McCoy still hadn't lowered his weapon when the foliage parted, and two men stepped out of the forest's darkness.
The first was Asian, his hair impeccably slicked back, streaked with gray, his eyes sharp as blades. His white lab coat—stained with dirt and what looked like dried blood—covered a faded Japanese military uniform. But what drew the most attention were the eight octopus tentacles slowly writhing on his back, thick and muscular, their suckers pulsing as if they had a life of their own.
He stopped a few paces from the group, studying each of them with a calculating gaze—until his dark eyes settled on McCoy.
A faint smile curled on his lips, as if he knew something none of them were ready to hear.
The second man was younger, red-haired, wearing a modified military uniform loaded with pockets and patches. He chewed vigorously on something, looking utterly unfazed by the situation. On his head, fox ears twitched, catching every sound around them, while a thick, bushy red tail swayed behind him—almost comical against the tension in the air.
"Relax, old man," the redhead said, swallowing whatever he'd been chewing. "We were just scoping things out."
McCoy didn't move, but Kauã saw his fingers tighten slightly around the rifle.
"Names. Now."
The tentacled man crossed his arms, and one of his appendages coiled around a nearby tree, testing its strength.
"Scientist Renjiro Takeda. Japan Self-Defense Forces. Research Division." His voice was smooth, but there was an icy edge to it. "And you're wasting precious time."
The redhead flashed a wide grin, revealing unnaturally sharp canines.
"Officer Cadet Alistair Whitlock. British Army. But you can call me The Fox." He flicked his own ear with a finger, as if it were some inside joke. "For obvious reasons."
The group fell silent, caught between fascination and terror.
McCoy slowly pivoted on his heels, dust clinging to his boots, and locked eyes with Alistair in a way that made one thing clear—this wasn't a discussion, it was an order.
"Don't call me 'old man.'" His voice rang firm, each word weighted like the trigger of a revolver. "I outrank you, even if our uniforms come from different countries."
A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by the distant roar of some beast in the forest. The other survivors exchanged nervous glances, but McCoy never looked away from Alistair—he knew that in this shattered world, hierarchy was the only thing keeping chaos from swallowing what little remained of them.
"If you want to stay," he continued, eyes fixed on both men,"You pull your weight. We're not lost civilians—we're soldiers. And soldiers hold the line, no matter the cost." The last words came out rough, heavy with years of battlefield experience and decisions that weighed more than the gear on his back.
The air grew thick as McCoy drilled the two newcomers with a razor-sharp glare. His weapon wasn't raised anymore, but his fingers stayed near the trigger. He didn't like unpredictable variables.
Alistair Whitlock, the fox-eared redhead, chewed more slowly now, sizing up the veteran with a wry smile.
Alright then, superior,"Alistair drawled. "Didn't know rank still meant anything in this hellhole."
McCoy ignored the taunt, but his voice turned rougher.
"Discipline always matters. And if you want to survive, you'll remember that."
His gaze then shifted to Renjiro Takeda, the tentacled man. The silence between them was thick, charged with challenge. Takeda didn't back down, but he didn't advance either. He merely tilted his head slightly, as if provisionally acknowledging McCoy's authority.
For now.
"We're moving to safer ground," McCoy announced, breaking the silence. "This is still their territory."
Then his eyes landed on Kauã.
The soldier took in the black wings, the razor-sharp claws, the instinctively defensive stance.
At least we've got someone who can actually be useful.
"What's your name, kid?"
Kauã hesitated for a second. Something in McCoy's gaze—calculating, penetrating—made his beastly instincts whisper: He's not your ally. He's a general. And generals use soldiers.
"You can call me Torphon, sir."
McCoy raised an eyebrow. He wasn't stupid; he caught the lie but also noted the respect in the young man's voice.
Clever. But not too clever.
"Alright then, Torphon," he said, gesturing toward the treetops. "Can you fly up and scout for a more open area? Something defensible."
Kauã felt the muscles in his back tense. It's a test.
But it was also an opportunity.
He spread his wings, feeling the damp forest wind rush through his feathers.
"Yes, sir."
Then, with a powerful thrust, he launched into the air, leaving the group behind.
The moment Kauã vanished into the sky, a heavy silence fell over the others. Eyes followed the dark silhouette until it disappeared into the canopy.
Envy.
It burned in the stares of many.
"At least one of us can get the hell out of this shit if they want," someone muttered in the back.
The grasshopper-man—a gaunt survivor with elongated limbs and membranous wings—pursed his lips but stayed quiet. He could technically fly too, but not like Kauã. His movements were clumsy, more like hops than true flight.
McCoy wasted no time.
