[Noon—Ultra City—Tora Link Way—Abandoned Metal Factory]
Inside the humid, dim factory, sweaty workers hammered molten metal. The air was foul, heavy with the stench of burning iron and human sweat.
Then, a man entered—regal and commanding.
He wore flowing black-and-gold desert robes. His eyes were cold, his expression controlled yet terrifying.
He stepped in, face wrinkling in disgust.
"Ugh… Why does it smell like a pack of wet dogs in here?" Al-Daeem muttered.
The workers turned to him, irritated and confused. One large man stormed toward him.
"Repeat what you just said!"
Al-Daeem turned his piercing gaze on him. "I said… you all smell like wet dogs."
"Bastard—who the hell do you think you are?!"
Al-Daeem's tone shifted—cold, his eyes lasered at the large man, he said. "Lower your gaze."
The man felt a shiver in him, but due to pride, he raised his hand to strike—shhhk!—his arm was sliced off in an instant.
"My arm! My arm!" the brute screamed, collapsing.
"You didn't have to cut his arm off, Silas," Al-Daeem said, not looking back.
Silas stepped forward, his blade dripping. "How dare a weakling raise his hand against the strong?"
Al-Daeem smiled. "I'm not here for the rest of you. Just two men."
His eyes scanned the room.
"Joshua and Eric Mede. Come out. I know you're here."
"No one answered; everyone was in fear," Silas yelled. "You did hear what he said, right? If you don't want bloodshed, I'd advise you to come out now."
Moments later, the two brothers emerged cautiously.
"What do you want from us?" asked the elder, Joshua.
"I want you to join me." Said Al-Daeem
"Join you for what?" asked Eric.
"Revenge," Al-Daeem said coolly. "Don't you want to get back at those buffoons in Halloween costumes?"
"How can we trust you?" Joshua shouted.
Silas stepped forward, sliding close to his boss. He leveled his blade at the two brothers and barked, "This isn't about opinions. There's no reason for dogs like you to ask for trust. You should be grateful the boss finds you amusing. Join us and you live—join us and thank the stars you're on the side that takes the city. Decide."
Joshua's thoughts raced: We don't join, we die. They're not joking. I would've said Eric and I should handle them, but we don't know what powers they have. Still—maybe this city needs to burn for its sins.
He nudged his younger brother and gave the private signal they shared. In unison they said, "We're in."
The leader, notorious for his calm demeanor and ridiculous smile, spoke to his subordinate.
"You didn't have to come off so tough with them. Mede brothers, come closer—you don't want to get caught in this."
Silas turned to Al-Daeem. "The same way he did, right?"
Al-Daeem's smile widened. "You claim you can do better… then show me better."
Silas stepped forward, his piercing violet eyes glowing with menace. The workers screamed and scattered—but it was already too late.
Silas moved like a wraith. His blade danced through the factory, slicing through flesh like paper. Blood sprayed in wide arcs. Screams echoed against metal walls. Severed limbs fell like rotten branches. The ground turned slick with gore.
It was a massacre.
An hour later.
A pregnant woman stepped out of a taxi, a basket in her hand. She carried a soft smile, the other hand resting gently on her stomach, as she made her way toward the old factory. She muttered to herself, "I can't wait to see Lukas's face. He'll be shocked to see me."
When she reached the metal doors, her smile faltered. They were locked. Strange, she thought.They were never locked before. Did they vacate this place? Lukas didn't tell me that.
She pulled out her phone, scrolled to his number, and tapped call. It rang with no answer. She tried again. Still nothing. Sighing, she nearly gave up—but decided to try once more. This time, she caught the faint sound of a ringtone nearby. Her lips curved into a chuckle. "Lukas… he probably left with the others and forgot his phone. Silly him."
Footsteps echoed in the distance. She turned. A worker was approaching. As he drew closer, she recognized her husband's friend.
"Julie? What are you doing here?" he asked.
She brightened. "Jeremy! I came to surprise your friend with food. You're just getting to work—you've missed them."
Jeremy raised his brows. "Missed what?"
"They've left! And can you believe Lukas forgot his phone?" she said, amused.
Jeremy's expression twisted with confusion. "Left? They didn't say anything about moving… not today."
Julie's bright face drained of color. Her voice dropped low. "What?"
Jeremy forced a smile. "Don't look like that. Like you said, they might've just left."
Julie pressed out a smile of her own. "Okay…"
Jeremy pulled a set of keys from his pocket and slid one into the padlock. With a heavy clank, the lock snapped open. He pushed the metal doors back. Something streamed down the ccrack—thick dark red. Blood.
Jeremy shoved the doors wide, and the sight froze them both. Piles of bodies. Severed limbs. Blood soaking the floor in dark rivers. Then, as if mocking them, a severed head rolled to the threshold.
Julie screamed. Her body lurched forward, but Jeremy caught her by the arms.
"Jeremy, let me go!" She cried, thrashing. "My husband is in there—I have to go!"
Tears burned at Jeremy's eyes. His cracked voice broke. "You can't. You don't know what you'll see. What kind of friend would I be if I let you walk into this?"
She fought against his grip, wailing. "No—let me go! Nothing happened to him! We have to check!"
Her cries drew attention. Passersby froze in horror, hands to their mouths. Within minutes, police swarmed the scene, forming barricades to keep civilians away.
Among the crowd, Timothy, Larry, and Max forced their way forward. Flashing Hero Association IDs, they pushed past the officers to the front.
The factory doors creaked wider. The metallic stench of blood poured out, choking the air.
Inside, it was carnage. Mangled bodies stacked like garbage. Pools of blood seeped into cracked concrete. Shattered bones and torn flesh scattered across the floor like broken pottery.
Larry's voice cracked into a whisper. "Who the hell did this…?"
Timothy's eyes narrowed, fury twisting his face. "It's them. Those bastards. Those sick monsters—they recreated it."
Max's gaze snapped to the far wall. His voice dropped, almost trembling. "There's something written… in blood."
Everyone turned.
Scrawled across the wall in dripping crimson letters:
"WE ARE COMING."