Mikhail and the others stumbled back toward the bus, their breaths ragged and legs trembling under the strain of their desperate journey. As they neared the vehicle, the dark mist that had shielded them seemed to shift in response, curling outward like sentient tendrils to encircle the bus in a protective embrace. The shadows flowed over its battered frame, weaving themselves into an impenetrable barrier that pulsed faintly, as though alive, cutting them off from the outside world.

Mikhail was the first to reach the bus door, yanking it open and ushering the children inside with hurried waves of his hand. His gaze flickered between the mist-drenched fields and the frightened faces around him, urgency carving sharp lines into his features.

“Listen up,” he commanded, his tone low but unyielding, the edge of authority unmistakable.

“You stay here. Keep the doors shut, and no matter what happens, don’t open them unless it’s me or the others. Understand?”

The children nodded hesitantly, their pale faces streaked with dirt and sweat. Despite their fear, a glimmer of hope shone in their eyes, a fragile beacon that rested on Mikhail’s steady presence. He cast a quick glance at Kogel, slumped against one of the seats, his chest rising and falling shallowly. The faint glow of the mist seemed to cling to him, casting eerie shadows across the fresh scars and burns that marred his skin.

“He needs help,”

“Use the first-aid kits Miss Hearth packed in our backpacks. Do what you can to keep him stable.”

A boy with round glasses, slightly away from the frantic pace, quickly dropped his pack to the floor. His trembling hands scrambled to unzip it, retrieving the small, familiar kit within. His glasses slid off his nose, clattering softly onto the floor, but he paid them no mind.

“I—I got it,” he stammered, his voice laced with fear but resolute. He opened the kit, fumbling with antiseptic bottles and bandages.

“I’ll take care of him.”

Mikhail nodded sharply.

“Good. And remember—no matter what you hear outside, no matter what happens, you keep those doors shut. Do not open them until I or the others come back.”

The children nodded again, their movements stiff, the weight of his words sinking in. Without waiting for a response, Mikhail turned on his heel and leapt down from the bus. The mist seemed to part for him, briefly revealing the crimson-drenched fields ahead, before swallowing his figure whole as he sprinted into the oppressive red haze. The hiss of the bus doors closing behind him sounded final, a sharp punctuation that left the group inside shrouded in uneasy silence.

The children huddled close together on the worn seats, their gazes darting to the windows where the mist pressed like a living thing, pulsing faintly against the glass.

The boy with the first-aid kit worked in hurried silence, his hands still trembling as he dabbed antiseptic onto Kogel’s wounds, the sharp smell cutting through the stale air.

“You’re going to be okay,” he muttered, more to himself than to the unconscious man.

“You have to be.”

One of the younger kids sniffled, wiping at her face with a dirt-streaked sleeve.

“Do... do you think he’ll come back?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the faint hum of the mist outside.

The boy glanced at her, then back to his work; the answer caught in his throat. None of them spoke.

...

"I told them… I told her not to leave. Why did they have to run off?" Mikhail muttered through gritted teeth, frustration taut in his voice as he pressed deeper into the dense, swaying fields.

His jaw tightened, his fingers clenching into fists at his sides as his thoughts churned. Worry gnawed at the edges of his mind, tangling with irritation, but it only strengthened his resolve. He had to find them. The crimson moon hung heavy in the sky, its light soaking the land in a sickly, otherworldly glow. He halted suddenly, dropping to one knee as his hand sank into the earth. Closing his eyes, he stilled himself, drawing in a sharp breath. The soil beneath his fingers was cold and damp, trembling faintly with subtle vibrations—traces of life, movement, and something far darker. Concentrating, he let his senses stretch outward, listening to the whispers of the world around him.

Then he felt it. A pulse, faint but unmistakable, like the soft tug of an invisible thread pulling at the edges of his awareness. His eyes snapped open, sharp and focused, and he turned toward the direction.

"There."

He surged to his feet, and without hesitation, he sprinted in the direction of the presence, weaving through the tall wheat that whispered against him as if trying to slow him down. His footsteps echoed in his ears, his breath steady even as his heart pounded with urgency.

