Ascension: Survivors...

  Many generations later…

  It's a long, dark, and chilly night...

  The cloudy sky hides the waxing moon's gleam over a destroyed set of scattered ruins...

  ... ... ...

  "Corporal Mann!"

  A young man dressed in dark-colored camouflage-patterned clothing and military gear snaps awake, scrambling for his nearby M4; his Sergeant is shining a flashlight right into his squinting brown eyes. Purposefully annoying. The young soldier waves a hand over his face and grunts in annoyance. He's got a weary aesthetic to his handsome features; he's been out here for a while. Is this his relief arriving? That voice...

  "I'm up, Sergeant Peterson!" he grunts, his baritone on the deeper side. "Can you please get that light off of me?" he sighs, and Sergeant Peterson quickly replies with a joking insult. This is their usual thing.

  "Absolutely not!" the larger and older, paler-skinned man chuckles. He's a heavier-set man on the burly side, with sparse blonde hair and a clean-shaven face. His voice is dry, making him sound as though he's always a little thirsty when he speaks. "It's the only way I can see your ass in such low visibility!" a joke on the light-skinned man's skin tone. "And, I gotta make sure that shaving profile of yours is up to standard, you no good, dirty-jivin-" the Corporal quickly hops up and shoves his Sergeant out the door, and Sgt. Peterson laughs while leaving. Both of them step out into a snow-covered wasteland bathed in weak bursts of moonlight at the clouds' discretion.

  The two soldiers post near the edge of a broken railing, overlooking the small encampment below. The Corporal rubs his hands together for warmth against the chill of the night, his eyes looking over the parked Humvees, the snuffed-out campfire, and the several tents neatly strewn in a perimeter. The ruins they're sheltering in are larger, but their formation is tight and impregnable. They have no blind spots out here. But beyond this small patch of ruins stretches an abyss of darkness as far as their eyes can see. They're in the middle of nowhere for this mission. An all too familiar feeling...

  Isolation...

  "Since you woke me, I'm guessing it's my turn to pull guard or patrol?" he tiredly asks, glancing left to his somewhat larger Sergeant. They're similar in height, but their difference in mass is akin to a Mastiff and a German Shepherd; an easy glance can tell one who is stronger or faster. Sgt. Peterson shakes his head before slipping his beanie on, offering a spare to his subordinate.

  "Put this on before you catch a cold. There are no women out here to see your lineup," a dry snort gets warm laughter from the Corporal. Sgt. Peterson eyes him while they don the beanie. "You shaped up your beard, too, didn't you? I let you slide with a lot of shit," he sighs, and Corporal Mann lightly taps his shoulder in reassurance, chuckling while replying.

  "Because you know I'm reliable and like you said..." he gestures to the vast nothingness surrounding them on their excursion. "Nobody out here fucking cares about my hair! Or yours!" he shimmies closer like a devious brat, a face wrought with impending shenanigans, and is stopped by Sgt. Peterson's sudden shift in tone; it's time for business. There's a shift in vibes just like his words.

  "I got word over comms that an Abyss Monster ambushed our Replicant's escort..." A soft, solemn pause falls between the two, and Cpl. Mann's expression shifts to silent sorrow; he knew one of the soldiers on that assignment, but not enough to warrant a real reaction. Sgt. Peterson gives him a few seconds to grieve before carrying on like soldiers do. "Therefore, Dirge is headed here on foot now, but he'll be about fifteen minutes later than planned. He should be here by the time we get done with this conversation," he pauses again, and Cpl. Mann can't help blinking in newfound disbelief. A fifteen-minute delay???

  "To get here with that small of a delay, he'd have to be sprinting at least seventy fucking miles an hour!" The Corporal's jaw almost drops in disbelief. "I know that Replicants are superhuman, but that's insane!" he can't help admiring that power. "I wish I were able to do shit like that, man. I'd feel much safer than just relying on a military grade assault rifle," he eye-rolls at military grade, then side-eyes the rifle slung around his torso. Sergeant Peterson quickly dismisses any idea that he shares his subordinate's thoughts.

