The creature rose to its feet. The soldier's body had by now turned into sludge, but from inside him a new mass was taking shape. First, thin legs formed—almost rotten, twisted into grotesquely humanoid shapes—beneath whose skin pulsed an orange glow that spread across much of the body. Then the same thing happened to the arms; the forearms split apart. Tearing through the bones, new ones formed, growing rapidly before the eyes of Hansen and Nikita, producing disgusting wet and violent sounds—flesh intertwining and snapping repeatedly—while black, skeletal shapes emerged, lined with horrifying grooves and ridges, soaked in bodily fluids and mucus.
At last, the whole body appeared to be a terrifying amalgam, crooked in posture, emitting short, harsh guttural sounds and occasionally spitting blood.
A few moments later, lifting its gaze upward, it roared. It sounded like a fork scraping down a chalkboard, slowly dragging its prongs against the surface, accompanied by horrific rattling breaths and sharp, shrill wails that seemed like intense screams of pain. All of it was accompanied by the frantic swelling and collapsing of its chest, which alternated with that same orange glow now spreading across most of the body.
"Holy shit!" Hansen, followed by Nikita, tried to escape, rushing down the staircase, moving frantically to get away from the Ijo as fast as possible.
However, due to intense stress and fear, the man's movements seemed disconnected from one another, turning into a jumble of frantic and sudden gestures that caused him to fall down the stairs, tumbling violently.
"Oltmann!" Nikita tried to run down to help his companion. However, a violent blow to his left side from the creature—its twisted, razor-sharp claws tearing into him—stopped him. The man was hurled against the wall, suffering a brutal impact and likely fracturing his shoulder, the cause of the sudden, painful crack that echoed through the stairwell.
Nikita, though trembling with pain, his face red and his eyes nearly watering, did not let out a single groan. He simply stared straight into the face of the demon, whose rotten and disjointed teeth almost seemed to grin, mocking the helpless soldier.
"Uom..." The creature turned again toward Hansen.
Terrified, the man forced himself to stand despite the pain. Yet he remained frozen for a few moments—though he did not want to. He wanted to run, scream for help, fight, win, survive. And yet he stood there, staring at the beast, which seemed to be the very cause of his paralysis. It was as if it were holding him in place, like a spider trapping its prey in its web, slowly drawing closer, step by step—just as the monster was doing now, descending one stair at a time, snarling and drooling reddish mucus from its mouth, producing what truly sounded like diabolical laughter.
Hansen could not look away from the monster, much like when one cannot take their eyes off a disgusting, unsettling insect for fear it might crawl closer without notice. The only difference was that the monster was approaching, and it seemed to relish the man's fear. It began dragging its sharp claws along the wall of the stairwell, creating sparks as if they were made of metal, producing a harsh, grating noise.
"Oltmann, what are you doing?! Run!"
Nikita tried to shout as loudly as he could.
Hansen heard only a faint ringing in his ears, the pounding of his heart—like a drum beaten violently, ready to explode—the cold sweat running across his body, and an intense wave of dizziness that brought nausea up to his throat, blocking it and preventing him from swallowing or vomiting. His eyes widened, frozen in terror, as he watched the creature release another roar, opening its mouth so wide that its cheeks split apart. Its teeth began to protrude outward from its mouth, moving almost like rigid tentacles.
Now the thing stood right before him.
Hansen found himself locked onto the intense red glow inside its throat, which emitted a horrible stench of rot, decomposed blood, and burned garbage, carried by a dark vapor that slowly enveloped the man's face. The throat was lined with thin blades rotating in circular motion along the entire wall of the larynx, drawing ever closer, illuminated by that blinding light mixed with an infinite, abyssal darkness.
"Sergeant Oltmann, move!"
Suddenly, a rain of bullets poured down onto the beast. The room erupted in flashes, lighting up intermittently from the gunfire of four soldiers at the top of the stairs, called in by Nikita. He was dragged away by them, but not before shouting once more for his companion to run.
