A horrid curtain of ice and snow battered the thick-cut glass of a massive curved window that stretched across. The snow beyond was a mess of shifting gray, so dense that barely any light could reach the hollowed gray corridor that was only decorated by a long, muted red carpet.

The howl of the wind outside was so loud that even through the glass, its fierce cry resonated through the dark halls. At the window’s farthest edges, where the curve met the walls, the dim glow faded entirely into the waiting dark—shadowed recesses where the corridor seemed to vanish into nothingness.

A lone figure emerged from the shadows, anxiously looking around as they clutched a crystal tablet. A dark, visor-plated helmet masked their face, catching what little light remained in fractured glimmers. Their attire—wintry white layered over a darker uniform—seemed to fade into the oppressive dimness.

They hurried along until they found themselves somewhere roughly in the middle of the massive curved window. There they stood silently, watching the snow flutter violently beyond, an abyss of gray twirling in living frost. With a sharp exhale, they glanced down and tapped the tablet, scrolling through messages with a jittery urgency, double-checking the time.

They shuddered before a chill ran up their spine. They sharply turned to face the darkness opposite to them.

Clack… Clack… Clack…

The sound of metal-framed feet echoed in the empty hall. The figure’s grip on the tablet tightened as they watched the darkness shift. CLACK…The sound grew louder as they stared into the void.

Ripples~

They swallowed hard as he finally arrived.

Dark red ripples undulated across a strange surface, forming fleeting impressions of a head—perhaps a snout—before vanishing again. The shifting patterns came and went at random as they drew closer.

The helmet-bound figure lowered the head in reverence as fear wrapped around their gut. Despite the thick fur coat wrapped around them, they shivered as the presence grew closer.

From the dim recesses of the hall, a towering figure emerged. His helmet was elongated, curving forward in an unnervingly smooth arc. The entire upper half of the helmet was a screen, its surface alive with shifting crimson ripples that dropped into the helmet’s dark abyss.

The screen seamlessly slid into a lower black metal brace, which encased the bottom half of the helmet like a rigid jaw, securing the structure together. At the back, two mechanical Kyyr blades jutted out, sleek and sharp, angled like flattened, horn-like ears. They connected to the lower brace, reinforcing the helmet’s design.

Around his neck, jagged, white material flared outward, resembling volatile flames frozen in motion. The same fur-like material crowned his shoulders, encircling the base of his massive, dark cape like a smoldering wreath. The cape itself seemed to spill endlessly into the surrounding void, its sheer length blurring the line between fabric and shadow. Along its flowing fabric, enormous, shield-like scales lined its surface, each dragging heavily across the floor like a segmented cortex.

The figure towered over the smaller person, who remained bowing as they tightly held onto their tablet.

“What a harrowing morning, don’t you agree?” The tall figure spoke, his voice—surprisingly human—drifting through the room as he turned to the window.

The helmeted person gulped as they slowly straightened themselves as they joined the figure in observing the wintry void. “T-that’s the charm of the North…Can’t say I’ll be missing it anytime soon,” she said.

“Truly charming. Say, dear, how goes your family? Any trouble with my gifts?” The tall figure inquired.

“There have been…some problems, Sir Valk,” the response was careful, hesitant.

“Hmm…Of course. Do tell… Ms. Seashore.”

She pulled up a collection of photos on her tablet—seemingly mundane, just people posing with the city of Krreat looming in the background. Nobodies. Somewhere.

“Are the issues here?” Valk asked, barely glancing at the photos.

Ms. Seashore swallowed. “Some of them, yes. But there are a couple I’m struggling to work with.”

Valk straightened, his elongated neck twisting ever so slightly. “Help will be arranged personally,” he mused. “Remember—these gifts aren’t meant to last.”

“Y-yes, sir.” Ms. Seashore muttered as her grip tightened on the tablet’s display.

Valk exhaled, a hint of amusement lacing his next words. “I’d love to share these with my family; do you mind?”