  "I don't," a dry scoff precedes a casual, nuanced explanation. "People see another person with strength, and they always want to know two things: what made that person strong, and what'll break them. If the person's blessed by God or if they're cursed by the Devil to be a target," he pauses and faces the Corporal, pointing at his chest while they idle under the soft, silent moonlight. Corporal Mann glances at the pointing finger while his Sergeant lectures him. Out of nowhere. Again. For like, the hundredth damn time.

  "Take you for example," a dry huff earns the Corporal's suspicious brow. The Sergeant ignores it and keeps talking. "I'll be nuanced and unbiased here: You're a young, tall, good-looking guy with nice hair, skin, all of that. A whole light-skinned pretty boy. A lot of your male friends are likely to throw you under the bus if it lowers your chances of getting with a girl they like." he pauses because he knows Corporal Mann's going to react, and it happens on cue.

  "Thankfully, I only have eyes for you!" A snicker falls to silence when his Sergeant raises his hand; this isn't the time for jokes. The Corporal hushes, and his superior continues. Their voices echo into the night. Their sleeping allies likely easily hear them if they wished.

  "You're also a rare breed of guy, too. Reliable and trustworthy. People will absolutely take advantage of that if you give them the opportunity. Only a rare few wouldn't. Still, you have your downsides as well, the largest being your shitty ass work ethic..." he steps closer, casually listing off his flaws, good and bad. He looks the Corporal in his eyes with sincerity. Those onyx-colored hues look into calm, curious browns. An aged and experienced warrior looking into the eyes of someone ignorant of their potential.

  "I asked you to be on this mission despite the commander arguing against it for thirty minutes because he thought you were a shitbag," a curt reveal draws a sudden look of surprise from the Corporal; the young man looks offended. He doesn't speak, though. Sergeant Peterson's not done talking. "Because I know that a man's character isn't determined by their fucking appearances, or how well they fucking listen to directions from some idiot they don't even like, or even by how many women they fuck. No, it's decided by how you treat every individual you meet, and you.... Jaden Mann..." his hand raises and rests on the soldier's shoulder with a genuine sigh. It's almost like he can't believe he's admitting this, and it makes him chuckle. He meant to lecture and turned out praising. Unbelievable.

  "You're a good person like Dirge, even though he's a Replicant and you're a human. And, because of this, you'll always be a target for bad energy. Be it human, monster, or divine..." another pause as the Sergeant removes his hand and looks away. Corporal Mann stays quiet, unsure how to respond, but there's a look of genuine movement in his face. His Sergeant's words verified the reason he always did everything that man asked of him. A true bond of trust and respect. He'll ignore that his Sergeant is only now revealing he got to meet the Replicant before anyone else out here. The Sergeant's next words made it hard to ignore them.

  "That's why I made you Corporal, too," another reveal that's far more upsetting than the first makes Cpl. Mann's scowl almost comedic. Sgt. Peterson bursts out laughing at such a priceless reaction. It likely wakes the sleeping soldiers, but none of them ever says anything from inside their darkened tents. The background noise was more peaceful than deafening, snow-padded silence. "You're the type of guy who only acts at his best when others put pressure and responsibility on you. You're reactive instead of proactive, and you need to snap out of that habit, or it'll kill you and the people you care about," he warns, his laughter turning into seriousness at a switch. The Corporal nods in silent acknowledgment, looking away.

  A chilly breeze carries the scent of wetness...

  The cold seeps into the skin at times...

  "These winters are getting colder every year. You think it's from the increasing Abyss activity?" Cpl. Mann asks, and Sgt. Peterson nods. The Corporal scowls, looking away in thought for a little while. "And, we're camped near an impending Abyssal Rift, right?" he asks a follow-up, and the Sergeant nods again, already knowing where this is going but allowing the Corporal to get it out of his system.

  "And, Abyssal Rifts are usually full of shit that's lethal to humans, right?" he asks, and his Sergeant nods again. With every follow-up question, the inflection in Corporal Mann's voice rises as if a comedic realization is about to happen. "And, last but not least, our primary means of combat just got delayed fifteen minutes at the least... right?" he asks, and the Sergeant sighs, finishing this after all.

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  "The only one that thinks we're fucking stupid for staying out here till the rift opens is likely you, Mann," a huff. "Even then, I know this is how you cope when you're anxious. You tend to complain about shit when you're doing it," an eye roll accompanies this, and the Corporal's quick to respond.

