Chapter 1 - 2 (Centaurus?)
Before the arrival of the 12th Battalion in Asterra City.
After the 1st Battalion returned with the Third Duke to Asterra, their expedition had lasted eleven days, plus three days of travel back. For two full weeks, they were out there—and for three days, a farewell continued to haunt Peter's mind.
A warning that hadn't been fully heeded.
The Duke had warned Captain Hagrid Lockheed and his men to cease the expedition immediately and return to the city. They had gone too far. The weather was worsening. The territory they had entered—far to the east of Asterra—was skirting the edges of danger. A few more kilometers inland, and they would step into a place no one was meant to tread.
Yet Hagrid, with unwavering conviction rooted deep in his heart, had pleaded for just one more day. He believed that perhaps, just a little longer, they might discover something—something monumental, something that could change the fate of Asterra City.
Peter, though heavy-hearted, finally granted permission. But he laid down one absolute condition:
"Never cross Redwood."
Redwood wasn't the name of a faction. Nor a country. It was a mark upon the world.
An area dominated by colossal trees towering like ancient towers, their bark a deep crimson, as if blood had frozen across their surfaces. They stood in the midst of fertile land and lush green grass.
Yet everyone from the Western Territories knew—Redwood was not life.
It was the boundary.
Because anyone who crossed it stepped into the first ring—the outer layer leading toward the ruins of Capital Eridu, the heart of the cataclysm... and the center of everything.
And it was there that everything began.
Something that could no longer be avoided.
"Damn it! It's pitch black," muttered Hagrid. "Everyone, stay close! Don't stray, stay sharp!" he shouted, urging his horse forward into the rain.
The rain poured relentlessly, blurring vision under the pitch-black night. Without the moonlight, the soaked forest looked like a sea of darkness. Although the NeuroSight lenses implanted in their eyes had activated night vision mode, their visibility was still heavily impaired by the endless sheets of rain hammering their faces and armor.
Droplets soaked the surface of their automatic hoods—an adaptive headgear called Argonaut, equipped with VeluX-9 nanotechnology, a design by Albert Alexander based on an original concept by Paul Jr. Aerial. Initially, the device appeared as nothing more than a thin black collar around the neck—more like a large bracelet than a defense gear.
But when a small button at the side of the neck was pressed, the VeluX-9 nano-particles would instantly assemble into a protective fabric hood. In emergencies, it could transform into a dense, armored helmet, covering the entire head.
Each captain had a slightly different version, customized to their preferences. Even Duke Aerial had his own variant—one that rarely activated manually, but triggered automatically if anything attempted to strike his head.
When active, the automatic hoodie fused seamlessly with their jackets, adapting to their body shape and adjusting its thermal properties according to the climate and weather.
"Captain, I think we've entered new territory," said a blond-haired man known as Mike the Storyteller.
He checked the small screen on his wrist—a Geotrace Pad directly linked to Asterra City's GeoIntel Nexus. His fingers moved swiftly, zooming in on the digital map displayed.
No trails. No topography. No patches of green, yellow, or brown as usual. Only an endless bluish blank space.
Mike tapped the coordinates icon, requesting a live location update—and waited.
Hagrid frowned. "New territory, huh..."
He glanced left and right, trying to assess if there was anything of value from this extended expedition. But everything... was dark. Too dark. Only wet grass and cold stones surrounded them.
Then, his eyes caught sight of a massive tree. Its trunk rose, wide and black, merging almost seamlessly with the night sky. His neck craned upwards following the trunk—
But there was no top.
It pierced the heavens, vanishing into the storm clouds without end.
A soft beep indicated the location sync had completed.
Location Coordinates: 07°19'22.4"N, 113°34'58.7"E
Status: UNMAPPED ZONE / CLASS-UNKNOWN
System Warning: ███
PERIMETER: ███
GeoLock Access: DENIED
Log Update: NO TRACE SINCE 125 E.C.
That was all the information on the Geotrace Pad.
And then—
A single leaf drifted down from above.
Spinning slowly in the rain, unaffected by gravity.
Its color was strikingly red—
As vivid as a rose, as delicate as sakura petals, and as mesmerizing as a peace lily.
The leaf floated right past Hagrid's face.
And at that moment—the world stopped spinning.
The sound of the rain vanished from his ears, the air thickened and chilled, as if something—or someone—clutched at his breath, freezing every heartbeat.
