Chaos erupted.

Monsters tore through rebar-reinforced walls, their roars mingling with the deafening staccato of gunfire. Soldiers barked orders over the frantic screams of civilians.

Lieutenant Jin Shu slammed a fresh magazine of Martian Metal ammo into his XM7. Behind him, the sharp, unmistakable click of a pistol slide cut through the chaos. He turned to see a civilian—a man, shaking—clutching a handgun in trembling hands.

“Put that gun down before I put you down,” Jin Shu ordered, his voice hard, calm, cutting through the noise.

The last thing he needed was a panicked civilian firing wildly into his men in these tight, deathtrap hallways.

“H-how will we d-defend ourselves?” the man stammered, his voice cracking.

“You don’t need to defend anything. That’s our job.” Jin Shu tilted his head toward his soldiers stationed at the doorway, their weapons steady, focused. “Besides, the only thing that can kill the Diseased is Martian Metal. You don’t have any of that in that 1911, do you?”

The man blinked, fumbling with the mag release, as though to confirm his ammo. Jin Shu shook his head. There was no time for this.

In a single swift motion, Jin Shu stepped in close, pulled the slide back on the 1911, and stripped the gun from the man’s unsteady grip.

“Hey—!” the man started, half-protest, half-plea.

A sharp glare from Jin Shu shut him up faster than a bullet.

Jin Shu dismantled the weapon with practiced ease, tossing the parts into a corner and shoving the useless ammo into a spare pouch on his vest.

“Stay out of the way,” he said, already turning back to the fight.

The monsters were closing in, and he had bigger problems to deal with.

Jin Shu tapped the shoulders of his men. “Keep an eye on them. If they try anything stupid… you know what to do.”

“Yessir!” both soldiers echoed without hesitation.

The unspoken threat was enough to make the civilians think twice about testing their luck. But Jin Shu knew better than to rely on fear alone. It wasn’t a warning; it was a standing order.

Stepping past the group, he moved into the hallway, his boots crunching over debris. The constant crack of gunfire echoed from just around the far corner, underscored by the guttural howls of the Diseased.

This sector was supposed to be cleared. Either the advance battalion missed some stragglers, or their intel had been dead wrong. Either way, this ambush proved that complacency was a mistake.

As Jin Shu rounded the corner, the chaos snapped into focus.

The Diseased—gruesome, pale forms twisted into mockeries of humanity—lumbered through a gaping hole in the wall. They poured into the ruined hotel lobby, their movements erratic but purposeful, like predators who had caught the scent of blood. The building had been a rest point for his platoon—a mistake Jin Shu now regretted. He should have pushed on.

I got too comfortable.

There was no time for self-recrimination. Jin Shu emptied his mind, leveling his XM7 as his finger found the trigger.

Bang!

The silver bullet exploded from the barrel, streaking toward a Diseased just as it leaped at one of his men. It struck true, piercing the creature’s hardened flesh with a wet crunch.

The Diseased staggered mid-lunge, its grotesque body beginning to shimmer as the Martian Metal spread through its form like wildfire. In seconds, the monster’s pallid skin turned to gleaming silver, freezing it into a lifeless statue.

Jin Shu’s eyes scanned the battlefield, his platoon locked in the brutal firefight. No hesitation, no second-guessing. There was only one order in his mind now:

Kill them all.

***

Lieutenant Jin Shu stood in the heart of a now eerily silent, devastated city. Just moments before the scene of an intense battle. The once major metropolis that should have been bustling with crowds of people now lay silent, like a graveyard. Buildings lay in ruins, streets were covered in debris, and the occasional lifeless body of a fallen civilian marked the path of destruction left by the Diseased.

The smell of gunpowder and smoke hung thick in the air, the acrid taste burning the throat with every inhale. The dull glow of fires, still smoldering from the last firefight, flickered against the cloud-covered night, casting the world in an eerie, red glow.

Behind him, the remnants of his platoon moved like ghosts. Some limped on shattered legs, others cradled mangled arms. Their bodies were battered, their spirits frayed, but their will to survive burned on—just barely.

They had been ambushed by the Diseased—gruesome, misshapen, and seemingly unkillable monsters born from a plague unleashed by an alien ship. The monsters' resilience was terrifying, and only the Martian Metal bullets, forged from the same alien craft, could stop them. But supply was dwindling.

The Martian Metal would turn every living thing it touched into metal. Allowing for an unending supply. However, the soldiers in the field had no way to craft more bullets - especially when under fire. Each one was a precious lifeline.

Lieutenant Jin Shu and his platoon had one final mission: evacuate the last survivors from the city.

“Last survivors on board, Lieutenant,” Sergeant Daniel Park called, his voice rough, as the final civilian was loaded into the APC. “We good to move?”

