The distinct, jagged skyline of the business district had transformed into a kaleidoscope of neon lights and nightmare geometry, twisting under the oppressive weight of the violet sky. From my vantage point on the elevated maintenance walkway of the train tracks, Cubao looked less like a commercial hub and more like an open wound festering in the center of the city. The massive coliseum, usually a beacon of entertainment and sports, was now shrouded in a thick, pulsating membrane of smoke and shadow, pulsating with a rhythm that matched the headache throbbing behind my temples. Fires burned uncontrollably along the major thoroughfares, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to snatch at the fleeing civilians below, while the distinct sound of gunfire rattled continuously like dry beans in a tin can, a futile percussion against the roaring symphony of the monsters.
I adjusted my grip on the bent steel signpost, feeling the metal bite into my calloused palms, the coolness of the steel grounding me against the supernatural heat coursing through my veins. My lungs burned not from exhaustion, but from the intake of air that tasted of sulfur and ozone, a reminder that the atmosphere itself was changing, becoming something toxic and alien. I forced myself to look away from the mesmerizing terror of the rift above and focus on the immediate geography, mapping out a path through the debris-strewn streets that would lead me to the fast-food chain where Mark had last checked in. Every instinct I possessed, both human and the predatory urge implanted by the orbs, screamed at me to turn back, to flee into the dark, to hide and wait for the dawn that might never come, but the memory of Mark's terrified voice on the phone acted as a tether, pulling me inexorably toward the center of the hellscape.
"You have to be alive, you idiot," I muttered under my breath, the words lost in the howling wind as I gauged the drop from the tracks to the roof of a stalled double-decker bus below. "You owe me lunch, and I am not letting you get out of it by dying in an apocalypse."
I dropped. The wind rushed past my ears for a split second before my feet slammed into the metal roof of the bus, the impact reverberating through my shins and knees, but the pain was distant, muffled by the adrenaline and the unnatural durability granted by the second vestige I had absorbed. I rolled forward to disperse the momentum, coming up in a crouch as the metal roof groaned under my weight, my eyes scanning the street level for threats. The intersection below was a chaotic gridlock of abandoned vehicles, their headlights cutting through the smoke in useless beams, illuminating the panic of hundreds of people trying to push their way into the relative safety of the nearby shopping malls, unaware that they were likely trapping themselves in concrete tombs.
"Get back! Stay back or we will open fire!" a voice amplified by a megaphone cut through the din, desperate and cracking with strain.
I peered over the edge of the bus to see a makeshift barricade set up near the entrance of the Gateway Mall, manned by a dozen police officers and what looked like private security guards armed with shotguns. They were trying to hold back a tide of civilians while simultaneously firing at dark, skittering shapes that were climbing down the glass façade of the building like spiders made of oil and knives. The creatures were smaller than the dog-beast I had fought at the university, roughly the size of large monkeys, but there were dozens of them, and they moved with a frantic, hive-mind coordination that was terrifying to behold.
"Please! My daughter is inside!" a woman screamed, hammering her fists against the riot shields of the police line, her face streaked with soot and tears. "Let me through! You have to let me through!"
" The mall is compromised! " the officer with the megaphone yelled back, kicking a skittering creature away from his boot before blowing it apart with a point-blank shot. " We are evacuating to the north! Move away from the building! "
I didn't have time to intervene in their struggle, nor did I have the capacity to save everyone, a harsh realization that settled in my stomach like a stone. I vaulted from the bus to the top of a delivery truck, then to a lamppost, sliding down the metal pole until my boots hit the asphalt with a heavy thud, placing me just outside the periphery of the barricade. I needed to cross the intersection to get to the row of restaurants on the other side, but the street was a kill zone, swarming with the spider-creatures that seemed drawn to movement and noise.
"Hey! You! Get to the line!" a security guard spotted me, waving his shotgun frantically. "Don't go that way! There's a big one!"
As if summoned by his warning, the ground beneath the asphalt buckled, cracking upward in a shower of concrete and dirt as something massive erupted from the sewer line beneath the street. A collective scream rose from the crowd as a creature the size of a minivan hauled itself out of the earth, its body encased in thick, grey chitin that looked like armored plates. It resembled a beetle mixed with a tank, possessing two massive, crushing pincers that snapped the air with the sound of cracking thunder, and its multiple black eyes reflected the fires burning around it with a dull, unfeeling intelligence.
"Fire! Concentrate fire on the head!" the police commander roared, and the air filled with the deafening cracks of pistols and the boom of shotguns.
