Two Hours Before the Attack on Zorfis
The command center buzzed with static and tension. General Clement leaned over the comms panel, barking into his headset.
"Calling all special force units! I repeat, all special force units—do you copy?!"
The crackling reply came in unison: "Yes, sir!"
Clement straightened, eyes locked on the map flashing red with seismic activity. "Enemy sighted in the mountain range outside the city. Intel suggests it's wounded—likely after a clash with its own kind. We move in to finish the job."
Felicia adjusted the strap on her rifle, lips curling into a grim smile. "So it's injured. That's our window, isn't it?"
"Exactly," Clement said, his tone hard. "But don't underestimate it. We've seen what these things can do. The creature may be hurt, but its power levels are still unknown. Given its classification… we deploy full force. Artillery, aerial support, heavy ground weapons. This is an all-out strike."
He stepped back from the console. "All units, prepare for synchronized assault. Coordinates set—engage at 3 o'clock sharp!"
A chorus of "Yes, sir!" echoed through the comms before falling silent.
Clement turned to Felicia, his voice quieter now. "We've fought too many wars for the wrong reasons. For profit, politics, pride. This—this is the only fight that ever mattered. The people need us."
Felicia nodded, her expression solemn. "And if this is where we fall… ."
He looked at her, eyes steady. "Don't worry too much. Let's focus on taking that thing down."
During the Attack on Zorfis
A roaring wind howled through the mountains as the attack began.
Fighter jets screeched overhead, dropping bunker-busting payloads that erupted across the valley floor. Tank columns rolled forward, unleashing wave after wave of cannon fire. Artillery lit up the sky, and a dozen helicopters swept in from above, guns blazing.
Zorfis had not yet shown himself—but they knew he was there.
The bombardment rained down like judgment. Missiles streaked through the air, mortar shells pounded the ground, and tracer rounds lit up the ridge like lightning. Dust and smoke billowed upward in thick, choking waves. Trees snapped. Rockfaces exploded. For a brief moment, the battlefield seemed victorious—like the tide could be turned.
Then… stillness.
A deep rumble cracked through the valley floor.
From the swirling clouds of smoke and ash, a shadow moved—massive, unnatural.
Zorfis emerged.
The creature towered above them, monstrous and unyielding. Its body steamed with energy, armor-like skin cracked and glowing where injuries still smoldered. Even wounded, it was a force of chaos incarnate.
Soldiers opened fire. Assault rifles, grenade launchers, machine turrets—all hammered at its frame. Explosions tore into its body, but it shrugged them off like gnats. Then it lunged forward.
Zorfis slammed into a forward unit, crushing soldiers beneath its fists. One swipe hurled an armored vehicle into the air like a toy. The monster roared, its voice splitting the sky, and a shockwave of dark energy burst outward, vaporizing the front line.
Screams cut through the smoke. Men scattered. Chaos reigned.
Above the carnage, Felicia's helicopter sliced through the haze. "Target in sight!" she shouted. "Everyone, regroup—focus fire on the left flank!"
Before she could issue another order, a pulse of energy rocketed toward her. The blast slammed into the chopper's tail. Alarms blared. The craft twisted violently, spiraling into a death spin. Felicia gritted her teeth as the world spun—then everything went black.
The helicopter hit the ground like a meteor. Metal screeched. Flame burst from the wreckage.
Not far off, Clement's own helicopter was caught in the energy surge. The tail rotor snapped mid-air, sending the craft corkscrewing into the hillside. Clement hurled himself from the burning cockpit just as the chopper clipped the ground—but not fast enough.
The rotor blade struck him mid-torso.
He hit the dirt with a grunt, gasping as blood poured from his severed waist. His lower body lay several feet away.
Agony wracked him. But he wasn't dead—not yet.
Gritting his teeth, he dragged himself through the broken field, elbows sinking into mud and ash, holding a bomb. Around him, explosions echoed. Screams, gunfire, and the unrelenting roar of Zorfis filled the valley. The monster was occupied, swatting down wave after wave of soldiers like flies.
Clement kept crawling.
Through fire. Through blood. Toward the beast.
He reached Zorfis's back, smoke searing his lungs. He gripped a jagged piece of its hide and looked up, teeth clenched through the pain.
"You're going down bud," he rasped.
And then—he triggered the bomb.
The explosion tore through the sky.
A blinding flash of fire and light engulfed Zorfis, consuming the beast in a devastating burst. The shockwave flattened everything for miles. Trees snapped like matchsticks. Fires spread like wildfire. The heavens turned red.
When the smoke cleared, Zorfis was gone—reduced to burning fragments falling from the sky.
Elsewhere, amidst the wreckage and dying light, two figures stood in defiance of each other—Damon and Lamia.
"You betrayed your kind," Lamia snarled, her voice cracked with fury. "And now you'll die like one."
Her hands rose skyward as ancient power swirled around her.
"Final Attack: Galaxial End!" she shouted in Greek.
The world warped.
In Damon's mind, an entire galaxy folded in on itself—stars winking out, planets crumbling, black holes expanding. Space itself seemed to collapse under the weight of her wrath.
Then the vision faded.
Lamia staggered, blood streaming from her nose and mouth, pooling at her feet. She swayed, on the brink of collapse.
Damon, seemingly unfazed. "That one carried some weight. It felt like the muscles all over my body were tightening under pressure." He said. "But it cost you everything. Your zail is plummeting. You've got… minutes."
"Shut up," she spat, coughing violently, blood bubbling at her lips.
Damon frowned. "You don't have to die like this."
"You won't win," she rasped. "Hell will hunt you… to the ends of time."
Then her legs gave out. She collapsed, her breath hitching once before stilling.
Damon stood over her, jaw clenched, regret shadowing his eyes.
The battlefield was a wasteland.
Charred earth stretched in every direction. Blackened craters, twisted metal, broken bodies. The smell of sulfur and scorched flesh hung thick.
Damon scanned the devastation, rage simmering beneath the surface.
"Damn it…" he muttered. "They're all dead! How am I supposed to protect them when they do this to themselves?"
Then—a sound.
A wet, ragged cough.
Damon snapped his gaze to the rubble. He sprinted toward the sound, heart racing. There, half-buried beneath debris, a soldier gasped for breath, blood streaming from her mouth, it was Felicia. Damon dropped to his knees, lifting her carefully into his arms.
She was still alive.
Barely.
Damon's eyes scanned the surroundings—and he spotted another figure crawling from the ruins. His comrade, wounded from Lamia's earlier blast, lay barely conscious.
Damon then told his comrade not to worry because he's here now.