The Coarseblood's roar echoed through the night; violent Kyyr flowed from around his body in a palpable surge of power. The intensity of the energy drew not only the attention of the rangers but even the Anomaly. The sudden burst of Kyyr distracted the fell abomination, giving Siegwick time to charge a special technique.

The Coarseblood’s resounding roar seemed to captivate the Anomaly, drawing it in like a moth to a flame. With a slow, unsettling gait, it began to walk toward the hill. It’s attention transfixed on the rhythmic allure of the ravenous Kyyr.

Unamused by the Anomaly’s disregard, Siegwick began to focus his Kyyr into words, “Past all enduring, frost and gold.” A long, frozen blade materialized in his hands, an azure blaze wrapping around the base of the spear as he took aim. “Pierce the hide of the blasphemy incarnate,” he muttered, launching the icy spear. It ignited into a comet-like streak of light, cleaving straight through the Anomaly’s skull.

The Anomaly dropped to the ground with a bland thud, motionless. Siegwick held his breath, watching carefully as the entity showed no signs of life. But then, a sinister gas began seeping from its body, the thick gas pooling around its body. Cautious, Siegwick moved back, but the miasma seemed to sparkle in abyssal Kyyr as the Anomaly stood once again, the burning ice spear still lodged in its skull.

It turned to face Siegwick, letting out a bone-chilling screech.

On the southeast front, Serfet was doing his best to fend off the two Rak’da , aided by the ranged support of Calli and Morotov, who used their Kyyr combustion to burn the creatures as they slowly advanced. But upon hearing the screech, the Rak’da suddenly became more violent. Ignoring the blazing fire, the Fulgurjaw lunged at Serfet, forcing him to unleash his Vile Rive to counter the sudden assault.

Serfet’s blade trembled as his slash cleaved into the Fulgurjaw. His muscles aching in agony as exhaustion strangled his body in a dreary weight, as the fight dragged on.

“Where’d the other one go?” Calli cried out, her voice edged with panic. The smaller split-jaw Rak’da had vanished behind the wall of flames.

"Everyone, stand your ground!” Carmela shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.

"Shit, it must’ve gone inside!” Will shouted, trying to stand as he crawled towards the entrance.

Inside Mika and Molt, the two nurses stationed, aimed their guns at the door, tense and ready. They could hear the sound of a struggle—screams and roars—just beyond the medwings doors. Then, from the darkness of the hallway, the bloodsoaked snout of the split-jaw Rak’da pushed the door open.

“MOLT! D-do something!” Mika shouted at the trembling young man beside her. Molt, barey managing to hold his gun steady, was shaking like crazy. Unlike Mika, he had some level of Kyyr combat training, but the horrid visage of the Rak’da was too much for him. They watched the Rak’da push its way into the room. Its contorted face still had the remains of another ranger dangling from its messy, jagged jaws.

Molt screamed and unloaded every round his shotgun, the shrapnel shredding the creature’s face open. It recoiled, screeching in agony as it staggered back into the hallway. The cry of pain seemed to linger, unnervingly long.

The nurses stood in stunned silence, listening as the sounds of the struggle resumed beyond the door.

The door swung open as the Rak’da’s head crashed forward, half-dead. Though decapitated, its severed head still snapped violently at the air, futilely trying to attack. It thrashed about in a blind rage, bouncing around the floor, desperate for a kill.

Suddenly, a bladed Kyyr crystal, glowing in a myriad of colors, streaked through the air and smashed into the head, silencing it.

From the shadows, Lena and Denver emerged.

To their benefit, the makeshift regeneration of the two Rak’da had caused adverse effects on the smaller Rak’da. Due to the botched process, the split-jaw Rak’da ended up with only a quarter of a brain and barely any abyssal condensation—a result that, all things considered, was a little depressing. Yet, even in its weakened state, it still held the same vile pride as the Fulgurjaw, snapping defiantly at the air, trying its best to bite at nothing.

Nonetheless, the split-jaw Rak’da had been dealt with.

