Ever since Delphi had told him about the breach and the “non-terrestrial” beings coming through, Adam had become curious as to what they actually looked like. In his mind, he thought of Aliens, maybe. The classic kind—smooth skin, oversized heads, emotionless expressions. The kind of thing conspiracy theorists had scribbled on whiteboards and ranted about in online forums back on Earth. He figured it’d be something weird, sure. Unnerving maybe. But not this.

  The…thing…that crawled into the training yard was unlike anything Adam had ever seen and mostly anything he would have seen back on Earth. The creature itself was roughly 4 ft tall and had it not been hunched over on the ground, he would have thought it to be a wolf. That is where the similarities ended however as the thing in front of him was an unholy abomination.

  It looked as if someone had taken a wolf, skinned it alive, and let it loose on the world. Its entire body was stripped of any kind of skin or fur, revealing layers of rippling muscle and twitching nerves that ran down two stubby legs and a pair of long, sinewy arms. At the ends of its limbs, claws like meathooks extended outward, already stained in what Adam could only assume was dried blood.

  Its head was too large for its body—broad at the base with a long, stretched snout that gave its face an unnatural, almost canine shape. The jaw hung partially unhinged, and behind its slack maw sat rows upon rows of jagged, razor-sharp teeth. Black fluid dripped from its mouth, slick and bubbling, coating its gums and throat with each shallow breath.

  The creature paused just inside the training yard, its clawed feet scraping softly against the concrete as it sniffed the air in short, erratic bursts. Its skeletal head jerked from side to side like it was listening for something. Then, without warning, it stopped moving altogether. Adam could feel it locking on to his position, even through the Hoplite’s optics. The imp had no eyes, but it saw him. It knew.

  Then it screamed.

  The sound tore through his audio systems like metal dragged across glass. It wasn’t a howl or a roar—it was high-pitched and broken, a shrieking wail that sounded less like aggression and more like pain twisted into rage. Adam tensed inside the Hoplite unit, his grip tightening around the weapon controls. His targeting system flashed, waiting for confirmation to fire, but he still hadn’t moved.

  The imp launched itself forward with terrifying speed. In less than a second, it had closed the distance and slammed into the Hoplite standing just to Adam’s right. The unit staggered and fell backward, crashing to the ground with a mechanical thud. Before it could recover, the imp was on top of it, slashing down with its claws. Armor plating bent and tore like it was nothing, and sparks sprayed into the air as the drone’s internal systems were exposed and shredded.

  Adam watched, frozen. The attack was fast, chaotic, and far more violent than he had expected. His HUD filled with data—impact analysis, unit status, critical damage—but none of it made him move. He could hear the damaged Hoplite’s systems failing, a stuttering whine of servos and motors as it twitched helplessly beneath the creature. It took him a full second longer than it should have to react as he pulled the trigger.

  The weapon kicked with mechanical force as the round discharged, the sudden recoil jarring through the Hoplite’s arms. The shot cracked like thunder, echoing through the training yard with a sharp metallic report that cut through the screeching of the imp. For the briefest moment, the targeting reticle flashed green across his display.

  The kinetic round punched through the air and connected dead center between the imp’s shoulder blades. The impact was brutal. Bone splintered. Muscle tore. The upper half of the creature’s body jolted forward as the round tore through its spine and exited near its sternum, ripping a sizable portion of its back wide open. Black ichor exploded from the wound, painting the concrete behind it in a wide arc. The creature let out a choked, half-formed cry as its limbs spasmed.

  Even after the round had torn through it, the imp tried to move. One of its arms swiped blindly at the Hoplite it had been attacking, claws scraping harmlessly across torn plating. Its skeletal jaw opened and shut erratically, as though still trying to bite or scream. Finally, after several long seconds, it stopped moving entirely. Its body crumpled in on itself, twitching one last time before going still.

  A deep silence filled the training yard as Adam stared at the corpse of the monster he had just shot. Smoke from the discharge still curled from the barrel of the Hoplite’s rifle, mingling with the thin haze of vaporized ichor that now hung in the air. The creature lay twisted on the ground, a ruin of torn muscle and shattered bone, black fluid pooling beneath its body and seeping into the cracks of the concrete.

