Sergeant Raed was looking down from the top of the light tank I43 at the corpses of the mutants they had killed when he heard Corporal Chelne's voice over the communicator.
"This is Corporal Chelne. Sir, this looks like a fucking horror movie. It's full of dismembered corpses."
"Like the rest of this damned place, Corporal," Raed said. "Is it possible to get the plant running again?"
"Impossible, sir. It's all destroyed," the Corporal replied. "And when I say destroyed, I mean destroyed. Even the high-voltage cables are cut. It's like a huge animal went berserk in here."
Raed rubbed his temples with his fingers. Why would the mutants destroy the generators? It didn't make any sense. Unless, of course, it wasn't them, but someone who wanted to disable the electric fence, which would then reinforce the idea that someone had somehow attracted the mutants. But even if that were possible, why would anyone attract mutants to attack a worthless power plant? And how the hell had they managed to wreak such havoc in the engine room? Could it be that the savages had actually been the first to attack?
All those unanswered questions were giving him a headache.
"Copy that," Raed replied. "Have you found any survivors?"
"No, sir... Wait, I think I saw something move," said the Corporal, and after a few seconds of silence, there was: "Fire! Fire!"
The sound of rifles mixed with the soldiers' screams.
"What's happening?" the Sergeant asked, surprised. "Corporal?!"
"This is Chelne. Something attacked us, sir," he said, terrified.
"Mutants?"
"No... it was more monstrous... I know it sounds like a joke, sir. But it had some resemblance to those... demons from the movies."
"Demons."
The last memory he had of his father flashed through his mind. That time they were in their tiny, messy house. His father, with a confused face and an anguished voice, was telling his mother that she didn't understand, that demons were chasing them and he had to kill them to protect them. She screamed that he was crazy, then they struggled, and finally, his mother slapped him. A few minutes later, his mother took Raed and his brother and fled from that house, never to return. As they walked away, his father kept shouting the same thing; "You don't understand, you don't understand."
"Any casualties?" Raed asked, coming back to his senses.
"Ordwulf and Estrek, sir."
"Damn..." he said painfully. "Alright. Come to the defense perimeter."
"Yes, sir."
The Sergeant knew it was too early, but he still glanced at the entrance of the main building, hoping to see his soldiers appear. Everything about the mission gave him a very bad feeling.
They did not appear.
A small beep indicated an incoming transmission on another channel. Raed looked at the cyberboard, and it was from Corporal Ramón. He pressed a button and switched channels. "Sir, ...Corporal Ramón. Someone... our position... parking. "The Corporal's voice sounded choppy.
"What? What the hell is happening, Corporal?"
"Someone is coming."
Raed felt a small glimmer of hope upon hearing this.
"Give me some good news, Corporal. Are they survivors?"
"I don't know,... civilians." The sentences were still coming in halves.
"Did you say civilians?" Raed asked, frowning. "In this nightmare? Never mind. Arrest them and find out if they know anything about it, or if they're just some poor bastards on the worst day of their lives."
"What?" Apparently, Corporal Ramón wasn't hearing the Sergeant well either.
"Arrest them, damn it!"
"Copy that..."
Another icon on the cyberboard started blinking again. It was Corporal Chelne on the other channel.
“Chelne? Didn’t I tell you to get out of there immediately?”
“I know, sir, but you won’t believe what we’ve seen.”
“What is it, Corporal?”
“That thing... it’s like it transformed into a human.”
“Demons hide among us! They’re everywhere!” His father’s words echoed in his head again. A drop of cold sweat ran down his neck.
“What... do you mean?”
“I can’t explain it any other way, sir,” Chelne replied. “Its body started to change until it became... human.”
“Demons hide among us! They’re everywhere!”
His heart skipped a beat. Without saying anything, he hung up and quickly pressed the icon for Corporal Ramón.
“Sir?”
“Corporal Ramón! Forget the arrest and shoot those civilians!” he said as if his life depended on it.