Bullets sparked harmlessly off the creature's armored shell, ricocheting into the surrounding cars and shattering windows, serving only to irritate the beast rather than harm it. The creature let out a low, vibrating hum that rattled the teeth in my skull, and then it charged, not at the police, but at the dense cluster of civilians trapped against the mall entrance. It moved with terrifying speed for something so heavy, its legs churning the asphalt into gravel as it lowered its pincers like a battering ram.
I couldn't just watch. The cold, calculating part of my mind told me to use the distraction to slip past and find Mark, to let these strangers be the bait that bought me time, but the human part of me—the part that remembered the fear in the eyes of the students back at the university—refused to move my legs in the other direction. Cursing my own stupidity, I engaged the power of the vestige, feeling the familiar burning sensation flood my muscles, expanding them, hardening my skin, and sharpening my vision until the world slowed down into manageable frames.
"Hey! Over here, you overgrown cockroach!" I bellowed, sprinting perpendicular to the beast's path and slamming my signpost against the side of a hollowed-out taxi to create a deafening clang.
The beetle-creature skidded to a halt, confused by the sudden noise and the challenge, its massive head swiveling toward me with a mechanical jerk. It clicked its mandibles, assessing me, sensing the energy radiating from my body—the stolen power of its own kind—and decided that I was the more immediate threat to its dominance. With a roar that sounded like tearing metal, it changed course, abandoning the civilians and thundering toward me with the momentum of a freight train.
"Kid, move!" a police officer screamed, but I was already moving, my legs pumping like pistons as I ran straight toward the charging monster.
It was madness, suicidal madness, but I had noticed something when it turned: the armor around its neck was segmented, shifting slightly with every step to allow for movement, revealing soft, pulsating flesh underneath. I waited until the last possible second, until I could smell the rot on its breath and see the jagged edges of its pincers, and then I slid. I dropped to my knees, the momentum carrying me forward across the slick asphalt, passing directly underneath the gnashing pincers and between the creature's massive front legs.
As I slid beneath it, I thrust the bent signpost upward with both hands, driving the jagged metal tip into the soft, unprotected gap between its head and thorax. The impact jarred my shoulders, nearly dislocating them, but the metal sank true, burying itself deep into the creature's vitals. I released the weapon and rolled away, scrambling to my feet just as the beast crashed into the side of the taxi I had been standing next to a moment ago, crushing the vehicle flat.
The creature thrashed wildly, letting out a high-pitched, shrieking wail that shattered the remaining windows of the nearby buildings. Green, viscous fluid sprayed from the wound in its neck, hissing where it touched the pavement. It tried to turn toward me, its eyes burning with hate, but its movements were sluggish, jerky, its nervous system severed or severely damaged by the strike.
"Finish it," the predator voice in my head whispered, loud and demanding. "Take its strength. Feed."
I approached the dying beast, my hands trembling not from fear, but from a hunger that was becoming harder to suppress. The police and civilians were staring at me in stunned silence, their weapons lowered, unable to comprehend what they had just witnessed. I ignored them, my focus entirely on the beetle-creature as it twitched one last time and fell still. A large, pulsing orb of greenish light drifted up from its carcass, humming with a heavy, stable energy that felt different from the frantic agility of the dog-beast.
I reached out and grabbed the orb. It didn't merge smoothly like the others; it felt heavy, dense, like swallowing a stone. As it sank into my chest, a wave of solidity washed over me. My skin felt tighter, harder, as if invisible layers of armor were knitting themselves over my flesh. The exhaustion in my legs evaporated, replaced by a feeling of grounded, unshakeable stability.
"He… he killed it," someone whispered in the crowd, the voice carrying in the sudden silence.
I turned to look at them, and for a moment, the civilians flinched, stepping back as if I were just another monster. I wiped the green ichor from my face, realizing how I must look—bloodied, holding a piece of scrap metal, standing over a slain nightmare with a look of intense hunger in my eyes. I took a deep breath, forcing the predator instinct back into the cage of my mind, and tried to look human again.
"The blockade won't hold," I told the police commander, my voice steady and surprisingly calm. "There are more coming from the south. You need to get these people inside the mall and barricade the upper floors. The ground level is a death trap."
The commander, a burly man with a bleeding cut on his forehead, stared at me for a long moment before nodding slowly, regaining his composure. "Who are you, son? Are you with the special forces?"
"Just a student," I replied, turning away before he could ask more questions. "Just a student looking for a friend."
I didn't wait for his dismissal. I broke into a run, heading toward the commercial strip across the intersection, the new power in my body making each step feel heavy and powerful, like I was anchored to the earth. I reached the row of shops where the fast-food place was supposed to be, my heart hammering against my ribs—not from exertion, but from dread.
