The footsteps behind them picked up their pace, shifting from hurried taps to the full-bodied thud of a sprint. The sound echoed down the tunnel, thick with the weight of desperation. James tensed, his grip tightening around his pistol as he raised it, finger hovering over the trigger.

  Cenilera barely had time to brace herself behind him before a shadow lunged from around the bend. The flashlight beam slashed through the darkness—

  Robert skidded to a stop, throwing up a hand.

  His face, caught in the harsh glare, twisted in irritation.

  "James! Are you trying to blind me?"

  With a grunt, James lowered the gun. “Perfect timing. I was just wrapping up storytime anyway.” He clicked off the safety and turned the flashlight down the path ahead, signaling they needed to keep moving.

  Cenilera exhaled slowly, her pulse still unsteady from the tension. Her mind, however, was occupied by something else entirely.

  "The story," she murmured, glancing at Robert.

  "You know it too, don't you?"

  Robert dusted off his jacket, nodding. "Let me guess-James gave you his grand retelling of the King of the Dead?" He shot James a wry smile before turning serious. "I've heard it before.

  Albert believes in him, you know."

  Cenilera stiffened. "Albert?" She searched

  Robert's face, waiting for a smirk or some hint that he was joking. "He wouldn't..."

  "Seems impossible, doesn't it?" Robert said, voice quiet. "But he's been tracking the rumors.

  Studying them. Trying to make sense of what we're up against."

  James scoffed, but there was no humor in it. He turned, fixing Cenilera with a look that pinned her in place. "Listen to me, Doc," he said, voice low and sharp. "I know what I saw. That thing wasn't a man. It wasn't just another Wicked. It looked me in the eye, killed my brother, and called itself a king."

  The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

  Cenilera felt the weight of his words settle into her bones.

  Robert was the first to move. He reached out, gripping James's shoulder in a firm but steadying hold. "Come on," he said. "We need to keep going."

  James inhaled sharply, chest rising and falling in a controlled attempt to rein in his emotions.

  Finally, he nodded, turning on his heel and marching ahead.

  Cenilera watched him, something stirring deep in her chest. She had always seen James as cold, irreverent, someone who carried himself with an air of unshakable certainty. But now, in the dim tunnel light, she saw him differently-his pain raw, his loyalty unwavering, his courage carved from loss.

  For the first time, she understood why he followed Albert so blindly.

  And why that terrified her.

  “Robert, what did you go back for?” James demanded.

  “I went back for a vest and one of our expedition backpacks.” Robert responded.

  “You didn’t grab a weapon, right? Just know I still don’t trust you.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  They walked in silence, the tunnel stretching endlessly before them. Each step felt heavier than the last, thoughts lingering in the stale underground air. When they finally reached the exit, a gust of cold air rushed in, cutting through their clothes and biting at their skin. Above, the sky stretched gray and endless, thick with the promise of the oncoming winter.

  Robert let out a low whistle. "What a difference out here." He pulled his coat tighter, exhaling a cloud of mist.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  James shook his head, stretching his stiff legs. “That tunnel went on forever.”

  Cenilera barely noticed the cold. Her eyes scanned the barren landscape, an unease settling deep in her chest. "So... what now? Do we split up?"

  "You two would love that, wouldn't you?" James said, unimpressed. "We stick together until you're proven innocent."

  Before anyone could respond, James’s radio crackled to life, interrupting them.

  "We have Edwin in custody! Repeat, we got him in custody! All guards are to return to their stations."

  Cenilera froze. Her stomach twisted violently. “Edwin?”

  James let out a relieved chuckle, smirking as he clipped the radio back onto his belt. "Finally. For a second there, I thought l'd be sent to the outskirts on his account. Let's head back the way we came."

  Robert, however, held up a hand, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. "Hang on. I'll join the escort team. He might still have some fight left in him."

  Cenilera swallowed hard, forcing her voice to stay steady. "They could probably use a doctor.

  I'm sure Edwin didn't go down easily."

  James rolled his eyes. “If you’re both going, then I’m in too. Can’t have you showing me up.”

  Robert shrugged, but there was an edge to his voice as he glanced a wary expression towards Cenilera. "I'm not trying to show anyone up.

  Councilor Albert authorized lethal force for a reason-Edwin's dangerous. We don't know what he's capable of."

  James scoffed but nodded in agreement.

  "Fine. Let's go, and try not to dawdle."

  They moved quickly, boots crunching against the dirt as they fell into step, James taking the lead.