"Military personnel, on me. Now."
The chosen ones gathered in a tight circle:
––––––
Travis Kane (Ex-Navy, Sadistic Gunslinger, Rattlesnake).
Renjiro Takeda (Japanese Research Division Scientist, Octopus).
Alistair Whitlock (British Army, Fox).
Jean Petit (French Police Officer, Security, Ibex).
Felipe Ferreira (Brazilian Army Reserve, Basic Combat, Armadillo).
McCoy crossed his arms.
"We need a plan. Opinions."
Travis was first, flashing that smile that never reached his eyes.
"We scout the forest. Find out what else is out there before they find us."
Everyone looked at him like he was insane.
"Suicide," Takeda replied flatly. "No intel, no tactical advantage. We'd be dead within hours."
Takeda then presented his idea:
"We established a fortified camp. Study our beastial traits. If we're to survive, we must understand what we've become."
Alistair shook his head, fox ears twitching.
"Sitting ducks make for good eating. If we camp, it's gotta be mobile. And no point studying powers if we're not secure first."
Jean Petit, the French cop, adjusted his holster.
"I can lead camp security. Felipe, you're with me. But we need a defensible perimeter."
Felipe gave a nod.
"Improvised weapons would help. Rocks, spears... anything. We won't have bullets forever."
McCoy's gaze swept across them all, calculating. Then he decided:
"Fixed camp for now. Here's the breakdown:"
1. Jean & Felipe – Perimeter security. Traps and watch rotation.
2. Alistair – Supplies. Water, food, and usable materials.
3. Travis – Limited scouting around camp. No wandering off.
4. Takeda – Beastial ability research and medical support (if possible).
5. McCoy – Command and order. Final decisions.
"Nobody operates alone. Nobody challenges orders. If something happens, you shout. And if any of you jeopardize this group..."
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
The biting wind at altitude whipped against Kauã's face as he ascended, his black wings beating powerfully against the thick, humid air. The treetops of Zarathûn were massive and sprawling. He balanced on a sturdier branch, feeling the rough bark beneath his claws.
His hawk-like eyes instantly adjusted, his vision expanding like a zoom lens.
To the left—a dense, dark forest.
To the right, about 500 meters away, the forest finally gave way.
A vast field stretched out, tall green grass swaying like an ocean under the wind. At its center stood a moss-covered triangular structure resembling a small stone pyramid, rising in solitary silence.
Not natural.
Someone built that.
Beside it, a narrow river with crystal-clear water glistened under the sunlight, its current moving lazily.
Kauã tilted his head, his sharp ears picking up distant sounds:
The rustling of leaves below—the group moving?
The murmur of flowing water.
And... something else.
A low, almost imperceptible growl coming from the depths of the dense forest to the left.
He wasn't sure if it was just another animal or something worse.
Better to leave than stay in the middle of a forest with unknown creatures lurking.
With one last glance, Kauã dove back toward the group, tucking his wings to gain speed.
He landed with a heavy thud, wings folding behind him.
McCoy immediately stepped forward, eyes narrowed.
"Well?"
"Open field, 500 meters out. There's an artificial triangular structure in the middle—made of stone. And a river." Kauã kept his tone neutral, but his eyes briefly met Takeda's. The tentacled man smirked subtly, his gaze lingering on Kauã's wings with quiet curiosity.
Alistair whistled.
"Artificial means possible resources—or natives." He glanced at the group. "Let's move. But quietly. And stay sharp."
Alistair took a step forward, lips curling into a smile that didn't reach his eyes—cold, sharp as the switchblade spinning between his fingers. He looked around, feigning exaggerated nostalgia.
"Ah, what a shame…" He sighed, theatrical, as if mourning the loss of a luxury resort. "I was starting to like it here. Could've built a nice little cottage—maybe some bone decorations, a garden of skulls…"
A dry chuckle escaped Travis' teeth, rippling through the group. His gaze swept over the other survivors, searching for who'd bite at the dark humor.
McCoy ignored the comment, processing the intel.
Kauã noticed Travis sidling up to him, that sadistic grin back in place.
"Torphon, huh? Good work, little bird." The tone was mocking, but there was interest there.
Kauã ignored him, though part of him itched to rip that smirk off his face with one swipe of his claws.
McCoy studied them all, then laid out the decision: "We relocate to the site Torphon found. But the plan stays the same."
His eyes locked onto Travis, then Takeda. "Nobody strays from their role. Understood?"
No one argued.
But Kauã caught the exchanged glances, the suppressed smirks. This fragile balance wouldn't last.
––––
The group advanced in tight formation, fifty-four survivors marching like soldiers through hostile territory.
