Ron stood in front of the doorstep, his average frame imposing and his shoulders squared, exuding an air of confidence despite the tension that thrummed through the room. He could feel the weight of the gazes upon him, the collective curiosity and anticipation of those inside.

“Who the fuck is this dude?” O’Shea asked.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just a hero wannabe,” Jess said.

Hector's dark eyes narrowed as he studied Ron, his gaze sweeping over the man's heavily-armed form. “What are you trying to do with all those guns and armor, mister?…” Hector asked.

“Williams, Sauron Williams,” Ron replied.

The name left everyone silent for a while as they didn’t expect to hear the name of the Dark Lord. O'Shea, always quick with a retort, opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a sound, Hector, interjected. “Then mind telling me why you are out here, Mr. Williams?”

“Same as you,” Ron said. “I’m not going to let another Guadalajara happen.”

The mention of that place made everyone pay attention to Ron. One thing they knew for sure, Ron wasn’t out here to play games.

Hector had some second thoughts about this newcomer and he remembered what Ron just said a few seconds ago. “You said you know where it is?” Hector asked.

Ron nodded, his jaw clenched. "I saw the portal that the invader went through," he said, his words drawing the attention of everyone in the room. "And after using my drone, I saw where that bastard is."

Hector wasted no time. In a flash, he closed the distance between them, gripping Ron's shoulders with a firm grasp. Hector's eyes bore into Ron's, filled with intensity. "Where is it?" Hector demanded, his voice commanding.

“Let me go, and I’ll show you,” Ron said. His eyes were as cold as ice, ignoring the slight pain from Hector’s forceful hands.

Hector's grip loosened a second later, his fingers releasing their hold on Ron's shoulders as if they were burning hot. He took a step back, his expression a mix of guilt and surprise, his mind racing with regret.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" Hector started to say, his voice filled with remorse, but Ron cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“It's fine,” Ron said. “When one’s life is at stake, people can get out of hand.”

His words struck a chord with Hector. For the brief second of exchanging words with Ron, Hector had no doubt that this man knew everything about Guadalajara. Ron moved with purpose, striding over to the map that lay spread out on the table. Hector followed his every move, his eyes keenly observing Ron's actions. He watched as Ron took out his phone, his fingers deftly tapping on the screen.

“You have Internet?” Hector asked.

“No, but I did make a mark when my drone went down,” Ron said.

After a few glances between the map and his phone, Ron pointed at a location on the map. “Here. I saw that bastard sticking on the wall of the building. It looks like some blend of human and plants or perhaps even fungus,” Ron said.

Hector gazed strongly at that spot on the map. His fists clenched hard as if it was a sign to go to battle. “Get ready to move,” Hector said, clapping his hands together, waking his team members for the final battle.

“Wait, are you sure about this?” Jess asked. Her brow furrowed with doubt as she cast a wary glance at Ron, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You don’t know if he’s telling the truth or not.”

Jess's words prompted a chorus of uneasy murmurs from the group. Hector, who had initially been confident in Ron's story, now seemed uncertain, his eyes darting between Jess and Ron. O'Shea, never one to shy away from speaking his mind, broke the tense silence.

"Hey, dude," O'Shea said. "Are you telling the truth?"

Ron's eyes met O'Shea's gaze without flinching. "It doesn't matter if you guys believe me or not," Ron said. "Even without you guys, I'm still gonna go out there and fucking kill it."

His words hung in the air before O’Shea suddenly broke into a booming laugh that echoed off the walls of the room. “Guys, I like this dude,” O’Shea said between chuckles. “I’m vouching for him.”

Jess stood frozen in place, her eyes wide. Her mouth hung open slightly, but no words came out. She blinked rapidly, trying to process the unexpected turn of events. But right before she could refute O’Shea, someone else beat her to it.

"I somewhat agree with Mr. Williams," Constance said. Unlike the others, she had been intensely studying the map, her keen eyes scanning every inch of it as she furrowed her brow in deep concentration. "From our searches until now, the faint energy I sensed can be roughly felt around here," she pointed to a spot on the map, "and with Mr. Williams' direction, this location here definitely has a higher possibility of finding the portal invader. So yes, it’s safe to say that Mr. Williams might be right."

Jess stared blankly at Constance. With their team’s tracker saying as such, she didn’t have much weight to refute.

“So it's decided then,” Hector said, breaking the silence. His gaze fell on Jess.