“What did you say?” asked the confused Corporal.
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“They’re not civilians; they’re shapeshifting monsters! Shoot, damn it, shoot!” The vein on the Sergeant’s temple throbbed violently, and his natural eye seemed ready to pop out of its socket. The soldiers in the defense perimeter didn’t understand any of it.
Once again, the sound of gunfire and screams echoed through the helmet communicator.
“Die, motherfucker!” said the soldier from Corporal Ramón’s squad manning the auxiliary machine gun.
“Abandon the position!” Raed shouted, knowing it would be futile.
The sound of more bullets, a desperate scream, and then a tremendous screech followed.
“Squad v4-3, report!”
“Help, I... help me...” Soldier Ioan’s voice sounded desperate.
Heavy footsteps accompanied by an evil laugh could be heard.
“You will all die,” said a deep, terrifying voice.
“Nooo!” screamed Ioan.
Everything went silent.
“Goddamn it, damn it!” Sergeant Raed shouted, pounding his fist on the tank. There was nothing he hated more than feeling powerless. It was one thing to see soldiers die in the heat of battle, and quite another to listen to them die terrified, like a spectator in a horror movie.
The Sergeant got off the tank, took off his helmet, and was about to throw it to the ground with all his might. The mission was a complete disaster. Since leaving Catlon, eight soldiers had died, and they had achieved nothing. He didn’t even know if the combat mage’s squad was still alive. It was overwhelming. For a moment, he felt the urge to grab his weapon and go kill everything in his path until he met death, but he knew he couldn’t. He had a duty to his men and, above all, to his country.
Raed tried to calm down and analyze the situation as he paced back and forth. The Sergeant didn’t know exactly what they were facing, or perhaps somewhere deep inside, he did know, but he preferred not to give it credibility to avoid losing his sanity. What was clear was that those “shapeshifters” (a name he decided to use for now) were the ones who had orchestrated everything. Now he was sure. He didn’t know why or how, but he was sure it was them. It could even be that the source of corrupt magic was also their doing. For a moment, the idea that those monsters could pose as civilians, soldiers, or even high-ranking officials of Ibelir made him shudder. Their mere existence could pose a great danger not only to the state of Anlova but to the entire country.
The Sergeant wasn’t sure if the mage’s squad had encountered any of those shapeshifters or if they were still alive, but he had no choice but to trust them. It was vital that they get the camera recordings and take them back to the city. Raed was sure that the key to the attack and the existence of those shapeshifters was in those recordings.
But what could he do?
The immense corruption around the central building made it impossible for the Sergeant and the rest to get close to support the mage’s squad. Moreover, if by any chance the shapeshifters hadn’t noticed their existence, such action could have the opposite effect if they engaged in combat near the central building.
The Sergeant stopped and tapped the pack of cigarettes he had in his pocket.
“The last cigarette.”
And then the solution came to his mind. The best thing he could do was become bait to divert the attention of those monsters and draw them away from the mage’s squad. Thus, even in the worst-case scenario, Isen and the others would have a chance to return to Catlon and report what had happened. After all, they were the Fierce Stewards, and they would fight to the end to serve their country.
The Sergeant touched the cyberboard.
“Sir?”
“Chelne, change of plans. We’re coming to your position. Wait for us at the entrance.”
“Copy that.”
Raed signaled for the soldiers to return to the vehicles.
“We’re moving!” the Sergeant announced, waving one hand in a circle. “Machine guns. It’s time to make some noise. We need to make those bastards think we’re retreating.”
***
Combat mage Isen took a couple of photos of the intoxicating mineral from the edge of the hole with his cyberboard. Despite not knowing how effective the corruption shield was against such an amount of solidified corrupt magic, he felt drawn to it. It was as if a little voice whispered in his ear to get closer, to touch it. He had to make a huge effort to dismiss the idea.
“We’ve found the source of the corruption,” said Isen, forcing himself to turn away from the mineral. “There’s nothing we can do to fix it. Let’s head to the control room to see if we can figure out what happened.”
“But... Sir, wouldn’t it be better to get a sample?” Bargu asked. It seemed the mage wasn’t the only one attracted to the mineral.
“Don’t even think about it, soldier,” he said, glancing sideways and placing his hand gently on the grip of his runic pistol. “Even for a drauo like you, it would be tempting fate too much. Move out.”
“As you say... sir.”
“Soldiers, did you hear me?” Isen turned a bit more but not completely. His hand remained on his pistol. “We’re leaving.”
“Yes... yes,” the rest answered as if waking from a dream.
Isen relaxed as he saw them move away from the mineral’s influence. For a moment, he had thought he might have to use his weapons to force them away... or even kill them.
“And Burmac?” asked Corporal Dragen.
André blinked a few times, and suddenly seemed to remember something horrifying.
“He’s dead...”
“What do you mean he’s dead?” Neisa asked.
“Burmac... ignored the combat mage’s orders and approached the elevator, thinking he heard someone...” André said, tormented. “And then... a bunch of sharp tentacles came out of the doors and strangled him. I... I couldn’t do anything.”
“And you’re telling us this now, soldier?” Corporal Drauo said angrily.
“I said over the communicator that something had trapped him, but no one answered me!”
Isen looked at the soldier with a hint of disdain. It was incredible how little the soldiers knew about the effects of magic. When he returned to the magic tower, he would speak with the superior mage to do something about it.
“That’s because of the corrupt magic, soldier,” the combat mage said. “It causes interference in communications.”
“I... I didn’t know. In the National Unit Protection Regiment of Anlova, we never encountered corrupt magic,” he tried to excuse himself. “By Ibelir, I tried to help him, but I couldn’t do anything. I promise...”
“It’s okay, André, calm down,” Neisa said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Dragen gave him an inquisitive look.
“We will recover his body when we leave,” Isen said without showing any emotion. “Now, let’s continue.”
***
The soldiers ascended the stairs in silence, constantly glancing in all directions. Upon reaching the third floor, they checked that there were no enemies in the elevator room, then continued down the left hallway toward the control room.
Suddenly, the glass windows of the rooms flanking the corridor shattered, and four former workers, now grotesque human mutations, entered the hallway. Isen and Dragen moved forward, turning to face the sudden enemies that had surrounded them, while André, Bargu, and Neisa moved back, leaving their rear unguarded.
Isen ducked to avoid the fleshy whip of one of the former workers and disintegrated one of its legs. The mutant tried to strike him again as it fell, but this time its arm met the mage’s sword and was split in two. Behind him, Dragen slung his rifle over his shoulder and drew his war axe. The clawed mutant hesitated for a few seconds, and the Corporal took advantage, lunging at it and burying the axe in its side. The creature staggered in pain, while a few meters behind, the Fierce Stewards soldiers were taking down the humanoid deformities with numerous synchronized bursts, and the combat mage blew the head off the badly wounded mutant with his runic pistol.
“Die, scum!” Dragen shouted as his axe traced a vertical arc and embedded itself in the mutant’s head. Thin black streams ran down its single-eyed face before it fell lifeless to the ground. The Corporal turned and added, “Sometimes there’s nothing better than doing things the old-fashioned way.”
“You got that right!” said Bargu, who often abandoned formal language when excited, a trait typical of most drauos. “When will I get mine?”
“Watch that language, boy!” Dragen said firmly, smacking the young drauo on the back of the head. “Remember, we’re in the Fierce Stewards, not in a drauo regiment!”
“Yes, sir,” Bargu replied, embarrassed.
“And as for a combat weapon, you’ll get one when you reach the rank of Corporal, so you better start working hard!”
Neisa let out a giggle at the paternal scene. Isen turned without saying anything, and the squad resumed their march.
When they reached the control room, the sliding door of the room made them stop in their tracks. It was covered in marks, blood, and chunks of flesh. It seemed to have been forced open just enough for a person to fit through.