Before the 12th Battalion arrived at Asterra City.
After the 1st Battalion returned with the Third Duke to Asterra, following an expedition that lasted 11 days and a 3-day journey back, they had spent two full weeks outside. And during those three days, there was a farewell that continued to haunt Peter's mind.
A warning that was not fully heeded.
The Duke had warned Captain Hagrid Lockheed and his men to immediately halt their expedition and return to the city. They had gone too far. The weather was worsening. The area they entered—far to the east of Asterra—was nearing the edge of danger. A few kilometers further toward the center, and they would be stepping into a place no one was meant to tread.
Yet Hagrid, with a firm belief rooted deep in his heart, begged for one more day. He felt that just a little more time, and they might find something—something monumental, something that could change the fate of Asterra City.
Peter, though heavy-hearted, finally agreed. But he set one absolute condition:
"Never cross Redwood."
Redwood was not the name of a faction. Nor was it a country. It was a marker of the world.
An area dominated by towering trees—giants that stretched skyward like frozen pillars of blood-red bark. They stood amid fertile soil and lush green grass.
But everyone from the West knew:
Redwood was not life.
It was the boundary.
Because anyone who crossed it would be stepping into the first circle—the outer territories leading toward the ruins of Capital Eridu, the heart of destruction... and the heart of everything.
And that was where it all began.
Something that could no longer be avoided.
"Damn it! It's pitch black," Hagrid muttered. "Everyone, stay together and stay alert!" he barked, urging his horse forward through the rain.
The rain poured heavily, obscuring their vision in the thick darkness of the night. Without the light of the moon, the wet forest looked like an ocean of shadows. Even though their implanted NeuroSight lenses had activated night vision mode, their view was still hampered by the relentless sheets of rain hammering their faces and bodies.
Droplets soaked the surface of their adaptive hoodies—called Argonauts—equipped with VeluX-9 nano-technology, designed by Albert Alexander based on an early concept from Paul Jr. Aerial. Initially, the device appeared as nothing more than a slim black collar—more like a large bracelet than protective gear.
But once a small button at the neck was pressed, the VeluX-9 particles instantly assembled, transforming into a flexible hoodie-like armor. In emergencies, the hoodie could harden, becoming a solid helmet covering the entire head. Each captain had a slightly customized version based on their personal preferences. Even Duke Aerial had a special design, his hoodie activated automatically if anything approached his head at high velocity.
When active, the hoodie merged seamlessly with their jackets, adapting to their body shape, resembling temperature-regulating fabric that adjusted to the weather and climate.
"Captain, it seems we've entered a new territory," said a blond-haired man known as Mike the Storyteller. He glanced at a small screen on his wrist—a Geotrace Pad linked directly to Asterra City's central GeoIntel Nexus. His fingers quickly slid over the digital map.
No paths. No topography. No green, yellow, or brown zones like usual. Only a wide, empty blue field stretched across the display.
Mike tapped the coordinates icon, requesting a live location, then waited.
Hagrid frowned. "New territory, huh..."
He glanced around, gauging whether there was anything worth salvaging from this extra day's journey. But all he saw was darkness. Too much darkness. Only wet grass and cold stones.
Then his eyes caught a towering silhouette—a tree trunk, so wide and black it nearly blended with the sky. He lifted his head to follow it upward... but saw no end. It pierced the heavens, disappearing into the storm clouds.
The coordination completed syncing:
Coordinates: 07°19'22.4"N, 113°34'58.7"E
Status: UNMAPPED ZONE / CLASS-UNKNOWN
System Warning: ███
PERIMETER: ███
GeoLock Access: DENIED
Log Update: UNDETECTED SINCE 125 E.C.
Displayed on Mike's Geotrace Pad.
And then—
A single leaf fell from the towering height, spinning lazily, floating almost weightlessly. It was mesmerizing—red as a rose, delicate as a sakura petal, beautiful like a peace lily.
The leaf drifted right past Hagrid's face. And in that moment, the world stopped spinning. The rain vanished from his ears. The air thickened. The cold tightened around him, as if something—or someone—was gripping his very breath, halting every heartbeat.
"Never cross Redwood."
The Duke's voice—faint, like a whisper from the depths of memory.
