174.6] – [Earth (6)]

'Shit! Shit! Shit!!!'

"Team leader one sp- the radio… is out? Why now!?"

"Listen here, we have to regroup with the second team."

The now farthest taking out a red pointer, he aimed it at a wall right in front of the second team, near the television.

The second team members all seeing it, only the last of their group was turned around.

"Team leader, they are trying to reassemble."

"I can tell, but why?"

"It doesn't matter why, does it?"

"I know, that's why I'm trying to finish the area quickly, we only need a few more seconds to reach the sofa."

"Sir…"

"What now?"

"Behind… hanged from the ceiling… isn't that corpse… Damian..?" Gulping as he said it, it was obviously heard by the team leader.

"… First we finish this area. I don't want to get backstabbed."

After finishing the television and sofa area, leaving a door to be explored, the second team stealthily went back.

"We are here."

"Good." The first team leader nervously looked up the stairs. It was dark.

"We can go with one or two people on the same line…"

"Let's go with one."

"I agree. As usual, one looks front and side then back, the next one looks front and side."

"Roger."

"Let's go in then."

Some wanted to ask about Damian, but there was no time to care. Hanged like that, looking at his face, it was clear that they were already too late. His neck had most likely been snapped, his face was discolored, his body not even twitching anymore. It was also very dangerous to open their formation while trying to fish him out of this situation. As for an enemy, the area was just empty, they expected an attack from the ceiling.

Going up the stairs… nothing happened. It was dark, the carpet soft and clean. Nothing struck them as abnormal. However, there was a corpse in one of the rooms. It was a kid's room. As for where that kid was, they did not want to find out somehow.

As the corpse on its belly was turned around, the room already cleared, the first team's leader froze. Nobody else was watching it, focused on other things as to avoid a sudden death from an unexpected place.

'…' Seeing this corpse, the first team leader's blood froze as well. He felt so cold. So disoriented. But he had to. He had to remember it.

During each operation, the last man would always look behind at all times. And just the same as each other team members, the last also had to put his hand on the shoulder of the one in front. Always.

If nothing weird happened. If the second to last only reacted to Damian's disappearance after he was hopeless, hanged like a prop…

Then… how could the second to last be so late to realize? Since… Damian would then have his hand removed from his shoulder.

Also, why was the corpse at his feet his brother James? James… the nerdy kid who should be last right now?

Why was he dead here… if he was also behind them?

Supernatural?

'Oh no… no, no, no…' Turning around as he stood back up from his crouching, the first team leader was met with James. But there was only the two of them at eye level.

Gulping again, the team leader looked from the corner of his eyes.

The very small kid's room was now filled with a few more corpses.

He could not hear anything. He could not feel any vibration. They died and he was still lost.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

How?

"Found me, huh? The speed of light here is so slow, it's annoying you know? Have to use my Void Sense all the time." James talking with a smile, he walked backward, out of the room. The door then shut itself.

Without even bothering to move, the tears falling from the leader's cheeks did not hinder shadows from engulfing him slowly.

The second team's leader going up the stairs after a bit, he explored the area.

"Do you guys know where they went? It has been like twenty to thirty seconds. Maybe less." Unable to determine what happened, they still went through the operation, inspecting each open door. However, there was one still closed in the corridor.

A stench of despair escaped from underneath this door.

Opening it, some almost puked. Not from disgust, but from emotions. Each squad was very affectionate within their ranks. Everybody knew everybody. And so very well.

So when they opened the door and saw the four corpses spread everywhere, some on furniture, they were left speechless.

They knew it was not good. They were in grave danger.

In a single room, without a trace of a sound or vibration… four soldiers were assassinated in the blink of an eye. Each with strange injuries.

To the left, on a very small desk, a woman's corpse was rested on its lower back, the rest bent from gravity. She had a hole through her torso.

Also on the left, inside a bunkbed, a middle aged man was laying in the formerly white bedsheets, the upper portion of his entire head shaved right off, exposing his mandible and lower teeth.

On the floor, a nerdy man with freckles had his organs spill out. Right next to him, the first team's leader was kneeling, unresponsive. When crouching to face him, the second team's leader had to contain himself. The supposedly intact corpse was not. The leader's eyes were popped out, hanging by a thread of flesh, his lips gone, showing his bloodied teeth.

