The three Chosen walked side by side toward the open blast door of Mia's outpost, the warm yellow light spilling across the damp warehouse floor like a promise of safety. Mia still held Vannia's hand, talking fast and low about supply caches and stable exits. Daniel kept the pipe resting across his shoulder, Immune All and Pestilence Type 3 humming quietly beneath his skin.
They were ten meters from the entrance when the scream cut through the air.
A lone scout — a young man in patched M.E.G. armor, rifle slung over his back — stumbled out from between two shipping containers on the left. His eyes were wide with terror.
"Killers—!" he managed before a black-gloved hand erupted from the shadows and drove a glowing system-enhanced combat knife straight through his throat.
The scout's body jerked once. Blood sprayed across the concrete in a bright arc. He collapsed forward, eyes already glazing over, the interface light in his pupils flickering out.
Three figures stepped into the open light behind the dying scout.
Humans.
All three wore modified wanderer gear — dark tactical vests covered in stolen M.E.G. patches and fresh blood. Their eyes glowed with the telltale gold of active system interfaces, but the color was corrupted, veined with angry red.
```
[Hostile System Users Detected]
Designation: Outpost Killers (Faction – "Reaver Syndicate")
Threat Level: High (coordinated evil-aligned system users)
Known Modus Operandi: Target stable outposts, slaughter inhabitants for points, resources, and entertainment. System corrupted for sadistic gain.
```
The leader — a tall woman with half-shaved hair and a jagged scar across her lips — twirled the bloody knife and grinned.
"Fresh meat," she called out, voice dripping with mock cheer. "And look — two brand-new Chosen signatures just walked themselves to our hunting ground. Jackpot."
The second killer, a wiry man with glowing red tattoos crawling up his arms, laughed and kicked the scout's corpse.
"Outpost 47 was too easy. This one's got three system elites? We're gonna level up tonight."
The third — a broad-shouldered brute whose fists crackled with stolen kinetic energy — cracked his knuckles.
"Kill the sisters first. The big one's mine."
Vannia's silver aura exploded outward. Mia's Precognitive Flare triggered instantly, her eyes flashing white as she raised her rifle.
Daniel's pipe dropped into both hands, fractal etchings igniting violet-white.
Mia's voice was ice-cold. "They've been raiding our supply lines for weeks. We thought they were just raiders… not system users who turned evil on purpose."
The leader of the Outpost Killers pointed her knife straight at Daniel.
"Chosen-0007, right? Heard you killed Partygoer 0. Cute. But we don't follow the Pantheon's rules. We break them. And right now? We're breaking you."
All three killers activated their systems at once. Red interfaces flared. The leader's knife multiplied into six floating blades. The wiry man's tattoos flared, creating illusory duplicates of himself. The brute's fists doubled in size, crackling with stolen gravity.
Daniel stepped forward, placing himself between the killers and the two sisters.
"Evil-aligned systems," he said quietly. "The Backrooms doesn't just twist monsters. It twists people too."
The leader smiled wider.
"Welcome to the real game, hero."
The three Outpost Killers lunged at once — blades flying, duplicates charging, fists roaring with corrupted power.
Daniel raised the pipe.
Vannia and Mia moved in perfect sync beside him, silver and white light flaring together.
The warehouse lights flickered as the first real clash between three Chosen and three system murderers began in the shadow of a blood-stained outpost door.
The Backrooms had just reminded them that not every human they met was an ally.
Some were far worse than the entities.