Prologue: We live or We die30Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuLJFvPhrPY
30Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4s0iYyRAdK
>> [UCS SYSTEM LOG - 12.04.2010] 30Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2NslapNeKS
>> ACCESS LEVEL: RED 30Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJxeIz8Fy8B
>> SUBJECT-026: VESTIGE ACTIVITY SPIKE 30Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMCkcZV7bks
>> RESPONSE DEPLOYED: 4 UNITS (LIVE CAPTURE)30Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4omuBBqXtO
30Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsIiHzJnyMW
“GO! GO! GO!” Commander Riku Amasaki’s voice cracked over the comms, echoing down the blood‑slick hallway.
[CONTROL ROOM – UCS HQ]30Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2PLQlxqpdf
Takashi Yamamoto leaned forward, eyes burning beneath the monitor’s glow. He keyed his mic, low but steel‑hard:
“Riku, contain it at all costs.”
Private Nakamura’s boot slipped in a puddle of dark fluid—he glanced down and froze. It wasn’t water.
Ahead, their target stood in the doorway: Yutaka Sakamoto, the quiet neighbor who’d tipped them off. His eyes gleamed with something colder than fear. A slow, crooked smile spread across his face.
Riku signaled left. Sergeant Miyazaki kicked the door open, shotgun raised. But Sakamoto didn’t wait. In a single, impossible motion, he lunged—black veins snaking beneath pale skin—grabbing Miyazaki by the throat.
Miyazaki choked, eyes bulging, as bone‑crunching force snapped his neck. The shotgun clattered to the floor.
“Move up!” Riku snarled, firing three rounds into Sakamoto’s chest. The bullets tore through flesh but barely slowed him. Each impact left jagged holes that oozed inky goo.
Nakamura and Lieutenant Sato charged, rifles blazing. Sakamoto arced backward, tendrils lashing out like razor wire. One coil wrapped around Nakamura’s leg, tearing muscle from bone. Nakamura screamed—a wet, ragged sound—before he was yanked sideways, limbs flailing.
Sato’s last grenade spun across the floor. He dove for it, pinning it against the wall and shouting, “GET BACK!” The blast swallowed them both, a thunderous crack that rattled the windows.
Riku staggered forward, breath scorching his lungs. Blood pelted his armor as the Vestige inside Sakamoto emerged fully: a writhing mass of shadow and teeth, each movement leaving a smudge of gore on the walls.
He raised his pistol, hand trembling. But something in Sakamoto’s twisted grin froze him—eyes still human, still mocking.
“You came to play,” Sakamoto rasped, voice thick with venom. “Then let’s play… forever.”
With terrifying speed, Sakamoto’s limb lashed out, impaling Riku through the shoulder. Metal screamed as the blade tore through armor and flesh. Riku dropped to one knee, arm slipping to the floor, slick with blood.
He tried to speak, but the world tilted. His vision blurred on three burning shapes: Miyazaki’s broken body, Sato’s smoking corpse, Nakamura’s torn remains—an album of red carnage.
A final tendril whipped around Riku’s throat, crushing the last of his strength. His knees hit the ground. He tasted iron, heard the faint hum of his comms dying.
[CONTROL ROOM – UCS HQ]30Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL2eOA3FZVq
The last frame flickered into static. Yamamoto’s fist slammed the console so hard the glass rattled. He rose, voice cold fury:
“Shut it down!”30Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡG8IgVK2cXj
“This is not over. Get to work.”
Monitors went dark. The live feed ended. Silence reigned—broken only by the hum of machines at UCS headquarters, gearing up for the war ahead.
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