Jin Shu nodded grimly. "All squads, mount up. Let’s roll out."

"That was easy, no one died!" Corporal McTavish's voice crackled over the comms.

"Shut it, McTavish!" Park growled. "You jinx us every time."

Jin Shu forced a breath, fatigue pulling at his limbs. "Clear comms. Double-time it, before McTavish curses us... again."

Forced laughter and acknowledgments echoed in response, the soldiers trying to find some solace in the humor amid the horror.

Park slapped the side of the lead APC. "Move out!"

The convoy lurched forward, engines rumbling to life, but then—crack! A gunshot split the night. Breaking the eerie silence like a bolt out of the blue.

Everything exploded into chaos.

The sounds of roaring monsters and echoes of more gunshots followed closely behind the first.

"Shit! Contact left!" McTavish’s panicked voice blared through the radio, mixed with the sound of fully-automatic gunfire.

"Alpha, Bravo! Cover left! Charlie, Delta, eyes on the right! Echo, protect those APCs!" Jin Shu's orders came sharp and fast.

Gunfire erupted as the soldiers fought to fend off another horde of Diseased, their grotesque forms lumbering out of the shadows. The fight was short but seemed stretched on for far longer, each bullet precious, every shot a struggle to stay alive.

Jin Shu fought beside his men, refusing to be a commander who watched from a distance. He had seen too many like that—cowards who let their soldiers die for them. Not him. He would fight until his last breath.

"Fuck! Armored, left flank!" Daniel shouted, his voice strained. "Need RPG, now!"

Lance Corporal Dennis fumbled with the rocket launcher on his back. The Armored—a hulking monster covered in black, scaled armor—towered over the battlefield, five meters tall and unstoppable. Only its exposed mouth or a direct hit from a rocket could bring it down.

Crash! The beast barreled through a crumbling building, dust swirling around it like a shroud. Dennis aimed blindly into the haze. He couldn’t miss. Not now. Dennis thought desperately.

The ground shook with its heavy steps, getting closer to the defensive line. Dennis could barely make out its blurred shadow in the dust. With no time he fired.

Woosh! The rocket tore the dust, clearing a path toward the rampaging goliath. Just before impact— a smaller Diseased stepped into its path. Boom! The rocket detonated, killing a small swath of Diseased, but left the charging Armored alive and unharmed.

"Fu—" Dennis didn’t get another chance. The Armored crashed into him, claws flashing. His body hit the ground in bloody ribbons.

McTavish hurled a grenade at the monster, but the explosion didn’t slow it. The thing roared, flames dancing harmlessly around its massive form.

McTavish raised his rifle, aiming for its mouth. Click. Empty. A second later, snap! The Armored’s jaws snapped around him, cleaving him in two, broken like a brittle twig.

The battlefield was a slaughter. Jin Shu’s men were falling, their bodies joining the metallic husks of the Diseased. He felt each loss like a blow to his chest, but there was no time to mourn.

He fought valiantly, but it wasn't enough; the unending tide of Diseased pushed on and on.

The sound of gunfire was dwindling. His men were all but dead, but he couldn't order a retreat, not with the Armored still alive. The APCs hadn't made it far enough.

Amidst the mayhem, his weapon was knocked from his grasp; the Armored lunged at him, its monstrous claws grazing his shoulder. The gun recoiled, bang! A stray bullet discharged into his left arm. The searing pain was immediate, and Jin Shu’s arm began to transform—metal spreading from the wound, alien, cold.

Still, Jin Shu didn’t falter. Gripping his sidearm with his good hand, he continued to fight, determined to protect the transports. His strength waned, his vision blurred, but he took aim one last time at the towering Armored monster charging at him. His final shot struck true, piercing through the monster’s mouth and straight to its brain, felling it instantly.

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Jin Shu staggered, his vision blurring as the metal continued to crawl up his arm. Around him, the battlefield grew silent once more—his platoon, his brothers-in-arms, lay dead. He was the last one standing.

The weight of his body pulled him down, his limbs heavy with the alien metal spreading through his veins. His vision darkened, the last of his strength fading. Please… let the survivors make it out.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

***

Jun Shu awoke, how was he awake? He should have died. No, he did die.

But here he was waking up, not as himself. He was someone else, yet himself at the same time. The memories melding in his brain told him as much.

Memories of his final moments flashed through his mind: the smell of gunpowder, the sight of his men's broken bodies, and the taste of his blood as it flowed through his mouth. Then memories of growing up in this life. His father's rough hands holding him as a child, his mother's warm, loving embrace, the taste of strawberries—he hated strawberries in his last life. But, loved them in this. Strange.

