Chapter 127 – The Next Mission
Axel dropped his tray with a metallic clang, ran a hand through his hair, and strolled toward the coffee station like a man with all the time in the world.
He had just finished devouring half the mess hall's stockpile. Now he needed caffeine.
The cigarette still clung to the corner of his lips as he poured the dark liquid into a dented metal cup.
Hot. Strong. Bitter.
Just how he liked it.
He took a sip.
Then came the voice.
"Sir," a young soldier said, stiff-backed and clearly nervous. "General Michael has requested your presence."
Axel didn't even glance at him.
Instead, he exhaled smoke, then muttered, "Tell the old man to wait. Goddamn—can't get a cup of coffee in this hell without someone barking orders."
The soldier blinked, unsure if he should stay or flee.
Axel took another sip.
Then another.
He stood there for half an hour, not moving, just sipping and smoking. Staring at nothing. Letting the world burn around him while he took this one moment for himself.
Finally, he sighed.
Crushed the cigarette under his boot.
And walked — slow, steady — through the winding metal corridors of Redhold.
He arrived at the command chamber, known as the Corridors of Redhold, where war was spoken like scripture and blood was currency.
Michael stood at the far end with a group of officers.
The air smelled of strategy and steel.
"You're late," Michael said without turning.
Axel sipped the last of his coffee, tossed the cup to the floor, and replied, "You're lucky I showed up at all."
Michael turned now, lips tight, expression unreadable.
"We have a situation," he began. "Two days ago, a recon team failed to return. No contact. No signs. Just vanished."
One of the officers pulled down a map, unrolled it over the table.
Axel walked closer, still silent.
Michael pointed to a spot deep in the uncharted forest west of the Ashen Blight.
"There's a facility here. Off-books. Was used before the fall. Old tech, old weapons. Possibly some AI remnants. We were hoping to salvage it. Now…"
He didn't finish.
Axel narrowed his eyes. "You think it's a trap."
Michael nodded. "Or worse. Something alive down there. Something no one planned for."
Axel looked at the map. The coordinates. The terrain. The distance.
"How many did you send?" he asked.
"Eight."
"How many bodies?"
"None."
Axel ran his tongue across his teeth.
"Fine," he said.
"You'll take—" Michael started.
"No," Axel cut him off. "I'm going alone."
Michael raised an eyebrow. "Still think you're invincible?"
"No," Axel muttered. "I just don't trust anyone not to slow me down."
Michael smirked.
"That's my boy."
Axel turned toward the door.
"Don't flatter yourself," he muttered. "I'm just finishing this so I can get the hell out of this place."
As he left, the officers remained silent. But Michael leaned forward, voice low as he said to them:
"If he doesn't come back… then we'll know what we're really dealing with."
---
The wind howled through the trees as Axel approached the facility.
The old concrete structure was half-buried beneath vines and rusted steel, hidden under layers of time and secrets. Its gates were broken open, scorch marks and dried blood streaking the metal.
No guards.
No motion.
Just silence.
He stepped inside, katana sheathed but ready, boots echoing on cracked floors. The deeper he went, the darker it became. Emergency lights flickered red. Sparks crackled from broken control panels.
Then came the smell.
Blood.
Thick, old, iron-heavy.
He turned a corner.
And saw them.
Bodies.
Dozens.
Lying still, weapons scattered, some torn to pieces — others crumpled against walls like they'd been thrown by a god.
Military uniforms. Michael's team.
Dead.
"Shit," Axel muttered, crouching next to one of them.
The man's face was frozen in horror, eyes wide open, mouth twisted in a silent scream. Whatever killed them… it wasn't human. It wasn't fast. It was brutal.
Axel stood slowly, his senses sharpening.
Then came the sound.
A low vibration at first, like the earth growling.
Then it exploded into a roar so powerful it shook the walls and shattered a panel above his head.
Axel's body tensed.
He turned.
And there it stood.
The thing.
A walker.
But not like any walker he'd ever seen.
It was three times his size — a hulking behemoth, twisted flesh and muscle stitched together with metal rods and scars. Its eyes glowed with a red hue, and its mouth drooled thick strands of black slime.
Its fists were the size of boulders.
Its presence was death.
"…God damn it," Axel whispered. "Fuck that old man and his fucked-up missions…"
The creature roared again, louder now — a war cry of the damned — and lunged forward with impossible speed.
Axel barely raised his arms when the blow landed.
Boom.
He was launched backward like a rag doll, slamming into a wall so hard it cracked the concrete.
Ribs shattered. His breath vanished.
Everything went red.
He coughed blood, rolled to his side, katana clattering beside him.
The monster stomped closer, its footsteps thunderous, each step shaking the floor. It wasn't just strong — it was deliberate. Intelligent, maybe. Controlled.
Or worse — created.
Axel groaned, dragged himself up, blood dripping from his mouth.
"You ugly son of a bitch," he hissed.
The monster raised its arm again, a growl vibrating from deep inside its chest.
Axel grinned through the blood. "You're gonna regret that."
---
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