. They believed they could save without getting dirty. That they could protect without making hard choices. And you… are you any different?"
Rob finally spoke.
"I'm not like them. Because I don't care about being perfect. I care about being just."
The mosquito stopped.
"And what is justice, Rob? Saving those who follow you? Condemning those who fear you? What happens when the two become one?"
Rob looked it straight in the eyes.
"What happens is… I decide. Because I am free. And you are not."
The mosquito trembled. For the first time, its form wavered.
"Free…?You think this was a choice? I was chosen too!I was created too!I was awakened to do what you don't dare: To cut! To prune! To eliminate the weak so the strong may survive!"
The world shifted.
Rob now stood in a familiar city—his city. But empty.Abandoned.Dark.
"This is your future," said the mosquito. "Even if you win, what will you save? Ruins? Ghosts? The guilty pretending to be innocent?"
Rob walked through the streets. He heard laughter. Screams. The voices of his wife, of his children. He saw their faces in broken windows, reflected in puddles.
The mosquito approached.
"Join me, Rob. Not as a slave.As the other executor. You and I… we're not enemies. We are necessary."
The world trembled again. The cycle wanted to choose him.
And Rob, standing in the middle of the simulated wreckage, closed his eyes.
He remembered Ramiro. Jorge. Rosa. All those who fell without being corrupted.
And he answered:
"I'm not the guardian of the cycle.I'm not the pruner of the weak.I'm the shield of the just. And you… are the test that failed."
Darkness engulfed him.
And this time, he screamed.
Not from fear. But from power unleashed.
When Rob came to, he was kneeling in front of the capsule.
Camila was holding him. Nando had his weapon pointed at a fading shadow. Thiago was trembling.Lucía had blood dripping from her nose.
"Did you see it?" Camila asked.
Rob nodded, still on the ground.
"There's no turning back now."
He stood up, staggering.
"Next time I see him…it will be the end."
He looked toward the altar.
"It's not an enemy.It's a distorted reflection. And I'm going to break the mirror."
The Oath and the Final Hunt
They left the altar behind like a scar etched in memory.
The squad marched in silence, their steps heavy—like people who had seen too much in too little time. There was no celebration. No victory speeches. Just a shared thought, echoing in all of them:
Now they knew what they were up against.
Back on the surface, the air finally felt like air again. The sky, veiled in gray clouds, greeted them with distant thunder. Far off, the forest whispered—as if the enemy already knew the game was nearing its end.
Lucía was the first to speak:
"That wasn't just a place.It was a warning.An altar… for those who come after."
"And we won't let there be a next time," Rob said, adjusting his gear.
Camila, pale but resolute, offered a silent prayer with her hand over her heart.
Nando, thorns still retracting from his arms, simply nodded.
Thiago checked his reader—and turned pale.
"Rob… the psychic pulse you triggered at the altar… it's replicating.Somewhere else. It's like…like you lit a beacon."
Rob closed his eyes. Not out of exhaustion—but to listen.
Then the System spoke.
[New Objective: Location Confirmed – THE THRESHOLD – Class S Mosquito Nexus Confirmed] Distance: 237 km east – Uncharted zone – Status: Unstable
The interface went dark.
Then flickered a single word:
[Final]
Rob looked at the group.
"Ready?"
No one hesitated.
He turned, and for the first time, activated a global broadcast through South America's survival network. His image appeared on hidden screens, projectors in shelters, wherever hopeful or broken eyes could still see.
He spoke with the voice of someone who had suffered, who had seen, who had chosen:
"To all who still resist: This is Rob, from the heart of horror. We have found the nest. We have seen the origin. And we have confirmed a truth: The enemy does not only come from outside… but from within.From our decisions.From our neglect."
He paused.
"But we will not be judged for what we were.We will be remembered for what we did when there was no more hope."
Images shifted to Lucía, Thiago, Camila, and Nando standing behind him.
"This is not the story of a savior.It is the story of a people who decided not to kneel anymore. Tomorrow, we march to the Threshold. And there… we end the cycle. Forever."
He cut the transmission.
Camila stepped closer.
"What if we don't come back?"
Rob stared at the horizon.
"Then at least we'll make sure the world knows… humanity never fell to its knees."
And with that, the squad began to prepare.
That night, while the makeshift camp slept, Rob stayed awake.
Not out of fear.
But out of respect.
He knew what was coming.
He knew that what he would face at the Threshold wasn't just a being—it was an idea: The idea that everything must repeat. That the strong must judge the weak. That there is no alternative to suffering.
But he had a response to that.
A sword.A name.A conviction.
Rob. The Guardian of the Last Human Bastion.
And at dawn, with sunlight piercing the canopy like divine spears of judgment, he and his squad took their first step toward the end.
[END OF CHAPTER 24]