Rude Welcome

After two very exhausting weeks of constant marching, my unit arrived on the heavenly golden shores of what used to be Volcanis Beach.

It's bright yellow color contrasted with what surrounded the beach. Cooled down lava settled on trashed buildings and neighboring homes.

But in other spots there were void spaces, as if something existed there at one point. Before a much larger disaster tore it off.

Over the horizon was our final destination. A DRT stronghold led by Oceanic Behemoths. It sat above a cliff overlooking the vast sea beyond.

We hastily marched through the eerily dead buildings. Not even nature's brutal display of strength surrounding us could break our celebrating chants.

The wind stood still, quiet, listening. It listened to our laughter and our ability to walk into a potentially bigger conflict with such high spirits.

And before long, we were right outside the stronghold's gates. The grim-red gates carefully opened to reveal a dark figure standing before us.

This figure looked exactly like Specter. They had a black cloak, skull painted mask, and a very dominant yet wise look to them.

The only difference was, this character was slightly shorter than Specter. But they appeared to have much bigger muscles.

It took a step forward, "You must be Finch Bulwalks, correct?" A mechanical voice carefully questioned me.

"Correct. Behind me stands DRT sub-branch, Valley Shakers, waiting for your command." I replied with confidence.

"Very well, I'm Specter of the shore. But you'll refer to me as Specter. I'm pleased to meet you all, and I hope we can achieve a secure region."

After a lot of pondering and now, this confirmation. There are two Specters. But is there more? Does every DRT sub-branch have one?

Suddenly, mischievous footsteps roared from behind us. I turned around and fixed my gaze behind my men. Then, a team of Forgers attacked.

"WEAPONS, UP!" I yelled out to my team.

Shields, axes, and swords appeared within the hands of my men. We were ready for combat.

I heard Specter call out, "HEY! REMEDY, BLACKOUT, VITAL, FORGERS OUTSIDE!" Their metal voice was encouraging, in an odd way.

Two men wearing modified DRT combat-heavy armor dashed right past us and went directly for the Forgers. My men knew it was a cue to attack with them.

"Oh wow, you must be that 'Finch' fella, huh? Here have one of these-" A soothing voice gently spoke to me from behind.

I felt a sharp pain, but a sudden sense of strength. My hand quickly reached for the two-handed axe I had on my back.

My fingers wrapped around the fine metal, then held onto it as if the weapon was going to escape my grasp.

The axe had the name, "Feral" engraved to its head. At some point, this axe was meant to cut through me. Now, I'll cut with the axe.

I furiously ran with my team. When Forger and DRT clashed, our superior power made us an impossible force.

One of the two men quickly flicked knives off their vest. Each knife dug itself perfectly into an unexpecting Forger. Their chaotic laughter added on to their rampage.

Meanwhile, the other man danced around two Forgers at a time. He open slight cuts with a blade attached to their wrist. Those small cuts eventually opened wider until the victims bled out.

During their dance, I noticed the man also wore a modified version of a DRT combat-helmet. Instead of having the full thing. They only had half the facial covering, and a finger raised over his lips.

Then I arrived. Both hands on the axe. I swung below a Forger's waist. The axe beautifully cut through their left leg and dug itself into the back of another Forger.

I pitied the unexpecting Forger. They probably were afraid. But it was already too late. From my right, a Forger tried to jab a sword's tip against the side of my head.

Out of instinct, I raised my forearm and caught the sword on my gauntlets. Warmonger remade them specifically for trapping enemy weapons.

I pulled my wrist back, and the gauntlet's teeth crunched the sword. The Forger tried to take it out, but realized they couldn't. They began panicking before I yanked the sword away.

Then slammed the gauntlet on their head. Their fight was finally over. I looked around for anyone to help. But the Forgers were dead.

One of the two men walked up to me. It was the one with the throwing knives. He cleaned the blood off his knives, one-by-one and smiled at me.

"Alright," his voice was just as playful as his smile, "Finch. You know, I heard about what you did. Taking on those two leaders. Good stuff. Anyway, name's Remedy."

He held his hand out to me. Blood tainted his hand. Out of respect and desire of making a good first impression, I shook his hand.

The blood got sticky and attached itself onto my hand. He laughed at it and returned to cleaning his knives.

"Pardon for the little pain. My name's Vital, the stronghold's medic. As you could've felt, I do a lot more than just nursing people back to health." The same soothing voice spoke again.

I turned to look at the speaker. A short girl with sun-baked hair looked down at a syringe she had in her hand. She twisted it around as if she was admiring it.

Her eyes shot back up, and she pointed the syringe at the other man, "That's Blackout. He doesn't talk much, please pardon him!"

Blackout walked past me. He had dead grey eyes with black hair. Their vision was fixed to the ground below us.

I nodded and replied, "Always nice to have someone who doesn't talk a lot. Makes them feel mysterious and special, doesn't it?"

Vital waved at me to come inside the stronghold. She looked excited to have new-comers to the stronghold.

When I got closer, she pulled me aside and said, "Welcome to the Melting Shores. The darkest beach that never stops getting sunlight."