The place Jin Shu awoke in was unlike any he had ever known, yet unmistakably familiar. The sensation of his memories mixing, new and old, old and new, all in a maddening swirl, was disorienting, to say the least.

The air was thick with the scent of forge fires and earthy minerals. He was in a small room, surrounded by blacksmithing tools and weapons. As he tried to sit up, he noticed his body was no longer encased in metal appearing fully human once more. Confusion flooded his mind.

It wasn't until his eyes glanced upon a familiar shape resting on a table in the corner, that his memories all came together in a pain-inducing flood, like a jagged kaleidoscope of emotions. "My gun." He muttered.

When the pain from his memories awakening subsided he grabbed the gun from the table. The pistol was a near-perfect replica of his service weapon—an M17—the only difference being this one was made of a matte black metal, unlike the coyote tan of the one from his previous life.

Laying next to the pistol was a single bullet; strangely, this bullet didn't look like a replica but seemed to be the real thing. How did a bullet from Earth make its way to another world?

A stern, muscular man entered the room interrupting Jin Shu’s thoughts. "You’re awake," the man said gruffly. "Get out here and help your old man with the forge."

Jin Shu’s thoughts swirled as memories of his final battle and this new reality clashed. His mind struggled to reconcile them. Who was this man, and why did he feel so familiar? It was like he had lived two lives simultaneously—one as a soldier, the other as the son of a blacksmith in a world of immortals.

He looked at the man again, and the memories snapped into place. This was his father, Jin Chen, a master blacksmith of the Jin family. In this new world, Jin Shu was the eldest son of the renowned Jin family, famed for their runesmithing.

The presence of his sidearm beside him was the only thing connecting him to his past life.

"Stop gawking and get moving!" Jin Chen barked. "I don’t care about your little toys," he said, gesturing to the gun, "we make real weapons here, for real cultivators. Now get to the forge!"

Jin Shu stood, still disoriented, but his soldier’s discipline kicked in. He followed his father out of the room, his thoughts a whirl of his new and old identities.

As he reached the forge, his father turned to him, a gleam in his eye. "Now that you’ve reached the first stage of the Qi Realm, it’s time you learned our family’s runesmithing techniques. It’s time to become a real blacksmith."

"I'm already a real blacksmith, so don't you mean a real runesmith?"

Bam! A slap on his head was the only response to his joke.

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

The forge was hot. The burning embers from the furnace flickered out and landed on his skin, scalding the flesh where it touched. Sparks from hammer strikes on molten metal caused a melding of light, shadow, and heat. The smell of smoke and metals was almost unbearable, yet so very familiar.

Jin Shu coughed on the smog in the air as if it were his first time in a forge. Then, he realized that it was just his imagination; he had grown up in the forges of the Jin family since he could walk—before that even, as his dad would carry him into the forge, stating that he needed to get used to the heat early.

His old man would then receive a beating from his mother. His skin, a hardy tan from the forge fires, would be covered in black and blue welts for weeks after. Yet he would still drag the few-month-old Jin Shu into the forge the next day, in an endless cycle of forge, beating, forge.

Jin Shu laughed at the memories of his dad's black and blue skin. No, that wasn't a memory; Jin Shu was staring at a patch of bruised skin on his dad's exposed chest, under all the curly black hair.

“Made Mom mad again, huh?” He asked, gesturing to the bruises.

With a whistle, his dad pointedly ignored him, choosing to turn and walk into the forge's backroom.

Jin Shu followed, still chuckling. That endless cycle continued until he was ten when his mother finally got tired of beating the old man, claiming it hurt her fist, punching his solid muscles.

His memories from two lifetimes had finally merged, but rather than splitting him into two people, they made him appreciate this current life so much more.

In his original world, he'd grown up an orphan. The closest thing he had to a family was his brothers-in-arms, God rest their souls, but no longer. Now, he had a truly loving family, making him feel like the most privileged person in the world.

His dad's voice cut through his mind. "Enough daydreaming." He shoved a stack of papers into Jin Shu's hands. "You’ve got the knowledge now, but knowledge alone doesn’t forge a weapon—or inscribe a rune. Sit down and start practicing." He said bluntly, pointing to a table and stool in the corner.

Sitting on the worn stool, wincing as a sliver poked his ass, Jin Shu picked up a tool lying on the table—an inscribing needle. It was a long pointed tool, looking like a soldering iron from his previous life. It functioned much the same, albeit powered by Qi, instead of electricity. The essential tool of a runesmith; without it, they'd be useless.

Holding the needle felt like an extension of his body. He could feel his Qi flow through the needle, as a heat pulsed along its length.

Pressing the tip against the parchment, black lines were etched into the paper following the movement of his hands.

"Good!" His dad's gruff voice cut through his concentration causing his hand to shake. His lines blurred and the drawing was ruined.

