Chapter 7 - Lurking in the shadows

I woke up to the whole building shaking. An earthquake? An explosion? I couldn't tell. But I didn't have time to figure it out—I had to move.

My body felt fine, ready to go, but my mind was sluggish, still trapped in the haze of those dreams. The cult—what were they after? Should I tell someone? Or keep it to myself?

I wanted to sit down, piece it all together, write down the details before they slipped away. But there was no time for that. Not now.

Everything was in chaos. The warehouse had been organized before, but now, everything was in ruins. People ran in every direction, aimless, frantic. The locals were stricken with fear, while some of the tourists stood frozen, blank expressions on their faces. These people were beyond saving—traumatized beyond help.

I was dodging the panicked crowd when I saw it: the red mist, seeping in from all directions. Now I understood why they were running. They weren't just scared—they were desperate. The mist meant mind control.

Which meant I'd be fighting something soon.

I grabbed my gear, only to realize most of it had been destroyed yesterday. All I had left was the gun Nixie gave me. I was still against using it, but it was better than nothing.

Logically, if the warehouse was under attack, Nixie should be at the entrance. So that's where I headed. So far, I hadn't seen any bodies, which was a good sign. I guess.

Then I saw her—Nixie—firing at a group of… monsters? Wait. Monsters? So we're dealing with this now? Great.

The red mist covered the entrance, but for a brief moment, I swore I saw something—an energy surrounding Nixie, keeping the mist from touching her. It disappeared the moment she noticed me approaching.

"It's nice of you to show up now," Nixie said, her voice laced with sarcasm even in the middle of a fight.

She looked exhausted. I wasn't sure if it was genuine fatigue or the mist getting to her, but it was rare to see her like this. It almost made her seem human. The thought made me smile.

"Are you smiling right now? Seriously?" Her frustration was obvious in both her expression and body language.

Watching Nixie shoot was always mesmerizing. Her hands moved with machine-like precision—reload, shoot until the magazine was empty or everyone nearby was dead, reload, repeat.

"Hey, stop admiring me and help," she shouted, still firing. The red mist around her only made her more terrifying.

Do I look like that when I fight? Probably not.

"How the fuck are they still coming? How many are there?" Nixie muttered as she reloaded.

"Where's everyone?" I asked. "Why are you out here alone?"

"I'm alone because everyone is so fucking—" Nixie closed her eyes, exhaling sharply to compose herself. "They're probably inside, taking care of whatever got through."

"Got through? How? You're basically killing everything out here."

"I don't know. Maybe they teleported or some shit." she complained. 

I was about to tell her she sounded crazy, but considering what was happening, teleporting monsters didn't seem all that far-fetched.

"Okay… so what do you want me to do? Kill stuff? Save people? Or just stand here and be moral support?"

She gave me a strange look before speaking. "What's wrong with you? You seem… different."

"What? What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Hm? Never mind." Her eyes lingered on me for a second longer before she turned back to the fight. "I need you to handle the tourists. Get them somewhere safe."

"But I'm too tired…" I groaned.

"Are you being for real right now?" she snapped, pointing her gun at me.

The me from yesterday might have been scared by that. But now? Not so much. Still, I had to pretend.

"Okay, try to calm down, Nixie," I said, faking the shake in my voice.

"What if I left you here and went instead?" she threatened.

I glanced at the bodies, the carnage she had left behind before I arrived.

Yeah. No thanks.

"Fine… I'll go," I muttered.

Without another word, Nixie returned to shooting, like I was barely a thought.

Honestly, I wanted to just charge in and get it over with, but Even if I was a little stronger now, I knew I had to be careful.

I walked towards the inner parts of the warehouse. The mist was getting thicker inside, and I could only hope the locals weren't dumb enough to get caught up in it.

Slowly, I made my way toward any signs of life—groans, whimpers, or even whispers. 

So far, I could see blood splattered in some areas, but somehow, I knew it wasn't from humans. It looked a little too dark, and there was something strange about its texture. But still, there were no corpses—neither human nor monster—which left me both relieved and a little worried.

No dead bodies meant people were still alive, but that could also mean whatever was hunting them was big enough to eat them whole. I just hoped I wasn't right about that. What scared me more was not even knowing what I was looking for.

It took me a few minutes to find some of the tourists; they were huddled together in the corner of the kitchen.

I approached the group as calmly as possible, trying to appear as non-threatening as I could. There were around ten of them, their expressions ranging from terrified to extremely terrified to even more terrified.

The red mist hadn't reached this place… yet. But I could see in their eyes that they knew exactly what would happen once it did. To be honest, I was pretty sure it only affected the locals—but I didn't know for certain, and I didn't want to find out if I was wrong.

