That night, the city stopped breathing.
At the very center of the city—where roads crossed like veins—the monsters gathered. Dozens of them. Tall, twisted, unnatural shapes standing shoulder to shoulder in a perfect circle, their bodies still, their eyes hollow.
They weren't attacking.
They weren't destroying.
They were waiting.
From every direction, military tanks rolled in. Heavy wheels crushed the roads beneath them. Armored vehicles blocked every street. Soldiers took positions, guns raised, fingers trembling on triggers.
It looked like war had finally arrived inside the city.
"Fire!" a commander shouted.
The night exploded with sound.
Tank cannons roared. Bullets rained like metal storms. Explosions lit the sky in orange and white. Smoke swallowed the streets.
But when the dust cleared—
The monsters were still standing.
Not one of them moved.
Not one of them fell.
The soldiers froze in disbelief.
Then something far worse happened.
The monsters slowly lifted their heads—and began to chant.
The sound was not a language.
It was not words.
It was vibration.
A deep, humming resonance that cut straight through flesh and bone, slipping into ears, skulls, thoughts. The air itself trembled. Windows cracked. Streetlights flickered.
People screamed.
Soldiers dropped their weapons, covering their ears as blood trickled from noses and eyes.
The chant grew louder.
Stronger.
Like the city itself was crying.
Henry shot awake in his bed.
His heart pounded violently as the sound slammed into him. It felt like needles drilling into his ears, straight into his brain.
"What the—"
A loud thud echoed from the staircase.
Henry bolted out of his room, pressing his hands to his ears as he ran.
"Neon!"
At the bottom of the stairs, Neon lay collapsed, clutching his head, his body shaking.
"My… my ears…" Neon gasped weakly. "They're… hurting…"
Henry didn't think.
He sprinted to the drawer, grabbed a voice canceller, and rushed back. His hands shook as he carefully inserted it into Neon's ears.
Within seconds, Neon's breathing slowed.
The pain eased from his face.
Henry knelt beside him, panic flooding his chest.
"What is happening?" he whispered.
Chris woke up screaming.
The sound invaded her dreams, turning them into nightmares. She stumbled out of bed, dizzy, her heart racing uncontrollably.
"Make it stop—"
She rushed to her drawer, grabbing cotton—more and more—stuffing it into her ears desperately. The sound dulled but never fully disappeared.
Her hands trembled.
Her breathing grew shallow.
She slid down against the wall, hugging her knees as the vibration echoed through her chest.
Not again. Not like this.
Lily was lying on her bed, headphones on, music blasting softly.
She frowned.
Something felt… off.
She paused the music.
The moment silence hit—
Pain exploded in her ears.
She gasped, clutching her head.
"What—?!"
She immediately turned the music back on.
The pain faded.
Her eyes widened in confusion.
She lowered the volume slightly—pain returned.
Raised it—pain faded.
Her heartbeat quickened.
"The sound… it's only hurting when I hear it."
Fear crept into her chest.
Twilight collapsed onto his knees.
The vibration drained his strength, his vision blurring, the world spinning violently.
"Rony…" he murmured weakly.
Rony jumped onto the table, grabbed the voice canceller with his tiny paws, and leapt onto Twilight's shoulder. With surprising precision, he shoved it into Twilight's ear.
Twilight exhaled shakily.
The pain dulled.
But his body gave out.
He collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.
Rony thumped his chest repeatedly, trying to wake him.
Nothing.
Back at the center of the city, the chanting reached its peak.
The ground cracked.
Street signs bent.
Cars flipped.
The soldiers fell to their knees, vision blurred, minds breaking.
And still—
The masked man was nowhere to be seen.
Panic spread through the ranks.
"Where is he?" someone screamed.
Then—
SLASH.
The sound cut through the chant like a blade through flesh.
Half the monsters were suddenly split apart—cleanly, violently—falling in pieces to the ground.
Blood sprayed across the streets.
The chanting stopped instantly.
Silence crashed down like a bomb.
Standing at the edge of the circle was the masked man.
His sword gleamed darkly in his hand, dripping with black blood. His coat fluttered as if the air itself bowed to him.
The soldiers stared.
Some dropped their weapons.
Others blinked, vision blurred, minds struggling to understand what they were seeing.
He moved.
Fast.
Deadly.
The sword shifted shape mid-swing—sometimes a blade, sometimes a bat, sometimes a knife—each strike precise, merciless.
Monsters screamed.
One by one, they fell.
The masked man didn't hesitate.
Didn't slow.
Didn't speak.
Only destruction followed him.
A soldier whispered, barely conscious,
"…Is he human?"
The masked man turned slightly.
For a moment, his glowing eyes reflected in the shattered glass around him.
Then—
He vanished.
Into smoke.
Into shadow.
Into legend.
The city stood broken.
Alive.
And terrified.
Because whatever had just begun—
Was far from over.