Hansen dropped to the ground, trying to avoid the bullets, which—despite being numerous and fired in bursts—seemed not to strike the creature completely. The man hardly cared. He did not wait for Nikita's cries; he quickly got back to his feet and ran as far away as he could.
***
The alarm sounded.
The entire base—every corner of it—was bombarded by a loud siren with a deep tone, similar to a trombone, repeating every second with a duration of two and a half seconds. Victor and the others immediately became alarmed.
Moments later, a signal chimed from the loudspeakers mounted high on the walls. After that, a female voice began to speak, first in Italian and then in English. Besides the worn appearance of the devices, the acoustic system was also defective and heavily used, causing the words being spoken to sound distorted, accompanied by a slight echo and occasional repetitions between syllables:
General Emergency. Fortress under attack by three Zmij. Military personnel prepare to engage. Anyone not assigned to defense must immediately reach the safety bunkers.
However, people were already rushing out, almost pushing and crowding over one another.
Panic quickly spread throughout the entire base. In the cafeteria, some people fled rapidly, even climbing over tables when there was too little space to pass through. Others, shocked or terrified, remained motionless at first, trying to process what had just been announced. Others still—especially the younger ones—began to tremble, curl up into themselves, and even have hysterical breakdowns, locking themselves inside their rooms, instinctively hiding in dark and cramped places, or simply remaining helpless in the middle of the crowd, waiting for the inevitable.
The environment immediately became suffocating and chaotic. Victor and the others were almost dragged along by the intense and agitated crowd, pushed from one person to another as they tried to move forward and escape, crushed by the bodies around them, turning the place into a claustrophobic trap made of sighs, gasps, cries, sobs, and open displays of fear and terror.
"Where are the armors kept?!" David shouted, almost screaming to be heard over the roaring crowd that drowned out his voice.
"I don't know!" Raiko replied with the same intensity. "We have to find them immediately!"
"No kidding, genius!" Duncan shot back with biting sarcasm.
"But does anyone know where Toria is?!" Raiko added, almost completely ignoring Duncan.
"I'll go look for her!" Victor said suddenly, becoming more energetic as he pushed his way more quickly through the crowd.
"Have you lost your mind, bro?!" Duncan shouted. "You don't even have a gun!"
"We'll make it back alive, don't worry!"
Victor quickly left the cafeteria, running at full speed in a completely random direction, trying to search as much of the base as possible in hopes of finding the girl. He panted with every step, his heart pounding violently in his chest, his gaze fixed straight ahead while ignoring every warning from the others to turn back. At that moment, he was the only one moving against the current.
God... please let her still be alive, the boy thought, his eyes glossy with tears as he ran faster.
***
Toria was alone. She was in one of the many infirmary rooms of the Fortress. She was sitting on the bed, and for several minutes she had been fidgeting with her thumbs, clasping her hands and staring at them with tearful eyes, which made the little mascara she had applied run down her face. She sobbed softly, almost like a child.
After a moment, she stood up and walked toward the door of the room, which opened into a corridor that, at that moment, was completely deserted. There was literally no one there except her, and every step she took, though light, echoed loudly, as did her sobs and the sound of her sniffling as she tried to draw back the mucus running from her nose. At first, with her right arm she wiped her nose, clearing away the mucus, which looked less like mucus and more like watery fluid mixed with a gelatinous substance. Then, mistakenly, she wiped her tear-soaked eyes, smearing that gelatinous residue across her face, staining the glabella and the nasal septum, and slightly the right eyebrow as well.
"Disgusting..." she muttered in a low voice, struggling to speak because of the mucus and saliva that had built up in her mouth, typical after a long and intense bout of crying.
The girl headed toward the bathroom, originally intending to splash some water on herself, but now also to wash her face, feeling the unpleasant, sticky sensation on her skin. She began walking quickly, driven by nervousness and anxiety, both visible in her dull, almost lifeless gaze.
However, her movement was interrupted by the emergency alarm.
A moment later, a loud warning signal rang out.