Towering and Faceless, the figure stalked me. Its movements were smooth, calm, deliberate—like a father indulging a child in a game he could end at any moment.

  With some ungainly thrashing and rolling on the ground, I managed to make a little space to get back to my feet. Once there, I raised my rifle and fired again. I squeezed that damn trigger and didn’t let go until every last bit of hot metal had smashed into my enemy.

  It may have slowed its inexorable approach slightly, but that was almost definitely wishful thinking on my part.

  As the rifle ran dry, I considered reloading, then in a moment of clarity, saw it for what it was: a crutch, a false promise of safety. With a desperate growl, I hurled the rifle at the monster and continued my retreat.

  The figure’s head tilted slightly. I couldn’t read what it thought, but whatever passed through its mind was not pity. With a burst of speed, it closed the distance again, broad blade swinging in a wide arc.

  I threw myself backward, rolling to my feet, somehow still alive. In the move, I noted how much easier it had been to evade without the rifle, and how much the other gear I was laden with was slowing me down. It might not be by much, but I needed every advantage, so I began stripping everything off.

  To my surprise, the black-armored monster stopped to watch me. That curious tilt of its head had returned as I continued my backward scuttle. I prepared for another explosive attack, and dropped to a low fighting stance, hands spread wide, palms open. From that position, I knew I could move in any direction in an instant.

  A deep rumbling sound came from the armored titan. Was that laughter? For the first time, I wondered what was underneath all that armor.

  It was massive, of that there was no doubt. Standing around eight feet tall, even if it wasn’t bullet proof, it was still far too big for me to seriously consider fighting hand to hand.

  In the lull, I looked past it to see how my squad were faring. What I saw drained the last of my hope. They were all dead. Scattered like broken dolls across a future serial killer’s bedroom.

  My options had just dropped from one to none. I was going to die here.

  I eyed the horror in front of me again. Its oppressive aura and supreme confidence sent fear clawing up my throat.

  I thought of my brother again in that moment. I hated that my last thoughts on this Earth would be about that bastard, but if he had taught me one thing, it was how to take a beating and keep going. Even when the opponent was bigger, stronger, and damn near impossible to beat... Especially then.

  I took a breath and then beckoned it forward to fight.

  At that gesture, the unthinkable happened. It dropped both shield and sword, and crouched, adopting a stance eerily similar to mine.

  My muscles tightened just in time as the armored titan darted toward me. A front kick came from nowhere, and while I tried to move, it caught my shoulder. Pain exploded through my left side as I pirouetted through the air and smashed into the ground. Rolling with the momentum, I bit back a scream each time I rolled over the injured arm.

  I dragged myself back to my feet, tenderly testing my arm. It was bad but still useable if I didn’t mind lancing pain with every movement.

  The titan rumbled again as it resumed the stance. I followed suit this time, trying to control my ragged breathing. Come on, Adam. Focus! Bigger opponent. What do we do?

  To my surprise an answer came like a shot of adrenaline: Get the fucker’s helmet off. Let’s see how tough it is without that.

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  It came again, front kick to lead. Predictable, I noted as I dodged. It followed up with an open-handed strike from its gauntleted hand.

  Under normal circumstances, I’d have parried and countered. But this wasn’t normal and I wasn’t parrying shit from this thing.

  The only chance I had was to redirect its power.

  When the strike came, I stepped back and snatched the ridge of its vambrace, using it to shove myself clear.

  It worked. The creature snarled, furious at the miss, and swung a wrecking-ball backhand at my head.

  Smart move — if I hadn’t kept hold of its vambrace.

  I let myself go limp with the movement. Tossed like a rag-doll, the sudden jerk tore my already damaged shoulder from the socket. Like a bolt of lightning, pain lanced through my body from neck to waist. It was a desperate gamble, yet still I held on, and at the peak of its backhand, the momentum sent me airborne for a moment. I let go when I was certain my trajectory would land me close to its huge back.

  Oof! The wind left my lungs as I crashed into its shoulder and started to fall. At a fever pitch of desperation, my one groping hand searched for a hold. If it didn’t find one, this was over before it started.

  The titan was turning, spinning to get at me as I fell.

  Elation! My hand wrapped around a ridge on its pauldron. I now spun with it. A few more seconds of life guaranteed.

  The moment my foot found purchase in the narrow of its waist, I propelled myself higher. My left arm hung limp and useless, but my right hand came free as I shot up, fingers clawing at the rim of the bastard’s helmet and snagging a hold.

  It thrashed wildly, a black tornado of fury. But like that spot on your back that you can’t itch, its armor restricted its movement enough to leave me out of range of its grasping hands.

  Wedging my foot in the crease of his back, I wrenched at the helm. It creaked and lifted a little, showing a thin sliver of pale, white skin underneath. I was so close. In that moment, I knew I had a chance.

  Then the air left my lungs in a single, crushing instant.

  I looked down to see a massive hand clamped around me, squeezing like a vise. I couldn’t understand how it had managed to reach me. That question was answered as I was ripped from the sworn bearer’s back, helmet still gripped in my hand.

  The hand belonged to the mace wielder. I was done.

  The only solace was that I got to see the look of horror on my opponent’s surprisingly human face before I died.

  It was definitely some kind of alien, with light gray, almost white skin that gradually darkened to almost black where its chin split into two short spikes. Their fathomless eyes, black like the pits of hell, would have been terrifying if not for the utter bewilderment in them.

  Death might be imminent, but I relished that small, defiant victory.

  The mace wielder barked at the swordsman in a sharp, alien language. Their voice was deep but clear. The two of them exchanged words before the swordsman retrieved its fallen helmet, glaring at me silently before sliding it back into place.

  Before I could process my demise, I was dangling upside down, held by the waist and swinging gently in the iron grip of the mace wielder. They strode off with chilling purpose.

  Blood rushed to my head as I swayed back and forth, the ache in my dislocated arm a dull throb compared to the cold dread settling in my gut.

  I also learned on that pendulum of defeat that not all my squad had died. The limp form of Sergeant Pierce gripped by the ankle with my captors other hand came periodically into view. He was being dragged over the rough ground, groaning every time his head bounced over a rock.

  Why are we still alive?

  With every step forward, the crumbling structures of ruins became larger and more intricate, and that question burned deeper into my mind. What do they want with us?

  The ruins stopped abruptly to make way for an open area. Circular in shape like an ancient arena, every inch was painted with fresh blood and death.

  The bodies of soldiers and scientists formed a grotesque carpet only inches from where my head swayed. My stomach turned at the sight, but it wasn’t the corpses that truly stole my attention—it was the anomaly in the center.

  A swirling disk of brilliant blue light cast eerie shadows over the chaos. Its surface pulsed, alive with a strange energy that tugged at something deep within me as we moved toward it.

  More of the guttural language was barked out as armored figures across the area spoke to each other. Many of them carried injured soldiers to a guarded enclosure next to the Anomaly, while others strode away with grim purpose, bloodied weapons in hand.

  I expected to end up in that pen, but my own captor took us directly to the anomaly and the guards waiting to either side of it. An argument broke out immediately. Harsh words, clipped and utterly indecipherable, but there was no doubt that my captor held power, and an agreement was reached.

  The ankle of the bloody and battered Pierce was dropped carelessly to the ground, and before I could process what was happening, I was gripped tighter and carried through the anomaly.