The entire scouting team quickly approached the private hospital during the morning hours.
They carefully cast a series of scouting magic spells, proceeding only when they sensed no significant danger ahead.
The gray haired youth looked up at the sky, where giant worms once again dominated the land.
Gazing at the sky, he felt a strange sense of unfamiliarity, though naturally no one would feel accustomed to such a bleak gray sky.
He let out a long yawn; in this dire situation where even a fleeing dog would meet its death, that yawn felt quite peculiar.
He paused, joining the scouting team as they stared at the hospital gates. What had originally been a simple, minimalist gateway without even a guard post, radiating a snow white chill, was now stained with blood red from top to bottom.
"Ha..."
Letting out a sigh, Promet picked up an iron bar salvaged from ruined structures, channeling a power resembling white lightning into it.
Exchanging silent glances, he led them along a roundabout path to avoid the corpses scattered before the hospital entrance.
The gray haired youth trailed at the very back, his eyes scanning their surroundings.
As he stepped past a corpse, he paused for a brief moment, staring at the bloodstained, graying brain matter.
That feeling was hard not to compare to cheap horror movies one might see in any cinema.
Yet witnessing something and experiencing it firsthand remained two completely different concepts, as the gray haired youth's legs were already trembling, his vision blurred with tears.
Catching a fleeting glimpse of a corpse, he kicked it away out of sheer disgust. The kick sent the dead body's severed head rolling, creating a small noise.
Yet in this dead silent space, even a tiny sound drew unwanted attention.
Instantly, the people leading the group turned back to look at him, but before anyone could utter a word, another sound echoed out.
CRACK!
The man leading the scout team suddenly collapsed to the ground, his neck torn wide open and twisted in an agonizing angle.
"!!"
Promet was the first to react, raising his hand high to form a sphere of lightning.
"ENEMY!"
Someone screamed, and an instant chaos erupted.
Yet fundamentally, this battle was unfair from the start.
BOOM!
An explosion burst forth from Promet's side, scorching his arm.
It was the lightning sphere in his hand that had exploded, triggered when a rogue pebble suddenly slammed into his active skill.
"What on earth!"
A girl shrieked, frantically chanting a concealment spell to escape.
Tragically, in a mere split second, a pitch black hand seized her neck from behind, instantly snapping her neck from the nape.
"GET TO OPEN GROUND! THE ENEMY IS USING GUERRILLA TACTICS!"
Promet roared, bursting out of the narrow alley toward the overgrown garden, making a direct dash for the open courtyard.
In the courtyard, dozens of corpses were piled into small mountains, reeking with an indescribable stench. Though nauseating, the scouting team had no other choice.
They burst from the bushes, huddling together at the center to hurriedly count their numbers.
"We lost two people!"
The gray haired youth swallowed hard, dropping to one knee to pick up a pebble, hurling it toward the enemy hiding within the dense bushes.
SWISH!
THUD.
Surprisingly, the pebble never hit the ground; it was caught cleanly in the enemy's palm.
"You have got to be kidding..."
Gazing at the enemy standing before them, the entire team held their breath, completely paralyzed with fear. Before them stood a silhouette carved like a statue, eyes thoroughly shrouded in blood red with faint glints of white light, lips drenched in raw flesh, and veiny hands that looked ready to tear any foe apart.
He stood motionless, holding the severed heads of the two victims he had just slain, and then...
RIP!
His fingernails dug deep into the skulls, gradually tearing them apart until both human heads exploded in all directions, splattering blood, flesh, bones, and brain matter everywhere.
"Ha..."
That madman flexed his muscles, sending chilling shivers down the spines of everyone present, making them tremble before his form.
They froze on the spot, utterly unable to move.
This was not magic, but raw animal instinct, the terror of prey facing a predator.
This was sheer pressure, the crushing aura of a predator, the one hailed as the close quarters combat genius.
Lunas had arrived.