Farther ahead, Kassie dragged herself across the bloodstained ground, her trembling fingers clawing at the soil as she struggled to move. The coppery tang of blood filled her mouth, sharp and metallic, as a trickle from her nostrils streaked her pale face. Her vision swam, blurred with tears and exhaustion, each inch forward a battle against the searing pain tearing through her body. The closer she crawled toward Regna and the entity that loomed above her, the more her very being seemed to rebel. A crushing force pressed down on her chest, relentless and unyielding, stealing the air from her lungs.

“Kngh!” A ragged cry escaped her lips as her arms gave out momentarily, her body wracked with spasms of pain.

It was as though the atmosphere itself had turned against her, an invisible hand squeezing her, testing her will to proceed.

But Kassie clenched her teeth, her jaw aching as she forced herself forward again, dragging her body with sheer determination. Her nails scraped against the cold, unforgiving ground, dirt embedding itself under them as she clawed for every precious inch closer to her goal. Every instinct screamed at her to turn back, to abandon this impossible task. Yet the fire in her chest burned hotter than her fear—a fierce, unyielding drive that drowned out the voice of self-preservation. She had to reach Regna.

Through her swimming vision, she caught sight of her friend further ahead, barely visible through the thick mist that coiled around the fields. Regna’s silhouette was hunched, her arms clutching someone close to her chest. Kassie squinted, forcing her eyes to focus.

It was Rayne.

The sight of her friend cradling Rayne’s limp form sent a fresh surge of determination through Kassie’s weary muscles. Her chest heaved as she dragged herself forward, her breaths shallow and strained.

“Regna...” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the oppressive hum in the air. Her hand stretched out, trembling as she reached for her friend.

“I’m coming…”

The oppressive presence pulsed again, the air around it rippling with power. It felt aware of her approach now, its attention shifting like a predator noticing prey. The weight of its energy grew heavier, each throb a mockery of her struggle, daring her to continue.

Kassie’s body trembled violently, her muscles threatening to give out entirely. Her vision darkened at the edges, black spots flickering across her sight like tiny holes torn into her reality.

And still, she crawled. Inch by painful inch, she pushed through the crushing force; she swore she could hear the cracking of her ribs as she took a stride further, her spirit unbroken even as her body faltered.

Ahead, Regna remained motionless, the crimson haze swirling around her like a living shroud. The towering entity loomed above her, its shape indistinct, monstrous, and suffused with a power that defied comprehension. Yet Kassie’s gaze remained fixed on her friend.

She would reach her. No matter what.

Kassie’s breaths came in ragged gasps, each inhale like shards of glass slicing through her chest. Then, breaking through the suffocating stillness, she heard it: footsteps, pounding fast and unrelenting, cutting through the heavy air. They grew louder and nearer, their rhythm urgent and commanding. Her heart surged with panic. Instinctively, she twisted, forcing her battered body to turn, her pulse hammering in her ears. Her vision blurred, and the effort sent fresh waves of pain coursing through her limbs. Through the haze, the field seemed to warp and sway, the wheat bathed in crimson light like bloodied blades.

But then a familiar face emerged from the mist.

"I told you and your friend not to leave," Mikhail’s voice cut through the eerie glow, sharp and edged with fury.

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His features were tight, his jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with frustration beneath the unyielding resolve etched into his face.

Kassie barely registered his words before his hand clamped firmly around her arm. With one swift motion, he pulled her upright. Pain exploded in her body, and she gasped, wincing as her legs buckled beneath her weight.

“M-Mikhail?” she stammered, her voice faint and trembling.

Her head swam, the world tilting violently as she tried to focus on his face. Everything blurred together—the haze, the searing ache in her muscles, the suffocating presence looming somewhere ahead.

“It… it hurts,” she whispered, her voice cracking, weak and exhausted.

Mikhail’s grip on her arm tightened, steadying her as she swayed. She could feel the tension radiating from him, the rigid set of his jaw, and the way his breaths came short and fast. His frustration was almost tangible, and the icy edge in his expression sent a chill down her spine.

"Kas, right?" he said, his tone low and clipped, barely masking his irritation.

His gaze bore into hers, equal parts demand and determination.

“Got any idea what’s going on here?”

