The new ranger station stood as a testament to both necessity and desperation. Its construction had long been a topic of discussion—an idea left to gather dust in reports and half-hearted proposals. Ever since the Shattering, Esthes-3 had known peace, its wilderness untamed but not threatening enough to warrant more than occasional patrols or skirmishes against Rak’da marauders. But the attack on the twin stations had changed everything.

The abyssal infection spread like a silent plague, twisting life into grotesque monstrosity with the unknown plight of the depths dictating their every move.As the number of compromised organisms rose, so to did the need for security.

Travel between settlements had become a wild risk, and hesitation was no longer an option. And as Trant Station was lost to the abyss, a new station had to be built—a fortified outpost to stand against the ever-growing corruption.

And so, St. Able’s Pass was chosen.

Nestled between two massive rock formations, the new ranger station loomed in the mountains like a final bastion. Towering gray walls encircled it, reinforced with steel and mounted with heavy-caliber turrets, their barrels poised in silent vigilance. Defensive emplacements dotted the perimeter, their presence a stark contrast to the beauty of the surrounding cliffs. The station wasn’t just a checkpoint—it was a sentinel checkpoint designed to protect against the horrors of the abyss.

As the Morray Squad approached, a mechanoid crawled out from the station, emerging with an uncanny speed as it moved.

It was a big spider-like construct with six segmented legs stretching outward from a reinforced core. Each step landed with heft as the rock seemed to crack under its weight, servos hissing as it reached the lowglider. From the core of its body, a long tail? Or rather, a necklike extremity emerged. At its end there was a three-fingered hand-like appendage with small tentacles that erupted from the wrist joint. The appendage leaned as lights flickered around the digits.

“Mister Hassel.” It spoke with a deep, menacing tone, “I’ve been told to give you a warning.”

“From?” Morray asked coldly.

“Mister Bern Mourns.” It answered, its appendage inching closer to Morray.

Morray let out a deep breath before shaking his head, “Tell him I think he sucks and that my sister should dump him.” He turned to Mera. “Let’s get going,” he commanded.

Mera shuddered anxiously as they cruised by the looming mechanoid.

Gira, still watching the mechanoid with curiosity, leaned closer to Atheiya. “Pssst, what was that thing?”

Atheiya leaned in as well, causing Gira to flinch as she got too close. “That,” she murmured, “was an Endymion Setacian. They’re used for amphibious and land-based construction…but they also excel in combat.”

“What’s a Setacian?” Gira asked as the gates slowly opened, the sound of grating stone echoing.

Atheiya held her eye contact as she spoke softly, “The old Endymion Super Intelitat fancied basing his machines on animals from his flagship worlds. So I’m guessing a Setacian is the probably extinct creature it’s modeled after.”

“Then what about the Hollow’s?” Gira asked.

“They’re… different,” she explained.

Before Gira could ask more, the lowglider came to a stop as Morray stood from his seat, stretching. “All right, squad, let’s get some water and—” He looked down at Gira and winked. “Aim for the water kid,” he said with a chuckle.

Gira gave him an annoyed look as he got up, yawning. Following behind Serfet, he finally stepped on the gravel of the new Ranger Station.

The station itself was stout and utilitarian, a two-story structure with a single central tower rising above it. Its walls were constructed from thick white rock, a stark contrast against the dark gray stone foundation it rested upon.

Gira looked around as Setacians and Hollows crawled and slithered around, moving stone and metal as they worked on repairing a nearby wall. The mechanoids paid no mind to the rangers, their sole focus on repairs—patching up damage that hadn’t quite faded yet.

His gaze settled on the broken fragments of stone, their jagged edges stacked haphazardly to the side. Dark stains marred the surface—blood, dried and cracked but unmistakable. The splatters trailed erratically, evidence of something violent, something desperate.

His eyes traced the deep gashes carved into the stone, some cleaving through it entirely. Claw marks. Long, brutal, stretching down and across as if something had torn through the wall with relentless force.

Then, the scent hit him.

Faint, but rich. The lingering, cloying sweetness of blood.

It curled through his senses, stirring something deep in his gut. His mouth watered. A familiar, quiet hunger rose at the edges of his mind, coiling like a whisper, a reminder.

Swallow it. A voice called from the back of his mind and—

“You good?” Morray asked.

Gira snapped out, tearing his eyes away from the bloodied rubble. “Oh… yeah, I am.” he muttered before he hurried to the station’s entrance.

Inside he was met with a surprisingly familiar sight. A nigh perfect recreation of the interior of Trant Station. With the same miserable white walls, the dull grayish carpet, and the hum of some distant machine. Although the most glaring difference was perhaps the size of the lobby area, which was massive, stretching outward far beyond what Trant Station could accommodate. Even more striking was the verticality—the ceiling rose high, giving Gira a clear view of the second floor, where turrets hung like hungry vultures. And of course, ahead, coiled behind a massive stone desk, was a Hollow unit.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Mera and Atheiya almost instantly splintered off from the group, then Serfet left on his own, leaving Gira alone with Morray.

“So where’s the restroom, big guy?” Gira asked blankly.

Morray leaned slightly as he pointed down a hallway, “Down that hallway take a right and there should be a sign.”

Gira nodded before he braved towards the bathroom.

“Don’t make a mess, kid! I’ll be waiting here!” Morray called out.

Gira ignored Morray’s remark and wandered deeper into the station, his steps echoing against the drab, lifeless walls. Despite the vastness of the place, something felt… off. The station was eerily empty, lacking the usual presence of rangers or personnel moving about.

