The first sign wasn't a voice. It was silence.
That wrong kind of silence—the one where even the flies didn't dare buzz around the corpses anymore. Where the world paused, holding its breath, like it already knew something ancient was about to shatter loose.
Corporal Jae-Min crouched behind the overturned humvee, soaked in blood that wasn't all his. Bodies littered the sand. Too many wearing his uniform. His squad—his fucking brothers—gone. Gunned down in seconds like they were extras in a script no one cared to finish reading. The enemy was still coming, still shooting.
Not like warriors, but like butchers double-checking their work.
He'd called for backup. Twice. Maybe three times. No answer.
His thigh had a bullet in it, hot pain chewing at the bone. But he didn't scream. Not yet. Not until he looked left and saw her. Mia. Dead eyes still open. Blood down her chin. She'd been smiling at him just hours ago. Now—
No. He wasn't ready for this.
