Dust still choked the air as Jian trudged forward, the small boy's warm hand clasped tightly in his. The ruined city stretched out before them, its bones cracked and splintered, its heart still smoldering in the lingering fire of the Grayling invasion.
All around, the scent of blood, metal, and alien tar clung to the wind.
Tentacle-like shadows still crept through alleyways and shattered buildings. Jian had fought countless Graylings since the moment he landed in this godforsaken zone, his black-tar-drenched body a silent testament to the battles he had endured. Each of them, monstrous seven-foot beasts, moved with the fluid grace of deep-sea nightmares and struck with terrifying speed.
He had torn through the first group with bare hands, ripping flesh, bone, and pulsing tentacles with a precision that surprised even him. They screeched like dying whales, but their noise only pushed him forward.
