Chapter Eight: Children Of The Dead
1160 Words
Elijah had thought—hoped—that things might get easier after defeating the first army. He’d survived against impossible odds, barehanded, and the system had rewarded him with Flash Punch. For a moment, it almost felt like he was untouchable.
But reality hit him harder than any creature could.
He still had no idea where his strength came from, and while he’d learned to use the system, he hadn’t accepted it—not really. To him, this still felt like some kind of invasion, not destiny. He wasn’t about to start believing he’d been chosen to protect humanity.
Because if he was? He’d never forgive them.
He hated humanity—the same people who had treated him like a ghost, like trash, like nothing. Even if fate had chosen him, Elijah wasn’t so sure he’d return the favor. If he ever had to sacrifice himself for the greater good, he’d take the whole world down with him.
But there was no time to dwell on that.
His victory over the first army hadn’t come without a cost. His hands burned. His coat hung in tatters. His skin was scorched with wounds that would surely leave scars. Steam rose from his body with every breath, a reminder of how close he’d been to breaking.
And then came the commander’s screech.
The portal rippled.
A new army spilled out.
Elijah’s eyes narrowed. At first he thought they were more of the same—twisted, grotesque monsters like the ones before. But no. These weren’t towering beasts. They weren’t malformed creatures.
They were children.
Dozens of them. Maybe over a hundred. No older than twelve.
They didn’t look like monsters. They looked like him. Like Rean. Like the kids who used to sit at the back of his classrooms.
“Oh, great,” Elijah muttered, breath ragged. “Kids.”
They marched in formation, small but unnerving, stopping just in front of the commander. It was clear—they weren’t just an army. They were his shield. His protection.
And for the first time, Elijah could sense it—the commander was afraid. His fear was thick in the air, and Elijah almost grinned.
So that’s why, Elijah thought, chuckling under his breath. Hiding behind children, huh?
He flexed his fingers, trying to ignore the pain creeping up his arms. The Flash Punch had saved him once. He’d have to trust it again.
“Alright,” he called, raising his fists. “Who’s first?”
The commander screeched again, and the children charged. One at a time, then ten at once.
Elijah braced himself. He remembered being a kid. Kids weren’t stronger than adults. Even at fifteen, he still believed that.
But these weren’t normal children.
They weren’t even alive.
The first wave lunged, and Elijah struck back, Flash Punch cutting through them with blinding speed. One. Two. Five. Ten. Their bodies crumpled to the ground, empty shells with no blood, no hearts, no souls.
He laughed bitterly. “Not so tough after all.”
But with every strike, his hands screamed in pain. His knuckles felt like they were fracturing. The adrenaline kept him moving, but cracks were forming. He should’ve been drenched in blood, his own or theirs, but there was nothing. No red. Just bodies collapsing into dust and ash.
Still, he kept fighting. Kept grinning through the pain.
“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted, locking eyes with the commander.
The commander didn’t flinch. He didn’t panic this time. Instead, he let out a low, guttural screech—a sound that seemed almost like a laugh.
Elijah’s grin faded. “...Oh, I see.”
The commander had changed the rules.
This time, the children didn’t come one by one. They didn’t even come in groups. They came as an army—all at once.
The ground trembled under the weight of their charge.
“Fine!” Elijah roared, planting his feet. He bent his knees, clenched his fists, and leapt into the air, every muscle in his body screaming.
“ARGHHHH!”
He slammed his fist down.
The street cracked beneath him. The impact exploded in a deafening boom, kicking up a storm of dust and smoke that swallowed the battlefield whole.
And in that moment—nobody could see what happened next.
Elijah clenched his teeth, his patience fraying. “Where the hell are you?” he growled into the haze, his voice echoing through the thick wall of smoke.
At last, the dust began to thin, swirling away in patches until the battlefield started to reveal itself. Relief trickled in as Elijah rose to his feet, his lips curling into a grin.
“Finally… there you are,” he muttered, his tone dripping with satisfaction, certain he’d cornered his prey.
But as the last veil of smoke cleared, his grin faltered.
What stood before him wasn’t the commander.
It was something else.
A lone figure loomed through the settling dust, its posture unnervingly calm, its presence radiating menace. And then Elijah saw them—eyes glowing crimson in the dark, fixed directly on him.
His relief curdled into dread.
As the haze of dust and smoke thinned, Elijah’s relief twisted into disbelief. At first, he thought it was just one lone figure standing before him—calm, still, and unnervingly composed. But then his eyes caught another… and another. His stomach dropped. There weren’t just a couple of survivors. There were more—far more than he expected.
And the worst part?
They weren’t strangers. These were the very children he thought he had obliterated with that final, desperate strike.
They loomed in silence, their eyes unblinking, their presence heavy. None of them rushed him. None of them attacked. They simply waited, standing over him like judges watching a criminal squirm, as though giving him time to realize the bitter truth—that his greatest effort had failed.
“What… what the hell is this?” Elijah’s voice cracked with disbelief, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.
Grimacing, he yanked his fist free from the cratered ground. The moment he did, a sharp sting rippled through his hand, followed by a searing burn that made him grit his teeth. He glanced at it quickly, noticing the Flash Punch glove flickering faintly before the glow sputtered out completely.
He flexed his fingers, hissing under his breath. Something wasn’t right.
“Was it… always this dark?” he muttered, staring at the glove. Its once-bright green had dulled to a murky shade, almost sickly. But before he could think any deeper on it, instinct told him to rise. He shifted to push himself up from his knees—
—only for a crushing blow to slam into the back of his head.
The world snapped sideways, pain erupting across his skull as his body crashed down hard against the very earth he’d split open moments before. Darkness clawed at the edges of his vision.
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