The was once been a person. Maybe a worker. Maybe a parent. Now it was a nightmare skin grey and falling apart, eyes milky white and empty, mouth twisted open with drool spilling out. Its arms jerked as it ran, fingers bent like claws.
The girl didn't scream.
She didn't freeze.
She moved.
Her boots slid across the cracked road as she turned. She lifted the big gun, pulled it tight to her shoulder, and aimed.
Her finger pulled the trigger.
WHUMPH!
A blast of blue-white energy shot into the fog. It hit the monster right in the chest. There was no blood — just a bright flash, a horrible crack, and the thing flew backwards. It hit the ground hard. Smoke curled from a burning hole in its chest. It twitched once… then stopped moving.
The girl didn't relax.
She kept the rifle raised. Her eyes searched the fog. Her breathing was fast and loud in the quiet city. Dirt covered her clothes. Her face showed how tired she was so tired but her eyes were sharp. Alive. Fierce.
She didn't run.
She didn't hide.
She fought.
All around her, the city lay in ruins. Ghost buildings. Distant moans. Danger in every shadow.
But she was still standing.
She was a survivor.
The last spark of life on a world the universe had already buried.
A reminder that "uninhabitable" didn't mean empty.
And she wasn't giving up.
The sharp smell of burned air and rotten meat still filled the street. That was where Sharmitha's pulse blast had just destroyed a monster. But there was no time to rest. No time to feel safe. Her hands were shaking. The rifle hummed as it powered down, suddenly feeling way too heavy to hold.
Then
A wet snorting sound came from right behind her.
Her whole body went cold. She turned quickly, heart pounding.
Too late.
A second monster was right there huge, its skin falling off in thick, disgusting chunks. Its dead, pale eyes locked onto hers. It didn't go for her neck. It went for her gun.
CRUNCH!
Its filthy hand smashed into the rifle. The stock snapped like a twig. Sparks flew. The weapon died, the lights on it going dark. Sharmitha gasped, stumbling back. The broken rifle slipped from her fingers.
Panic hit her like a wave.
She fell backward onto the street, crawling away over sharp rocks and broken metal. The monster loomed over her, its growl deep and horrible. It opened its huge, yellow-stained mouth to bite.
And it jumped.
Sharmitha froze, a scream caught in her throat.
Then CRACK!
Not a sound of impact but the fog itself was ripped apart by something fast. A shape flew into view, dark and quick as lightning.
Someone had arrived.
A man stepped between her and the monster, just before it struck. He moved like a shadow fast, silent, dangerous.
It was Sakudara.
He stood tall, thin but strong, wearing old, worn dress made of leather and metal plates. A long hooded cloak hung from his shoulders, covered in dirt, mud, and darker stains. His face was mostly hidden by shadow, but his eyes shone like fire in the dark. Not scared. Just... cold. Full of pain and battle. Eyes that had seen death and remembered every moment.
In his hand, he held a long, simple sword. It wasn't pretty just deadly. Most of the blade was dark, but near the handle, the edge gleamed with fresh blood. He held it low, like he had used it a thousand times before.
The monster saw him and turned its attack toward this new figure.
Sakudara didn't even blink.
He didn't shout.
He didn't run.
He moved.
Just one smooth step, a twist of his body and then his sword swung in a perfect, fast line across the air.
SHHHHK—THUNK!
Yes Sakudara did it.. He sliced.