The last second of the timer struck.
[ Blood Moon Event Commencing ]
[ World Status Updated: Safe Zones Identified ]
[ Warning: High Mutation Activity Detected Across All Regions ]
The night sky tore itself open in a wash of deep, blood-red light. The moon above swelled to unnatural size, veins of crimson crackling across its surface as if something within was alive and watching. Its reflection bled into the ocean, staining the waves, twisting their rhythm into an erratic, pulsing tide.
The moment the final glow hit, the world screamed.
From every coast, from deep in the forests, from the ruined cities—monsters surged. Creatures once human, others twisted beyond recognition, all were drawn by the moon's unholy pull.
But something else occurred. Across the world, places where survivors had gathered in large numbers—their camps, their fortresses, their shelters—flared with protective light.
[ Designation: Safe Zone (Temporary) ]
[ Duration: Blood Moon Cycle (12 Hours) ]
A translucent dome of faint blue shimmered around those strongholds, slowing corruption within and giving those inside a fighting chance. But the system warning was clear: safety was relative. The larger the safe zone, the larger the number of mutated creatures drawn toward it.
From Kane's command tower, alarms flared as the detection grid went wild.
"Multiple signatures incoming!" Maya called out, her eyes darting across the tactical displays. "Airborne—no, wait—land, sea, all of them!"
Kane narrowed his eyes. "So they're all gathering. Good."
Lena frowned from her post beside him. "Good?"
He gave a thin smile. "Because it means we can farm them. The shore becomes our wall."
And he was right.
Already, hundreds of twisted land-creatures had gathered along the coastline. Their mutated bodies clawed at the surf, jaws snapping, but none could cross the water. The ocean acted as a natural barrier, stranding them on the edge where they howled and thrashed uselessly.
Kane issued the order.
"Deploy missile drones. Warships—Vanguard and Stormbreaker—focus artillery on airborne swarms. Gunner crews, switch to mana-missile javelins for precision strikes. Submarine Erebus, engage water-types with torpedoes. Do not let any reach the island."
The island rumbled with life as the fleet roared into motion.
The sky darkened further as flocks of winged aberrations poured downward, their bodies stitched with jagged bones and pulsating crimson organs. The Stormbreaker's artillery lit up, turret barrels thundering as the sky turned into a blaze of fire and mana bursts. Each shell exploded into shrapnel and runic chains, ripping the creatures from the air in showers of gore.
"Mana-Missiles, fire!"
From the Vanguard's deck, the Javelin-class launchers unleashed lances of blue-white energy. They cut through the night, skewering clusters of flying abominations and detonating midair in blinding flashes.
On the water's surface, the Erebus moved like a shadow. Sonar pings echoed faintly through the control room as its crew tracked massive signatures below.
"Contact! Multiple large-scale mutations detected beneath us—initiating torpedo sequence."
The submarine released a spread of enchanted torpedoes, their sleek forms glowing faintly. Seconds later, the sea erupted into violent geysers of flame and flesh as leviathan-like silhouettes thrashed beneath the crimson tide.
And on land, the spectacle was almost surreal.
The coastline was choked with creatures—gnashing, clawing, roaring. But they could not enter the sea. They remained stranded just meters away, their numbers swelling into the thousands.
Kane stood with arms crossed, watching the drones hover into position above.
"Lock firing grid," he ordered calmly.
The missile drones responded, panels opening with mechanical precision. They marked clusters of the land-bound horde, priming their payloads.
"Commence saturation strike."
The night lit up like a festival of destruction. Missiles screamed downward, exploding across the shoreline in successive waves. Entire groups of twisted creatures vaporized, leaving only molten craters and scorched black sand. The sea hissed as it boiled where the fire reached it.
Coin notifications chimed relentlessly in Kane's vision.
[ +248 Coins ]
[ +327 Coins ]
[ +510 Coins ]
[ Exp Acquired ]
[ Exp Acquired ]
Every detonation sent ripples across his system. It wasn't just survival anymore. It was a harvest.
"Commander," Lena's voice cut in, tension in her tone. "There's… something else."
Kane's gaze snapped to her console. At first, he thought it was another swarm signature—but no. This was different.
The shoreline corpses. The ones that hadn't been fully destroyed. They were twitching.
The crimson glow of the Blood Moon pulsed harder, and the remains began to shift—broken bones mending, charred limbs reforming, bodies fusing into grotesque amalgamations.
"They're evolving…" Maya whispered, her hand frozen over the control panel. "The Blood Moon—it's accelerating mutations even in death."
Kane's expression hardened, his hand tightening over the railing.
"Good," he muttered coldly. "That just means more experience for us."
He raised his voice.
"All units—prepare for the second phase. We're not done yet."
And as the red moon loomed larger above, the true Blood Moon night began.
