CHAPTER THIRTY: THE STALKERS STRIKE FIRST

New Order Outpost - Midnight

The watchtower loomed over the outpost, its torches flickering against the cold wind. A guard, Jerry , scanned the darkness beyond the perimeter. His fingers gripped his rifle tightly, unease settling in his gut.

"Something doesn't feel right," he muttered to himself.

From the treeline, a faint movement caught his eye. He raised his rifle. "Identify yourself!" he barked.

No response. Just silence. Then—

A single arrow whistled through the air and lodged itself into Jerry's throat. He gurgled, stumbling backward, his weapon slipping from his grasp. The alarm bell clanged loudly as he collapsed.

BOOM!

An explosion erupted at the outpost's eastern gate, sending metal fragments flying. The ground trembled as a gang of figures clad in scavenged armor stormed through the smoke. The Stalkers had arrived.

Jane jolted awake to the sound of gunfire. Grabbing her pistol, she sprinted to the command post where Jace and Kunle were already suiting up.

"We're under attack!" a scout yelled, barging into the tent. "They're coming in from the east!"

Jace clenched his fists. "Get everyone to defensive positions. We hold this ground."

The three rushed outside as the Stalkers swarmed the outpost, their war cries filling the air. New Order soldiers fired from the barricades, mowing down the first wave, but the Stalkers didn't falter.

Jane's sister, Amaka, fought beside her, unloading her shotgun into an oncoming brute. "We're outnumbered!" she shouted.

"Then we make every shot count," Jane gritted out, stabbing a charging Stalker in the gut and kicking him away.

Suddenly, a monstrous figure appeared—taller, stronger than the others. His face was painted with streaks of blood, his body covered in crude armor. He wielded a machete the size of a forearm and swung it viciously, cleaving through a defender.

Jane's eyes widened. "That's one of their leaders!"

Jace engaged the brute, dodging a swing that could've split him in two. He fired twice, but the bullets barely slowed the beast. The Stalker grinned and lunged again, knocking Jace into the dirt.

Before the machete could fall, Amaka leaped in, driving her blade into the brute's side. He roared in pain, grabbing her by the neck and lifting her off the ground.

"NO!" Jane screamed, raising her gun.

The brute grinned, squeezing tighter. Amaka gasped for air, her legs kicking helplessly.

BANG!

A single shot rang out. Jane's bullet struck the brute's forehead, and he dropped lifelessly to the ground—along with Amara's limp body.

Jane fell to her knees, cradling her best friend. "No, no, no…" she whispered, shaking. Amaka's lifeless eyes stared back.

The Stalkers, seeing their leader fall, began retreating. But before they disappeared into the night, a lone figure stepped forward, tossing a bloodstained cloth toward the New Order soldiers.

On it, scrawled in red, were three words: "Submit or Perish."

Jace clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "They think they can break us?"

Kunle picked up the cloth and spat on it. "Then they don't know who they're messing with."

Jane wiped her tears, rage burning in her eyes. "We end them."

The wind carried the echoes of the battle into the distance as the New Order mourned their fallen. But one thing was certain—

War had begun.