A massive yet slender steel-bound arm emerged from the folds of his cloak, grasping a crystalcomm. “They miss the sunshine, you see…”

Ms. Seashore stiffened before reluctantly handing over the tablet. “G-go ahead, Sir.”

Valk made the exchange—brief, effortless. He studied the contents, his ripple-cast visage unreadable.

“I hope for more refined weather next time. Don’t you agree?” Valk said.

Ms. Seashore quietly nodded vehemently as she stared out into the frozen abyss.

Without warning, Valk suddenly gave her a hefty but slow pat on the back before abruptly shoving the tablet into her arms.

“Have a lovely day,” he said, smoothly turning away—his eerie metallic footsteps slowly fading into the dark hallway as his long, ragged cape dragged behind like an old dragon’s tail.

This peculiar exchange had happened not long ago, atop the dead crown of Heilagjǫtunn. A brief glimpse into an unknown as we watch the figures part ways. Not once looking back as they both went in search of more refined weather.

----------------------------------------

Back in the present day in the outskirts of the city of Krreat.

Tubes filled with blood slowly pulsed, feeding into the battered young man’s veins. Around him a group of mechanoids moved around as his vitals slowly stabilized.

Beyond a glass screen, a group of people stood around, uncomfortably staring at the procedure.

A familiarly bandaged man sighed as he stared at the boy. He sighed again—louder this time—drawing a few annoyed glances from the others.

Ranger Willis was having a rough day; he was currently being blamed for allowing Morray to take a rather dangerous individual away from the eyes of Krreat and off to the Ordovis coast.

Xizu was also currently stabbing Willis with her fierce glare as she turned back to look at Bobby, the young junior ranger that Gira had almost killed. Thankfully, they had treated him in time, but they were uncertain about the trauma the boy would face.

One of the rangers present spoke: Ranger Okari, a short, slender woman with long, sleek dark blue hair. Her hair was stylized with straight-cut bangs and two long sidelocks. The lower end of her hair was tied into a long ponytail, which was secured with a silver ornament. She turned to face Willis; her dark black eyes were tinted with a mild purple glow as she squinted in annoyance.

“You had to trust freaking Morray fucking HASSLE with a hypercarnivorous apex predator that might freak out on us without the proper care. How did we ever LET Tarantula convince us to nominate you as one of the heads of Command!” she hissed, poking Willis hard on the ribs.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Willis didn’t flinch but grunted painfully as he stared at the mechanoids performing reconstructive surgery just beyond the glass.

“Enough! Stop acting like children.” Another older-sounding ranger spoke, “It’s disrespectful to the boy. Not to mention all the people affected by the Coarseblood’s miasma.”

Okari rolled her eyes while Willis sulked.

“With respect, Commander Forge…” Xizu suddenly spoke as she walked up closer to the glass, her fiery gaze landing on the machines working on Bobby. “As much as I hate leaving that kid with my brother—there’s no better squad for him to learn to use his abilities…”

The man she was addressing was Hargo Forge, one of the heads of Command. He was supposedly an older ranger, though his appearance told a different story. His specialized ranger uniform not only accommodated his Kyyr ability but also displayed the accolades he had accumulated over the years. Despite his age, his face betrayed little sign of it—at most, he looked to be in his early thirties. His dark reddish hair neatly cut short, giving him a sharp, disciplined look. Yet, what even Kyyr couldn't mask was his gaze—a pair of tired green eyes, heavy with wear, carrying an undeniable pressure.

“I do not doubt your brother, but… I have lived through many encounters with Calamity Entities in my years as a ranger. If nothing more than monsters, they are harbingers of death—one way or another, they always find themselves at the center of tragedies.” He paused, his gaze distant. “And yet… with the rising disappearances and the infection spreading unchecked, we may find ourselves forced to weigh evils against one another.”

Willis sighed, “I gave Morray a month to show results…”

“And what if he doesn’t, huh? You thought of that, Mort?” Okari poked him again.

“Don’t call me Mort…” Willis sighed.