It was a bloodbath. Where were the knife marks? Where were the gun wounds? Arrow wounds? Bolt wounds? They looked more like cannon or sword injuries than anything, and it was scary. Very much so.

Standing back up from checking the first team's leader, the second team's leader turned around.

"James? Weren't yo-" Looking up, the man could feel his feet turn numb from the sensations. His scalp tingled.

Behind the suddenly alive James, hanging from the ceiling like prisoners after living long enough to see the death row, his four team members. Two of them, a man and a woman, still twitching and convulsing. But the strange black ropes of what seemed like plastic were too tough. Their hands could not stop it.

"This is fun."

Hearing these words made his thread of reason snap.

"BASTAR-"

"Shut it." A slap coming, the second team's leader was knocked out of his rage. About to recover, a cold sensation surrounded his neck.

"Huh-AARGHGUAGUGRURAHHH" A malleable black thread or rope pulling him up, the man was strangled and soon hanged from the ceiling.

Dusting his hands, James' body squirmed, turning taller and cleaner. Alexander was very happy with this game.

'Now, onto the rest.'

.

.

.

"…" Waiting and waiting, no news came from the soldiers inside. Their bodycams also showed no movement, most likely jammed.

"Lieutenant, report." Distancing himself from the lifeline between brothers and friends, almost family, the lieutenant put the radio down.

"Yes, captain?"

"The report."

"Presumed dead."

"All of them?"

"Yes."

"I see…"

Looking at the bald middle aged man with a scar coursing through his face, the lieutenant knew. The captain cared about his mental state, but not enough to show it. It was not the time for affectionate hugs.

"Go check with the medics, if they judge you mentally unstable, you won't have to participate. I'll go report to the colonel now."

"Ye-"

His eyes opening wide, the same as all others, a loud explosion rang out. A rumble was felt throughout the earth, the asphalt cracking like an egg. The mansion suddenly blew up, a beam of silver aiming far into their ranks, toward a group of tanks.

"W…hat…" The lieutenant was shaken. Right as the beam of silver collided, the encirclement of tanks around a large tent was blasted to oblivion. Metallic scraps rained down, charred pieces of flesh as well.

There were six tanks. Yet, every single one of them had been destroyed so easily.

The lieutenant was less shocked than he was angry. How could they do this?

'You bastards… sent my kids, my brothers and sisters… to this?! To fight this!?' But what could he do? He was just a lieutenant. In the grand scheme of things, he did not matter one bit.

The pawns had done their work. They would probably get some ceremony after it was over. A simple gesture to men who sacrificed everything. A bit of money to the families having lost fathers and mothers. Sisters and brothers. Sons and daughters.

Judging from the explosion, the colonel and some of the captains were most likely dead. The blast could be felt from so far. The heat slightly burning his skin as well.

This meant complete annihilation of the commanding party. This made all of them realize the fragility of human life. The frail stability of mortality.

Some began to kneel and pray to the gods of their imagination high above. Their own land of dreams. But…

The moment they finally saw the dust and smoke dissipate. The fire extinguish and the blazes vanish. They paled.

The tall youth of silver hair behind the dark tank remains, floating high above, was simply too much. Because, even the miracles they hoped to see… never were sighted.

It was one thing for these miracles to not truly happen.

It was another when even their imaginations could not make them happen.

A soldier begged, trying to imagine a meteor falling and killing Alexander. But no matter how much his mind tried, the meteor would always fail.

Another thought of angels descending and slaying him. But they were slain instead.

One dreamt of him disappearing, but he could never make him depart from his mind.

Someone imagined themselves become a superhuman and riddle him with holes and knife wounds, but he was the one dying in the end.

Facing the true marking of god, facing someone above even the futility of reality escaping within the dreams, they were powerless. The influence of a Dream Dominator was too inconceivable.

The last sight of the lieutenant as he looked around was light.

Flames of white and pale purple as well as some of a blue hue, covering the whole world. His entire world. From his feet to the horizon. From the cracked asphalt to the high clouds. From the shabby apartments to the tall skyscrapers.

Flames of strange colors engulfing everything. A laser shot from a deity's fingertips.

Was it always so easy?

Were the gods truly out of reach?

What did he do to deserve this?