  His hands remained locked around the weapon, unmoving. However had he been in a human body, he would have been shaking uncontrollably.

  “What…” His voice came through the audio system low and unsteady, more a breath than a question. “W-what the fuck did I just shoot?”

  There was no delay this time in Delphi’s response.

  “Designation: Imp,” Delphi replied. “Class-1 breach entity. Non-strategic. Aggression level: extreme. Intelligence: minimal. Known for swarm tactics and rapid, erratic movement. Weaknesses include direct kinetic impact and fire-based weaponry.”

  Adam said nothing. He kept staring at the thing on the ground, at the steaming hole punched clean through its spine. If that was the weakest thing they had to fight, he didn’t want to know what counted as strong.

  “Additional contacts approaching,” Delphi continued. “More are coming through the gate. Prepare for sustained engagement.”

  Adam’s targeting systems came alive again. Red pings flared to life across the HUD as new shapes began to emerge from the thick haze beyond the gate—fast, low to the ground, and coming straight at them.

  “Oh no,” he thought, raising the Hoplite’s weapon just in time as a second wave of imps burst through the front gate.

  They moved like a flood—clawed limbs tearing across the concrete, black ichor already streaking behind them as they screeched and howled their way into the open. Adam had no time to think. No time to hesitate. His system had already selected the nearest target, and his finger squeezed the trigger on instinct.

  The first imp in the new wave dropped mid-charge, its torso erupting as a burst of kinetic fire tore through it. The others didn’t slow down.

  To his left, two more Hoplites opened fire, their weapons barking in perfect mechanical rhythm. Another imp went down, sliding across the ground in a trail of gore—but three more vaulted over its body and kept coming.

  Adam pulled back to reposition. “Delphi, I need—”

  “Squad command protocol active,” she cut in. “You may issue fire vectors and movement orders. Assume tactical control.”

  For a second, the words meant nothing to him until his HUD shifted. New overlays unfolded across his vision—grids, markers, and movement paths layered over the environment in real-time. Each Hoplite unit was tagged with a number and status bar, showing vitals, ammo counts, and their current facing. Thin white lines trailed from each of them, like projected pathing. At the edge of his view, a flashing prompt labeled "Assign Fire Zones" pulsed gently, waiting. It was like someone had cracked open a command center and shoved it into his head.

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  For a moment, he just stared at it all, trying to make sense of the layout. The drones weren’t moving yet—not beyond their programmed behaviors—but he could see the potential. Each one was waiting for direction. Each one would follow his orders without question. Another red ping lit up just ahead, and without thinking, he selected it and dragged a fire vector across the training yard. The nearest Hoplite turned instantly, tracking the zone. A second later, a burst of gunfire lit up the corner, tearing through an imp mid-charge and sending it tumbling across the concrete.

  The rest of the imps were spreading out now, circling the squad from multiple angles. Adam blinked, not out of confusion, but out of reflex—switching views between units, repositioning two to cut off an advancing pair of hostiles. The system adjusted with him, snapping lines into place and updating trajectories.

  Just like that, he stopped reacting and started commanding. The commands had started to come faster now. Almost as though he was a sergeant again, he marked two more fire zones across the left flank, dragging targeting cones where the imps were closing in. Hoplite 03 and 06 adjusted their stances immediately, lining up shots just as the creatures broke into a sprint. The timing was perfect—controlled bursts of fire tore through muscle and bone, dropping both targets before they got within striking range.

  Another imp tried to climb the wall of the training yard’s perimeter, using the higher ground to launch itself at Unit 09. Adam was already shifting perspective. He rerouted Unit 12 to intercept, marking a collision path mid-air. The drone rotated, fired, and caught the creature square in the chest before it landed. It slammed into the ground in a heap of twitching limbs and steaming gore.

  His mind ran hot, but not overwhelmed. The system fed him everything—line of sight, ammunition updates, health readouts, even projected risk percentages. He wasn’t fighting anymore, not the way he used to. He was managing, directing, solving problems second by second with violent precision and it was working.

  Yet beneath it all, there was something else creeping in. A small, quiet voice in the back of his head, asking a question he didn’t have time to answer.

  Why is this starting to feel natural?