Kassie shook her head weakly, the motion leaving her dizzy and disoriented. Her knees threatened to give way again, but Mikhail held her firmly, keeping her upright.

“N-no…” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

She winced as fresh pain lanced through her chest. Speaking felt like an impossible task, but she forced herself to continue, each word dragged from the depths of her will.

“But… Regna and Rayne, they’re close,” she gasped out, her voice trembling.

“I heard her screams…”

Her words faltered, her strength failing her as her head slumped forward. Even so, her message had landed. Mikhail’s sharp gaze darted toward the distant shadows where the wheat gave way to an open expanse. His expression hardened further, the muscle in his jaw twitching as the weight of her words sank in. Without another word, he bent down, slipping his arm around her shoulders. Kassie winced as he adjusted her weight, her legs trembling beneath her, but she leaned into him. The warmth of his grip, though firm, steadied her against the oppressive chill in the air.

"Hold on," Mikhail said, his voice softening slightly, though the urgency beneath it was unshaken. He tightened his grip and began moving, his strides purposeful.

Kassie bit her lip against the pain, forcing herself to match his pace despite the fire raging in her muscles. Each step was a fresh agony, but she steeled herself, her breaths coming shallow and uneven as the two of them pushed deeper into the endless fields.

The wheat swayed around them, whispering in the crimson light, its stalks brushing against them like ghostly hands. The air grew colder and heavier, as though each step dragged them closer to the edge of something unspeakable.

Mikhail’s jaw was set, his gaze locked on the distant horizon where shadows writhed in the mist. The pulsing glow of the crimson moon made the shadows seem alive, shifting and stretching unnaturally, as if beckoning them forward.

“Regna and Rayne…” Kassie murmured faintly, her words barely audible.

Mikhail glanced down at her, his expression grim but resolute.

“We’ll find them,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

His grip on her tightened as the weight of their task loomed over them. Time was running out, and the oppressive presence ahead seemed to thrum with dark power, its pull growing stronger with every step.

...

The hum of sirens and the crackle of radio chatter filled the encampment outside the crimson dome that surrounded the town and the fields that neighbored it. Researchers moved frantically between tents, armed guards stood tense with weapons at the ready, and distant drones hovered near the edges of the barrier. Amid this chaos, a portal shimmered into existence near the command tent, casting pale light across the makeshift base.

From the glowing rift stepped Genova Yule, her presence cutting through the frenetic energy of the scene like a blade. Clad in a weathered leather jacket and dark trousers, she carried herself with calm authority. Her sharp gaze swept across the camp, taking in the chaos with an unreadable expression. The faint ember of her cigarette glowed in the blood-red light of the dome, a curl of smoke trailing upward as if unbothered by the tension that gripped the air.

As she advanced, a swarm of reporters and researchers surged toward her, cameras flashing and microphones thrust forward in a cacophony of shouted questions.

"Dr. Yule! Is this event connected to the incident in Zernia 2 years ago?"

"Can you confirm if this is another Blood Eclipse phenomenon? What’s the global response?"

Genova exhaled a long stream of smoke, pausing as the crowd pressed closer. With a slow, deliberate motion, she raised her hand, her palm outward. The gesture, coupled with her presence, silenced them almost instantly. Her voice, when it came, was calm but carried an unmistakable edge of exhaustion, like a teacher explaining the obvious to an unruly class.

"Listen closely because I’ll only say this once. Yes, it’s connected. Yes, it’s another Blood Eclipse. And no, I don’t have time for whatever theories or panic you’re about to vomit at me. This-" she gestured broadly to the dome and the surrounding chaos, "is what happens when people don’t listen to the warnings we’ve been shouting for years. So, let me be perfectly clear: my time is limited, my patience even more so, and unless you have something worth my attention, step aside. I don’t have the bandwidth for handholding."

A persistent reporter stepped forward, his voice wavering but determined.

"Dr. Yule, the public—"

She turned her head sharply, fixing him with a glare so icy it felt as though the temperature had dropped. Her voice dropped lower, colder.

"The public can wait. You don’t want me to tell them what they don’t want to hear. So, for your own sake, and for mine, move. Now."

