Click...click...click
The ridge behind us split with a sudden crack, and shadows began coalescing into a twisted, massive form. It was amorphous, blacker than the night itself, writhing like liquid smoke. But within it shapes emerged,faces, arms, half-formed figures,each a grotesque echo of fear. Its eyes,or what might have been eyes,glimmered faintly, hungry.
Lira stood in front of it.
Her dark, fitted pants allowed for no hindrance, and the almost-new combat boots promised zero slippage on the uneven, debris-strewn ground. Her black hair, tightly secured in a high knot, was a study in severe control.
Lira didn't look back at us; her focus was absolute. The xenophore's mass solidified into a horrifying parody of a giant, multi-limbed thing, its surfaces slick and shifting.
"Three seconds," Lira murmured, her voice flat, devoid of panic, as she gauged the xenophore's emergence speed. A worn, suppressed Glock 17, materialized in her right hand, drawn with a fluid grace that spoke of relentless practice.
The monster lunged, a wave of dark, cloying substance that clawed at the air. Lira didn't dodge; she shifted. Her movement was a razor-thin calculation of mass and velocity, a controlled pivot that placed her exactly 1.5 meters to the side of the impact zone, right where the creature's center of gravity would be momentarily unstable.
Click-click. Two shots, almost simultaneous, punched through the creature's semi-liquid torso. They weren't random; they targeted the faint, pulsating cores Lira had identified in the fraction of a second the monster was airborne,nodes of coalesced despair that anchored its form. The rounds, silver-tipped and humming with alchemically-charged energy, detonated silently within the dark mass. A high-pitched, echoing shriek tore from the monster, a sound that felt more like a violation of the mind than noise.
The mass shuddered, retracting slightly, momentarily losing cohesion. Lira seized the opportunity. The pistol vanished back into its hip holster. In the same motion, her left hand darted out, pulling a combat knife,not from a sheath, but from a specialized magnetic wrist cuff. She sprinted forward, a black blur against the chaos, heading directly into the writhing shadow.
This wasn't reckless; it was a devastating gambit. The creature, wounded, was focusing its defensive efforts on its core, leaving its peripheral appendages vulnerable. A thick, tentacle-like arm lashed down like a whip. Lira dropped low, her body folding into a crouch that was less human and more a function of applied physics.
The tentacle roared over her head. As it passed, she stabbed upward with the knife, plunging it into the tough, rubbery material of the limb's underside. But she didn't just stab; she performed a perfect upward Ripper Cut, pulling the blade swiftly out and across the sinewy fibers. The cut wasn't deep enough to sever, but it was precise,it found and severed a major structural tendon, causing the entire arm to collapse inward.
She rolled away from the falling mass, the movement so tight and contained that not a speck of the acrid shadow-dust on the ground came close to her jacket or pants. She rose, perfectly balanced, and met the charge of a second, smaller xenophore with a sharp, outward block using her left forearm, armored only by the stiffness of her sleeve.
The impact was a dull thud. Before the tendril could recoil, Lira delivered a lightning-fast Spinning Back Kick, her heel connecting with a sharp crack against the xenophore's main body, right near the earlier gunshot wounds.
The force wasn't designed to destroy, but to disrupt. The xenophore's amorphous form was momentarily forced back, its structural integrity failing where Lira's attacks had converged. A large chunk of the shadow-substance,a grotesque, half-formed head,slumped off and dissolved on the ground, leaving no residue, no splash, nothing to mar Lira's impeccable attire.
The pistol was back in her hand, raised and locked onto the primary, faintly glowing core that was desperately trying to retreat into the ridge. She didn't hesitate. Three shots. Target acquisition: 0.1 seconds. Firing solution: 0.2 seconds. Pew. Pew. Pew. The Shadow rounds hit home, one after the other, forming a tight, deadly cluster.
The final charge was too much. With a sound like tearing silk, the monstrous shape collapsed in on itself, dissolving entirely into a puff of non-existent smoke that simply vanished, leaving the air clear and the ground untouched. Lira lowered the gun, her breathing even. Her jacket was spotless, her posture perfect.The chaos had been briefly silenced by extreme competence.
The ridge was quiet now.
The oppressive hum of the xenophore was gone, replaced by the faint whistle of wind over rocks.
I blinked, unable to process what had just happened. My knees gave way, and I sank to the ground, hands pressed to my face.
Kael's jaw was slack. "I… I don't even…" he stammered, eyes wide.
Xeno simply lowered his shovel, silent. He didn't look impressed,not exactly,but his posture relaxed fractionally, a subtle acknowledgment of skill.
Lira straightened fully, boots firm on the rock-strewn ground, and finally turned her gaze to us. Her expression was calm, detached,but her eyes, sharp and precise, swept over each of us as if measuring every beat of our hearts.
"You three are alive," she said plainly. "That's all that matters for now. No mistakes. No hesitation."
I swallowed hard, voice trembling. "I… I don't know how you—"
"You'll learn," she interrupted, her tone flat, yet not unkind. "Or you'll die trying. That's how the world works now. Adapt, or vanish."
Kael opened his mouth to reply, but Lira raised a single hand, stopping him mid-word.
"Enough talk," she said. "First, you survive. Then, you understand. Then… maybe, you catch up to me."
I wanted to ask who she really was, why she knew so much, why she moved with such perfection. But the words wouldn't come. I was still shaking, still reeling from watching her dismantle the xenophore like it was nothing.
Lira's eyes flicked briefly to me, sharp, assessing. "Yona," she said. "Fear is your weapon,and your weakness. Learn to control it. Every second you spend panicking, the creatures grow stronger."
I nodded mutely, unable to speak.
"Kael," she said next, "stop standing there like a scared child. Help her up. Move. Think."
He stepped forward, helping me to my feet. The weight of my own trembling limbs made me aware of how exhausted I was,not just from the fight, but from the lingering trauma of the previous xenophore loop.
"And Xeno," Lira continued, her gaze now resting on him, "don't underestimate her. None of you do. Everything here is a lesson. And if you can't follow the lesson… the lesson follows you."
Xeno's grip on the shovel tightened, just slightly. "We'll see," he murmured, voice flat, like a promise,or a warning.
Lira glanced toward the ridge behind us. "More are coming. Always more. You're not safe. Not yet. That one…" she nodded subtly toward the fading darkness, "was only a scout."
My stomach dropped. "More? How many?"
She didn't answer. She never did. Instead, she turned and started moving down the ridge, steps precise, deliberate, as if the chaos around her bent to her control.
"We follow," Xeno said finally, and Kael moved to match his pace.
I hesitated, staring at Lira's back,the perfect line of her posture, the clean cut of her jacket, the calculated grace of every movement. Something in me shifted. A spark.
If she could face monsters like that… maybe, just maybe, I could survive too.
And I would have to.
Because in this world, there was no pause, no mercy, and certainly no second chances.