Ratom groaned, pressing a palm into the cracked floor beneath him as dust floated lazily in the air. His vision blurred for a second—just long enough for the Shade to close the distance again. It adapted fast.
He rolled his body out of the way, dodging a rib-shattering strike that shattered the ground beside him. He was already severely injured, but he had to fight. He had to finish the search—for the place.
The Shade's fighting style had evolved into a twisted version of Taekwondo, blended with unrefined street brawling. Its movements had grown unpredictable—faster, more aggressive. Ratom adjusted accordingly. Blow for blow. Shift for shift.
The fight was fast-paced and vicious. Eventually, Ratom began to catch the rhythm, the tempo beneath the violence.
The Shade went for a punch.
Ratom ducked beneath it—and in the same motion, protruded a sharpened bone from his elbow, countering with a clean strike that shattered the Shade's incoming knee.
Without delay, he struck its core with a flurry of rapid punches—each blow laced with hardened bone and blood-forged pressure. With every impact, another part of its frame broke. One joint. Then another. Before the Shade could retaliate, Ratom drove his fist through its reinforced core, disabling its control over its limbs.
The Shade fell to its knees, sparks dancing across its body.
Then, in a voice disturbingly human, it muttered:
"Thank you..."
Ratom froze for a moment—stunned.
Then the core began to pulse. The self-destruct had activated. He braced for a city-level explosion—until a yellow transparent needle tore through the air and struck his arm with a sizzle. He winced.
The next second, the Shade's head erupted in a tight, contained pop. Not a blast—just a sharp crack of heat and pressure. Its body slumped, silently.
At that moment, Ratom figured it out. All the pieces came to him. He realized why everything had happened the way it did. Why he was walking in circles. Why the humanoids had come for him.
He was severely injured and didn't have an ounce of energy left for regeneration. As he put one foot in front of the other, like a child just learning how to walk, he noticed the air had changed. It was aggressive—yet subtle. It flowed through him, carrying the scorched scent of buildings his conflict had burnt to a crisp.
Only a single building had remained standing, not far from the crooked neon sign. The world suddenly felt so much larger to Ratom, and the final words of the Shade left him in a state of eerie confusion.
He had killed so many of their kind before, but yet—it felt different.
In the midst of that confusion, he entered the building.
The interior was almost perfect—which was odd, considering the scale of the destruction outside. Sunlight pierced in through a broken section of the roof.
He moved to the center and smashed a hole in the floor. And there it was: an opening.
He leapt inside without a second thought.
As his feet touched the ground, the realization that he was surrounded seized his mind. Around him were two men and a woman.
They were fully human.
Two held unfamiliar guns. The woman gripped a spear.
"Is this how you treat your guests?!" he said, half-laughing.
They ignored him.
"Come with us."
As he examined the space around him, he guessed they were in an underground tunnel—one that probably stretched beneath the entire ghost town, maybe even across the whole slum.
As they led him through the tunnel, he noticed tech he hadn't seen before. It didn't look polished, but it was clearly functional. Some even made strange noises as he passed by.
Eventually, their march came to a halt. Before him stood a set of stairs.
"Please don't take me to your leader…" he muttered sarcastically.
The girl cracked a smile. The rest didn't react.
They guided him up the stairs—
Back to the surface.
And what he saw next was nothing like he had anticipated.