One of the tourists, gripping a cooking pan as a makeshift weapon, stepped forward. He looked terrified, but there was a flicker of hope in his eyes.

"Are you here to help us?" he asked, his voice shaky with fear.

I tilted my head and looked at him. "Of course, I'm here to help. What, did you think I just came for cookies?"

"Oh… right," the guy said, caught off guard by my sarcasm. Honestly, I was a little surprised by it too.

I sighed, trying to keep my voice calm. "I need to take you somewhere safe, or else Nixie will kill me. Can everyone move?"

The guy glanced back at the others. "Yes, I think so."

I heard a few quiet yeses, a few silent nods, but most of them just stared.

I frowned. "Loving this energy, guys. Lots of potential. But we really need to move—literally now."

"But… the mist," another guy from the back said. "If we go out there, we'll turn into one of those things—"

"And those dogs," another one added.

I had no idea what dogs they were talking about, but I had to convince them.

"Not if we're fast enough. Not if it doesn't surround us," I said confidently. "Not if you're with me," I added for effect.

Honestly, I had no idea where this confidence was coming from.

I waited for any complaints, but there were none, so I continued. I pointed at the guy holding the frying pan. "You're going to help me keep everyone together."

He swallowed hard. "Wait—why me?" His expression grew even more terrified.

I frowned. "Do you see anyone here more capable than you? It's either you or that little kid in the back," I said sarcastically. "Plus, you're the one holding a weapon, so it has to be you."

The guy straightened his back slightly. "Okay. Yeah. I can do that," he agreed, though I could tell he wanted to complain.

"Good," I said, turning to the others. "Alright, look alive, people. Stay close and don't wander. And for the love of the gods, if you see something weird—or one of those dogs you're so worried about—don't panic, don't scream, just keep moving."

Before leaving, I broke a leg off one of the tables.

I carefully and slowly guided the group toward the infirmary. It was the safest place I could think of—located at the farthest end of the warehouse, with only one entrance, making it easier to defend. The mist was also thinner there, giving these people a better chance of avoiding it.

As we moved, I kept listening for any noises—signs of something that might harm us or someone we could bring with us. Along the way, we managed to gather a few more people.

I thought everything was going well—until I heard it. A low, unnatural growl. Not a sound I'd ever heard in real life, but one I knew all too well from my dreams.

My grip tightened on the table leg as I stepped forward. Then I saw them—three monstrous, twisted creatures. A grotesque mix of human and canine, like werewolves but far more vile. They reeked of rot, the same stench from my nightmares. No doubt about it—they were exactly what those people had turned into.

Before I could even react, they melted into the shadows. One reappeared right in front of me.

I swung without hesitation, slamming my makeshift weapon into the head of the nearest one. It let out a sharp yelp and staggered. The group didn't need any encouragement— the moment one of the monsters went down, they rushed toward it, kicking and beating it until it wasn't moving anymore.

Another one reappeared near me, but this time I was ready. I twisted my body and struck its chest as hard as I could, sending it sprawling to the ground. Without thinking, I walked toward it and bashed its head in.

And then I heard it—

The last monster had reappeared in the middle of the group, near a kid. The guy with the frying pan was right next to her—I thought he would help, but instead, he screamed and fled in panic.

"Idiot," I muttered.

But there was no time to dwell on it. The monster was getting ready to attack. It was fast—too fast. The kid would die if I didn't do something now.

I didn't hesitate. I drew the gun and fired.

I was desperate. Sure, I had tried shooting this gun yesterday—just to make it seem like I had actually used it during my fight against the war god.

But firing it now felt different. It felt too natural – I don't like that.

Luckily, I hit the monster. One of the tourists grabbed the girl, pulling her to safety. I fired multiple times to make sure it was dead.

The group moved in eerie silence, our steps careful but quick. I kept a firm grip on the table leg, scanning the area for any lingering threats. The mist was still present—thin enough to see through but clinging to my skin with a sticky, unsettling weight. Strangely, killing those monsters seemed to thin it out. So far, it only seemed to affect the locals.

I holstered the gun. I still wasn't confident using it—it made taking a life feel too easy, even if those things had already turned into monsters. It reminded me of my dream. I had seen dozens of people transform into those creatures. Were there still more out there? But something felt off. In my dream, those things had been larger, more ferocious. The ones here were smaller—almost human-sized.

I pushed the thought aside for now—I needed to focus. Whether I liked it or not, I was already in too deep. Why did I even have to do this? I wasn't qualified to save myself, let alone these people. Did Nixie really trust me, or was I just convenient? Someone she could easily throw away when I was no longer useful?

The idea sat heavy in my chest, but there was no time to dwell on it.

The infirmary wasn't far now—just a few more turns, I think.

