Windora State...
Above an endless stretch of prairie, a group of Winged Clan elites hovered in midair, staring down at the zombie horde with undisguised surprise.
Theyâd only flown this way to try their luck. Based on the clues theyâd found, their target hadnât escaped in this direction.
And yetâdown thereâthe zombies looked eerily similar to what they were hunting.
Sure, the eyes were the zombiesâ signature dark red. But everything else... almost identical.
Hope sparked through the group.
Maybeâjust maybeâthe trail they needed was here.
Because Lord Aeralon had issued a final ultimatum. If they still couldnât find anything, they were dead. All of them.
"Should we notify Lord Aeralon?" one of them asked.
"Notify him when we havenât even found the person?" another snapped. "You trying to get screamed at?"
The first man hesitated. "Iâm worried we donât have enough people to handle whoever it is."
"We donât need to handle them," the other said, impatient. "We find them first. Then we report. Thatâs it."
He glanced down again at the shambling sea. "And these zombies might not even be related. Could just be similar faces."
"Didnât they say that group came from another world, like us?" someone else cut in. "These zombies look like natives."
"Humans looking similar isnât weird," the second man said, voice colder now. "If we report to Lord Aeralon without solid proof, it wonât just be a scolding."
The first man swallowed. "Alright. Youâre right. So... we look for a human compound?"
"Yeah. Find a compound first. Weâll get information out of the humans there."
Theyâd been in this world long enough to understand how it worked.
The ones roaming outside were mutated humansâzombies. You couldnât communicate with them.
Real humans hid inside compounds.
If they wanted answers, they needed living people.
"Move."
The Winged Clan elites lifted off again, slicing through the sky as they began searching for a human compound.
Atlas City Emergency Operations Center...
The top brass of the Atlas Federation had all gathered in one room.
On the massive screen at the front, a live feed playedâgrainy, jittering satellite footage of a group of figures flying at terrifying speed, so fast even the satellites struggled to track them.
But the figures had paused briefly earlier.
Long enough for Atlas City to get a good look.
Charles stared at the screen, face heavy. "General Kane... these are the Winged Clan Ethan mentioned?"
Maxwell nodded once. "Yeah."
Charles didnât look away. "Did Ethan say how strong they are?"
"No. Just that these dozen-or-so could wipe our compound off the map."
"...."
Silence settled like a weight.
Finally, someone asked the question everyone was thinking. "Then what do we do?"
Maxwellâs jaw tightened. "We wait for Ethan and the others to get here. Ethan said if they arrive first, we donât engage. Stall if we can."
He looked around the room. "And notify everyone in the compoundâno one speaks Federation language. Everyone uses other languages. If you canât speak anything else, keep your mouth shut."
A stunned voice went up. "What? Why?"
"I donât know," Maxwell said flatly. "Ethan specifically told us to do it."
The man swallowed. "Understood. Iâll get it out right now."
The Winged Clan moved fast.
In less than an hour, their silhouettes appeared above Atlas City Compound.
They looked down at the enormous walls, the sprawling blocks inside, and the countless human figures moving around like ants.
A smile crept across several faces.
Finally.
"We found them," someone murmured.
"These humans do look like the ones weâre after," one Winged Clan expert said, frowning as he assessed the people below. "But their strength is nowhere close."
"Doesnât matter," another replied. "We go down first. Ask questions."
"Agreed."
Without any attempt to hide themselves, the Winged Clan elites angled their wings and descended straight toward the compound.
When the people of Atlas City Compound saw the Winged Clan descend, everyoneâs stomach tightened.
At least theyâd been warned. They were mentally prepared.
Stillâwhatever happened, they had to
look
shocked. Too calm would only raise suspicion.
"¿Quiénes son ustedes?!" A guard captain shouted, glaring at the Winged Clan with open wariness. Around him, the guards tightened ranks, weapons coming up as they slid into fighting stances.
The Winged Clan froze.
"...?"
They traded looks, confusion passing between them.
The leaderâs brow furrowed. He spoke sharply, voice carrying clear irritation. "Do you understand what Iâm saying?"
"¿Qué dijiste? No entiendo." The guard captain frowned back, playing dumb.
The Winged Clan elites looked at each other again, helpless annoyance creeping in.
"Looks like these natives really arenât the same as that group."
"Then what? Keep searching, or go back?"
"Go back for what?" someone snapped. "To die? Lord Aeralonâs deadline is
today
. If we still come up empty, weâre all dead."
"With just us, finding a handful of humans in a world this big is basically impossible. Iâd bet the other teams wonât find them either."
"Instead of going back to get executed, why donât we just stay here?" another said, voice turning greedy. "This world is paradise to us. Living here, enjoying these humans serving us every dayâhow is that not better than going back to die?"
"But if Lord Aeralon finds out..." someone muttered, the fear in his voice real.
"Doesnât matter. Weâre dead either way," the greedy one said coldly. "At least here we can live a few more days."
He narrowed his eyes at the compound below. "And Iâve got a feeling these people are connected to the ones weâre looking for. They look too similar for it to be random. If we stay, maybe weâll dig up somethingâsome trace."
"...Fine."
The others nodded, one after another, accepting it.
Nearby, the humans listening didnât understand the words, but the tone was enough. Sweat broke out across faces. Cold fear crawled up spines.
They could maybe bluff their way through a meeting.
But if these things
stayed
?
Sooner or later, something would slip. Something would go wrong.
Even so, nobody dared show it.
"¥Rodéenlos! ¥Mantengan las armas listas!" the guard captain barked, rattling off a long string of orders. He slashed his hand down.
The guards surged forward, surrounding the Winged Clan.
The captain knew the truth as well as anyone: if a real fight started, theyâd be wiped out.
But letting aliens stroll into the compound without even pretending to resist? That would look even stranger. If the Winged Clan didnât get suspicious from
that
, they were idiots.
The Winged Clanâs expressions turned ugly.
One of them snorted.
Thenâ
A terrifying pressure burst out from his body.
The air around him twisted. A storm exploded outward, howling like a living thing. In the blink of an eye, the vortex snatched up the surrounding guardsâ
And shredded them.
Armor, flesh, boneâeverything ripped apart and flung into the air as a red mist.
People stared, eyes bulging, faces drained of color.
This time, the fear wasnât an act.
Command had said these Void Realm creatures were strong, but most of them had never seen one fight up close. They hadnât had a real frame of reference.
Now they did.
That oppressive aura, that casual violenceâit crushed any thought of resistance before it could even form.
The Winged Clan expert whoâd attacked swept his gaze across the crowd and spoke loudly, voice sharp with ownership.
"From today on, this place belongs to us. From now on, you are our servants. Anyone who dares resist will end up like them!"
His voice carried a psychic force, punching the meaning straight into their minds even though they didnât understand a single word.
The surrounding crowd burned with humiliation, but nobody moved.
They remembered the order from above:
Go along with them. No matter what. Stall them as long as possible.
The Winged Clan expertâs lips curled.
"Good," he said, satisfied. "Looks like youâre a little smarter than the trash we ran into before."