“Is everyone okay?” Lena asked the shivering nurses. They both nodded, tears in their eyes. “Good, Denver, we’re going to have to guard these survivors.” she said.

“Right… What about Saul’s corpse?” He asked, looking back at the half-eaten Saul in the hallway behind them.

“We’ll leave him there for the time being. All we can do is trust our fellow rangers can take control of the situation outside.”

Denver nodded as he stared down in disgust at the Rak’da head that was still snapping at the air. “What about this thing? Should we burn it?”

Lena stared at the writhing clump of teeth and suddenly had an idea. “We can test its blood!” she exclaimed, eyes lighting up.

“Ugh…By ‘we’ you mean me, right?” Denver groaned, clearly repulsed.

"Oh, come one. Just take a look at it under a microscope.” Lena urged with a hiss.

Denver sighed in defeat. “If we get infected with some weird disease, its on you, Lena,” he muttered, pulling out a needle from his first aid pack. Leaving the room, he carefully stepped around Saul’s remains and his way over to the diced-up body in the other room, which had been crucified against the wall using Lena’s prism beacon blades. With a grimace, he extracted a blood sample from the still-writhing body.

Outside on the norther front, the Anomaly howled in rage. In response, causing the Rak’da corpses and Fulgurjaw to shiver as tendrils erupted from their bodies. But Shredder remained unaffected, ignoring the call. The mutated Pelamüs cracked its neck as it turned to face Gira, whose figure seemed to glow under the crimson sky, his crystal-like skin catching the light in a haunting display.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The Pelamüs and the Coarseblood circled each other, sizing one another up. Meanwhile, Lucas watched, struggling to stay conscious as his bleeding worsened, his vision fading with each passing moment.

Shredder lunged at Gira, swift and deadly, like a viper in the dark. Each strike was precise, gliding past Gira, who dodged, grabbing onto Shredder's arm and yanking the monster closer with a single, brutal motion. Gira’s maw widened as he revealed his bladed elbow, smashing it into Shredder’s head, cracking it open with a single strike as he went in for a bite.

Though headless, Shredder somehow sensed Gira, dropping low, and using the abyssal Kyyr in the air to accelerate its recovery. Its jaw partially regenerated, just enough to sink its teeth into Gira. With a growl, Gira shoved shredder away, sliding back as he lowered his posture. Without hesitation, he dashed towards the staggered Pelamüs, claws extended and jaw open, aiming to tear into Shredder’s legs.

The Pelamüs dodged by leaping into the air, using the momentum to slam its legs down onto Gira from above. Gira hit the ground hard, but his cracked visage grew more wild as crimson blades erupted around him, blossoming into a painful trap that cut into Shredder's legs.

Sliding out from beneath the assault, Gira swiftly followed up with a devastating uppercut to the wounded Pelamüs. The force of the blow was so immense that Shredder’s neck and head were cleanly blown off its body. The Pelamüs wobbled for a moment before it flopped flatly to the side, its lifeless form slowly rolling down the hill.

Turning back, Gira went over to Lucas. His friend’s upper left torso, including his arm, had been horribly mangled by Shredder. Carefully, Gira picked him up, pouncing over the fence. In one powerful motion, he tore through the wall before him an entered the station, desperately looking for help.

Using his Kyyr, Gira could sense people nearby.

In the medical wing, Lena tensed, readying herself as the sounds of something big crashing through the building echoed.

“What is that?” Denver asked, turning away from the microscope.

“I don’t know but it sounds big,” Lena replied, her voice edged with tension.

Gira reached the place, where he could vaguely sense people. He carefully cradled Lucas in his arms, his movements gentle despite his strength. Reaching the door, Gira softly placed Lucas down beside it, ensuring he was safe before continuing.

Peeking his head in, Mika and Molt both screamed at the sight of him. Gira’s monstrous appearance sent a wave of panic through the room, causing Lena to launch her prism blades at him. The blades bounced harmlessly off his armor as Gira, awkward but determined, pushed his way into the room.

“What the hell is that!?” Denver shouted, jumping up from his chair.

Gira put his hands up. His claws coated in blood.