Hagrid froze. His eyes widened. His body understood something his mind hadn't yet caught up to—
He should not be here.
"Captain, I just finished pulling the coordinates—" Mike began.
"Mike..." Hagrid interrupted without turning his head, his voice low. He tugged his horse's reins, stopping completely. "...how many kilometers back to our last marked point?"
Mike hesitated, then swallowed hard. Hearing the word "back" made a chill crawl up his spine.
Because "back" meant something even their captain wasn't willing to gamble.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
Their Geotrace Pads suddenly beeped—a warning tone. The first faint vibrations were detected.
Then—
BeepBeepBeepBeepBeep—!
The sound exploded into a frenzy. Too fast. Too many. Dozens—no, maybe more—sources of movement approaching within a radius the central system couldn't even classify.
Mike stared in horror as red anomalies bloomed across his screen like ink spreading in water. One dot. Two dots. Then dozens.
And in that moment, time froze for all of them.
They stood still. Silent. Motionless. Their faces wore the look of men who might just have glimpsed the end.
Hagrid, though his heart pounded in his chest, forced himself to remain calm—forced himself to lead. "Mike!" he barked sharply, snapping him out of his stupor.
Mike gasped, fingers trembling as he checked the data again. After a moment, he answered in a single, breathless rush. "Twenty kilometers... if we retrace our route!"
Without hesitation, Hagrid drew a deep breath, then shouted with all the authority he could muster.
"EVERYONE, LISTEN!"
His voice sliced through the rain and mist, reaching every soldier.
"DO NOT PANIC! If you want to live—clear your minds NOW! We're getting out of here at full speed! DO NOT stop! DO NOT look back! And... DO NOT try to help anyone!"
The last sentence stunned the troops—but Hagrid gave them no room for doubt. His gaze locked onto each one of them, fierce and burning.
"You MUST survive...!"
He raised his hand and pointed back the way they came.
"NOW! MOVE!"
No hesitation.
In a heartbeat, the entire battalion turned.
Horses charged through the wet ground, splashing mud and water. The rhythm of hooves and pounding hearts merged into a desperate symphony of flight.
Hagrid stayed at the rear, making sure no one was left behind. The rain fell even harder, but no one slowed.
The sound of the rain mixed with something else now—a faint, rasping noise like the flutter of insect wings... and light, rhythmic footsteps... like hoofbeats, approaching from the shadows.
Hagrid glanced back briefly. Nothing was there—only darkness and silent trees.
But every fiber of his being screamed.
Something was coming.
Beep... beep... beep...
His Geotrace still beeped in warning.
So did everyone else's. Each pulse hammering at their nerves, tightening the noose of fear around their throats.
"Geotrace connect," Hagrid commanded his NeuroSight. The system immediately displayed visual data across the implant lens over his right eye—a radar interface against a black background, a blue circle at the center, and dozens of red dots far behind them.
"Shit..." he muttered, barely audible under the roar of the rain.
He had never imagined he'd end up trapped in a situation like this—heavy rain, a pitch-black forest, and death stalking his every move.
Because of his ambition, his greed to find "something" within a single day, he had dragged his entire team into territory that should have remained untouched.
"Dammit!" he cursed again, louder this time, the bitterness weighing heavy in his chest.
What's chasing me? A Redhelder? Those fast, three-eyed red wolves? Or... Snow—No. This isn't the north.
Beep!
A sharp sound pierced through the rain—the brutal warning of something drawing near.
On his NeuroSight display, a red dot appeared at the right side—far closer than the others. It was moving fast, almost matching Hagrid's own speed.
Instinctively, Hagrid snapped his head to the side, his eyes sharp and alert. His heart pounded, blood roaring in his veins. His hand reflexively tightened around the hilt of his weapon.
Where is it coming from? The thought flashed through his mind even as every fiber of his being screamed at him to stay ready.
The sound of hooves, distant but growing louder, thudded against the soaked earth—
But the weight behind those steps was too heavy for any normal creature. Whatever it was, it remained hidden in the thick darkness, veiled by towering trees.
Beep... Beep...
The warning pulses grew lighter—yet the red dot on his display moved slowly ahead, passing him. But instead of relief, a suffocating dread took hold of him—
Because whatever that thing was, it had overtaken the speed of a full-galloping horse.