At the front, McCoy carved a path with measured steps, his rifle swaying with each movement.
On the flanks, Travis and Alistair swept their gazes across the vegetation—one with restless fingers on his trigger, the other with fox ears twitching like radar dishes.
Bringing up the rear, Jean and Felipe stood vigilant, knives glinting in their hands, pistols holstered but ready. At the center, Takeda moved with his tentacles slightly bristled.
The air clung to Kauã's skin like a damp blanket as he glided above the group, his black wings cutting through the wind with steady beats. Below, the forest shifted in dark-green waves, gnarled trunks twisting like old bones in a web of shadows. The scent of wet earth and rotting leaves rose to meet him.
Kauã banked lower.
No obstacles. No signs of creatures.
The forest was too quiet.
—–––
And then, there it was:
Shrouded in moss and vines, the triangular structure looked like it had grown from the earth centuries ago. Its gaping entrance swallowed the light, leaving only darkness inside.
McCoy raised a fist, signaling a halt.
"Takeda, with me. Torphon, maintain aerial watch." His voice was a sharp crack in the oppressive silence.
Kauã landed softly atop the pyramid, claws finding purchase on the cold stone. From above, he could see:
The crystal-clear river, its thick waters moving without a sound.
The central hall, its floor etched with faintly glowing runes that pulsed weakly when touched by light.
Inside, McCoy and Takeda inspected the chambers:
Four identical rooms, walls smooth as if polished by centuries of wind.
The circular hall, where symbols on the floor formed strange, unsettling patterns.
Three side chambers, their doors jammed shut, deep claw marks gouged into the frames.
Takeda pressed a hand against the wall.
"Not natural stone…" His tentacles coiled around a carved groove. "Some kind of engineered material. Denser than granite."
McCoy rubbed dust between his fingers—gritty, silver-tinged.
"This was built by something not human. And it was abandoned."
—–––
The sun had begun its descent when Kauã felt the first chill.
He crouched atop the pyramid, claws dug into the cold stone, eyes locked on the river. The still water mirrored the sky like glass—until, without warning, the surface twisted.
A whirlpool formed, slow and hypnotic, dragging dead leaves into its depths.
Then, the eyes appeared.
Two glowing points, amber and ravenous, breaking the surface.
Not a fish.
A beaver—but like none that had ever walked the Earth.
The size of a horse, its body was a mass of corded muscle beneath waterlogged fur. Its teeth, long as knives, gleamed with an eerie blue luminescence. Hind legs ended in curved talons, tearing into the riverbank with brutal strength.
And it was coming straight for the group.
Kauã didn't think.
His body moved before his mind could follow.
Black wings snapped open with a dry crack, and he screamed—a piercing, shrieking alarm that echoed across the field.
Below, the group froze.Alistair whirled around so fast his fox ears stood on end.
Travis let out a low chuckle, fingers already dancing over his holster.
Jean and Felipe shoved the civilians back, blades gleaming.
McCoy and Takeda emerged from the pyramid like shadows, weapons drawn.
"Everyone inside! NOW!" McCoy's voice cut through the air like a blade.
No one needed telling twice. Civilians scrambled in panic, stumbling over each other to reach the structure's safety.
Felipe and Jean herded the human flock while Takeda held his ground, tentacles writhing like restless serpents.
McCoy turned to Kauã, Travis, and Alistair.
"We handle this. Torphon—distract it. Travis, left flank. Alistair, you've got the sharpest senses—find a weak point."
The giant beaver heaved a wet, guttural gasp before hauling itself from the river and charging.
Its massive body tore through underbrush like paper, front claws gouging the earth with enough force to rip up chunks of soil.
Kauã struck first.
He dove like a missile from above, front claws extended. The beast snarled as talons scraped its back—but the hide was thick as cured leather.
Damn it.
Travis didn't hesitate."Eat this, you ugly rat!"
His gunshots cracked the air—three precise rounds punching the creature's flank. Black blood gushed, but the beaver didn't stop.
Alistair sniffed the wind, eyes darting. "Eyes! And the throat—lighter patch there!"
McCoy was already moving, rifle raised.
"Torphon, now!"
Kauã understood.
With a powerful wingbeat, he slammed into the beaver's head, claws digging around its eyes. The creature howled, rearing up on hind legs—and exposing its throat.
McCoy fired.
The first shot tore through the jugular.
The second pierced the roof of its mouth.
The beaver fell like a collapsing building, the impact shaking the ground.
For a moment, no one moved.
The stench of hot blood and rust filled the air.
Kauã landed heavily, wings trembling with adrenaline.
Travis let out a low whistle as he examined the carcass.
