Immediately after, the monster lunged at the other soldiers.
Hansen had done everything he could to stop the beast. Now, out of ammunition, out of ideas, and out of hope, watching his comrades being torn apart one by one, he realized there was nothing left he could do.
As the Ijo brutally slaughtered the last soldier, Hansen stood completely still, his eyes wide open, almost unable to move.
All he could hear was flesh being slowly chewed and violently ripped apart.
Then, the beast stopped.
Slowly, it turned toward Hansen, trembling—almost from adrenaline—its jaws opening as the blood of its ten victims dripped from its mouth. It growled in a horrifying way.
Hansen felt threatened. He wanted to run. His body wouldn't let him, even though every part of him screamed to escape.
The Ijo was already targeting him.
The creature advanced slowly, stepping over mangled corpses, crushing limbs and bones beneath its feet, wading through a thick pool of blood made from torn bodies. It roared as it moved, now only a few meters away.
It was only a matter of seconds before it attacked him too.
Hansen had no intention of surrendering. He wanted to run, sure—but what for?
What's the point? he thought. If I'm going to die… I'll die anyway.
Once again, he felt completely useless. He had no weapons left—only his hands and legs. This wasn't a fair fight. Not even close.
Hansen found himself with his back against the wall—literally. His lower back pressed against it, his torso slightly leaned forward, arms stretched out as if to guard himself or prepare for a desperate strike. His eyes were locked on the creature, which stood still, growling, waiting for his first move.
It was as if it was curious.
Even without eyes, the beast observed him—studying every movement, especially the smallest ones.
Then, total silence fell.
The only sound was their breathing, hot and heavy, mixing with the warmth of the blood spread across the ground.
Two hearts were beating.
One, far closer to death than the other… yet somehow stronger.
The Ijo roared at him violently, its voice shaking the very air.
Hansen didn't flinch.
He roared back.
Almost matching it.
Rage. Torment. Revenge. Fear. Frustration.
He was ready.
Even to die.
"Come on, you son of a bitch!"
The Ijo attacked.
From that moment on, a five-second countdown began.
Five seconds. The beast launched itself forward, shattering the floor beneath it and sending blood spraying everywhere.
Four seconds. The creature raised its right arm, claws fully extended, while opening its jaws, aiming straight for Hansen's head.
Three seconds. It had already crossed half the distance. Hansen stood waiting—fear and hatred burning inside him.
Two seconds. The monster was right in front of him. Hansen prepared to throw an uppercut at its grotesque face.
One second.
At the last possible moment, Hansen threw himself aside, collapsing to the ground just as he saw a grenade slam into the creature's bony armor.
The explosion blasted him several meters back, slamming him into a wall before he hit the ground. His side and arm were severely burned.
He was instantly dazed.
His hearing was gone. Completely gone. Not even the ringing in his ears was clear.
He heard nothing.
His vision blurred—only shadows remained, dark shapes twisting unnaturally, as if bending space itself, threatening to swallow him whole.
His other senses were failing too.
He couldn't feel anything. His body was numb—almost nonexistent. He couldn't smell. His nasal passages felt blocked, as if sealed shut by something solid.
Only one sensation remained.
A sour taste in his mouth. Like stomach acid.
As if it had soaked into his tongue.
His body was broken.
The impact had shattered his leg—bone protruding from the side, blood pouring out. His back was bruised, heavily and rapidly swelling. His ribs were fractured, making even breathing difficult—made worse by the smoke from the explosion.
Despite the pain, Hansen didn't scream.
He clenched his teeth, harder and harder, letting out muffled groans as nausea churned inside him. He could feel—and see—his flesh sizzling from the heat, pierced by shrapnel embedded in his skin, sinking deeper as it burned.
Then—
From the thick smoke, slowly dissipating like fog, a figure emerged.
A young soldier.
A Kariudo unit.
He couldn't have been older than twenty-four.
His cold, serious, deeply unsettled gaze would have intimidated anyone—even Hansen, under normal circumstances.
His sandy-blond curly hair fell over his forehead, almost covering his pale blue eyes. A carefully groomed mustache rested above his thin lips—not too short, not too long.
Oddly refined.
Too refined for a soldier.
"Sergent Oltmann!"
The young man rushed to him, lifting him up by supporting his neck with his arm.
Hansen barely understood what was happening.
Everything moved like shadows.
He wasn't aware that the Ijo—still alive—was already regenerating.
Its body, shattered by the explosion, began reconnecting itself. Flesh stitched back together with newly formed strands, accompanied by wet, unnatural sounds. Fluids and secretions oozed as the body reassembled—stronger than before.
Once again, the beast prepared to attack.
But this time, it faced nearly twice as many soldiers—fully armed, rifles aimed directly at it.
Its behavior grew unstable.
Violent.
Uncontrolled.
And yet—
It didn't attack.
The Ijo stopped itself.
Or at least… it seemed that way.
What the hell is it doing…? the curly-haired soldier thought.
The creature began to convulse—its screams shifting into something else. Not rage.
Pain.
Oppression.
Then—
It collapsed.
Its body liquefied completely, falling apart in a grotesque, horrifying display—as if it were dying a second time.
Flesh and bone peeled away and dropped to the ground, piece by piece.
Even its throat—once producing those horrific sounds—melted into the growing pool beneath it and vanished.
In seconds, nothing remained.
Only a final sound.
A distorted echo.
A dying "Uom."
Then—silence.
The mass of flesh lay there—warm, dense, wet, and horribly toxic.
Everyone stared in shock.
No one dared to speak.