From the rooftop, In-Ji's voice crackled through the walkie-talkie. "They're here."
The sky was bruised purple when the first rustle came from beyond the trees.
A quiet tremor in the earth. Then another.
It was like the world holding its breath, and the weight of it pressed against my ribs.
I gripped the walkie-talkie in my hand, voice low but sharp. "Everyone ready?"
A chorus of affirmatives came through.
In-ji's voice cut in last, from the rooftop across the street. "I see it. From the north. A wave of green. Coming fast."
"Estimated count?"
"I stopped counting at fifty. That was ten seconds ago."
I exhaled through gritted teeth and looked over my shoulder.
"Positions!" I barked.
Inside the warehouse, I adjusted the straps on my armor and gritted my teeth. The heavy iron shutters we'd reinforced with crates and steel racks shuddered like they were breathing. Outside, I could hear them—squeals, growls, claws scraping pavement. Goblins. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands.
Mi-Sun stood near the center, her scythe glowing faintly as she chanted under her breath. Ye-Rin climbed to the ledge of a scaffolding we'd set up near the wall, her axe charged with static. Sang-Woo crouched by the front barricade, spear pointed forward like a human wall. The old man—who still hadn't told us his name—sat cross-legged beside the van, cradling the sword like a newborn. He looked both calm and completely insane.
We'd built traps all night. Wooden spike barriers from old pallets. Tripwires connected to metal cans and spare explosive barrels were scavenged from nearby garages. Ye-Rin even fashioned a makeshift electric field using Volt's leftover wiring, anchored near the van. If anything got close to the sword, they'd fry
"child, status?" I asked into the mic.
A brief crackle. "Still asleep. No change."
"Stay hidden," I said. "Whatever happens—protect the kid."
And above us, watching all, was Volt.
The three-headed dragon rested on the warehouse roof like a gargoyle, wings folded tightly, eyes blazing with blue light.
He didn't speak, but I felt his presence like a furnace above my head.
The ground shook again.
Then the horde appeared.
Small. Green. Filthy.
Goblin after goblin swarmed from the treeblin like a pestilence, screeching and snarling. Some wore tattered shirts or stole children's shoes. Others wielded cooking knives or chair legs like swords. But all of them were fast.
Weak.
But many.
Sang-Woo let out a grunt. "We can take 'em."
"Don't get cocky," In-Ji muttered through walkie-talkie. "Weak doesn't mean harmless."
And then they charged.
The first wave slammed into the front barricade, shrieking like wild animals. Mother's scythe moved like smoke, slicing through three with one swing. Ye-Rin threw her axe like a spinning wheel—five goblins collapsed in a heap of cracked bones.
Sang-Woo stood behind the broken desk-leg barrier, spear jabbing with surgical precision.
Every strike dropped a goblin.
I activated Beastification.
Pain. Heat. My bones cracked as fur erupted across my limbs. The spider monkey forms—faster, sharper, crueler. I lunged onto the ceiling, crawling like a demon, then pounced—claws extended—tearing through goblins before they knew I was there.
One of them screamed in a language I didn't understand. But it sounded like fear.
It was almost too easy.
Volt let out a snort and launched himself from the rooftop. His wings flared wide, a gust of wind knocking over a dozen goblins before he even struck.
All three heads opened wide.
Fire.
Thunder.
Lightning.
The horde at the left flank vanished in a flash of screams and smoke.
Meanwhile, the old man—Uncle Joker, as I'd begun calling him—just watched.
He was talking to his weapons.
Literally.
"Don't fail me now, girls," he whispered to a shotgun. "Daddy needs your help."
Then he opened fire.
The blast was so loud it made some goblins hesitate. The slug tore through three of them, embedding into the back wall. Then he pulled out a machete, cackling like he was in a theme park.
"Back, you green little nightmares! BACK I SAY!"
Sang-Woo grunted. "He's completely insane."
"But effective," Ye-Rin called out, shielding Mi-Sun from a leaping goblin. "I'll take it."
On the rooftop, In-Ji's voice rang through the walkie. "We see movement from the east side. Bigger goblins. Heavily armored."
From above, In-ji's voice crackled in again. "Few stragglers approaching from the alleyway. Maybe eight. Wait—no—those aren't goblins."
"What are they?"
"Chimeras," NG replied. "Crawling. Watching."
That same disgusting beast from the basketball court.
"Copy," I hissed, ducking under a claw and gutting the attacker. "How far?"
"Sixty seconds."
I swore and shot a thread of webbing toward the alleyway. "Mother!"
"I see them," she said.
