General Daka Halveth stood amid the rubble where a city block had once thrived. Flames crawled through the broken frames of buildings. Black smoke clawed into the sky, thick enough to stain the clouds. Windows had melted into warped glass. Concrete walls leaned against each other like drunken giants, ready to collapse.

  Somewhere beneath the ruin, a baby cried—a raw, desperate sound that cut through the crackle of fire and distant gunfire. Thin. Alive.

  Daka’s jaw tightened.

  TCF soldiers moved through the wreckage, pulling survivors from collapsed storefronts and overturned vehicles. A medic shouted for bandages. Another voice called for a stretcher.

  They had secured the sector.

  It didn’t feel like victory.

  A burned-out transport tank smoldered nearby; its turret twisted sideways like a broken arm. Daka rested a hand against the warm metal, feeling its heat through the armor.

  The capital skyline loomed in the distance—half of it swallowed by smoke.

  He had believed in this city. Believed in its order. Its pride. Believed the men in marble offices would stand when it mattered.

  But when the creatures tore out of Dread Mar… when the streets ran red… they vanished.

  Helicopters lifted off the government tower. Convoys raced toward the eastern cliffs. War bunkers sealed their gates.

  He remembered the radio most clearly—how it went silent.

  He had asked for reinforcements. Then demanded them. Then begged.

  Static answered him.

  Only the local police stayed. And the TCF units under his command.

  And they had paid for it.

  “General.”

  The voice pulled him back.

  A sergeant approached, soot smeared across his face, uniform torn at the sleeve. His eyes looked older than they had yesterday.

  Daka turned slowly. “Report.”

  “We’ve secured the district, sir,” the sergeant said, swallowing. “But casualties are heavy—about seventy percent.”

  The words hung between them.

  Daka’s gaze drifted across the street where medics worked beside a line of bodies.

  “How many were killed by the creatures?”

  The sergeant hesitated. “That’s… part of the problem, sir.”

  Daka’s eyes locked on him. “Meaning?”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Nearly a third of the losses came after infection. They changed… during the fight.”

  For a moment, the general said nothing.

  Across the street, a soldier covered a body with a torn tarp. Daka turned toward the burning skyline again.

  The SGV. Now he understood why Kai had been so wary. It didn’t just infect the weak—it reached the soldiers fighting to protect the city.

  Had he been wrong to reject Kai’s chips?

  He slammed his fist against the side of the armored vehicle. The dent rang down the empty street.

  “All because those bastards wanted to save their own skins,” he muttered.

  The sergeant looked away, silent.

  “How many civilians?” Daka asked.

  “Roughly two thousand rescued so far. We lost contact with several evacuation teams when the western blocks collapsed.”

  Daka nodded once.

  “Then save the rest while we still can.” His voice hardened. “Prepare evacuation. We’re leaving the capital.”

  “Yes, sir,” the sergeant replied, straightening.

  Orders rippled outward. Soldiers moved survivors toward transport trucks. Children. Elderly. People clutching whatever they could carry.

  Daka’s wrist communicator vibrated.

  Te-dot-te-te.

  He tapped it. Static hissed first—wind, engine noise, distant shouting. Then Kai’s calm, measured voice cut through.

  “Hello, General.”

  Daka snorted softly. “No time for greetings. I need transport—four thousand people, civilians included. Can you help, or not?”

  A pause.

  “Some units are moving out from Industrial Sector Three with the final supply convoy,” Kai replied. “Northern edge of the capital. Departure in two hours.”

  Daka looked north. Smoke drifted across the skyline like a storm front.

  “That route’s crawling with monsters.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “With civilians, we’ll move slow,” Daka said. “Main roads are suicide. We’ll cut through the west sector.”

  Kai exhaled quietly through the line. “I’ll send men to hold the northern corridor. Four hours, maximum.”

  “That’s enough.”

  Daka watched soldiers shepherd the civilians. He caught the exhausted, frightened eyes of those who’d lived through the horror. He clenched his jaw. “I’ll get them there.”

  Silence hummed between the two men. Then Kai spoke again.

  “You better make it, old man. I’ve got soldiers here who could use a real commander.”

  Despite the smoke and exhaustion, a small grin tugged at the corner of Daka’s mouth.

  “I’ll hold you to that drink.”

  “Earn it first.”

  The line went dead. Daka lowered his wrist. Engines roared to life. Trucks rolled through the ruined streets. Behind them, the capital burned.

  And the exodus began.

  Inside the lab office, the air smelled faintly of heated circuits and stale coffee. Ray sat across from Kai, a sheet of printed data hanging loose in his hand, creased where his fingers tightened. Numbers marched across the page—casualty projections, infrastructure collapse, population displacement. None needed speaking aloud.

  Kai’s eyes stayed on the electronic map, red markers pulsing across the country like a rash spreading under skin.

  “The capital’s… as good as gone,” Ray said.

  “I know,” Kai replied, voice calm, quiet. “We lost it earlier than expected.”

  “The monsters weren’t even strong,” Ray said. “Not yet. But they’re learning.”

  Kai tapped the map. Capital. A single red dot glowed in the valley. Outside the city, scattered signals—unknown movement signatures, broken surveillance pings, collapsing civilian routes—flashed across the screen.

  Ray exhaled slowly. “We’ll be exposed in a week.”

  “Maybe worse,” Kai said. “If we’re unlucky.”

  Neither needed to explain.

  Incoming reports cycled across the monitors—highway blockages, refugee clusters, dead communication zones spreading outward like cracks in glass. Kai leaned back slightly.

  “This was only the thunder,” he said.

  Kai’s SW buzzed. Sharp. Piercing.

  He tapped it. Static burst first, then Linda’s voice, breathless and tight:

  “Kai… we’ll arrive within the hour. The capital… the cities along the highway—chaos. Total chaos.”

  Gunfire crackled faintly through the transmission before the signal cut.

  Kai closed his eyes. For a moment, the weight of hundreds of thousands of lives pressed into the small room. Government failure. Buffer gone. Ego and selfishness had squandered time, and now it was too late.

  Ray watched him carefully. Neither spoke for several seconds.

  Outside, a welding torch flared in the distance. Workers continued building.

  Kai’s gaze settled on the glowing dot marking the town.

  Bram. A farming valley. One road in. One road out. A place he had staked everything on.

  For the first time since reports began, a quiet thought surfaced:

  Could this small town survive what was coming?