While Thomas was watching for the extraction of samples done by his Overwatch n, he realized one thing.
Wait isn't the rewards for killing this beast supposed to be sothing about the system itself? Not the blood coins and the experience points?
With that, he quickly checked the system and then written on it was:
[System is undergoing maintenance in preparation for the new updates. Estimated ti of completion is fourteen days]
"…what kind of upgrade would require two full weeks?" Thomas muttered, brows furrowed.
The system's plain blue interface blinked gently before him in the corner of his vision. No additional tabs. No further explanations. Just a frustrating progress bar labeled System Maintenance – 2% Complete.
"Great," he muttered. "So much for answers."
He dismissed the interface with a flick of his hand and returned his attention to the crater below. His Overwatch ground team continued their thodical extraction—tallic arms, reinforced crates, and long-arm forceps pulling pieces of scorched flesh, bones, and internal bio-sacs from the steaming corpse. Despite the carnage, they moved with precision, not hesitation. Trained. Efficient.
Yet even with all the noise—generators humming, cranes groaning, boots crunching over broken rubble—Thomas couldn't shake the feeling that sothing was off.
Too quiet.
He scanned the horizon. The city beyond the kill zone remained frozen. No movent. No infected. No bloomspawn screeches. No stuttering howls. It was as if the entire zone had been vacuum-sealed by death and silence.
"Where the hell are the biters?" Phillip asked from beside him, voice low. "After all that noise, I expected a swarm by now."
Thomas nodded slowly. "Sothing's holding them back."
"Or pulling them sowhere else."
That sentence hung in the air for a beat too long.
Before Thomas could answer, a comm ping buzzed through the command line.
"Commander, this is Shadow Five. We have a live one."
Thomas straightened.
"Civilian?"
"Affirmative. Male. Late twenties to early thirties. No weapons. Erged from a collapsed structure near the north approach."
"Status?"
"He's not hostile. Hands in the air. Compliant so far."
Thomas pressed his earpiece tighter. "Is he injured?"
"No visible wounds. Just looks... shaken. Covered in ash and dried blood. Like he walked out of a goddamn furnace."
"I'm on my way."
Within minutes, Thomas made his way down the lower ridge of the crater toward the northwest quadrant. His boots crunched over blackened concrete as he moved past two IFVs parked for periter defense. A few soldiers gave nods of acknowledgnt but didn't speak.
He arrived to find four Overwatch operators standing in a wide circle around a man who clearly didn't belong here.
His clothes were threadbare. A long-sleeved hoodie stained with soot, the sleeves tied in tatters at the elbows. His face was thin, unshaven, sared with ash. He looked more like a ghost than a survivor.
But it was his eyes that caught Thomas's attention.
Wide.
Alert.
Too focused to be in shock. Too aware to be broken.
Thomas signaled the soldiers to lower their weapons.
The man flinched slightly but kept his hands up.
"You with the national military?" the man asked, voice hoarse.
"No," Thomas replied, stepping forward. "We're Overwatch."
"Private?" the man asked.
"Independent," Thomas said. "Military-grade. You got a na?"
The man hesitated, as if the question itself was heavier than it should be.
"Ruben," he finally said. "I'm nobody. Just a guy who used to fix phones in Pasig."
Thomas eyed him. "And what the hell is a guy like you doing here in Cubao, ground zero of a monster's graveyard?"
"I saw it," Ruben replied, voice quieter now. "Not the worm—the thing before it. Or... after it. I don't even know anymore."
Thomas frowned. "Be specific."
Ruben glanced at the soldiers around him, then at the sky, then down at the crater.
"You killed that, yeah?" He motioned toward the corpse with a trembling hand. "Big worm. Plasma cannon in its chest. Ate buildings."
Thomas gave a curt nod.
"I saw what ca before it. Or maybe it caused it. I don't know."
There was a silence.
Then Thomas gestured to one of the n. "Get him so water."
A canteen was handed to Ruben, who took it with both hands and drank deeply. He wiped his mouth and then looked back to Thomas.
"It wasn't like the others," he said. "Didn't chase anyone. Didn't spread spores. It just... rose."
Thomas said nothing, letting him speak.
"It ca out of the ground. Like it had been waiting for years. Red-black plates, as tall as a skyscraper. No legs. No face. Just this... spiral maw near the top. It opened and this violet light ca out—like a lighthouse made of nightmares. And then…"
He swallowed.
"It sang."
"Sang?" Phillip repeated, stepping up behind Thomas.
Ruben nodded slowly. "Not music. Not really. More like static and humming and… structure. A frequency that hit you in the bones. You didn't hear it. You felt it."
Thomas glanced at Marcus, who had just arrived. "Any seismic anomalies earlier today, aside from the worm?"
Marcus nodded. "Yeah. Brief spike right before its ergence. Thought it was collapse tremors. Could've been sothing else."
"Keep going," Thomas said to Ruben.
"I tried to call it in," Ruben said. "Stole a radio from a dead scav, tried transmitting. But whatever that thing was—it scrambled everything. I don't think anyone heard ."
"You're the only one who saw this?"
Ruben shook his head. "Others might've been around, but I was alone when I saw it. Near Aurora Boulevard. Hiding in a collapsed 7-Eleven."
Phillip let out a slow breath. "That's less than two clicks from here."
Thomas studied the man for a long mont.
"Do you want extraction?" he asked.
Ruben blinked. "What?"
"You want out of here?" Thomas asked again, clearer. "We can fly you to safety. dical. Shelter. Food. If you've been alone this long, it's a miracle you've survived."
Ruben's lips parted slightly. He looked down at his hands, still shaking. Then he nodded slowly.
"Yeah. I want to get out. Please."
Thomas turned to one of the squad leads. "Get him on the next shuttle back to MOA. Full dical screening. Debrief. And flag this for intelligence."
"Yes, Commander."
As Ruben was led away toward a waiting JLTV, Thomas remained still, eyes narrowing.
A monunt that sings.
A frequency that commands.
A structure that doesn't walk because it doesn't need to.
He activated his comms. "Marcus, raise all intel divisions. I want sensor coverage extended to Aurora Boulevard imdiately. Satellite, Reaper, everything."
"Copy that."
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