The wind didn't just howl; it screamed like a flayed ghost. Arkan’s lungs burned, a sharp, metallic fire that tasted of salt and adrenaline as he tore through the vine-strangled forest. Every branch that whipped across his face felt like a reminder of his own fragility, yet the blue heat under his skin pulsed with an opposite truth. He wasn't fragile. He was the mistake the island couldn't digest.
“Alpha Leader, target in sight. Moving toward Sector Three. Minimal resistance,” a cold, synthesized voice crackled through the earpiece Arkan still clutched in his ear.
“Confirm variable status,” another voice replied. “Is Subjek Nol identified?”
“Unconfirmed. But we have eyes on the civilian waste. Initiating the cull. Scorched Earth starts now.”
Arkan’s jaw tightened until his teeth groane
