9092
Although life on Earth remained as bustling as ever, the gloomy aura hanging over the people said everything. The anxiety that weighed on them was overwhelming, heavy enough to crush the spirit of anyone who breathed it in.
It had been years since the last monster attack, but everyone knew what the silence meant. Judging by the old patterns, the next one would strike here—this very city. And according to every prediction, it would come within a month… or sooner.
The citizens moved like ghosts. Faces pale, eyes hollow, their every step slow and mechanical. It was as if the entire city had already accepted its death sentence. Who could blame them? After all, they were all going to die. Every border leading to the neighboring villages had been sealed off "to minimize casualties." In truth, it only meant they were locked inside a tomb with no hope of escape.
Still, people went about their lives, clinging to routine as though it could ward off despair. The markets opened, children played without laughter, and lights still blinked through the night—but the joy was gone. What lingered instead was resignation.
In a narrow street, away from the noise, a boy sighed.
"Sigh… Dad, why did you bring me here? To a city that's about to die?"
"Shhhh!" the man beside him hissed sharply, glancing around as though the shadows themselves were listening. "I modified your blood cells with rare, top-notch materials—used the last of my strength to do it. So you'll do exactly what I say. Understood?"
"Geez, Dad," the boy muttered, kicking a loose stone. "You're talking like you're about to die, when you still have some life left in those old bones."
"Boy, don't try me."
The man's voice was calm, yet the flick of his finger sent a pulse through the air strong enough to crack the ground beneath them. If anyone had seen them, they would have been speechless. The man was no ordinary scientist—he was one of the few minds responsible for genetic mutation, the very process that had once turned humanity from prey into survivors. And the boy beside him was his only son.
But why were they here, in a doomed city everyone else was trying to forget?
The answer arrived without words.
The wind shifted. The earth itself trembled beneath their feet. An icy chill swept through the streets, and in an instant, all noise died. The city lights dimmed, the air grew thick, and an invisible pressure rolled through every alley.
People froze. Conversations stopped mid-sentence. A dread that no one could describe seized every heart. Then came the sound—slow, heavy footsteps echoing against the silence.
From the edge of the main square, it appeared.
A tall, lizard-like figure walked on two legs, its scales gleaming like polished stone. Each step it took released waves of suffocating killing intent, spreading through the air like a plague. The creature's eyes burned a deep crimson, glowing with cruel intelligence. Its mouth curved upward—not quite a snarl, not quite a smile—something worse.
Someone screamed. Then another. The cries spread until the entire city was a storm of panic. Doors slammed, windows shattered, lights flickered violently as if the city itself was rejecting what had come.
The boy stared in shock, his heart pounding like thunder. "D-Dad… what is that thing?"
The old man didn't answer right away. His gaze was fixed on the creature, unreadable, cold. Finally, he whispered, "That… is the beginning."
And as the monster stood beneath the blood-red sky, smiling at the trembling city, everyone knew—
the pattern had returned.
The waiting was over.