Narrated by Joseph Renlanton

  I woke up early. My brothers were still asleep in their beds.

  I rushed to the bathroom and looked straight into the mirror—but saw nothing unusual.

  Relieved, I sighed, but suddenly, the same man was standing behind me, staring into the mirror.

  He said, "Did you think I’d let you go?"

  I turned to him quickly and replied, "Seems like you’ll never leave me, will you?"

  He stepped closer and said, "Not until you win."

  He got dangerously close, but I kept my composure and said, "I know this is just a dream, you idiot. You can’t do anything."

  The place began to flicker and distort. Panic spread across his face as he looked at me and shouted, "You fool! You’re breaking the dream!"

  "I know, I want to wake up, you lunatic."

  He looked at me and warned, "I’ll return every day, until you claim your victory."

  Suddenly, everything returned to normal.

  I pulled a knife from my jacket—and slit my throat.

  I woke up on the dining table. It seemed I had fallen asleep there.

  But no one was around.

  I checked the rooms—every corner of the house. Empty.

  I headed to the garage, jumped on my motorcycle, and rode to headquarters.

  Once there, I made my way straight to the commander’s office.

  None of my brothers were inside—just him and me.

  The commander looked at me and asked, "Looking for someone?"

  He was a kind and gentle man. I looked back at him and said, "Yes. I’m looking for my brothers."

  "I sent them on a mission," he said. "Unfortunately, I don’t know where. It’s more of a scouting task than an assault."

  I nodded. "Thank you."

  None of them were answering their phones.

  Then I approached one of the soldiers and asked about the team.

  The soldier said, "I saw them heading east. The only place reachable from the eastern side of HQ is the Giants’ Desert. Maybe that’s where they went."

  I thanked him, mounted my bike, and rode toward the desert.

  There, I found a massive white house.

  I rushed toward it and drove my motorcycle straight inside.

  I crashed through the wooden wall and entered directly.

  I figured my brothers were planning to snipe or sneak in—but since I wasn’t with them, I had to come up with a plan myself.

  Inside the meeting room, I found a few guards and some people who looked like nobles or men of power—judging by their clothes and faces.

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  I swiftly decapitated them and grabbed every map I could find.

  There were about five scrolls in total.

  Then I spotted my brothers through the window, standing on a nearby hill.

  Nikolai walked toward me and slapped me.

  "Good thing you showed up. We couldn’t wake you, even after stabbing your leg with a sword. It was weird," he said.

  I looked at my leg and saw a sword scar. It had healed, but the mark was still there.

  I smiled and replied, "Didn’t notice that."

  Then I looked toward the house and saw a man leap off the roof, flying through the air.

  I ignored it and loaded my motorcycle into the vehicle.

  We all got in.

  Natasha was driving this time.

  I looked at her and said, "This is the first time I’ve seen you drive."

  Jason burst into laughter. "Better be careful—it might also be the last time."

  Stalin looked at her and said, "I agree. This car’s done for."

  Natasha began driving, but the vehicle started to rattle.

  Nikolai went to the driver’s cabin and asked her, "What’s wrong? It’s not that hard."

  I glanced back at my motorcycle—and saw around a hundred armored vehicles behind us, armed with rocket launchers.

  I alerted the others.

  Then, I kicked the door open and climbed to the roof of the car.

  I raised my hands and whispered,

  "O divine ones, have mercy on these lost souls. Let me deliver them into your embrace."

  Spirits began to rise—dozens of them—forming a cloud of screaming hands, crawling and shrieking.

  They were violet, like electricity, but not made of it.

  As they slithered across the air, they devoured each vehicle, one by one, until there was nothing left.

  Then they vanished.

  I returned to the car and sat down.

  Natasha stared at me, her face pale and terrified.

  She looked me in the eye and asked, "What was that thing?"

  I answered,

  "That was the Screamer—the spirits of the dead, shaped by a woman who once ruled the world. Her name was Julienne. She was a queen, descended from the gods of lightning. Brutal, and she ruled through fear."

  I continued,

  "But her reign didn’t last long. Some of her highest-ranking soldiers, including her own lieutenant, assassinated her. They cut off her legs and threw her from the castle. But her bloodline was preserved. She didn’t die right away—long enough to store her blood in a vial.

  Now, I can summon the spirits of those she slaughtered. They take on her form, and repeat her legacy.

  They’re called the Screamer.

  I don’t know why she carried the vial, or who used it on themselves—but this is the only story that explains her.

  Personally, though, I doubt anyone would drink a vial of blood taken from a corpse that close."

  We returned to HQ and handed the scrolls to the commander.

  They were maps, apparently—but I couldn’t make sense of them.

  They looked more like blood-drawn circles than anything geographical.

  I’d heard of rituals for summoning demons, or something like that, but I doubted our commander would attempt such a thing.

  We went back home peacefully.