“Fine,” Jess reluctantly said.

The rest of the team got ready and in the meantime, Ron shared a conversation with O’Shea. The six of them were a team, and they were planning for a simple gathering in their leader’s house, Hector, to celebrate their last success in completing their mission. But similar to Ron, things got a bit heated this early in the morning and what surprised Ron the most was Hector realizing that the situation was similar to Guadalajara.

Most knew about it, but only a few delved deeper into the Guadalajara incident. Hector's team was readied to depart. One by one went up to the rooftop as jumping from one roof to another was the most efficient manner with all the zombies shambling around. But right before Ron could follow them up, Hector stopped him.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Williams. But this is as far as you can go,” Hector's words hung heavy in the air, the gravity of the situation palpable.

Ron remained calm with his stoic face. His eyes were enough to show he was readied for everything.

"I commend your bravery, but you'll only be a liability if you come along," Hector said, his voice steady. He stated the obvious fact, but it stung nonetheless. Ron clenched his jaw, maintaining his silence.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Not to mention, your bullets won't do much against an invader, much less against a humanoid class," Hector added, his eyes searching Ron's face for understanding and Ron knew Hector was right. He was a liability in a fight against these creatures.

"Then can I trust my life on you?" Ron asked his voice low. His words left Hector speechless, the weight of the question sinking in. Hector knew Ron was asking for more than just a promise.

"Can I trust you to put down that monster before it becomes too strong, like the incident in Guadalajara?" Ron asked again, his eyes fixed on Hector, his tone urgent. Hector swallowed hard, memories of the devastation in Guadalajara flooding his mind. This was a big task, and he knew the risks.

Hector rested his hand on Ron's shoulder, feeling the weight of the responsibility that Ron had placed on him. He took a deep breath, steeling his resolve.

"I promise you this," Hector said, his voice steady. "I'll take it down until my last dying breath."

Ron nodded and Hector left for the rooftop.

By the time he went up to the rooftop, the six silhouettes were already in the distance, bounding effortlessly from one rooftop to another with grace and speed. He should have felt relieved that a team of heroes had arrived to combat the humanoid invader, but a sense of unease settled over him, gnawing at his gut like a persistent itch. He couldn't shake off the feeling that things might not be as straightforward as they seemed.

Ron took a deep breath. He tried to push aside his concerns, accepting the circumstances for what they were. After all, the heroes were better equipped to face the invader, with their superpowers and advanced weaponry, while he only had a rifle, a few guns, and a handful of grenades in his bag.

His eyes locked on the building where he had left Imani, and a knot of tension tightened in his chest. He found his next goal and he couldn't afford to waste any more time. He had to make sure she was safe and protect her life while the heroes battled against the invader.

* * *

The sky was painted with the fiery hues of dusk as Ron made his way back to the building where he had left Imani. He had taken a longer route, choosing caution over speed. The moans of the zombies echoed through the still air, and it alarmed him that they were inside. Those zombies must have breached the door that he blocked with the gas stove.

As he entered the darkened staircase, he shouldered his rifle, his grip firm and ready for action. The only source of light came from the fading daylight that filtered in through the cracked windows, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Ron's senses were heightened, his ears straining to catch any subtle sounds that could give away the presence of the undead.

He descended the stairs slowly, step by step, his eyes gradually adjusting to the dimness of the building. The stale smell of decay hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the perilous situation he was in. His heart pounded in his chest as he moved, his muscles tense with anticipation.

He reached the floor just beneath the roof, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he surveyed the scene from both sides. He scanned the area, his keen eyes picking out the figures shambling around, their decaying forms barely recognizable as human. There weren't many, but each one was a deadly threat.

With a swift motion, he slung his rifle across his back and drew his combat knife, the blade gleaming in the pale light. He moved with a predator's grace, his senses on high alert, every nerve tingling with anticipation. He knew that any wrong move could mean death in such a tight place.

He approached the room where he had left Imani, his movements silent and calculated as he crept in the shadows. He spotted one of the unexpected zombies, its back turned towards him, and he pounced with lethal precision. His knife sliced through the air, finding its mark with a sickening thud as it pierced the zombie's neck, cutting off its spine.

The undead creature dropped like a sack of rotten meat, its limbs twitching in their final moments. He caught the lifeless body with his arms, lowering it gently to the floor to avoid making any noise. The metallic tang of blood filled his nostrils, and he could feel the cold, slick texture of gore on his hands. He wiped his blade clean on the zombie's tattered clothes.

