The Dreamer's POV

The invasion of the Lyma Capital was nothing short of a massacre.

It was as if an embodiment of apocalypse had descended upon the city, turning life into death and peace into chaos.

Men, women, and children were hunted down with relentless cruelty, their screams of terror and agony echoing through the air, only to be silenced with brutal finality.

Homes that once sheltered laughter and warmth were looted, the invaders taking anything of value, stripping the city of its pride and leaving despair in their wake.

Entire neighborhoods went up in flames, the destructive fire reducing the beautiful architectural masterpieces to charred ruins.

Smoke billowed up into the sky, obscuring the once serene blue with a dense, ominous cloud.

The very air tasted of despair, the scent of blood, smoke, and fear mingling together in a horrifying symphony of death and destruction. T

he once bustling streets were littered with the bodies of the fallen, their lifeless eyes reflecting the horrors they had witnessed before the end.

Amidst the terrifying spectacle was Hakeem Ahmed, a Ranker who served as the orchestrator of this horrifying event.

His heart ached as he watched the scene unfolding before him. Each life extinguished was a blow to his conscience, a stain on his soul that he knew he could never wash away.

The cries for mercy, the pleading eyes - each was a haunting reminder of the life he had been forced to take.

His men, devoid of the guilt plaguing him, carried out their grisly task with mechanical precision, their faces devoid of emotion as they swung their blades and fired their weapons.

Hakeem could only watch, his heart heavy with a sorrow so profound it threatened to shatter him.

He offered silent prayers for the souls of those falling around him, whispering apologies that no one would ever hear.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, the words barely escaping his lips as he watched a young woman fall, her life extinguished in an instant.

"May your souls find peace." His voice was hollow, the apology ringing empty in the face of such brutality.

As the last flicker of life faded from the woman's eyes, Hakeem felt a piece of his humanity slip away with her, lost amidst the horror of the massacre.

"Ahh… what a tragedy. I truly am sorry…"

As if the Lyma Capital hadn't seen enough devastation for one day, the very heavens seemed to turn against them.

Emerging from the once clear skies, now blotted by the smoke of the city's destruction, a dozen monstrous forms took shape, casting long, ominous shadows that spread over the dying city like a funeral shroud.

The creatures were unlike anything most in the city had ever witnessed.

They bore resemblance to the mythical beasts of old - wyverns, their scaled bodies gleaming dangerously under the sun, their eyes glinting with a predatory malice that promised a fate worse than that delivered by the human invaders.

Their wings, each spread wide, beat against the air with a thunderous echo that sent tremors through the city.

At the heart of this draconic swarm, a figure loomed, larger and more terrifying than its brethren.

It was the stuff of nightmares and legends, a dragon in all its fearsome glory.

Its scales were a startling mix of deep red and obsidian black, its eyes blazing with a brutal intelligence and cold amusement at the terror it inspired.

It towered over the city, a sovereign of the skies and the herald of the city's final doom.

From his position on the ground, Hakeem could only look up at the sight in despair.

"It seems Sasha has decided to enter the fray," he muttered under his breath, the weight of his helplessness pressing heavily upon him.

A chill ran through him at the sight of the dragon. His dread was not for himself, but for the doomed city.

"This city... is finished," he whispered, the grim finality in his words matching the hopelessness in his heart.

And so, as the wyverns descended upon the city, their roars echoing through the smoke-filled air, the final act of Lyma Capital's horrifying tragedy began.

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[Roughly 6 Hours Later: The Present]

Hours had passed since the initial invasion, and the once-thriving city of Lyma Capital now lay in ruins.

The only sounds to be heard were the crackling of fires and the distant cries of Sasha's monstrous sentinels. The majestic beasts continued their watch over the city, flying overhead like vultures circling a carcass.

Hakeem Ahmed stood amidst the rubble and devastation. His heart was heavy with regret, but there was little he could do but sigh.

"Such a tragic waste," he murmured, scanning the city one last time.

No sign of life, not even a stray dog. All around him were the harrowing reminders of the atrocity he had been a part of.

Deciding that it was time to rendezvous with his colleague, Levi, he attempted to locate his subordinates.

The streets were eerily quiet, void of the footsteps and hushed voices of his team.

"Hmm? Something's wrong…" A frown crossed his face as he found none of them within his range of senses.

Had they already left to meet with Levi's team? That seemed unlikely. They knew better than to abandon him without a report.

Had he strayed from the group? But then why hadn't they followed him?

Before he could ponder further, a sudden shiver ran down his spine.

'What's that?!' He felt a presence behind him, malevolent and powerful.

He whirled around, his eyes widening in surprise at the figure before him.

A figure draped in a black robe, so dark it seemed to absorb the remaining light around it. The robe was drenched in a crimson stain that was clearly fresh blood.

Hakeem couldn't help but gasp at the sight.

'Who is this guy?' His instincts screamed danger, sending adrenaline coursing through his veins.

For a man like Hakeem, who had survived countless battles and had faced all manner of Demons and even Survivors, to feel this level of alarm, it could only mean one thing - he was facing a truly formidable foe.

'He's strong!'

A taut silence hung in the air as Hakeem eyed the cloaked figure.

His instincts were on high alert, his senses were hyper-aware of the menacing aura emanating from the person.

He swallowed hard, fighting back the cold lump of dread that had lodged itself in his throat.

"Are you the one who took care of my men?" Hakeem asked, his voice steady despite the cold terror coiling in his belly.

The hooded figure made no sound, no movement, only stood there like a specter of death shrouded in darkness.

The silence stretched on, tightening around Hakeem like a noose. He exhaled slowly, forcing his racing heart to calm down.

"Well," he started, his tone measured and resolute, "since you've shown up, it seems I'll have to eliminate you. You see, we're not supposed to leave survivors."

'Is he affiliated with this city somewhat? Is he a wandering variable? I guess that doesn't matter now.'

The hooded figure was still as a statue, only raising its head slowly at Hakeem's words.

A dull red light gleamed from beneath the hood, flickering ominously like the glowing eyes of a beast.

The sight sent a jolt of unease coursing through Hakeem.

"I see..." The figure finally spoke, the voice low and chilling, seeping into Hakeem's bones like frost.

The energy that started to pour off the figure was palpable and unsettling, like a deep, primal bloodlust.

"... You people did this…"

The figure's words hung in the air like a hollow representation of rage. It was a voice that promised nothing but impending doom.

Hakeem felt the fear trying to claw its way out, but he forced it down. He had to remain steady, had to remain strong.

But then… he caught a glimpse of the hooded man's facade… the sheer ugliness that dwelled on his blood-soaked face.

"... I'm going to kill you all!"

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[A/N]

And so it begins the trail of carnage!

Thanks for reading.

Cheers!