Her curse lit the air like violet frost—her "Curse of Senseless" blinded the goblins at the entrance, while a wave of "False Healing" hit In-Ji and Sang-Woo to recover their scrapes.
The chimera goblins moved like twitching insects, clicking and flashing. One locked eyes with me and I felt a weird chill—like it was scanning me.
Volt saw it.
He dove, claws first, crushing two chimera-goblins underfoot before incinerating the rest with a thunder-blast.
Even as we held the line, I knew this wasn't going to last.
Mi-Sun activated False Healing, restoring minor wounds across the squad. Her scythe glowed crimson for a moment, then her knees buckled. I caught her mid-fall and nodded.
"You're doing great. Just a little longer."
Sang-Woo dropped to one knee, blocking a double swipe from two goblins. His armor cracked. Blood trickled from his shoulder. But he stood back up, spitting crimson onto the floor.
"No one's dying today," he muttered.
But it was getting worse.
From above, three goblins suddenly crashed through the roof, landing near the van.
I moved.
Spider-like, I shot webbing from my tail, catching two midair. The third landed on the hood, raising a jagged dagger toward the sword.
"NOPE," Ye-Rin said, throwing her axe like a boomerang.
The blade caught the goblin in the neck, slicing it in half. The sword clanged, untouched, still safe.
But we were slipping.
Each wave was stronger than the last. The goblins were learning—avoiding traps, coordinating their attacks. Some even built mini-ladders out of corpses.
"In-Ji," I barked through the walkie. "Status?"
"Rooftop clear. But there's movement on the alley—wait—"
Static.
"Wait, what?" I said again.
A sudden silence spread.
Then a whisper from In-ji, "Something just moved through us. Fast."
"But there is nothing here." I replied
Back on the rooftop, In-ji fired down at the main horde with his pistol, steady and calm, like a sniper in a war he never signed up for. His new bullets he crafted using goblins allow precise hits and long range.
Seo-Yeon sat near the sleeping child, glancing back now and then, unsure whether to watch the field or the girl.
"I'm with her," she said softly in the mic, "but…"
She hesitated.
"What?" In-ji asked.
"I don't know. Something's off. She's not… asleep like normal."
The hairs on my neck bristled.
In the warehouse, we fought through the second wave. Goblins now climbed the walls, jumping off balconies, screaming and stabbing. Sang-Woo caught one mid-air with his spear, slammed it into a pillar.
Mother muttered another curse and slice the nearest three into mess from the inside.
Ye-Rin—grinning like a lunatic—caught a chair-leg with her axe and twisted, splintering it into the face of a shrieking goblin.
We were winning.
But something was wrong.
I felt it.
Then it happened.
The van's backdoor creaked.
We all froze.
There were no goblins there.
No movement.
No sound.
But the van's back door opened—slowly, like an unseen hand had tugged it.
And sitting at the van's edge…
Was the teddy bear.
The one the little girl carried with her. The one she clutched like a lifeline.
It sat perfectly still.
Then it moved.
Two tiny paws reached for the cloth-wrapped sword.
Lifted it.
And began to climb down.
"What the—"
"YE-JUN!" Sang-Woo barked. "Is that the girl's—?"
"It's… moving," I said, breath catching. "On its own."
"Volt!" Mother shouted.
But even Volt hesitated, his wings flaring in surprise.
Then—on the rooftop—Seo-Yeon's voice came in, shaky. "Guys… the girl…"
"What about her?"
"She's not moving. But…"
Seo-Yeon's voice grew soft.
"She's sideways. Sleeping. But I swear… her eyes—they're glowing. Just faintly. Pale gold. And when the bear started moving… they shimmered."
She paused.
"Ye-Jun… I think she's controlling it."
We didn't move.
Couldn't move.
Below, the bear slipped silently out of the van and walked straight past us.
We didn't stop it. We couldn't stop it. Like some force was blocking us.
Like something in the air told us not to.
In-ji, still watching from above, whispered. "She… she just stole the sword, didn't she?"
The teddy bear turned its head slightly.
Its button eye caught the moonlight—and for one breathless second—it looked at us.
Not as a toy.
But as something else.
And then it walked into the sunshine.
No goblins followed it.
No chimera reacted.
The battle stopped like a silent film reel ripped from its frame.
And I just stood there.
Heart hammering.
Sword gone.
Mission still on going.
And somewhere above, in the darkness behind her closed eyelids, the little girl slept, arms curled slightly… around nothing but a green goblin. A claw necklace around it's neck.
Seo-yeon couldn't see this goblin as if it wasn't even present in that room.
We didn't know what its next move was and we had no idea what the hell was coming next