“What’s it doing?” Denver asked, panicking as he began to pool Kyyr in his fists.

Gira bowed down, lowering his head and exposing his neck, trying to make himself appear as small and non-threatening as possible. Despite his efforts, Mika continued screaming like a maniac.

“Shut the fuck up, Mika!” Lena shouted as she cautiously inspected the bowing monster.

Gira crouched lower, desperately trying to think of a way to communicate. Can't I de-transform? He asked in his mind.

Savagrios’s voice echoed from the depths of his mind. “You could, but then you’d need another one of those little flask thingies… and you’d need to eat some more.”

That’s fine! How do I do it? Gira called out in his mind

“There’s also a 50/50 chance you’ll bleed out immediately.” Savagrios added nonchalantly.

Fine! I don’t care; just tell me how!

“Focus on the memory of your reflection from before and let go off the Kyyr, “ Savagrios explained calmly. “Nice and smooth, like exhaling after holding your breath. That’s all.”

Gira focused on the memory of himself, trying to let go of the ravenous Kyyr coursing through him. His aura intensified, growing dangerously chaotic. Lena fell to her knees in terror as the Kyyr’s mass eroded her own.

Slamming his claws into the ground, Gira roared in agony, the sound echoing across both fronts. His body convulsed, like a seizure, only held in place by his long claws. Crimson blades of blood erupted erratically from his body, like a bubbling cancer. The blades would quickly flower and then turn to fine dust, while his Coarseblood armor seemed to almost melt off.

From the crimson display, a naked Gira emerged, coughing weakly. The raging Kyyr once again eerily silent.

“Oh…cough… That sucked so much... cough,” Gira muttered weakly, before suddenly puking random red sludge. “Ugh—listen to me…cough.” he groaned, wiping his mouth.

“By the symbols, that’s the kid that was with my brother…” Lena gasped, her eyes wide as she stared at the bloody Gira.

Clearing the blood from his eyes Gira saw Lena on the ground trembling alongside an equally shaken-up Denver. Clearing his throat, he rasped faintly, “Hey Big D…and, uh, Miss Lone Wolf…cough… P-please help L-lucas,” he stammered weakly, pointing at the door behind him.

“What?” Lena gasped.

“Some monster was chewing on him, so I blew its head open.” Gira explained unnervingly calm. “Please save him…” he added, collapsing to his hands and vomiting more red sludge.

“Where is he?!” Lena shouted, panic rising.

“Outside the door…” Gira croaked softly, as blood poured out of his nose, eyes, and mouth.

"Denver, help him!” Lena exclaimed as she bolted out of the room.

The moment she saw her little brother, a pained wail escaped her. She tenderly gathered him into her arms, carrying him into her arms, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to find the words Under the fading lights of the dreary little blood-splattered hallway. Lena cradled her dying brother. His eyes were faded and he wasn’t breathing.

Time became a blur as she carried him into the medical wing, her heart pounding. She screamed at the nurses, her voice breaking into incoherent sobs as they rushed to her side.

Gira lay on the ground, bleeding profusely as his body convulsed. Denver was tending to him while Mika and Molt rushed over to Lucas. Blood flowed like rushing rivers from the two boys, staining the medical wing in red. A wretched panic gripped the room as Lena frantically tried to contact anyone for help.

Gira, still conscious, reached for Denver's belt. His finger grazed a Kyyr booster., sparking an idea in Denver’s mind. Denver was a combat medic not for his intellect or knowledge but purely because of his ability—Aesethora. It allowed him to create small pockets of perfect balance, homeostasis. Combined with Molt’s metabolism acceleration, it could be the key to saving one of them.

Denver’s mind raced, torn between tending to Gira or helping Lucas. Finally, he laid Gira down, trying to stabilize him. But Gira gently pushed him away, managing a feeble smile. With a weak gesture, he pointed toward his friend on the nearby table.

Denver hesitated but knew what he had to do. As he moved over to help with Lucas, he glanced back at Gira and saw a tear roll down his cheek. Whether it was from pain or brotherhood, Denver did not know.