As Ron rose to his feet, his heart pounded in his chest, his curiosity getting the better of him despite the nagging feeling of unease. He couldn't shake the sensation that something was off. The air felt heavy, and a chill ran down his spine, raising the hair on the back of his neck.

A low moan echoed through the air, so close that it seemed to reverberate in his ears. He turned his head to the right, and his blood ran cold as he locked eyes with a zombie that had appeared out of nowhere. Its foggy, lifeless eyes stared at him, its body swaying slightly as if it were a puppet on a string.

The zombie stood in the doorway, its decaying flesh hanging from its skeletal frame, its skin mottled and gray. Ron's breath caught in his throat as he took a step back, his instincts kicking in. But before he could react, the zombie's placid expression changed in an instant, its demeanor shifting from docile to ferocious.

With a guttural growl, the zombie lunged at Ron with surprising speed, its arms outstretched, fingers clawing at the air. Ron's heart hammered in his chest as he stumbled backward, adrenaline flooding his veins. He could hear the sound of his own breathing, ragged and desperate.

In a split second, Ron's survival instincts kicked in, and while retreating he swung the combat knife in his hand with all his strength, the blade slicing through the air with a deadly swiftness. The knife found its mark, piercing through the temple of the zombie that had lunged at him, and its body fell limp to the ground.

But Ron's victory was short-lived. As he stepped backward, his feet stumbled, and he lost his balance. Both he and the fallen zombie hit the ground with a thud that echoed through the hallway, the impact jolting Ron to his core.

The sound was neither deafening nor faint, but it was enough to draw the attention of the other zombies on this floor. Ron's blood ran cold as he saw the remaining undead turn towards him, their moans growing louder, their decaying limbs jerking in his direction. He scrambled to his feet, adrenaline surging through his veins, his mind racing.

He sprang to his feet, a sense of urgency propelling him forward. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he charged toward the room where Imani had taken cover. He reached for the doorknob, his fingers gripping it tightly, but his heart sank as he realized it was locked. He furrowed his brow, frustration mounting as he banged on the door, calling out to Imani.

"Imani, it's me!" he called, his voice ringing out in the tense silence.

He listened intently, straining his ears for any response from inside the room. The silence seemed to stretch on forever, the air thick with anticipation. He banged on the door again, harder this time, his knuckles stinging with the impact.

“Imani,” he said.

The sound of the door being unlocked echoed through the dimly lit corridor, a metallic clang that reverberated in Ron's ears, setting his nerves on edge. He wasted no time, pushing the door wide open with a fluid motion, and stepping inside the room with a sense of urgency.

With a calculated calmness, Ron swiftly shut the door behind him, the heavy thud of wood against wood sending a shiver down his spine. He knew he had to secure the door to buy himself some time. His mind raced as he searched for something to block the door, his eyes scanning the room for a makeshift barricade.

He spotted an old wooden dresser against the far wall, covered in a dusty sheet. Without hesitating, he lunged towards it, gripping the edges of the dresser and pulling with all his strength. The dresser scraped across the floor, leaving a trail of dust in its wake, as Ron maneuvered it in front of the door, blocking it from the outside.

As Ron breathed out a sigh of relief, the door was getting banged from the outside. It was a relief, he was quicker than the zombies. He turned, and there stood Imani, staring at him with a mix of relief and disbelief in her eyes. Her voice trembled as she spoke, expressing her earlier doubt that he would return.

“I thought you wouldn't come back," she said, her words filled with a tinge of guilt as she questioned her own sanity, wondering if she was hallucinating Ron's voice from the other side of the door.

Ron smiled. A mask of confidence despite the dire situation they were in. "Like I said, I—"

But before he could finish his sentence, the sudden onset of intense pain hit him like a tidal wave. He dropped to his knees, a guttural scream escaping his lips before he could stop himself. He clenched his teeth, biting his own lips hard to stifle any further cries of agony. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the inexplicable pain that seemed to originate from within him as if his very soul was being ripped apart.

And then, amidst the pain, he heard a voice. Not an ordinary voice, but one that sounded robotic, echoing in the back of his mind. It was as if someone else was speaking to him from within his own consciousness, a voice that he had never heard before, yet strangely familiar.

“Interdimensional Harmonization will begin. Please endure the incoming adverse effect…”