  "Lies! I complain about everything that costs more than a convenient amount of effort, or slightly inconveniences me!" A proud retort earns a judgmental look of disappointment from his Sergeant, but that doesn't stop the Corporal. "Imagine how much I cried in the shower when you told me you got me promoted to Corporal. I damn near lost all the water that makes up my body even while sho-"

  "Shh!" Sergeant Peterson's hand shoots up, and the Corporal's already readying his rifle and snapping into a shooting stance.

  Silence surrounds the two...

  It's so quiet one can hear their heart as it beats in their chest...

  The Corporal glances at the Sergeant. The Sergeant is frozen in place like a statue, but his senses are ever aware. He heard something; he didn't imagine it.

  ... ... ...

  Seconds turn into a minute...

  Nothing....

  The Corporal eyes the Sergeant again; they're still frozen, but aware.

  A minute turns into a minute and fo-

  Something breathes that's not them.

  "CONTA-"

  A spray of blood accompanies a grotesque sound, and red paints the ground while a head rolls toward Corporal Mann's feet, his eyes wide in absolute horror when the body of his Sergeant collapses. The culprit vanishes in a flare of eerie energy before the soldier even gets his words out. The man he's grown to see as a brother over the past few years is dead in an instant. Without warning.

  "CONDOR!!!!!" he screams at the top of his lungs and sprays EVERYTHING in the direction of his Sergeant's body. The barrel of his gun sparks, spitting shockwaves of sound in rapid succession with its bullets; he wakes the entire camp. Or, well, he would've if any of the camp were still alive. The lack of noise or lights from the tents below during his burst of gunfire tells the Corporal everything he needs to know, and he starts crying while keeping his fortitude. He can't relax; there's a monster in the camp.

  "SHIT!" Jaden curses and, without thinking, dives over the railing toward the ground several feet below while wearing all of his gear; roughly forty pounds of extra weight. He miraculously lands feet first and into a terrible roll that sends him tumbling into some crates of supplies. His rifle rips from its strap and falls to the ground lifeless and empty. It wasn't going to help much against this unseen monster anyway. It's the worst kind of abomination to fight on this type of night. Jaden knows this, and that's why his first instinct is to run.

  One of the Seven types of Abyss Monsters has a fondness for slaughtering men on quiet nights...

  Lust...

  This one lusts for murder!

  Intuition or luck makes Jaden roll behind a fallen crate a split second before a force cleaves a wicked gash across the ground. The air whistles like a guillotine's shears the duration of the invisible slash, and the high pitch of it implies whatever's attacking the soldier is swift, graceful, and speedy. The Humvees are not far, and the doors lack locks, so it's the easiest choice. Jaden sprints as fast as he can toward the vehicles while stripping his gear to increase his speed; this armor's not stopping whatever carved that gash in the ground.

  He makes it to the Humvee to his surprise and wastes no time dashing into the driver's seat and starting it up. The moment he presses the gas, though, something slashes his front tires in rapid succession, then takes out the headlights. All of this happens in the span of five seconds before a more powerful, HEAVIER impact SMASHES the hood of the vehicle, then slices the roof off with a horizontal sweep. The moon peaks through the clouds and finally shines upon what would've been a barely seen silhouette otherwise, moments before it executes the frozen-in-fear soldier.

  A woman's ghostly silhouette with bladed tendrils sprouting from her back like spider legs...

  A wicked, unholy beauty...

  It swings several-meter-long appendages like a scythe toward the sitting Corporal as he shields his face in futility, awaiting the deafening beyond...

  A gleam of gold and black energy that blazes like fire across the dark sky predates a loud, distinct whooshing noise, like space itself is realizing something displaced it and is refilling the void. When the Corporal's eyes open, he's on his ass in the snow behind another young man dressed in black with their back facing him, and a strange sword in his left hand. Is that a gunblade!? Wait, there's only one person the Corporal's heard of that has one. It was a rumor spoken through the barracks before they ever met him. Jaden's eyes widen in both realization and sadness. The young man's voice echoes in Jaden's ears. It's calm, quiet, and fearless when he glances over his shoulder and those ethereal golden eyes gaze down at the shellshocked soldier.

