Pact of the Broken Sun
Chapter 3 - First Echo (2)
Location: Earth - The Outskirts of the Undercity
Year: Y.P. 100
Designation: The Collapsed Realm
"This is not good… not good at all!" Kaelen gritted his teeth, a raw, animalistic growl caught in his throat as he fought through the searing pain that consumed his left foot. Every nerve ending screamed, sending waves of agony up his leg and into his skull. The metallic tang of his own blood filled his mouth.
Kaelen wanted to scream, to unleash the agony that threatened to rip him apart, but he couldn't afford such a luxury. After using the deserted gym building as a strategic cover, he had successfully managed to evade the patrolling voluntary guards, slipping through the shadows like a phantom. Scaling the formidable walls of the enclosure had been a grueling task, but he had managed it, his improvised grappling hook biting into the crumbling concrete. The initial surge of triumphant elation he felt upon reaching the cold, open air of the outside world, however, was tragically short-lived. He had a meticulously crafted escape plan in his mind, a detailed mental map of every known trap and obstacle, but there was one crucial variable he hadn't accounted for completely: unregistered traps.
The periphery of the human enclosure, the zone between their 'sanctuary' and the true wilds of the Collapsed Realm, was notoriously riddled with hundreds of hidden traps. These were not just crude snares, but intricate, brutal devices designed to keep the indigenous monsters of the desolate lands away from the 'precious human food' within the walls. Indeed, the world outside the human territories was teeming with creatures far more grotesque and varied than just the Lunar Strikers, Vitae Dominion, and Silent Rot. Just as humans had twisted into these dominant factions after contact with the Great Rift's mutagenic energy, countless animals had also been exposed.
These animals had mutated into a dizzying array of horrifying, hybridized beasts. Some were so incredibly dangerous, so utterly feral, that even the powerful Lunar Strikers were hesitant to provoke them. And the favorite meal of these new, terrifying monsters? Human flesh, of course. It had been more than a century since humanity reigned at the top of the food chain. Now, they rejoiced their place at the very bottom, beneath even the resilient, mutated flora. The very food they were given in the enclosure, meager as it was, had to be specially cultivated and processed from scratch, a grim reminder of their absolute vulnerability.
Kaelen had prided himself on his intimate knowledge of the immediate perimeter, believing he knew the location of every hidden trap. Apparently, his information was tragically incomplete. He was horrifyingly wrong, and now he was caught, his left foot clamped in the unforgiving jaws of a massive, archaic bear trap. The steel teeth, rusted and jagged, had dug themselves deep into his flesh, crushing bone and muscle. Luckily, he was far enough away from the enclosure's walls that no human guard could easily spot him from the watchtowers, but this very fortune worked against him.
Since he couldn't be easily seen by his former captors, it was equally unlikely that they would be able to spot any of the Rift-spawned predators—the 'night creatures' as the humans called them—that roamed these blighted lands. Which meant, if he were to be attacked, there wasn't anything anyone could have done to save him. Even his flimsy, makeshift grappling hook, his only weapon, felt laughably inadequate against the horrors that lurked in the perpetual twilight.
Not to mention, he was bleeding profusely. The sharp, brutal teeth of the bear trap had lacerated his foot deeply, severing arteries, and blood pulsed from the wound, a dark, rich crimson seeping into the desolate earth. But the agonizing pain was not his only cause for worry. Kaelen was far more concerned about the scent of his leaking blood. As far as he had painstakingly gathered from whispers and observations, the Rift-spawned predators had an incredibly sensitive sense of smell, and human blood was something they all craved with a primal, unstoppable hunger. Thus, he was no longer an escaping captive; he was a sitting target, a bleeding beacon in the wilderness, beckoning death. At this desperate point, he was even contemplating the horrific act of severing his own leg, but he had no blade, no tool sharp enough for such a gruesome, final act.
Heck, even if he did possess the tools, what good would cutting his leg off truly do for him? He would be free from the trap, yes, but what then? In fact, sacrificing his limb would do him more harm than good.
Amputating his leg would make him bleed even more, a gush of fresh, intoxicating scent. This would attract an even greater multitude of Rift-spawned predators, and fending them off while hopping on one leg, bleeding profusely, seemed like a death sentence. In a way, he was almost better off with the trap chomping on his leg; at least while sitting, he would be able to defend himself with slightly more stability rather than floundering helplessly on one limb.