  By now, the training yard had been cleared of almost all of the imps. Their bodies lay scattered across the concrete in twisted, shredded heaps—skinless limbs sprawled at odd angles, black ichor soaking into the ground beneath them. The stench of vaporized tissue and scorched metal clung to the air, even through the Hoplite’s filtered sensors. A few of the drones were still sweeping the perimeter, tracking for stragglers, but it was clear the swarm had been broken.

  Adam took a step back from the command interface, letting his focus widen. The HUD began to dim slightly, target overlays fading as threat levels dropped. Status bars shifted to green or yellow. A few showed red—units damaged, low on ammo, partially disabled but still active.

  Smoke still hung in the air as the last echoes of gunfire faded into the distance. The Hoplite units remained in place, some kneeling in partial shutdown, others still standing with rifles lowered and optics glowing faintly. The courtyard was quiet now—too quiet. The only movement came from small plumes of black ichor evaporating into the air from the imp corpses that littered the yard.

  Delphi’s voice returned, cool and composed. “Combat exercise complete. Guardian 07, your performance has been recorded and logged. Reaction time exceeded baseline expectations by twenty-three percent. Tactical efficiency is rated at seventy-six percent. Unit coordination—”

  “Uh, Delphi?” he asked, “Whats going on?”

  There was a brief delay before she responded. Her tone hadn’t shifted much, but there was a sharper edge beneath the usual neutral cadence. “Alert: Class-2 breach entity detected. Proximity: 400 meters. Trajectory confirmed. Threat approaching containment zone.”

  “Wait. Class-2?” he asked, his voice tight with uncertainty. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Before Delphi could reply, the gate, which had begun to close by this point, was stopped as the screeching of servos filled the air. Adam’s head snapped to attention, his optics locking onto the source of the noise. What he saw made his blood run cold, or it would have if he still had any to feel it.

  Something had seized the bottom edge of the gate from the outside. The heavy steel structure groaned under strain as the internal locking system struggled to resist. Sparks flew where motorized arms tried to fight back, their hydraulics hissing under the unexpected resistance. Adam watched as the gate struggled to close before a hand appeared underneath it.

  It, much like the imps, was long, muscled, and clawed. It reached beneath the gate and curled its claws around the inner frame. The claws themselves were straight and angular—more like crude blades if anything. It pulled with overwhelming strength, metal shrieking in protest as the door was slowly wrenched upward. The gate didn’t open so much as it was peeled back.

  Through the widening gap, a shape began to emerge. It was big—bigger than the other imps by several feet at least, its frame was hunched but solid, rippling with dense muscle layered beneath strips of exposed sinew. Unlike the others, its body wasn’t fully raw. Segments of hardened bone formed a kind of natural armor across its chest and shoulders, sharp ridges protruding like a jagged exoskeleton. Its arms were long and powerful, its hands dragging blade-like claws across the concrete as it ducked under the gate and stepped into the yard.

  Its head lifted slowly, and Adam got a good look at its face—partially skinned like the rest of its body, but not mindless. Behind its sunken sockets glowed a dull red light, and its jaw was wider than it should have been, hanging open slightly as if constantly tasting the air. Black ichor dripped in slow trails from its mouth, sizzling where it hit the floor.

  Without any hesitation, Adam opened fire. The Hoplite’s rifle barked a series of controlled bursts, muzzle flash strobing against the walls of the yard. The other active units followed his lead, each one shifting into a firing position and unleashing a synchronized volley of kinetic rounds. The air filled with the roar of gunfire, echoing across the concrete enclosure like rolling thunder.

  Rounds slammed into the Greater Imp’s torso, sparking against bone and tearing into flesh. Chunks of muscle peeled back, fluid spraying across the floor—but the creature didn’t slow down. It staggered slightly under the first wave, arms twitching from the impact, but it kept coming, pushing through the barrage like it was walking into a strong wind rather than a hail of bullets.

  The Greater Imp surged forward with terrifying speed, closing the gap in an instant. It slammed into the first Hoplite unit with its full body weight, claws ripping through its chest and splitting the drone in two with a wet, metallic crunch. Another unit pivoted to flank, but the creature spun with it, swiping its arm in a wide arc that sent the drone hurtling across the yard. A third unit managed to get off one last shot before the creature caught it mid-torso, crushed it into the ground, and flung the mangled chassis aside like garbage.

