Chapter 9: Damn Nail
"I really don't get this."
Harry was still ranting. Anyone could see his frustration radiating from every syllable.
A convoy of Troopers' jeeps rumbled toward Sector 21, their engines were growling in a steady chorus. They soon reached Sector 5's renowned Oteron Lake. Its surface was shining like molten silver in the moonlight.
Kamala, sitting beside Harry, let out a chuckle.
"Harry, come on. We'll be out of Sector 5 in no time. Relax, will you?"
Harry shot her a glare, "Relax? No no no no.... You don't get it. I'm in a trooper's jeep, on a mission involving a goddamn werewolf. A werewolf. Look at me, I'm just a messenger from the capital. Why do I have a weapon in my hand and why am I going with you lot? Do you people even understand how insane this is?"
The other troopers in the jeep erupted into laughter.
One of them clapped Harry on the back, "Man grew some balls finally, Look at his vocabulary now."
Kamala smirked, barely suppressing her own laughter. "Harry, we've got rules, you know. Freeloaders aren't allowed in Trooper base."
Harry groaned, "I just needed one more day. One more day and I'd have been out of here. But no. Now I'm part of this chaos."
Kamala gave him a playful punch on the arm. "Now now now, You're one of us for this mission, whether you like it or not."
"I don't want to be," Harry shouted. "Who do you think I am? I came here to deliver a message, to warn Kostas about the danger. And what does he do? He doesn't even show up. He sends me off with you and these.....Lunatics."
The laughter in the jeep died abruptly. One of the troopers leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Lunatics?" "Aren't you pushing it too much, messenger boy?"
Harry's eyes widened, He knew he fucked up. He opened his mouth to explain himself, but Kamala's sudden laughter broke the tension. "It's fine, you all. Harry's just frustrated. Let him blow off some steam."
Harry exhaled, "Say what you want, but you have no idea what's coming. Kostas made a huge mistake."
Kamala's laughter faded, and her expression turned serious. "You know, everyone calls Kostas a vigilante, a man without limits. But even he has his boundaries."
The jeep pressed onward. And as they exited Sector 5 and entered Sector 21's border, Kamala caught sight of a signboard at the edge of their sector:
"Pull your meter down. Troopers ahead."
Some kids had crossed out the word "meter" and scribbled "pants" in its place.
Kamala's lips curled into a faint smile as the wind carried the earthy scent of soil—rain was near.
"Sector 5 is sacred to him," she said in soft tone, "It's his home, his temple and his responsibility. He's our protector, Harry. We owe him more than you can imagine, And He..... he owes this place just as much."
Meanwhile, back at the house,
Alena was suffocating inside.
Her breaths were sharp, uneven, as she moved through the rooms. The house seemed alive... haunted in the worst possible way.
Each creak of the floorboards, every faint whisper, clawed at her nerves. The feeling of unseen eyes boring into her made her skin crawl.
Calm down, calm down, she told herself, but the words were weightless. She checked the bathroom, the closets and every corners.
Nothing.
And yet, with each empty room, her dread deepened.
That guy, whoever he is... he needs to die.
The thought flared suddenly, surprising even her. She couldn't pin down what was happening to her mental state.
Then, a sharp creak behind her froze her mid-step. She immediately spun around, gripping her hammer.
And.... It was just a rat, skittering across the floor. No sign of an intruder.
Her heart pounding in her chest. The house felt still... Mocking her paranoia. "Crazy woman, finally losing it," That's what possibly it seemed to say.
She needed air.
With a heavy sigh, Alena stepped outside, and sank down by the gate. The moon hung in the sky, distant and uncaring. And the night air wrapped around her, giving her shivers.
Its about to rain. So cold. She thought as she rubbed her arms.
She stared blankly ahead, her breaths visible in the air. And then it hit her...
The basement.
Her throat closed, her hands curling into fists against her knees. The mere thought of it dragged all the bad memories from her childhood.
The air.....The darkness..... Her mother's voice—"Oh God, why couldn't you be a boy? Why couldn't you be..... stronger?"....and the relentless sound of her slaps.
The basement had been her tomb, and her mother its unrelenting warden. Alena had sworn never to go down there again. Not since her mother's death.
But what now?
Her gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, to the footprints at their gate.
I've checked everything. Except that place. If he's here, it has to be there.
"Am I losing my mind?" she muttered, hoping the words would somehow make everything stop.
But then something sharper hit her.
Lys.
"His birthday..." she said to herself, "I forgot. It's supposed to be his first birthday in our house, and I couldn't even get it ready. He will be back in no time."
A bitter laugh escaped her. The absurdity of it all hit her like a slap... her fear, the house, the silence. Maybe there wasn't an intruder. Maybe there was no danger at all.
Maybe… just maybe… she was going insane.
But still, the pull toward the basement was unbearable. Like invisible hands, it was dragging her to that suffocating darkness.
She swallowed hard, setting the hammer down.
"I never wanted his help…But....But fuck it."
Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with her phone, nearly dropping it in her panic. Finally, she dialed, "Kostas…" The name escaped her lips.
Then the moment, that call was recieved on the other side, words poured out of her in a rush. She didn't stop to think, didn't pause to let him ask questions. As if entire universe was urging her to hurry. And when she finally fell silent, Kostas's voice came through,
"Stay put. I'm coming."
The call ended. The silence crashed back in. She moved on autopilot, her legs carrying her inside without thought.
She crossed the living room.....then the kitchen..... And there.... At the end... She saw it.
The Basement door.
The wood of the door felt ancient, yet somehow still alive. Though it had a lock, it seemed useless to her. Alena then grabbed two planks of wood from the corner and pressed them against the door, bracing them with all her strength.
The hammer felt so heavy, biting into her fingers as she drove the nails in. The sharp clang echoed through the house, each strike louder than the last.
Whatever's down there… it's staying there.
She stepped back, staring at the locked door for what felt like hours. And eventually, She staggered back to the living room, her limbs shaking. She was tired.
The sofa welcomed her like a trap, but her mind refused to rest.
Her eyes landed on the old TV in the corner. Her father had bought it decades ago. It stood like a relic, its buttons and remote worn with age, also that red curtain, draped across the screen.
"So nostalgic…" she murmured, her voice distant.
Wait… had the curtain always been there?
The question clawed at her, her mind racing. Why was it there now?
Her voice cracked as she whispered into the stillness, "I'm imagining it. I have to be."
She let out a long, soft "hyeee," the kind of sound people make when exhaustion finally wins.
Her eyelids were drooping finally. A long, shaky exhale escaped her lips as sleep claimed her, dragging her into its den.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone