The inside of the control room looked as if a butcher had tried to paint a macabre picture with the product of his work. Everything was filled with brutally cut pieces of flesh, internal organs, and crimson liquid.

“This is too much...” André said, feeling everything in his stomach rise uncontrollably to his mouth. He put a hand over his mouth, moved a bit away from the rest, and vomited abruptly. “Who could do such a thing?” he asked between spits.

“By Ibelir... what happened here?” Neisa asked, trying her best not to imitate her childhood friend.

“This place is a fucking nightmare,” Bargu commented, his face pale.

“Poor bastards...” Corporal Dragen said, sorrowful.

Isen said nothing about it and walked over the puddles with chunks as if he were immune to it all. He stopped and glanced over the camera screens, monitors, and control panels.

“We’re too late. The emergency power system didn’t last this long.”

“And what good is a mage if he can’t charge simple batteries with magic?” the soldier muttered under her breath.

The mage shot her a look that chilled her to the bone. Neisa had forgotten that the auditory perception of aehuls was superior to that of humans.

“I could, soldier,” Isen said seriously but without any sign of anger or agitation. “But there’s so much corrupt magic that using it would turn me into one of those things. Is that what you want?”

“That’s what you all mages deserve,” André thought, but he said nothing.

“No, sir,” Neisa replied, confused.

“Good, then let’s see if we can find something,” the mage replied. “Neisa, watch the entrance.”

“Yes, sir.”

André carefully crossed the room, avoiding stepping on any pieces of flesh while vaguely looking for something useful in that red sea. Just as he was about to avoid another piece of leg, he noticed something underneath it. He focused the flashlight and looked more closely.

It seemed to be a cyberboard.

The soldier bent down and carefully grabbed the object. It was covered in blood and had some dents and scratches, but it was undoubtedly a cyberboard.

“Sir, I’ve found something,” he said, cleaning it a bit with disgust.

“What is it?” the mage asked while taking a micro memory disk from Bargu.

“A cyberboard. And it seems to still have battery.”

“Good job,” Isen said. “Let’s see if it has anything worthwhile.”

André activated the cyberboard, and a screen displayed some recorded videos. He slid his fingers upwards, and a holographic copy of the data appeared in the air.

“It seems someone recorded several videos early this morning,” the soldier said. His dark eyes met Isen’s uncomfortably. “The last one is just a few hours old.”

“Let’s watch them.”

André touched the first video on the holographic screen, and it started playing. The control room appeared on the screen, recorded from some point near the camera panels. The room was dimly lit due to the low-energy lights activated by the emergency power system. In the center of the screen was a man in his thirties wearing a white coat and an ID badge with the name Michael on it. He had a worried face, brown eyes, and medium-length, curly, disheveled hair. Behind him, tiny colored lights could be seen, and two other workers in white coats were looking at the panels.

“My name is Michael Droker, operator of the Tagrei auxiliary rune-electric power plant. I’ve tried to send a message to Catlon, but I’ve gotten no response, so I don’t know if it got through. I’m recording this in case the messages don’t get through, and...” he paused for a few seconds. “In case we don’t survive,” he finally said with a sigh.

André felt pity for him, thinking about what he had become.

“We... we are being attacked by mutants,” he began with a trembling voice. “Something or someone sabotaged the generators, and the mutants broke through the fence... But... we haven’t been able to see it on the cameras... It’s like when that something or someone passes near them, it causes interference, and the image gets distorted. The soldiers are trying to contain the mutant horde. I will report back.”

“So someone sabotaged the generators to let the mutants in,” Corporal Dragen commented.

“But how did they avoid the cameras?” Bargu asked. “And better yet, why couldn’t they contact headquarters?”

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“Maybe that someone had already sabotaged the cameras and communications before infiltrating?” André suggested.

“Hmm... Could be,” Dragen said, frowning. “But who? Rebels?”

“Soldier, the next one,” the combat mage intervened with a dry tone, leaving the question hanging.

“Yes, sir.”

André touched the holographic screen, and the next video began to play. Michael looked very scared and nervous, constantly pushing his curls back. The other workers were no longer visible behind him.

“We’re... we’re lost. We’re not going to survive, and the messages to Catlon aren’t getting through.” Michael took a deep breath before continuing. “I just hope someone finds these videos so they know what happened here.” Michael paused and looked down. He nervously glanced to the side and then back at the camera. “The mutants are running rampant throughout the facility. Almost all the soldiers and workers are dead. Only those of us in the central building and a few soldiers are left.” He picked up the cyberboard and moved it. The two other workers were seen, terrified, watching the camera monitors. He brought the cyberboard closer to the monitors, showing various points where corpses of workers, soldiers, and mutants were intermingled. The battles had undoubtedly been brutal. Then he moved the cyberboard back and refocused on himself. “They’ve barricaded the entrance and covered the windows, but I don’t think they’ll hold for long. I know it sounds crazy... But the soldiers say... They say they’ve seen a demon!” He rubbed his right eye with his palm. “It must be a hallucination, or something, right?... I will report back,” he finished, continually covering his right eye and looking at the camera with the other.