  The daylight did little to warm the air, but it illuminated everything-every abandoned checkpoint, every cracked road, the distant shape of the eastern barricades that loomed against the horizon.

  Cenilera's hands curled into fists at her sides, her unease growing with each step.

  After a few minutes, James pulled out his radio.

  "This is James. Requesting location for Edwin's capture. Heading there with Robert and a doctor."

  A moment of silence passed before the radio buzzed with static. Screams and explosions crackled through the line, the sounds of chaos filling the air.

  "This is Sanchez! The kid's awake! He played

  us-" The transmission cut off abruptly, replaced by a burst of static. In the distance, a plume of smoke raced up the sky, the smoke spiraling upward. After a few seconds a loud boom followed.

  Robert's face tightened. "That's gotta be the east gate. We've got to move."

  James's expression darkened. "It's at least ten minutes if we sprint... maybe longer."

  Cenilera barely registered their words. Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out everything but the panic clawing its way up her throat.

  "What is happening over there?"

  James didn't hesitate. His voice was grave, certain. "The fight for humanity." He met her gaze. "And Edwin's at the center of it."

  The closer they got, the worse it became. The distant cracks of gunfire became a storm of chaos-shouts, screams, the relentless thunder of battle. The acrid scent of smoke mixed with the coppery sting of blood.

  The radio sparked again.

  "Squad 77, Three minutes to the gate! There's gunfire— is the kid still fighting? It sounds like a war zone!"

  Cenilera felt her breath hitch. The thought of Edwin, alone, surrounded by all this-her hands trembled at her sides. "So many people will need medical help... but I don't have my equipment-"

  Robert gave her a steady look. "Not everyone will need your tools, just do what you can and that should be enough."

  James let out a breathy chuckle despite the tension. "Smooth, Robert. The doc's got herself a knight."

  "Knock it off," Robert muttered. "This is serious."

  Cenilera gave a small, fleeting smile, but her gaze was fixed ahead-on the smoke that filled the air, the fire lighting up the ever gloomy sky in a shade of orange, the war raging just beyond their sight.

  They pushed forward, urgency thrumming in their veins, their breaths sharp and ragged. The world had narrowed to the pounding of their boots against the cracked pavement, the sting of cold air searing their throats as they ran. The east gate loomed ahead, its towering structure bathed in the flickering glow of firelight.

  Then—

  Everything went quiet as they crossed the final stretch, the scene that unfolded before them pulled them to a halt.

  Devastation.

  The battlefield sprawled before them like a grotesque painting of ruin and despair. Bodies littered the ground in grotesque contortions, some twisted at angles no living thing should bend. The broken remains of armor gleamed dully in the dim light, shattered helmets split open like discarded husks. Blood pooled in thick, glistening rivulets, painting the earth in deep, arterial reds. It soaked into the dirt, filling the air with a sickly iron tang that clung to the back of the throat.

  Smoke curled through the air in lazy, choking spirals, twisting into the sky like the breath of some unseen beast. Black flames burned in scattered pockets, their embers snapping in the wind, casting ghostly shadows over the carnage. The air itself was thick with it—the acrid sting of melted metal, the burnt stench of flesh, the raw, unmistakable scent of blood. It was everywhere.

  Clinging to their skin. Infiltrating their lungs.

  Cenilera's stomach twisted violently. She forced down the bile rising in her throat, her fingers curling into fists. This wasn't just a battle. This was a massacre.

  James exhaled sharply, his usually sharp tongue rendered useless in the face of such horror. His eyes, hardened by years of service, swept across the bodies, cataloging the damage with the precision of a man accustomed to war. And yet, even he hesitated.

  Robert’s boots crunched over the debris as he stepped forward, his expression unreadable. He knelt beside the nearest fallen soldier—a man whose chest had been torn open as though something had clawed through his armor like paper.

  James dragged a hand through his hair, slowly. "Hell of a way to go."

  Cenilera swallowed past the tight knot in her throat and forced herself to step forward, past the pools of congealing blood. A guard nearby twitched, gurgling, his chest rising in shallow, wheezing gasps. She dropped to her knees beside him, hands already moving on instinct, searching for the source of the wound. But the damage was too severe-deep lacerations, ribs shattered, internal bleeding evident in the way his skin had taken on a deathly pallor.

  His lips parted, a wet, broken sound escaping as he tried to speak.

  Cenilera leaned in, her breath catching. "What happened?"

  The man's eyes rolled weakly toward her, unfocused, barely clinging to consciousness. And then, with the last of his strength, he whispered a single, trembling word.

  "Monster."