Focus, he told himself. His instincts screamed—he was being hunted.
Slowly but steadily, Hagrid drew his sword, letting the faint blue glow from the half-unsheathed blade slice through the night's darkness.
Just as the red dot edged slightly ahead of him—it suddenly veered sharply—placing itself directly in front of him.
Hagrid snapped his gaze forward.
His NeuroSight immediately locked onto a shadow, boxing it in with a glaring red frame.
[Unknown Creatures]
Focus.
But another box appeared, smaller—
Its warning pulse even more dangerous.
[Unknown ███]
Focus.
Then it struck. A massive claw, long and wickedly curved, shot out of the darkness—a greenish sheen glinting along its surface. The claw was thick, solid like steel, and moved with deadly speed—aiming straight for his throat.
Focus!
In the fraction of a second, Hagrid's battle instincts took over. Without conscious thought, he held his breath, body coiling tight like a loaded spring. His eyes barely flicked to the incoming strike—just enough to calculate its trajectory—and with one swift, decisive motion, he fully unsheathed his blade—a black sword with an edge glowing electric blue—and swung.
A violent crash exploded in the air. Blade met claw with a blinding flash and a bone-shaking roar. The claw split clean in two, charred and smoking from the electrical burn searing off Hagrid's sword.
Fragments of the shattered claw rained down, clinking against rocks and trees like shards of broken metal. Hagrid clenched his jaw.
His horse never broke stride, even as he parried the attack. But his eyes—his mind—were locked onto the thing that had struck him. For a heartbeat, they rode side-by-side—
Long enough for horror to carve itself deep into Hagrid's soul.
He had killed countless monsters before, yet this....
This was the first time fear drove a cold spike through his bones.
Death had never felt more real than it did nowface—Standing before him in a form far worse than anything he had faced.
The creature's head defied reason. It was elongated like a praying mantis, crowned with a hard, jagged plate that looked like bone-forged armor. On each side, enormous compound eyes blazed crimson, twitching and blinking with unnatural speed—as if analyzing him with ruthless machine-like precision. Between the two massive eyes, a single smaller eye—a third eye—blinking slowly, glowing with a sinister heat, scanning the darkness for the living warmth of prey.
Its mandibles were huge, splitting apart like an insect's jaws, revealing rows of tiny, serrated teeth. As the jaws vibrated, a sharp, piercing hum split the air, vibrating the rain-soaked night like a siren of war.
Its body was powerful and muscular—but retained the alien shape of a giant insect, standing atop six legs like some monstrous cavalry.
Along its back, a row of sharp, glistening spikes jutted outward, gleaming wet like natural spears—strong enough to shatter stone or steel with a single blow.
But the most horrifying detail—the one that made Hagrid's heart falter—was its left arm.
It wasn't a normal limb. It was an insectile scythe—long, forked, with a wicked blade at the end. A strange cord ran from its wrist to the upper arm, pulled taut like a deadly natural bowstring, gleaming under the rain like a thread of death.
Its right arm, however, resembled a human's—yet only had four fingers, unnaturally long and flexible, packed with brutal strength. The skin was rough and knotted, armored like a living shield, ready to crush anything it touched.
And then, with a swift motion, the creature reached for one of the spikes along its own back. Hagrid watched in horror—those deadly spikes weren't mere armor. They were weapons—meant to be pulled free and hurled. The massive claw he had just cut apart had originated from there.
Hagrid's horse galloped forward, carrying him further away—yet the air felt tighter around him, suffocating—like a noose slowly tightening around his neck. He knew—the next attack could come at any moment.
This creature wasn't just hunting him—it was toying with him, probing his defenses, savoring his fear.
For a fleeting moment, an old memory crossed his mind. A tale of a legendary creature called the Centaurus—half man, half horse—a symbol of strength and freedom.
But what stood before him...
Was no symbol of freedom. No noble strength. It was a grotesque distortion of the legend.
A nightmare.
A predator engineered to kill with merciless precision.
Hagrid gripped his sword tighter, realizing.
He wasn't just facing a beast—
He was facing something that had been created to break the very limits of survival itself.
Just what is all this, Larry Magister?