The reporter faltered, stepping back as the crowd parted in uneasy silence. Genova resumed her pace without sparing them another glance.

She was approached again as she neared the command tent, this time by a group of researchers clutching tablets and equipment. One stepped forward nervously; his words rushed and breathless. "Dr. Yule, we’ve compiled energy scans."

"Save it," she interrupted, not slowing her stride.

"I’ll look at them when I get to it. If you can’t figure out the basics without me, you’re wasting resources. You want my advice? Stop running around like a fucking chicken with its head off and start acting like the experts you’re supposed to be."

They hesitated but made no further attempts to stop her as she approached the tent. A young guard stood stiffly by the flap, his nervousness apparent as he fumbled to salute her. Genova raised a single eyebrow, and he stepped aside without a word, pulling the flap open.

Inside, the tent was a storm of activity. Monitors displayed distorted images of the dome’s interior, shifting, blood-red landscapes that defied normal comprehension. Maps and reports were strewn across the central table, while researchers shouted updates to one another over the hum of equipment.

Genova headed straight for the table, her sharp eyes scanning the map of Krenkol and the surrounding fields. Her expression hardened as she focused on the dome’s epicenter.

"Who’s in charge here?" she asked, her voice cutting clean through the clamor.

A young officer stepped forward, his nervousness evident. "

That would be Colonel Jackel, ma’am. He’s currently—"

"Not here?" she finished for him, exhaling sharply.

"Typical. That’s fine; I’ve learned not to rely on them. Let’s get to it."

She leaned on the table, her cigarette smoldering between her fingers.

"Tell me about the dome. Energy flow, structural integrity, anomalies—all of it. And for the love of everything holy, skip the parts you’re still ‘trying to figure out.’ I don’t have the luxury of your learning curve."

The officer stammered, shuffling through a stack of notes.

"The energy signature- it’s complex, more than those we've encountered before. We’re seeing spikes in-"

"Complex than anything I've dealt with before? Is that what you're suggesting here?"

She looked at his name tag, "Officer... Nedel?" Genova muttered, dragging her hand down her face.

"Great. Let me rephrase. Imagine you’re explaining this to someone who’s been awake for the past three days, seen three too many shits, and is about two minutes away from walking into that one dome with or without your help. Got it?"

The officer blinked, swallowing hard.

"There’s a major spike in the fields located from the south of the town," he managed, pointing to a glowing mark on the map.

"But we haven’t confirmed the sources to be sure."

"Good enough," she interrupted, snuffing out her cigarette on the table’s edge with a deliberate motion.

"Mark it. That’s where I’m going." She straightened, addressing the room.

"And someone get me a clean scan of that dome’s energy signature before I leave. Reroute power if you have to. I don’t care if the coffee maker shuts down—figure it out."

The room erupted into motion, researchers scrambling to follow her orders. Genova remained at the table a moment longer, her gaze lingering on the distorted footage of the dome.

"It’s always the same," she murmured, almost to herself.

"The moon, the madness, the bloodshed in it. And yet, here we are, acting surprised." She turned her head slightly, addressing a nearby researcher without looking directly at them.

"Anything resembling a pulse? A node? An anomaly? Or are we still fumbling around in the dark?"

The researcher flinched, adjusting their glasses nervously.

"Th-there’s an anomaly rapidly approaching the fields that the spike is located at, but it’s faint. Could be residual, could be…"

"Could be important," Genova finished, her voice softening just enough to hold their attention.

"Mark it as well, and stop hesitating. If I’m right—which I usually am—that’s our key to unraveling this mess."

She reached into her jacket, unscrewing the cap of her flask with the ease of long habit. The sharp scent of alcohol mingled briefly with the stale air as she took a slow sip, her gaze never leaving the map.

"Whatever’s inside that dome," she said, pocketing the flask and straightening, "it’s not waiting for us to figure it out. And neither am I."

With that, she turned, her steps purposeful as the camp buzzed with frantic activity in her wake.

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Genova Yule, the head researcher of House Veritas Supernatural Security Department. [https://i.postimg.cc/G3vrSJpz/Design-17.png]

Doctor Genova Yule, Head Researcher of Supernatural Security Department, House Veritas.

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