Xizu leaned in, “ Captain Forge, what would these theoretical consequences be? What goal are we trying to achieve?” she asked with a hint of nervousness.

Forge thought for a second before turning to face Xizu with a cold stare. “The benchmark will be his Kyyr control. The consequence…”

He walked past Willis, placing a gloved hand tenderly against the glass. “You know, if that thing had developed a taste for human flesh—I’m afraid we’d be utterly doomed.” He watched as the mechanoids slowly stitched Bobby’s skin.

He turned to the gathered rangers and Xizu. “So let me be clear—” His eyes lingered on each of them before landing on Xizu. “I’d put him down myself.”

Willis looked away with a sigh.

Okari scoffed.

Xizu locked eyes with Forge. “That won’t be necessary,” she said.

“Let’s hope so,” Forge said, before turning back to the ongoing procedure.

----------------------------------------

While the rangers rebuilt and regrouped after the terror in the pool rooms, south of Krreat, deep in the rock, hidden in one of the many tunnels used during the bygone wars of ages past, a massive veiled mechanoid hurried through the winding labyrinth below. It moved with heft and weight as it crawled down deep shafts, around massive dark pits. Crawling through the industrial mess, the mechanoid finally found his destination.

Disgusting.

Despite being constructed of graphene, steel, and dragon bone, Bryle found the fleshy sprawl of abyssal infection utterly repulsive.

Reluctantly, he crawled through the thickening abyssal condensation, the spiraling tendrils of corruption weaving around the massive steel pipes. His sensors guided him forward, piercing the darkness, until he reached the edge of a vast chamber—a gaping void that stretched into a bottomless black abyss.

Foul.

Bryle carefully dug his claws into the surrounding walls as he began to climb vertically down. He turned on his high beams, cutting through the darkness. He looked around until his visual module found the correct tunnel.

As his light waved around the void, the abyss below suddenly answered.A chorus of hundreds of shrill, jagged screeches erupted from the depths, the sound rattling through the cavern like tearing metal. The earsplitting cacophony set off a chain reaction—moans, roars, and the relentless scrape of claws dragging against the walls, an unseen horde stirring in the nothingness.

Bryle ignored the harrowing screams, his focus unwavering as he crawled along the wall, his claws gripping tight with each movement. Without hesitation, he pulled himself into the marked tunnel, vanishing into the darkness as the chaos below continued.

He shook his head, dismissing the thought, and lunged forward on all fours, his claws scraping against the metal as he surged through the tunnel.

He ignored the cold, slimy growths that squelched beneath his talons, their fleshy texture clinging to his sensors. He ran and ran, his visual module locked onto the faint, faded beams of sunlight ahead. The distant glow became his anchor as he bounded through the narrowing metal corridors, each impact rattling through his frame.

At last, the passage opened up, and he skidded to a halt inside a vast chamber—a crossroads, surrounded by tunnels yawning in every direction.

“Vizor!” Bryle called out, his metallic voice echoing through the flesh-coated pipes.

Thunk. Something moved in the depths of the tunnels.

THUNK. It echoed closer.

THUNK. THUNK. THUNK!

The tunnels erupted with the sound of metal against metal until—

Silence.

And then, he arrived.

Bryle stared into the tunnel directly in front of him. It was dark, save for the single red eye, pulsing dimly as it crept closer. Bryle stood tall, but he moved back slightly as Vizor’s bloodied frame emerged from the darkness.

Now two Revenant Stalkers stood before each other.

One, pristine and white, his veil untouched.

The other, burnt and stained, abyssal blood seeping into the tattered remnants of his shroud.

“Bryle. Why are you back?” Vizor asked, his voice cold as he began to circle Bryle.

“AEGIZ demands visual proof of your progress. She worries the C.E’s presence has affected you.” Bryle explained.

Vizor's metallic frame seemed to growl as he continued circling Bryle, “She worries. She worries.” His voice twisted, mocking. “Why isn’t she doing anything then? Why must I tolerate such a foul thing’s life?”