The weight of my own breathing filled my ears. I wasn't sure if the silence was that heavy or if my hearing had somehow sharpened, but I felt like I could hear everything around me—the locals' breathing, every footstep echoing eerily loud, and the distant sounds of a struggle.

Faint, but unmistakable. Screams.

Someone else needed help.

Another set of screams.

I wanted to go, but… should I leave these people now? They were already close to the infirmary—maybe they could make it on their own.

But… was the infirmary even safe? Was it overrun with monsters? Leaving them now could mean abandoning them to die if something went wrong.

"Damn it," I muttered, stopping in my tracks.

The tourists noticed my hesitation, their eyes wide with uncertainty.

"What is it?" one of them whispered, as if speaking too loudly would summon something from the mist.

I didn't answer. My body felt like ice, frozen in place, my mind trapped between two choices—keep going and get to safety, or turn back and help.

I glanced at the group and saw the little girl—the one who had almost died earlier. She clung to the nearest adult, her small hands gripping their clothes like a lifeline. I figured her parents were already gone. She hadn't spoken since the attack, her wide eyes darting around, searching for threats.

Then, they locked onto mine.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. I needed to focus.

"We keep moving," I said firmly.

The screams continued, growing fainter as we walked away. I forced myself not to look back.

We reached the infirmary, and it was crowded. I was relieved to see that most people had the same idea.

A mix of Nixie's men, tourists, and locals were inside, their faces painted with exhaustion and intense fear. Those who could still move were busy building makeshift barricades, dragging furniture and supplies to create obstacles for the monsters. Others worked to seal cracks in the walls, stuffing them with towels and blankets—anything that might keep the mist from seeping in.

Nixie's men stood on guard, their eyes scanning the area. Some were wounded, deep claw marks slashed through their clothes and skin, somehow those claw marks looked bigger, almost three times the size of the ones I fought.. A few of the injuries already looked infected, their edges tinged with the same eerie color as the mist. That didn't look good.

Near the back, the pregnant woman and the child from yesterday huddled together. The woman's hand rested protectively over her stomach, while the child clung to her side. When she noticed me, she offered a small smile. I smiled back.

And in the middle of it all was Gideon—my second favorite person after Nixie.

He looked exhausted but, so far, uninjured. He was the one keeping everything together, his sharp eyes sweeping over the room as he barked orders at those who could still move, making things as efficient as possible. Despite the chaos, he was doing his best to maintain control and order.

When he noticed me, a smirk crossed his face—his familiar sarcastic attitude rivaling Nixie's. His expression was amused, but there was a hint of suspicion in his gaze.

"Well, look at you," he said, eyeing me up and down. "You look like shit."

"Well, fighting makes you look like this," I snapped back.

"Fighting? Are you sure you weren't just running the whole time?" he shot back.

There was a tense silence between us before he finally spoke.

"Anyway, what are you even doing? Where have you been?" he asked, genuinely curious.

I pointed at the group of people I had brought with me. "Taking care of these people, you know? Not running away," I said dryly.

"How many died?" he asked, his concern evident as he glanced at the group.

"No one. What do you take me for? I'm that good," I bragged, still unsure where the confidence was coming from. "One guy fled, though. No idea what happened to him. I assume he ran here."

"You got lucky," Gideon said. "You didn't come across one of the real ones."

I frowned. "What do you mean by lucky? I had to kill three of those things just to get here," I shot back. "That should be most of them."

"Tell me, how big were the ones you killed?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"They were human-sized, I guess," I answered.

"You are lucky," he repeated, this time with more weight.

Something about his tone unsettled me. "What are you saying?"

"The ones you fought? Those were just the minions. The big ones are the real problem," he explained. "See my men? They got injured fighting off those things—some of them even died. And when they died…" He trailed off, his expression darkening, as if whatever came next was something he didn't want to say out loud.

"They turned into one of those things—the ones you fought," he said grimly, as if blaming himself. "Dying to save someone is one thing. They knew what they were signing up for in this line of work. But dying and then turning into one of those things? That's just… unfair."

For the first time since I got here, Gideon actually looked like he felt something. like a human.

Then, as if on cue, a commotion erupted near the wounded.

Gideon and I rushed toward the area, but before we even got there, people were already screaming and panicking. Someone even ran straight into me in their desperation to get away.

When we arrived, mist swirled thickly around the wounded men. It was coming from them. They were changing—writhing in agony as their bodies broke apart and stitched themselves back together, reshaping into something monstrous. Just like in my dreams.

Gideon sighed and readied his gun. Without hesitation, he moved around the transforming men, shooting each one in the head—ending their misery before they fully turned. The mist stopped moving, then completely disappeared.

For a moment, I saw tears streaming down his face.