His unease faded as he found his destination—a door marked with the universal symbol of relief.

The bathroom.

Stepping inside, he came face to face with his greatest adversary yet.

…But we will, in fact, cut away from his valiant venture within the facilities.

(Rest assured, he did wash his hands. Surprisingly. You can thank K for that.)

Brushing his wet palms against his drab little clothes he had been given, he looked around, the faint tinge of blood tugging at his nose. Thoughtlessly he followed the scent. Walking through the eerie halls until he found himself at a sealed door, shut behind a biometric finger reader.

He looked around. There was no one.

Savagrios. Can you open this? He called out.

“Sure, but why?” Savagrios answered.

I smell something…

The two exchanged places, his eyes glowing crimson as Savagrios took in a whiff of the scent.

His eyes grew wide as uncertainty began to brew within him. Gira… This smell. It’s… He looked around confused. Where are we?

“We’re in a ranger station. By the by, where’s K?” Gira called out into the void.

Savagrios ignored his question as he leaned down, looking for marks left behind from previous users of the door. Faintly like before, there were human prints on the reader.

Gira—this scent… it’s undeniably human. A-are you sure you want us to proceed? Savagrios asked his other self.

“Human?” Gira called out, confused. “Weird. Let’s check it out.”

Savagrios hesitated as animalistic instinct told him to run. But he conceded to his other self as he mirrored the faint human tracks onto his before he tapped the screen. The door opened with a low hiss. Letting the scent of blood rush out, curling in and around Savagrios.

Gira… Let us investigate this one. He mumbled into his mind as he looked down a now-revealed flight of white-tiled stairs. He lightly stepped down. The scent of blood growing stronger as he descended deeper into the underground section of the station. His skin tensed as he heard a muffled clattering—distant.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, a crushing sense of wrongness enveloped him in a sickening angst. The air was stale and thick with the stench of blood and rot. His heart began to beat faster, faster—the steady rhythm turning into an erratic pounding.

He found himself in a sterile hospital-like room that was divided by a thin curtain ahead. Its fabric swayed lightly as he uncomfortably approached.

A sound?

He leaned in straining to listen.

—Moaning?

The faint sound of pleasure-riddled moans seemed to emanate from beyond the curtain, but accompanying the sound came wafts of the stench of iron-drab blood.

Savagrios reluctantly pulled back the curtain, his eyes widening in disgust as he took in the scene before him.

Rows of instruments and strange apparatuses lined the walls, their interfaces flickering with faint, indecipherable data. Some pulsed with a quiet hum, others beeped at irregular intervals, but all were overshadowed by what lay beyond the glass wall.

A large chamber stretched out before him, its floor and walls drenched in a viscous, bloody sludge. The thick, gelatinous ooze clung to the surfaces, pulsing as if still alive. At the edges of the glass, the unmistakable, spiraling tongues of the abyss writhed, their black tendrils embedded deep into the structure—as though the corruption itself had taken root.

Savagrios stepped closer, his crimson gaze drawn to the grotesque abyss beyond.

Something was moving inside.

At the center of the room, a grotesque mass of flesh writhed and bubbled, its surface twisting, expanding, and collapsing in a ceaseless, unnatural rhythm. The flesh pulsed, as though it were breathing, its veins bulging and retracting in grotesque synchronization.

Savagrios narrowed his eyes, straining to take in the details—but then he saw them.

Figures in strange, dark protective suits moved around the monstrosity, their forms partially obscured by the hard shadows of the instruments around them. Humans and mechanoids, their roles indistinguishable in the dim glow, worked with cold efficiency. Their hands moved in a disturbing routine, as though they had done this countless times before.

They were prying, cutting, burning, tearing— ripping into the mass with scalpels, drills, and cauterizing flames. But no matter what they did, the flesh did not die.

Savagrios’s ear twitched, his body tensing as a sound slithered through the air—a moan.

It didn’t belong to any of the workers.

It came from the abyssal mass.

The moment the scientists and mechanoids stepped back, the grotesque truth was revealed. Faces.

Twisted, vaguely humanoid visages were plastered across the writhing mass, their eyes hollow but their expressions frozen in ecstasy. Their lips parted, shuddering with breathy moans, their voices layered, tangled together in an unsettling chorus of pleasure.

The skin was sickly pale, marred by patches of hardened scales that jutted out at random, disrupting the smooth, undulating surface. The anomaly quivered, as if relishing the attention, its flesh bubbling and reforming around the wounds inflicted just moments prior.

A deep, gut-wrenching revulsion crawled up Savagrios’s spine.

A bitter voice echoed from the back of Savagrios’s mind. Bliss unparalleled—disgusting.

Savagrios staggered back, choking on his breath as a familiar dread welled within him.

He spun on his heel, tearing himself away from the abyssal abomination, his footsteps pounding against the sterile floor. The metallic scent of blood clung to his skin, its presence refusing to fade as he raced up the stairs, each step shallow, frantic, desperate.

He smashed his finger against the biometric reader as the door suddenly opened, causing him to crash forward. His face colliding with something cold and hard.

His panicked gaze shot up as he found himself face to face with the Hollow from the main lobby. Its piercing crimson gaze staring deep into his own red eyes.

“Unauthorized personnel will be escorted from the facility.” It said in a cold, oppressive tone as its claw snapped violently, grabbing Savagrios by the neck as he dragged them away from the horrid door.