CHAPTER FOUR: THE ATTACK

The night was thick with the scent of burnt wood and scorched earth, the air heavy with lingering heat. The five Case 53s moved in formation, spreading out as they advanced through the ruins of the latest village, their eyes scanning for movement.

Then Hollow felt it. A shift beneath the ground—something unnatural, something moving.

“Contact,” he murmured.

Aegir raised a hand, and the water pooled around them thickened, filling the cracks in the ground. The surface rippled as something unseen stirred beneath it.

Then the ground erupted.

A mass of writhing flesh tore free, shifting colors in the moonlight. Its form bulged and twisted, limbs sprouting where none had been, a gaping maw splitting open along its torso. Embers clung to its grotesque body, flaring brighter as waves of heat rolled off its flesh.

Caldera reacted first, throwing a hand forward and drawing the heat into himself. The glow beneath his skin brightened, veins pulsing like molten metal. The air cooled. But the creature didn’t falter—it simply adapted. The fire along its body dimmed, then reignited in patches, flickering unpredictably as if testing new configurations.

Aegir clenched his fists, and the water surged upward in a crashing wave, engulfing the creature’s lower half. Steam erupted where the two forces met, hissing violently. The thing twisted, its flesh reshaping mid-motion—feet became anchors, tendrils growing and lashing out of the water to latch onto the nearest surface.

Hollow saw the opening. He pressed his palm to the earth, sending out a seismic pulse. A tremor rippled beneath the thing, destabilizing the ground. For a fraction of a second, its stance wavered.

That was all they needed.

Lockstep moved. In the blink of an eye, he was at its side, driving a hand against its shifting mass. His power surged through it, locking the creature’s biology in place. No healing. No adaptation.

“Now!” he barked.

Spore acted next. His body dispersed into a drifting cloud, riding the updraft of steam, carried into the creature’s lungs as it inhaled. Fungal spores settled deep within its flesh, burrowing into muscle, feeding on tissue. A normal body would be overrun in seconds, nerves hijacked, organs devoured.

The creature shuddered violently.

For a moment, it almost looked like it was working. Its body convulsed, tendrils retracting, fire sputtering out. The water, the tremors, the infection—everything layered to pin it down, to force it into a corner.

Then it changed again.

Its form pulsed, twisting inward as if consuming itself. The flesh where Lockstep had frozen turned brittle, cracking apart—before a new layer surged outward, fresh and undamaged. The spores? Expelled in a single, violent exhalation, reduced to ash before they could take further hold.

Then came the blast.

A concussive wave erupted from its core, sending all five of them hurtling backward. Aegir hit the flooded ground first, skidding through the water. Caldera slammed into the remains of a collapsed building, stone shattering on impact. Hollow barely managed to twist mid-air, absorbing the brunt of his fall, while Lockstep tumbled, rolling to his feet almost instantly.

Spore reformed a few feet away, his body knitting back together, but even he looked shaken.

The creature straightened, its form stabilizing once more, its body shifting with terrifying ease. Unbothered. Unstoppable.

It had learned.

Lockstep spat blood and narrowed his eyes. “Round two, then.”