  Adam turned to reposition, but the creature was already on him. One of its clawed limbs struck the Hoplite center mass, sending him flying. The world blurred as he crashed backward into the concrete perimeter wall, the impact cracking the surface and flattening part of his chest plating. Vision stuttered. Sensors screamed with warning overlays. He tried to move, but the Hoplite’s systems lagged under the shock.

  His weapon was gone. Somewhere in the tumble, the rifle had been torn from his grip. More importantly, when he looked down, he saw the problem. Where there should have been a limb, there was only sparking metal and trailing wires. The joint had been sheared clean off in the impact, leaving him with a jagged stump. The Hoplite's interface tried to rebalance the unit, but holding a weapon with one arm was impossible.

  “Delphi,” Adam said, his voice uneven through the filtered comms. “Weapons check. What else do I have besides a rifle?”

  “Primary weapon offline,” she replied without emotion. “Backup armament available: one sidearm and three fragmentation grenades. Located inside the chest compartment.”

  Adam’s mind raced as he lay against the wall, watching the Greater Imp tear through another Hoplite like it was made of paper. One arm down, rifle was gone, and whatever backup pistol he had was still holstered inside a compromised chassis—if he could even reach it. He scanned the HUD for options, trying to piece together anything he could use, any angle, any advantage. The creature was too fast, too strong, and smart enough to ignore direct fire once it knew where it was coming from. His grip tightened as another error warning flashed across his display. Then Delphi’s words echoed again—three fragmentation grenades. “Maybe…” he thought as plan formed in his head.

  He pushed himself up from the wall with his remaining arm, gritting his digital teeth as he stumbled back into motion. Across the yard, the Greater Imp was in the middle of dismantling another Hoplite, claws buried deep into its chassis as it screamed in what sounded disturbingly close to joy.

  “Give me manual control of the remaining units,” Adam ordered. “Have them pull its attention. I need a window.”

  “Confirmed,” Delphi replied.

  The remaining four Hoplites adjusted positions instantly, circling the Greater Imp from various angles and opening fire. The creature reacted, snarling as it twisted to meet the new pressure, momentarily distracted as bullets hammered into its flank and legs.

  He closed the distance fast, sprinting across the battlefield with everything the damaged Hoplite body had left in it. The imp barely noticed him until he was right there, leaping up and grabbing hold of the bone ridges lining its back. Its skinless hide was slick and hot, the bone jagged beneath his grip.

  The creature howled and began thrashing wildly, claws swiping over its shoulders, but its arms couldn’t quite reach its back. Adam held on, wrapping his remaining arm around one of the jutting spines and climbing higher, inching his way up toward the base of the skull.

  Its body bucked hard, nearly throwing him, but he locked in. He reached down with his remaining hand, yanked one of the grenade cylinders from the chest hatch, and primed it. The pin came loose in a smooth motion. Though it took some effort, mainly due to the imps thrashing, he shoved the grenade into the creature’s open jaw just as it twisted its head violently, tearing his only arm free in a spray of sparks and broken metal. The movement flung him backward. He hit the ground hard, sliding across the blood-slicked concrete by a couple of meters.

  From where he landed, his vision tilted upward just in time to see the Greater Imp stagger. It paused mid-step as Its eyes—those dull red coals—glanced around, not in rage, but confusion. Its jaw opened and shut once as if trying to speak or breathe. It took one more slow step forward, trying to swipe at one of the remaining units before its head detonated.

  The explosion wasn’t massive, but it was violent. A sharp burst of light and heat bloomed from within the creature’s skull, blasting fragments of bone, black tissue, and searing fluid in all directions. The blast cored straight through the upper half of its head, splitting it open like rotten fruit. The creature’s body lingered upright for a second longer, swaying unsteadily on its feet, before gravity took hold. With a dull, final thud, the Greater Imp collapsed to the ground, limbs twitching once before going still.

  A heavy silence returned to the yard, broken only by the faint crackle of fires smoldering in the wreckage. Damaged Hoplites stood frozen, their optics dimmed or flickering. The floor was littered with broken machines and shredded corpses, black ichor pooling in uneven lines around scattered limbs and twisted metal. Adam remained motionless, sprawled against the wall where he’d been thrown, watching the ruined monster in front of him.

  It didn’t move again.