Chapter 12 (Joshua’s POV)

  I stepped out of the shattered building’s side exit and into a battered corporate plaza, heart still hammering from the shock of crossing over. The last time I’d seen this place, it had been a half-formed blur of fractals and fear, but now the harsh reality of it spilled across every jagged surface.

  All around me, skyscrapers stood like fractured tombstones, windows blown out, steel frames warped by some past cataclysm. The ground in the plaza was a mosaic of cracked concrete, patches of grass forcing their way through the fissures. The air felt strangely charged, a heavy tang of rust and stale water lingering under the overcast sky. A faint wind whipped through the exposed beams, making a hollow keening noise that set my nerves on edge.

  I clutched my gear: a short sword slung across my back, my newly purchased war hammer sheathed at my side, a bow and quiver plus a backpack loaded with MREs, water purifiers, Anna’s share of equipment—if I found her. Even with the weight, I almost felt naked under the magnitude of emptiness out here. Breathe, Joshua. You’re back.

  I started scanning the immediate area, every muscle tense. The plaza stretched before me, littered with abandoned office furniture, toppled signs, and burnt-out vehicles. Weathered graffiti covered much of the walls and pillars, though it was hard to pick out details in the gloom. Step by careful step, I advanced, trying to keep my footing on the uneven ground.

  Then I spotted it—an odd shape slumped near the base of a collapsed kiosk, half-hidden by a chunk of shattered concrete. My heart kicked up another notch. A body?

  Bracing the war hammer’s strap tighter on my shoulder, I inched closer, each crunch of my boots against debris sounding thunderous in the hush. The figure was definitely a corpse, contorted in a twisted sprawl—legs bent at awful angles, arms splayed wide. A sharp, sickly smell hit me even before I saw the gore. Flies buzzed in a frantic cloud, swirling around the ruined mass of flesh.

  My stomach lurched. It’s a feral, I realized the moment I could make out its elongated limbs and spiked vertebrae. Anna had warned me about them, but it was still a shock to see one in broad daylight. Its grey-green skin glistened with dried fluids, veins bulging unnaturally. Yet the most horrifying part was the head—caved in to the point where fragments of bone and rotted brain matter formed a vile, dark crater. Whatever had killed it must’ve used brutal force, or a hail of bullets, or something more savage. The feral’s jaw was locked open, chipped teeth protruding at odd angles, its facial features a ruin of shredded muscle and clotted gore.

  A rancid wave of stench rose, making my eyes water. I forced down a gag, breathing shallowly. The entire scene was a dreadful still-life: the feral lying in a congealed pool, with flies feasting on what remained of its shattered skull. By the look of it, the kill wasn’t exactly fresh, yet not so old that the flesh had completely sloughed off. The wind gusted, stirring the putrid odor in sharper bursts. My lungs spasmed with each inhalation, skin crawling.

  I knelt near the corpse’s feet, trying to keep some distance from the main gore. An adrenaline spike coursed through me—any noise could draw roamers or something worse. My gaze swept the plaza, checking every nook for movement. Nothing stirred except a battered sign flapping in the breeze. Still, stay quick.

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  I tugged my collar over my nose, blinking away the sting in my eyes. Some compulsion drove me to examine the body further: bullet holes, or a caved-in skull, or a slash from some weapon? The cratered skull was obviously lethal. The rest of its body bore deep gouges, possibly from fighting or being shot. Hard to be sure in the midst of dried gore and blackish fluid that oozed around the ribcage. A few small lumps that might have been maggots wriggled in the open wounds. My stomach twisted, but I forced myself to remain calm—this was the apocalypse, after all.

  “This is what we’re dealing with,” I murmured, voice shaky. The knowledge that a live feral could be even worse than this battered carcass made my pulse skip. Anna once said they were faster, meaner, a twisted upgrade from standard roamers. If this kill lay here, it meant something else—someone else—did it. Empire patrol? Another faction? Maybe even Anna? My throat constricted at that possibility, a flicker of hope firing in my chest.

  I leaned in slightly, ignoring the rebellious churn in my gut. The feral’s fingernails were long, jagged, caked with old, flaking blood. One arm was severed below the elbow, bones and sinew protruding in a macabre stump. The shattered remains of its skull was the worst: a crater of splintered bone, visible lumps of rancid tissue clinging around the edges. I had to blink back tears from the odor and the horrific sight. This realm… it doesn’t hold back.

  The flies buzzed louder, as if irritated by my intrusion. I tried to see if the feral carried anything—sometimes these monsters ended up with random scraps from their kills. But the torso was basically pulp, pockets shredded if it had any clothes to begin with. My eyes flicked across the deserted plaza once more, heart pounding. Don’t linger.

  Stepping away, I exhaled a long, shaky breath. The taste of rot and sour adrenaline lingered on my tongue. The entire scene hammered home the reality of what I’d willingly returned to. No screeching fractals or cryptic warnings could sum it up better than this one savage corpse left to fester.

  Hugging my war hammer close, I took one final glance at the feral’s ruined head. My thoughts flicked to Anna, to how she’d probably handle a sight like this with grim acceptance, maybe a punchy remark about it not being worse than some vile roamer she’d killed. I almost smiled, though it felt hollow in the face of such brutality.

  At length, I forced myself to move. Standing around a half-decayed feral was tempting fate. The thick hush of the plaza weighed on me, the battered high-rises overhead seeming to gape with broken windows like empty eye sockets. The wind whipped up a swirl of dust, scouring my cheeks. Time to find Anna. Time to do something worthwhile.

  Before leaving, I checked my gear one more time—ensuring the water purifier kit was secured, the short sword’s scabbard buckled, the hammered cover latched. No illusions. This city teemed with nightmares. The reek of the feral was a warning sign. But my reasons for returning outweighed my fear.

  With that, I stepped away from the grisly spectacle, each step reverberating in the unnaturally quiet plaza. The wind hissed through the shattered windows above, a haunting lament for the savage reality that had devoured this realm. My heart thundered in my ears, dread and resolve tangling inside me. One foot in front of the other—battered or not, I had to keep going. Because if Anna was out here, I refused to let a rotting city or half-crushed ferals stand in my way.