'F*ck that bastard who said the mission is easy!'
Kairo thought as he gritted his teeth. His eyes burned, tears falling down his cheeks in waves; it was so embarrassing and the only grace to his dignity was the fact that he was not the only one with tears flowing down his eyes.
Besides, if tears was the price to pay for survival, then he didn't care.
The crimson haze clung to the caravan like a living thing.
Every breath burned, and every step left raw blisters. The students coughed into their sleeves, huddling tighter around the wagons as the instructors barked orders from the front while still battling the Treants.
They've killed a few of them, but more of the tenacious bastards remained.
Kairo's eyes swept the red mist, his nerves stretched taut like wires. His gut told him this wasn't over.
And he was right.
The haze stirred and new shapes emerged, not beasts this time, but figures, humanlike silhouettes with jerking and unnatural movements.
