The gate slammed shut behind them with a heavy clang, sealing the city away.
The truck rolled forward, leaving behind the stench of oil and smoke.
Beyond the wall stretched open grasslands—vast, green, alive.The air here was different. Cleaner. Sharper. Every breath felt new.
Ratty pressed his forehead to the window. The horizon stretched forever—rolling plains under a pale sky, and far in the distance, the shadow of a forest rippled like a dark sea.
He inhaled deeply. Again. Again.Each breath filled his lungs with something he couldn't name—something faint and electric.It wasn't just oxygen. It was energy.The air itself seemed alive, humming softly as invisible warmth rushed through his veins.
His empty stomach stopped aching. His limbs grew light. For the first time, he felt full—not from food, but from life itself.
Damian caught the look on his face and smiled faintly."Feels good, doesn't it?"
Ratty didn't answer. He couldn't. His chest was too tight, his nerves too awake. Every breath, every heartbeat vibrated with power he couldn't explain.
Then the ground trembled.
A low vibration rolled beneath the truck, subtle at first, then stronger—like thunder buried underground.Damian leaned forward. "You feel that?"
Dust rose at the far edge of the plain.The earth shook harder.Shapes burst out of the forest—fast, massive, unstoppable.
At first, Ratty thought it was smoke. Then he saw them—a herd of mutated beasts, charging through the grass like thunder.
They looked like sheep, but each was the size of half a car, bodies covered in mangy gray fur that glinted with bone-like plates. Their horns were long and spiraled, sharp enough to skewer metal. Their red eyes burned with hunger.
The sound was deafening—the pounding of hooves, the hiss of breath, the low, guttural cries that no normal animal should make.
Ratty's body tensed. He pressed against the seat, breath catching in his throat."They're… coming straight for us," he whispered.
Damian glanced at him, then smiled faintly. "Mutant rams. D-class. Loud and ugly, but not too bright. Just a lot of them."
The boy's hands tightened on his knees.
"Don't worry," Damian said. His voice dropped low, calm and steady, like a heartbeat against the chaos outside.
Then, without warning, he leaned closer—his body heat spilling into the narrow space between them. His shoulder brushed Ratty's.
The youth froze. He had never been this close to anyone before. His muscles locked, breath stuttering.
Damian's arm slid past him, pointing out the window. "Look," he said softly.
The scent of leather and steel filled Ratty's nose. The warmth of the man's presence pressed close enough to feel.
He followed Damian's gesture—and blinked.
Beyond the stampeding herd, a cloud of dust rose higher, darker. The beasts weren't charging aimlessly. They were running from something.
"See that?" Damian murmured. "They're not hunting. They're fleeing."
Ratty's breath hitched again. "From what?"
Damian's eyes narrowed. "That's what we're about to find out."
The truck engine roared louder, gears grinding as they accelerated toward the horizon—just as a shadow moved inside the dust cloud.
And it was running straight toward them.