  "Play your part and we'll kill it together."

  He's gone in an instant like a ghost, and deafening silence falls over the bloody encampment.

  Jaden stumbles to his feet and wipes his brow. He's barely keeping it together as he scans his surroundings, then spots his rifle in the snow not far from him. He looks around again when the moon dips behind the clouds, then dashes for his gun. He shows no concern for his surroundings and presents himself as an easy target, which is exactly what he and the mysterious stranger wanted to happen.

  A distortion manifests as a physical reality when the Abyssal Demon attacks, its only moment of vulnerability. Those scything, whiplike appendages close in on all directions from above and behind the diving Corporal: a web of death. It's intercepted by a spear of golden black energy that slams into the creature's torso, stopping its blades from tearing into flesh. The stranger's heavy combat boot firmly plants itself, a driving force of untold strength sending both crashing into the ground and snow, leaving a destructive trail for meters beyond the encampment.

  The Corporal scoops his weapon up and cleans it off while ignoring the vicious sounds of combat that's far too fast for him to perceive going on behind. He glances at the second Humvee for a moment in deep thought, briefly wondering if his part is done or not, then shakes his head. "... I'm killing that bitch with you," he curses, readying his weapon and dashing to a vantage point.

  You're a good person like Dirge...

  Jaden and Dirge are going to prove his words right.

  The high-pitched noises of rapid blade clashes mingle with the whistling winds of slashes missing, slices shredding the ground, and impacts carrying intense amounts of kinetic energy, blasting ice and powdery snow everywhere. The moon dips out again from the depths of dark clouds, shining upon the cold battlefield as two supernatural entities engage in a fight to the death. They're close enough in ability, but not endurance...

  "STRUGGLE HARDER!!!!!"

  The demonic woman's visage stays thanks to her relentless and nonstop assault of attacks, each bladed swing covering meters of distance. Her figure bathed in black and red shadows, like burning darkness given physical form. Her blades spark and clash against the agile, dark-haired, and golden-eyed adversary so fluidly repelling her strikes. He's keeping pace with her blindingly fast assault, but she smiles despite this. Her words aren't said without reason.

  An imperfect parry allows an attack through his guard, slashing a gash in his loose overcoat and drawing blood.

  A light wound that's inconsequential, but it makes him wince.

  "You're DEAD!" the demon cries in gleeful victory when she closes the rest of her blades in, a planned follow-up attack to her opening. Abyssal abominations can act far faster than most, but a preemptive spray of bullets from an unsuspecting direction hits her backside, though, and staggers her seconds before her victorious cut; karmic retribution? Her edged tendrils flail in the air for a few seconds when she stumbles forward, then viciously looks over her shoulder at the teary-eyed Corporal aiming down his sights at her. He sees her through his scope and roars at the top of his lungs. His experience and intuition saved Dirge's life.

  "COME GET SOME BITCH!"

  The Demon's already crossed the distance and is going for the kill with her blades.

  You and Dirge are good people...

  "So were you, Sergeant Peterson..."

  "I'll see you and the rest soon..."

  Someone impales the lunging demon from above and takes them both to the ground. Dirge's blade digs deeper into the creature's spinal column, inciting screams of agony from the impaled monster. The black-haired man then pulls the trigger of his sword without a word, wreathing the weapon in that same golden-black energy the Corporal witnessed earlier, and the soldier watches the demon burn to ash. Silence quickly follows, but the new arrival keeps his sword arm ready and turns to look the Corporal in the eye before speaking.

  "Thank you for saving my life. I'm sorry I couldn't save your squad," a sincere apology with a soft, yet vigilant voice; they're not out of danger yet. The Corporal stares for a few seconds, then regains his composure and nods before reloading his gun and standing back-to-back with the Replicant. The ominous shift in the air and intensifying pressure weighing on their shoulders start visibly distorting the space around them. An Abyssal Rift is about to open nearby, and it's just them left. Jaden takes a deep breath.

  "My Sergeant always says you never know the dangers of a job till it happens to you..." he gives a weary, annoyed grunt, then everything changes in front of him.

  Their entire world twists into another reality...

  The Abyss shall drown all...

  Next Chapter: Keep Going...