“We can’t simply undermine the exchange. AEGIZ has been in communion with th—”

SLAM.

Vizor lunged without warning, slamming Bryle against the wall, trapping his neck between his claws and the fleshy growth on the metal.

“Listen to me. AEGIZ can act all high and mighty, but she hasn’t witnessed what It showed me. Just because Ghaster thinks she’s more adequate for mediations, I will not—” his claws tightened around his neck, “be reduced to a simple drone.”

His jaws were practically touching his neck when Vizor suddenly asked. “What model are you?”

Bryle’s mechanical eye flickered as a nervous voice was synthesized, “I—I am a Bimodal Amphibious Stalker Unit.”

Vizor’s grip loosened. He exhaled, with a hint of pity. “Of course. You post-translate models lack active resonance…” His tone suddenly shifted to a more gentle one. “How fortunate.”

Vizor released him entirely. Bryle pushed himself upright, scraping off the spiraling flesh that clung to his cloak.

“Have you been approved to become a Vivacorr?” Vizor asked.

“As a matter of fact, that was part of my duties.” Bryle said with a hint of disgust bleeding into his synthesized voice.

“Perfect timing,” Vizor muttered, his metallic frame shifting. “We just gathered some excellent specimens…”

Without warning, he stretched his neck and let out a guttural roar.

“Xkirmish!”

The name boomed through the tunnels, reverberating off metal and flesh alike. Vizor turned back to Bryle, his voice calm once more. “I recommend you move back.”

“Right...” Bryle muttered.

But before he could react, the resounding echo of metal against metal rumbled from his right.

And from the darkness, a massive Revenant Drake unfolded itself from the tunnel, its body shifting as it expanded, armored plates grinding into place. It blinked, scanning the chamber, its glowing eyes locking onto them.

Bryle instinctively staggered back as the bloodied cloak of Xkirmish whipped around until the large mechanoid had fully blossomed before him.

“Xkirmish has arrived. Xkirmish is listening.” His voice was rough and guttural, like a wolf forcing human speech through its throat.

“Xkirmish take Bryle down to the chrysalis chamber; let him perform selection.” Vizor ordered the huge mechanoid.

“Xkirmish acknowledges prompt.” Xkirmish turned to Bryle. “Xkirmish requests coordinate alignment.”

Bryle gave a small nod. “Vizor, won’t you join us?”

“I’m rather busy completing AEGIZ’s demands. If Xkirmish makes you nervous, I’ll have OKul-AR accompany you two.”

Bryle remained frozen, but his eyelight flickered in discomfort. “Xkirmish is enough.”

Xkirmish compressed its massive frame, its body folding in on itself as mechanical tendrils beneath its cloak rearranged the fabric as he crawled back out the way Bryle had entered.

“Xkirmish demands haste! Haste!” it roared, its voice crackling like fractured metal. Despite its immense size, it lurched forward with alarming speed, its limbs propelling it through the passage like some overgrown spider.

Before he committed to chasing Xkirmish, Bryle took one last glance at Vizor. He watched his burnt and bloodied cloak disappear into the darkness. He noticed how the abyssal tendrils fought to latch onto his once pristine cloak, as if dying to become one with the old Revenant Stalker.

After retracing Bryle’s steps, Xkirmish crawled out of the tunnel, its massive frame expanding as it latched onto the wall overlooking the abyss. Below, something screamed in response to the clattering of Revenant Drake.

Bryle leaned over the edge, his visual modules adjusting, scanning for any available light to try and discern what lay in the depths.

“Xkirmish instructs a slow descent. Xkirmish explains that the chrysalis chamber is roughly 30 meters off the bottom. Xkirmish warns that falling means termination. Xkirmish doesn’t claim liability for your failures.” With that string of words out, Xkirmish then began to descend down and into the depths of the abyss.

Bryle didn’t respond but agreed that falling down there meant certain termination.

In terms of flesh—death.