"At least we've got dinner now."
McCoy didn't smile.
Kauã stood motionless before the giant beaver's corpse, his claws still dripping with blood. The scent of fresh blood and something else—chemical, metallic—filled his nostrils. His predator's eyes traced the creature's twisted form: the knotted muscles, the gleaming teeth.
If there are more of these... how do we survive? Firearms won't last forever.
His gaze shifted to the pyramid, where frightened civilians huddled behind Jean and Felipe. Ordinary people. Some still trembling, others weeping. Some hadn't even discovered their own beastly abilities yet.
McCoy clearly didn't want to risk them.
Then why let me fight?
The answer hit like a gut punch: Because I'm not human enough anymore for him to protect.
But McCoy needed to understand—by shielding people too much, he made them fragile. Without facing hardship themselves, they'd never learn to survive. The moment they encountered something truly brutal, inescapable, they'd simply perish.
Either they adapted—fought, evolved, became as dangerous as the creatures—or they were just livestock fattened for slaughter.
Protection is necessary. Overprotection... is a death sentence.
As Kauã wrestled with these thoughts, McCoy approached the carcass, stepping through the black blood already seeping into the river.
"Takeda. Is this meat edible?"
The octopus-man tilted his head, one tentacle extending to probe the creature's flank. The flesh twitched under his touch, as if still alive.
"If it's biologically similar to Earth's beavers... yes. But I recommend testing first."
Travis stepped forward, that hyena grin stretching his lips.
"I'll eat it. Chewed through way worse." He nudged the carcass with his boot. "And if it gives me the shits, well—now we know."
McCoy didn't look convinced, but hunger was a reality. His eyes snapped to Kauã, the order sharp:
"Torphon. Drag this thing near the pyramid."
Kauã hesitated a second—
Then obeyed.
His muscles flexed, wings flaring for balance as his claws sank into the beast's hide. The weight was absurd, but his new strength answered effortlessly.
Under the twilight's glow, the group gathered around a makeshift campfire. Travis, as promised, was the first to taste.
He bit into a piece of roasted meat, grease dripping down his chin. Chewed slowly.
Everyone watched, holding their breath.
"Tastes like... boar. And bitter," he swallowed. "But not bad."
Two hours later, when Travis hadn't thrown up or dropped dead, McCoy gave the all-clear. The group helped themselves, eating in silence. The meat was tough, bitter, but it filled the void.
––––
The last sliver of sunlight vanished behind the trees, swallowed by the creeping darkness like a heavy veil. The howls in the forest now rose in a shrill chorus, like knives tearing through the silence.
Inside the pyramid, the group settled in as best they could. Some were already asleep, exhausted. Others huddled in tight clusters, whispering, eyes wide with fear.
Kauã piled green leaves in a secluded corner, far from the fire still crackling at the center of the hall. The moss on the wall was cold against his back as he sat down, wings folded around him like a cloak.
Then Julia approached.
She moved with the awkward grace of someone still unaccustomed to eight legs—three on each side of her torso, hairy and jointed, tapping lightly against the ground like restless fingers. Her face was still human, but her eyes... Her eyes were pure gratitude.
"Thank you for your help today. Without you, more of us would've died."
Kauã lifted his head, meeting her gaze.
"Don't mention it. I couldn't just fly off and leave everyone behind. That would've been... wrong."
The word rang hollow in his own ears. Wrong? Or just stupid? In this place, kindness was a deadly luxury.
Julia extended her hand—the right one, still human, though her nails were darkening into tiny claws.
"Julia Angeles."
Kauã hesitated for a second before shaking it.
"Torphon."
She noticed the pause. A fake name, she thought. But it didn't matter. Everyone here had secrets.
Her eyes lingered on Kauã's makeshift "nest," then on the shadows stretching across the pyramid's corners.
"Can I sleep by you tonight? No ulterior motives, just... to feel safer."
Kauã studied her face. Julia was pretty—tangled brown hair, almond eyes, a slender frame despite the extra legs. But he felt no desire. Just the heavy weariness of a day drenched in blood and the certainty that the night would be worse.
"Take the side by the wall. At dawn, I leave to keep watch." A cold reply. Practical.
Julia blinked, surprised, but nodded.
"Thank you."
She curled up on her side while her spider legs folded around her body like a cocoon.
Kauã remained seated, listening: Julia's shaky breaths. The muffled snores of the others. The distant sound of something moving outside. Slowly, his eyes drifted shut until sleep took him.
************************************************
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[ SYSTEM MESSAGE ]
"Love isn't explained—it's planted. And when you least expect it, it blooms even where there was no soil."
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