"Never cross Redwood."
The Duke's voice.
Faint.
Echoing from his memory.
Hagrid froze. His eyes widened.
And in that moment, his body realized what his mind had not yet processed—
He was not supposed to be here.
"Captain, I've got the coordinates—" Mike began.
"Mike..." Hagrid cut him off without turning his head, his voice low. He pulled his horse to a full stop. "...how many kilometers back to our last marked waypoint?"
Mike paused, swallowing hard. He didn't want to believe the implications of that question. But the word "back"...
It meant there was something so wrong that even Captain Hagrid didn't want to gamble on it.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
The sound from all their Geotrace Pads suddenly started to pulse softly—an early warning tone. The first faint vibrations were being detected.
Then—
BeepBeepBeepBeepBeep—!
The beeping exploded into chaos. Too fast. Too many. Dozens—no, more—sources of movement approaching within a radius the central system couldn't even properly identify.
Mike froze. His eyes glued to the Geotrace display, where a red anomaly was spreading like ink through water. One dot... two dots... then dozens more.
And at that moment, time stopped for all of them.
They froze. No words. No movements. Only the realization etched onto every face—that they might have just witnessed the end of their lives.
"Mike!" Hagrid's voice tore through the void, slightly shaking—but he forced it steady. He was their leader. He had to stay strong.
Mike jolted, trembling, but forced his eyes to the screen. His fingers trembled as he scrolled through the data.
After a heavy silence, he answered in one breath, as if emptying his lungs all at once.
"Twenty kilometers... If we return the way we came!"
Without hesitation, Hagrid drew a deep breath and bellowed.
"EVERYONE! LISTEN!"
His voice cut through the rain and thick mist of the forest like a blade.
"Don't panic! If you want to live—clear your minds right now! We're getting out of here at full speed! DO NOT stop! DO NOT look back! And—DO NOT try to save anyone!"
The entire unit flinched at that last order.
But Hagrid gave no room for hesitation. His eyes locked onto each soldier's face with a fierce, burning gaze.
"You must live...!"
Then, pointing back toward the path they came from, he roared.
"MOVE! NOW!"
There was no delay—In a blink, the entire battalion turned and bolted. Horses thundered forward, hooves splashing through puddles, the sound of their charge blending into a frantic symphony of survival.
They raced as fast as their bodies could carry them, weaving between trees now silhouetted like black pillars—Not looking back. Not speaking a word.
Hagrid stayed at the rear, ensuring no one was left behind. The rain poured even harder, but no one slowed down.
The sound of the rain began to mingle with something else—A rough, whispering noise, like the flutter of insect wings, and soft, rhythmic footsteps—Resembling hoofbeats in the distance.
Hagrid glanced backward for a moment.
There was nothing there—only darkness and silent trees. Yet the hair on his neck stood on end. He could feel it. Something was watching.
Beep... beep... beep...
The Geotrace still beeped in warning, just like everyone else's. Every pulse accelerated their heartbeats, driving the tension to a level beyond fear.
"Geotrace connect," Hagrid commanded his NeuroSight. The system immediately projected visual data onto the implant lens in his right eye. A radar display appeared—black background, a blue circle in the center, and dozens of red dots far behind them.
"Damn..." he muttered under his breath, barely audible over the roaring rain.
He had never imagined he would end up in a situation like this—caught in a downpour, surrounded by a pitch-black forest, with death lurking nearby. His ambition, his greed to find "something" within a single day, had now dragged his entire team deep into a territory that should have remained untouched.
Damn it! he cursed again internally, louder and more bitter.
What's chasing me? A Redhelder? A three-eyed, crimson-furred swiftwolf? Or... Snow—no... This isn't the north.
Beep!
A sharp tone sliced through the dwindling silence—a harsh warning that something was approaching.
On his NeuroSight display, a single red dot appeared on the right side—much closer than the others. It was moving fast, almost matching Hagrid's speed.
Reflexively, Hagrid snapped his head to the side, his gaze sharp and alert. His heart pounded fiercely, his blood surging wildly. His hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his weapon.
Where is it coming from? The question flashed through his mind, along with the screaming instinct to be ready for an attack at any moment.
The distant sound of hooves now grew clearer. Heavy, rhythmic beats shook the ground—but the sound was too deep, too heavy for an ordinary creature. Whatever it was, it stayed hidden within the darkness and towering trees.
Beep... Beep...
