Ade moved like a squirrel, deftly weaving through the dense, suffocating canopy. High above, the sunlight failed to pierce the thick layers of foliage, leaving the forest floor in a state of perpetual, chilly gloom. The damp earth radiated a cold mist, dropping the temperature to a biting 10°C.

  In the heavy silence, the only sound was the rhythmic rustle of Ade’s footsteps.

  "Nature has completely reclaimed this place," she whispered to Sam.

  "Based on the documents we scanned," the AI replied, "the eastern sector of Shield Island has recorded numerous incursions by 'demons' emerging from the Mist."

  "This place is far from the western coast of the Americas. Do they swim across the ocean?" Ade mused. "The Pigs call them demons, but they're clearly S-Virus mutations."

  "The descriptions match," Sam confirmed, projecting an image directly into Ade's mind. "Upper body of a spider, lower body of a snake. Length: 3 meters. Standing height: 2 meters."

  Ade’s expression darkened. "S-Virus variants. Can they really live for a thousand years?"

  "Unlikely. No biological organism lives that long without assistance. I suspect they have found a way to breed, though there is no recorded data."

  "Are you sure nothing lives for a thousand years?" Ade countered.

  "Ah, apologies. I forgot AnD’s 'Mythos' project. Those were lab-grown hybrids, not natural occurrences. Theoretically, they could endure, but I have no records of their survival," Sam admitted.

  "Or maybe they're just waiting... on the other side of the Mist," Ade replied, a spark of grim curiosity in her eyes.

  Suddenly, she froze. From the shadows ahead came a wet, sliding sound—something heavy dragging itself over the rotting leaves.

  "To the right, 500 meters. Sound profile: Serpentine. Estimated size: Massive..."

  "Or one of the demons," Ade whispered, moving cautiously.

  "It’s detected us. Its speed is increasing," Sam warned. Ade scanned the area for a tactical advantage.

  "There!"

  Fifty meters to her right was a narrow rock crevice. Ade bolted for it. The sounds behind her grew into bone-chilling hisses and screeches. She slid into the crevice—a perfect defensive chokepoint just deep enough for one person. She leveled her AKV at the opening, chambered a round, and held her breath.

  A minute passed. A massive black shape blurred past the opening, shrieking as it lunged toward a different target.

  "It’s not after us!" Ade closed her eyes, focusing her hearing.

  Seconds later, the forest erupted. Gunfire shattered the silence, followed by the guttural roars of Pig-men and the frantic screams of the dying. Ade remained still, her ears acting as a sonar, witnessing the invisible slaughter.

  When the noise subsided, Ade emerged and moved toward the site of the skirmish.

  She found a clearing of trampled grass and shredded bodies. Four Barbat soldiers had been torn into unrecognisable pieces. Nearby, the carcass of a nightmare lay draped over a rock, riddled with bullet holes and leaking viscous black blood.

  The monster had the upper torso of a spider with six muscular human arms, and a lower body of a black-scaled serpent. Its front legs were as sharp and hard as steel blades. It had taken five armed Pig-men to take down just one.

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  At the base of the rock, a single soldier was still twitching. His throat had been slashed open; he was huffing wet, bloody breaths. As Ade approached, the dying Pig-man tried to lift his machine gun, but his strength failed him.

  Ade kicked the weapon away and looked down with cold contempt. She ignored the dying soldier and turned to the monster.

  Using a discarded combat knife, she began the grisly task of harvesting. She carved the reinforced chitinous plate from the creature's chest to make a makeshift breastplate and severed its razor-sharp front legs to serve as twin swords.

  As she finished, a low growl made her stop. She turned to see the dying soldier—but he was no longer dying.

  Ade’s heart skipped a beat. The soldier's eyes had turned a milky, opaque white. Thick blue veins pulsed beneath his skin, which had turned the pallid grey of a drowned corpse. A foul, frothy white discharge leaked from his snout.

  "He’s... he's turning!" Ade gasped.

  The Pig-man sat up with a jerk, his head snapping toward her. He opened his mouth, emitting a hollow, meaningless groan. Without hesitation, Ade lunged. She drove one of the harvested spider-blades straight through his forehead. The sharp chitin slid through his skull like a hot knife through butter.

  He slumped back, motionless. Ade wiped the gore from the blade onto his uniform, her face grim.

  "This is new," she muttered. "The mutation is evolving."

  She filled a canteen with the thick, black ichor from the monster's mouth.

  "Why are you taking that, Mistress?" Sam asked.

  "There will be a use for this," she said cryptically.

  After looting the bodies for rations, water, and grenades, Ade pressed deeper into the jungle. "The Pigs' food is disgusting," she grimaced, swallowing a dry military biscuit. Her hatred for the species made even their food taste like ash.

  Eventually, they reached a mountain—or what appeared to be one. It was actually a skyscraper, buried under a millennium of earth, roots, and stone.

  "This is it," Sam confirmed. "The AnD signal is originating from inside."

  Ade found a vertical shaft—an old elevator way. Huge vines snaked down into the abyss. "The research center is 200 meters down."

  Ade began the descent. As she climbed down the vines, the air grew frigid, and the light vanished. Sam adjusted her visual cortex, allowing her to see in the pitch black.

  At the bottom, she navigated a long corridor choked with roots until she reached a massive blast door. Using her harvested twin blades, she hacked through the foliage. Finding the control panel dead, she resorted to a more direct method: she rigged three Pig-men grenades to the seal.

  BOOM!

  The floor shook. When the dust cleared, the door was warped and cracked—just enough for her to squeeze through.

  Beyond the door lay a space the size of a football stadium. A water-filled canal cut through the center, where two ancient submarines sat like sleeping whales. Thousands of large, container-like metal vats were lined up in perfect rows.

  Ade looked up at a glass-walled command center overlooking the floor. "The signal is up there!"

  She found a maintenance room and threw the master breaker.

  Instantly, the facility roared to life. Floodlights hissed on, and ventilation fans began to scream.

  "Extraterrestrial material technology is incredible," Ade remarked, looking at the pristine equipment. "I wonder if that civilization still exists."

  Suddenly, the lights flickered. A voice boomed over the intercom: "System rebooting. Resuming preservation cycle in 5 seconds."

  "Wait—" Ade froze.

  The lights cut out and slammed back on. "Reboot complete. Beginning preservative fluid exchange for storage vats!"

  The pipes connected to the thousands of vats began to vibrate.

  "Warning! Warning! Supplemental fluid depleted. Please check reservoir."

  "What’s in those vats?" Ade asked, her voice trembling.

  "I don't know. Get to the control room and download the data," Sam urged.

  Ade bolted for the stairs as the facility's alarms wailed.

  Thump... THUMP!

  The sound of metal being struck from the inside echoed through the hall. Ade’s ears rang with the rhythmic pounding.

  "Something is alive in there!" she hissed.

  She burst into the control room. A console turned from red to green. "Welcome back to AnD Hawaii Operations. How can I help?"

  "Download the most recent logs!" Sam commanded.

  "Confirmed. Initializing download. Estimated time: 30 minutes."

  "Thirty minutes?!" Ade screamed, looking through the glass.

  Below, the metal vats were bulging. With a deafening tear, a sheet of metal flew off one container. Then another. And another.

  Graooo... GRAOOO!

  From the darkness of the vats, thousands of figures spilled out. They had the shapes of humans, but they moved with a jerky, unnatural hunger. They were the undead—preserved for a thousand years.

  They all stopped, simultaneously turning their heads upward toward the command center, drawn by the sound of the announcement.