"Damn it! You messed up my flow, old man." Jin Shu said, glancing up at his dad with an aggrieved look.

Smack!

"Ow!" His Dad's palm met the back of his head.

***

Several grueling hours of work later Jin Shu was sweating, piles of finished and half-finished drawings lay scattered across the table.

He was on his last paper, drawing the last line, thud! A bundle of papers was dropped on the table by his old man. This time, Jin Shu didn't let his concentration slip. Hands kept steady as he drew the last line. "Phew. Done"

"Now that you've finished practicing, it's time to work for real." A cheeky grin split his dad's face as he pushed the new stack of paper towards Jin Shu.

"..." Jin Shu opened his mouth to say something, however a wave of dizziness overtook him. Bam! His head landed hard on the table; he was pretty sure his forehead split judging by the warm feeling of his head. But he couldn't think about that now, his heavy eyelids snapped shut, and everything went black.

***

"Aah! Wife, please stop hitting, you're going to break my bones! Look he'll be fine. It was just a prank." Was the first thing Jin Shu heard as his foggy mind regained consciousness.

He slowly cracked his eyes open to see his mother beating the living daylights out of his dad. Even though his dad was a huge, two-meter-tall, muscle-bound man, there was no way he could match his mother.

His 1.4-meter-tall mother was nearly half the size of his old man but over twice as strong. She was almost an entire realm stronger than him, after all.

"Ugh..." An involuntary groan escaped his lips as a splitting headache beat against his head like a blind monkey banging a drum—what does that even mean? No answer came, the pain kept most thoughts away.

His mother heard his groan; practically flying to his side, she reached him in a blink accompanied by a swoosh from her cream robes. "My poor baby!" She hugged his head too tightly against her chest, causing difficulty breathing.

"Mmm!!" He struggled in her embrace, exasperating his headache even further. His arms flailed about, pushing at her, but he was too weak to push her off.

What little air he could siphon was filled with a lavender scent.

A wayward thought entered his mind, she's using the perfume I gave her, I'm glad she likes it... that's not what I should be worried about! I need to get air!

His flailing only caused her to hug him tighter. I'm going to die a second time. This time instead of a monster that kills me, it's going to be my mother…

Luckily she pulled his head away to check him over.

Gasp! He took in a deep breath, then choked on the smoggy, metallic air of the forge. I'd rather be suffocated by her lavender-scent than this shitty air... What the hell am I thinking!?

"Are you okay baby?" She cooed, "Tell Mommy if it hurts anywhere, and I'll give it a kiss to make it feel better, okay?"

"Cough...! I'm fine..." He stood up from the stool he had been sitting on and looked down at her. Thankfully he'd inherited his dad's height and his mother's looks.

Speaking of his mother's looks: she was a stunning woman. With long flowing brown hair adorned with a beautiful red zan hua to match her vibrant red eyes, and red painted lips. She lived up to her name, Sun Mei'er—‘the beautiful one’.

Jin Shu reached out, pulling the front of her robes closed in case she decided to hug him. He'd rather not experience that suffocation again.

"Oh, my son is so thoughtful." She gushed. Clasping his hand, she dragged him towards the exit. "Let's get you out of this stinky forge. Otherwise, my poor baby's smooth skin will get dry and cracked like that crusty old man over there." She said, pointing to his dad's collapsed body resting in the corner.

"Hiss." He sucked in a sharp breath when he saw his dad's body lying in a crumbled mess. If he didn't know better, he'd assume it was a dead body and not his living breathing father.

As his mother dragged him away, he gave his dad's twitching body one more glance.

He chuckled lightly.

Their family's love was... unique to say the least. To the average person, this may look like a case of domestic abuse. However, it was actually the exact opposite. Despite how it looked, his dad wasn't truly hurt... Well, okay, he was hurt, but it was for his own good.

His dad cultivated a special body tempering technique that needed to be tempered the same way a blacksmith would temper a blade—through a multitude of hammer strikes. And that was exactly what his mother had done.

His dad would become stronger with each beating. Jin Shu suspected that was why his dad seemed to always anger his mother, so she could have an excuse to beat him, and he could try and keep up with her higher cultivation.

At least, that's what he thought. He had never actually seen his parents act intimate in any way.

Stepping out of the forge into the night air, the cool breeze tickled Jin Shu's skin and broke him from his strange thoughts. It was a nice, much-needed contrast to the heat of the forge.

He gazed at his mother's back as she pulled him along. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, this was the life he'd always dreamed of. It was such a strange feeling; half his soul longed for a mother's love he had never known, and the other half was bothered by her overly fussy nature.

He vowed in his heart, that he would protect this family with every fiber of his being. Both parts of his soul agreed on that.