While all these grim scenarios played out with terrifying clarity inside his throbbing head, a distinct, unsettling noise reached his ears, coming from directly behind him. A low, guttural growl, followed by the crunch of crumbling debris. He twisted his torso, gritting his teeth against a fresh wave of agony, attempting to look back, but his trapped leg screamed in protest, refusing to allow him to turn far enough to see what was approaching. However, the mutated moon shone directly above him, casting an eerie, pale light. With the help of its sickly glow, Kaelen was able to discern the distorted, elongated shadow of a figure slowly approaching him from the labyrinthine ruins.
Judging by the sheer bulk and humanoid shape of the shadow, his first, desperate thought was that it must be one of the Lunar Striker guards, perhaps on an unexpected patrol.
A jolt of morbid relief momentarily washed over his face. As much as he yearned for freedom, for the thrill of escape, dying out here, alone and vulnerable, was an infinitely worse fate than returning to captivity, even if it meant punishment. The guards would save him, albeit to drag him back to his cage. It went without saying that he would be severely punished for trying to escape. However, since he had been personally marked by the Alpha Matriarch, he held onto the desperate hope that he would probably not receive the harshest, most fatal punishment.
"Can you please get this trap off my feet—" Kaelen started, his voice hoarse with pain and desperation, as the shadow loomed closer, its form slowly resolving into grim reality. His words choked in his throat, and his eyes widened in abject horror. "Oh no! Stay away!"
A rank, putrid stench, the sickeningly sweet smell of rotting flesh mingled with ozone, violently assaulted his nostrils. There was no mistaking it. His blood, a vibrant, life-affirming beacon in the desolate night, had attracted a Thrall one of the creatures of the Silent Rot. But what was a Thrall doing here? This was Lunar Striker territory, strictly forbidden to both Thralls and Crimson Eidolons under the terms of the Pact. Yet, there was no denying the terrifying reality: a Thrall, gaunt and shambling, stood directly behind him, its dead eyes fixing on him with chilling intent. Its skin, a pale, mottled green, seemed to peel in places, revealing sinew beneath, mirroring its tattered, decomposing clothes. It was shorter and thinner than Kaelen, yet it radiated an unnatural, predatory strength.
Kaelen struggled, his fingers frantically fumbling for the hooked rope in his sack, desperate for any semblance of defense. But before he could even properly grasp it, the Thrall moved with an unsettling, unnatural speed. Its gaunt hand shot out, grabbing his head with terrifying force. Then, with a sickening crack, it slammed Kaelen's head hard against the jagged, rocky terrain.
A hot gush of blood spewed from Kaelen's mouth, mingling with the dust and his already spilled blood. Following the brutal impact, a constant, deafening ringing sound flooded his ears, drowning out all other senses, while his vision blurred into a kaleidoscope of indistinct shapes and colors. Even in his reeling state of confusion, Kaelen could feel a chilling gust of wind brush across his exposed scalp as warm, sticky blood drizzled down from his head, adding to the grim pool around him.
Through his rapidly blurring vision, he saw the creature effortlessly rip the massive bear trap off his mangled foot with its bare hand, the metal shrieking in protest as it was torn apart. Then, with the same horrifying ease, it lifted Kaelen's limp body. He got his first, horrifying, up-close look at his assailant: the Thrall, looking almost like a reanimated teenager, its dead green eyes fixated on him.
Before Kaelen could truly register anything else, a sharp, agonizing bite tore through his shoulder. The Thrall's jaw clamped down with unnatural force, ripping off a large, ragged piece of flesh. Kaelen wanted to scream, to unleash the searing pain, but his battered body didn't even have enough energy left for a whimper. His mind slowly turned foggy, the edges of his consciousness fraying, as his vision grew darker and darker.
'So this is the end...' Kaelen's fragmented thoughts echoed in the growing void, as fragmented, fleeting memories from his short, brutal life began to flash before his closing eyes—his parents' faces, the Matriarch's cruel smile, the burning mark on his shoulder.
The Thrall, its green eyes glowing with a hunger that defied life, was about to sink its teeth into his flesh again, preparing for another gruesome bite. But before that could happen, a sudden, powerful force—something unseen—pulled the Thrall violently out of Kaelen's grasp. He felt a sickening lurch as he, too, was flung away, his battered body tossed aside like a discarded toy, landing with a jarring thud. He desperately wanted to open his eyes, to see who, or what, had intervened, but the effort was too great. His vision completely turned black, and consciousness fled, leaving him adrift in a silent, cold abyss.