The warning tone grew softer, the red dot on his NeuroSight slowly moving forward past Hagrid. But the atmosphere didn't lighten—the tension only grew worse.
Because whatever it was had outrun a full-speed horse.
Focus. He told himself. His instincts screamed. The thing was hunting him.
Slowly, but fully prepared, Hagrid drew his sword, letting the faint blue glow of its half-exposed blade slice through the darkness.
Just as the red dot edged slightly ahead of him—it suddenly veered sharply. The dot stopped—directly in front of him.
Hagrid snapped his gaze forward. His NeuroSight immediately highlighted a shadow in a large red box.
[Unknown Creatures]
Focus.
Another box appeared—smaller, but flashing a far deadlier warning.
[Unknown ███]
Focus.
And at that exact moment—something lunged toward him. A massive, long, and sharply curved claw tore through the darkness. A greenish gleam ran along its surface. The claw looked dense and hard as steel, its movement fast and lethal—aimed directly at his throat.
FOCUS!
In a split second, Hagrid's battle instincts seized control. He unconsciously held his breath, his body tensing in pure readiness. His eyes flicked briefly toward the incoming attack—just enough to gauge the angle—before his hand reacted. He drew his sword completely—a black blade whose edges shimmered with blue light—and with a swift, decisive swing, he slashed toward the threat.
A deafening clash shattered the air. Steel met claw in a burst of sparks and sound. The monster's claw split apart, scorched by the discharge of electricity and heat radiating from Hagrid's blade.
Shards of the broken claw flew everywhere, striking the ground and trees with metallic clatters. Hagrid gritted his teeth.
His horse didn't slow down even as he parried the attack. Hagrid's eyes locked onto the creature for a few brief seconds—but it was enough. Enough to carve an image of horror deep into his mind.
For the first time—after slaying countless monsters—Hagrid felt a fear that stabbed down to his bones. Death stood before him—more real, more horrifying, than ever before.
The monster's head was beyond explanation.
It was elongated, reminiscent of a praying mantis, with a bony crest resembling a rough, natural helmet. On each side of its head, massive compound eyes glowed a furious red, darting and blinking rapidly—analyzing everything with a mechanical precision.
Between the two giant eyes, a smaller third eye glowed steadily—alive, pulsing, as if capable of sensing body heat in the pitch black night.
Its jaws were huge, split like an insect's mandibles, capable of opening wide to reveal rows of jagged, razor-sharp teeth. When it vibrated its jaws, a piercing, shrill buzzing filled the air, slicing into Hagrid's ears like a war siren.
Its body was solid and muscular, yet retained the insect-like form of a mantis. Six powerful legs supported its frame, making it seem as though it were riding a monstrous horse.
Spiky protrusions ran along its spine—slick and gleaming, like a natural shield. The hardened structures looked strong enough to crush stone or steel in a single blow.
But the detail that froze Hagrid's heartbeat was the creature's left arm. It was shaped like an insect's forelimb—long, branching, ending in a blade-sharp tip. An eerie thread connected its wrist to its shoulder—twisting tightly to form a natural bowstring, shimmering deadly in the rain.
Its right arm, by contrast, resembled a human hand—yet with only four fingers. The fingers were long, flexible, and radiated brutal strength. The skin covering the hand was rough, knotted, almost like living armor—ready to seize and crush anything it touched.
Then, with shocking speed, the creature reached back. Hagrid could only watch in horror—the spikes along its back weren't just armor. They were weapons—detachable and deadly. The long claw he had just shattered had been one of them.
His horse galloped frantically forward, racing away—but the tension in the air didn't loosen.
It clung to him like a tightening noose.
The captain knew the next attack would come. He just didn't know when.
The creature wasn't merely hunting. It was playing with him—probing his defenses—like a predator savoring its prey's fear before the kill.
In a flash, an old memory surfaced in Hagrid's mind. An ancient tale of a legendary being—Centaurus—half-human, half-horse, a symbol of power and freedom.
But what stood before him now...
This wasn't freedom.
Nor was it noble power.
It was a grotesque distortion of that legend.
A creature that fused the speed of a horse with the savagery of a killing insect.
Not a hero—but a predator, designed for ruthless efficiency.
Hagrid gripped his sword tighter, fully realizing.
He wasn't just facing a wild beast.
He was facing something built to surpass even survival itself.
Just what is all this, Larry Magister?