The battlefield was hell incarnate.
The shoreline burned, the sea churned with corpses, and the skies were shredded by artillery fire. But then—something worse came.
From the blackened craters along the coast, the fused abominations began to lift into the air. Wings of flesh, bone, and sinew tore free from their warped backs. Their howls became a chorus of agony and rage as they rose above the shoreline, crossing the sea by flight.
"Contact! Mutated fliers breaching sea-bound restriction!" shouted Maya, eyes wide as she watched the tactical feed.
Kane didn't even flinch. His gaze sharpened, voice cold and precise.
"Split the grid. Half the firepower stays on shoreline suppression, half focuses on new aerial hostiles. Prioritize fused monsters. Don't waste missiles on stragglers."
The command spread instantly.
Vanguard and Stormbreaker's gunners recalibrated their turrets, the decks booming as thunderous volleys filled the skies.
Erebus fired off another barrage of torpedoes, clearing water-born threats even as sonar reported increasingly massive readings below.
Missile drones swarmed overhead, unleashing burning payloads that detonated with concussive force, each explosion painting the night in orange fire.
But for every abomination destroyed, more rose. The crimson light gave them endless vigor.
A sudden chime hit Kane's vision.
[ New System Protocol Active: Global Safe Zone Ranking ] [ Stronghold survival and kill count will now be tracked. ] [ Ranking will update live for all survivors. ]
The leaderboard expanded across his interface.
[Sanctuary Isle – Commander: Kane Wylder] – Mutant Eliminations: 42,387
[Red Haven Fortress] – Mutant Eliminations: 22,351
[Ironwood Bastion] – Mutant Eliminations: 19,902
[Silver Lake Refuge] – Mutant Eliminations: 18,120
Kane's zone was nearly 20,000 kills ahead of the second position.
The reason was simple: the natural barrier of the sea. Mutants unable to cross gathered en masse along the shoreline, becoming helpless targets for his missile drones and warships. Each strike wiped out hundreds at once, coins and exp flooding his system.
Red Haven Fortress—a massive stronghold deep within a ruined city, reinforced with walls and machine turrets—saw the rankings flash across their displays. Survivors gasped as they saw Kane's lead.
"Impossible!" one of the officers snarled. "Forty thousand already? We've been fighting nonstop—how the hell is one island ahead of us by twenty thousand!?"
Their commander slammed his fist into the table, fury in his eyes. "If we don't catch up, morale will break. Double the fireteams, push every turret online—we'll burn through ammo if we must! We will not be left behind!"
But no matter how desperately they pushed, Kane's number only climbed higher with each bombardment.
Back on Sanctuary Isle, Kane stood tall in the command chamber as the numbers ticked upward. The system store shimmered before his eyes with a new series of enhancements—expensive, but worth every coin.
He didn't hesitate.
[ Purchase Confirmed: Missile Drone – Double Payload Upgrade ] Effect: Fires two missiles per launch cycle. Cooldown increased to 7 seconds.
[ Purchase Confirmed: Assault Drone – Twin-Barrel Firing Mod ] Effect: Fires double the standard rounds per burst. Cooldown increased to 3 seconds.
[ Purchase Confirmed: Scout Drone – Cluster Bomb Hatch ] Effect: Can drop 10 miniature bombs per cycle. 2-second detonation timer. Cooldown: 4 seconds.
The island shook as the upgrades applied, drones whirring as new compartments unfolded and weapons restructured midair.
"Test sequence," Kane ordered.
The missile drones fired. Instead of a single streak, two missiles launched in unison, arching downward before splitting to annihilate separate clusters. The shockwaves consumed entire lines of abominations.
The assault drones' twin barrels spun with a thunderous roar, their concentrated fire ripping through flying monsters like paper, leaving trails of shredded wings and falling bodies.
And the scout drones? They flew in formation, dropping clusters of miniature bombs like glowing seeds. Two seconds later— BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! A field of chained detonations ripped the shoreline apart, turning hundreds of mutants into smoldering husks.
Kane's lips curved into a razor-thin smile. "Now this is efficiency."
The kill-count skyrocketed.
[ +842 Coins ] [ +901 Coins ] [ +1,024 Coins ]
The system's notifications blurred into near-constant light as Sanctuary Isle became a war machine, drowning the night in fire and destruction.
But while Kane remained cold and precise, the world outside was watching in terror.
In Red Haven Fortress, their commanders stared at the ranking as Sanctuary Isle's number surged past 50,000.
"…We can't keep up," one muttered, pale. "Whoever that commander is—they're not fighting to survive. They're farming the apocalypse."
The realization spread like wildfire. For other strongholds, desperation became panic.
And for Kane Wylder—his safe zone stood untouchable, the crimson tide feeding directly into his growing power.