The building was gone.
Half of the structure had collapsed, likely crushed by falling debris or one of the larger monsters. The sign of the restaurant lay twisted in the rubble, sparking with severed electrical wires. The front glass was shattered inward, and the interior was a mess of overturned tables, broken chairs, and ceiling tiles.
"Mark!" I shouted, climbing over a pile of bricks and pushing into the ruined dining area. "Mark! Are you here?!"
Silence answered me, save for the crackle of a small fire in the kitchen area. I frantically scanned the room, overturning tables, kicking aside debris. There were no bodies—at least, none that I could see immediately—which was a small mercy, but there was plenty of blood. Smears of it on the floor, handprints on the walls, signs of a desperate struggle.
"Think, Kil, think," I muttered, pressing my hands to my temples. "He said he was in the back. Near the charging station."
I moved toward the rear of the restaurant, near the restrooms. The wall there was still standing. On the floor, beneath a crushed chair, I saw something familiar. A blue backpack with a keychain of a cartoon character dangling from the zipper. Mark's bag.
I fell to my knees and grabbed the bag, ripping it open. His laptop was inside, cracked down the middle. His water bottle. But his phone was gone. I clutched the bag, a cold knot of fear tightening in my chest. If he had dropped his bag, he had run. Or he had been taken.
"Help… me…"
The voice was faint, coming from the other side of the collapsed wall, from the alleyway behind the shops. I froze, my head snapping up. It wasn't Mark's voice. It was female, weak and trembling.
I scrambled over the rubble of the wall, dropping into the dark, narrow alleyway. A girl, maybe a year or two younger than me, was huddled behind a dumpster, clutching her side. She was wearing a fast-food uniform, stained with dust and blood. She looked up at me with wide, terrified eyes, holding a steak knife in a shaking hand.
"It's okay," I said, raising my hands to show I wasn't a threat. "I'm not one of them. I'm human."
She lowered the knife slightly, but her breathing remained ragged. "They… they took him."
I stepped closer, kneeling beside her. "Took who? Who did they take?"
"The guy," she gasped, wincing in pain. "The one with the glasses. He tried… to help me. He hit one of them with a chair. But… the webs… they dragged him."
"Glasses," I repeated, my blood running cold. "Was his name Mark?"
She nodded weakly. "He yelled… told me to run. But the spiders… they wrapped him up. They took everyone… to the dome."
I looked up, toward the massive silhouette of the Araneta Coliseum looming over the district. The smoke swirling around it was thicker there, moving in patterns that suggested it was being breathed in and out by something colossal. The "Big Dome" wasn't a shelter. It was a nest.
"They took him to the Coliseum," I said, the realization settling in with terrifying clarity. "They're stockpiling food."
The girl grabbed my wrist, her grip surprisingly strong despite her injury. "Don't go. You can't go there. It's full of them. Thousands."
"I have to," I said gently, removing her hand. "He saved you. Now I have to save him."
I stood up, looking at the towering structure. The new power inside me—the beetle's durability—hummed in response to my resolve. I felt heavy, dangerous, and ready. I wasn't just a scavenger anymore. I was becoming something else. Something that could break into a hive and tear it apart from the inside.
"Can you walk?" I asked the girl, looking back down at her.
"I… I think so."
"Go to the mall. The Gateway entrance. There are police there. Tell them what you told me. Tell them the nest is in the Coliseum."
She nodded, using the dumpster to pull herself up. She looked at me one last time, her eyes filled with a mixture of pity and awe. "You're going to die."
"Maybe," I said, tightening my grip on the bent signpost, which was now jagged and sharp enough to be a spear. "But I'm taking as many of them with me as I can."
I watched her limp toward the street until she was out of sight, then I turned back to the Coliseum. The entrance closest to me was the Red Gate, usually crowded with concert-goers and basketball fans. Now, it was a gaping maw of darkness, with strange, silken strands hanging from the archways like grotesque decorations.
I walked toward it, not running this time, but marching with a steady, relentless pace. The hunger in my gut flared up again, demanding more essence, more power. I let it simmer, using it to sharpen my focus.
"Hang on, Mark," I whispered to the darkness. "I'm coming to crash the party."
As I stepped through the archway and into the shadow of the Coliseum, the air temperature dropped twenty degrees. The smell of popcorn and floor wax was gone, replaced by the damp, earthy scent of a cave. And in the darkness ahead, I could hear the chittering of a thousand legs moving in unison, a sound that promised violence on a scale I had yet to comprehend.
I raised my spear. The hunt was no longer in the streets. It had moved underground.