The sky over Foster City tore open like a desecrated veil.
A moment before, the sun bathed the streets in golden light, illuminating the daily life of a city that, despite everything, still clung to hope. In the next instant, the clouds twisted into a slow, sinister rotation, staining the horizon with a putrid black. The air grew heavy, tainted by the metallic scent of blood yet to be spilled.
First came the silence: a suffocating void that made birds drop dead in mid-flight. Then came the stench of rusted iron and rotting flesh. When the first drops fell, no one mistook them for water.
It was blood.
A thick, crimson rain began to fall, painting the streets red, soaking into hair, running down terrified faces. The droplets hit the ground with a greasy thud, forming puddles that reflected a sky now the color of viscera.
The citizens stopped. Looked up. And deep within their souls, they understood this was no storm.
It was a judgment.
Then the army appeared.
From the darkness, they descended.
Three thousand figures emerged from the mist like materialized phantoms, each marked by the number of their victims — 10,000, 50,000, 200,000 — until the eyes of the townspeople fixed on the one leading that macabre procession.
A broad-shouldered man, his body scarred with tales of carnage. Engraved on his forehead like a seal of damnation: 1,602,322.
He raised one arm, and the silence that followed was more terrifying than any scream.
"Humanity has evolved," his voice echoed like distant thunder, "for the good of some and the misfortune of others. No one has the power to defy the implanted system."
His lips curled into what should've been a smile but only revealed sharp teeth.
"Feast on the banquet. No food is to be left on the plate."
With a majestic gesture, his hand fell.
And hell began.
They descended upon Foster City like starving vultures.
Buildings collapsed before even being touched, crushed by the murderous pressure radiating from the invaders. People were ripped from their homes, torn apart mid-air, their entrails painting walls in vibrant red. Screams blended with the crunch of bodies exploding under force, moans lost among the cracking of shattered bones.
Some ran to churches, clinging to faith as a final refuge. In the small chapel where Adrian once knelt — where Melisa once prayed for him — the priest held his crucifix with trembling hands, his voice a fragile thread of resistance amidst the chaos.
"Forgive humanity, Lord... they are still Your children. Let this implanted curse be nothing but a cursed nightmare!"
CLANG!
A war hammer crushed his skull with such force it shattered not only him but every kneeling worshipper around him. Blood and bone fragments splattered the altar. The last thing the priest saw was the killer's smile, his kill count climbing once more.
She ran.
Her small feet bled, her clothes torn, but she didn't stop. Behind her, the world was crumbling. Her mother vanished under the rubble. Her father swallowed by a crater that opened from nowhere.
Now, she was alone.
"What is this?! Invaders entered... mommy and daddy died... I'm scared!"
BOOM!
An explosion hurled her against wreckage, her fragile body colliding with bricks and broken wood. Blood trickled from her nose, her arm bent at an impossible angle, but she stood up.
And then, she saw them.
Over a hundred figures surrounded her, eyes glowing with predatory hunger. Some laughed. Others licked their lips. All knew this child was just another number.
She fell to her knees.
"God, help me!" — her voice was a whisper, but it echoed like a challenge.
And then, she screamed.
"PROTECTOR OF FOSTER CITY, I BEG YOU... APPEAR!!"
BOOM!!
A shockwave tore the world apart.
The ground split. The air ignited. Within a ten-kilometer radius, everything ceased to exist. Kill counts with tens of thousands of deaths evaporated like dust. Buildings disintegrated.
The girl closed her eyes, sure she was about to die.
But when she opened them, she saw him.
A broad-shouldered man, shrouded in an aura that wasn't divine — it was something beyond. Something that transcended heaven and hell.
"You... you're the protector?!" — her voice was barely a thread.
[ ☠ KILL ASSIMILATION ACTIVATED ]
[You absorbed +191 souls.]
[Total inherited deaths: 81,061]
[Inherited abilities: 0 (You already possess them)]
[Existing abilities: ??? (Too many to process now)]
[Price: Your life is no longer yours.]
For a moment, the number beneath his headband lit up:
[☠ KILL MONSTER: 1,219,005 DEATHS]
He didn't turn. He didn't need to. His presence was answer enough.
"Yes, dear." — his voice was soft, yet burdened with the weight of a million souls. — "The protector of Foster City has arrived."