“Did... did he say demon?” André asked no one in particular. The video had given him goosebumps.

“Like the ones in stories and movies?” Bargu said with a mix of surprise and excitement.

“The poor wretches were so terrified they saw hallucinations,” Dragen commented.

“Soldier, the next one,” the combat mage said, seemingly deep in thought.

André played the third video.

Michael was sweating, his pupils dilated. His involuntary movements were becoming more frequent, and behind him, one of the workers was pacing back and forth.

“They... they’ve broken in,” Michael wiped his face and pushed his hair back again. “It... it was horrible.” He blinked several times. “We could hear the gunfire and... the screams of pain and terror from our comrades from here.” His breathing quickened. “The cameras failed again when it came close to them. But... we managed to capture something... It looks... it looks like a demon. By Ibelir, this is madness. It has to be a savage, right?” He pulled at his hair. “Demons don’t exist... do they?” Michael took a few steps back, turned around, and approached the cyberboard camera. “They’ve gone down to the basement. Apparently, they’re digging a hole.” He looked around. “But... for what?” he said in a whisper, and the video ended.

No one said anything about it, but their faces showed mixed emotions.

“They were looking for the corrupt magic mineral,” the mage said to himself, frowning slightly. “But for what? If they had already subdued the plant, what sense did it make to expand the corruption? Besides, how did they know it was there?” Isen looked back at the soldier. “Was that the last one?”

“No, sir. There... there’s one more.”

“Let’s see it.”

André took a deep breath.

Once again, the image of the control room before it became that disturbing scene appeared in the air. Michael was terrified and seemed on the verge of madness. He had taken off his coat and shirt. He was pacing back and forth, clutching his face and scalp, while constantly looking around with wide eyes. Behind him, a worker was tied to a chair, his mouth full of blood. He moved his head from side to side, trying to free himself from the restraints, shouting nonsensical things as if having a psychotic episode. Next to him was the other worker, his neck and left arm bandaged, and a pistol in his other hand, which he used to wipe away sweat constantly.

"This is a fucking nightmare..." Michael began, briefly glancing at the camera. "I don't know how many hours... or has it been days? I don't know." He ran his hand through his curls again, pulling some out without realizing it. "Everyone's gone crazy... Yes. Suddenly one day, or was it hours ago? I don't know." He quickly looked to the sides. "I don't know, but everyone went crazy, and..." he suddenly approached the camera. "Then, bam! Monsters, mutants. And then gunfire, screams, and... more mutants. They’re everywhere! But they won’t get in here... No. It’s impossible to open the door. They’ve tried, yes. But they haven’t succeeded."

Michael stepped away from the camera for a few seconds and then returned. He blinked several times and ran his hand through his curls again, pulling out a few more.

"I don't know what's happening to us. But we hear voices, they’re in our heads." He suddenly turned and pointed at the tied-up worker. "Damn it! Wildo has gone crazy! Crazy! He suddenly tried to attack us." He approached the camera again. "Damn it! He bit Mervin on the neck and arm! We tied him to the chair. But... I think we should kill him. Yes... kill him," he finally said with his eyes wide open.

"The corruption rotted their minds," said the mage.

André swallowed hard, hoping the protector he had injected was really effective.

"By Ibelir! There's something there. What the hell is that?" Mervin suddenly shouted. Michael turned around.

“Shit! Stay away from that damn thing!”

Isen tried to see what they had seen, but nothing was visible on the screen.

“Careful, Michael!”

Suddenly, Michael let out a bone-chilling scream and clutched his head. He fell to his knees and started writhing violently from side to side, hands gripping the back of his neck.

“No! No! Get out of my fucking head!”

Michael fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Wildo began laughing maniacally while still struggling in the chair. Mervin waved the pistol around, unsure of whom to aim at, then held his head in his hands and screamed in despair.

Then everything went silent, and Mervin began to cry quietly.

Michael stood up with his back to the camera, and Mervin pointed the pistol at him. A gunshot was heard, and the image distorted, leaving only screams, the sound of a beast tearing through flesh repeatedly, and the echo of a shrill laugh.

The image returned, revealing the massacre the room had become. It distorted again, and Michael’s face, or what he had become, appeared intermittently in the foreground. Half of his face was pale white with smoother skin than the other half. His right eye was completely black with a yellow pupil. His right ear had elongated, and his hair had turned straight. A grayish horn curled like an 'S' from his temple.

"Catlon will only be the beginning," he said in a high-pitched voice. The image distorted again, and part of a tongue passed over lips. Then it faded out again, leaving only a disturbing, sadistic smile. "We will rise again, and you will feel dread at our presence, for we will reduce your cities to ashes, tint the seas red, and turn you into our slaves."

Something struck the cyberboard, sending it flying.