Capítulo 37: 45; UNKNOWN HUNTER
The quiet hum of the night blanketed the military base camp. A cool breeze whispered against the towering walls that encircled the camp, the dim floodlights casting long shadows over the perimeter. It was a rare moment of tranquility in a world consumed by chaos—a moment broken only by the sound of a soldier relieving himself near the edge of the wall.
The soldier, a wiry man in his mid-twenties with a buzz cut and a perpetually tired expression, stood slightly hunched. His rifle leaned lazily against the wall beside him. He let out a long sigh of relief, the kind that spoke of both physical comfort and a fleeting escape from the tension that gripped the camp.
"Finally," he muttered under his breath, zipping up his pants and shaking his head. "Longest damn shift of my life."
He adjusted his belt and bent down to grab his rifle. As he turned to head back toward the gates, something caught his eye—a faint shadow sprawled on the ground just ahead of him.
"What the hell?" he whispered, squinting in the dim light.
Stepping closer, his heart skipped a beat. The shadow was not just a trick of the light but the unmoving form of a hunter, face down in the dirt. Blood stained the ground beneath the man's torso, pooling around his splayed limbs.
The soldier's breath hitched. His rifle slipped from his hands, clattering to the ground as he stumbled backward. His voice trembled, rising above the silence.
"Hey! Someone get over here! Help!"
The shout carried through the camp like a fire alarm. Within seconds, other soldiers appeared, rifles raised as they hurried to the scene. One of them, a burly man with a thick scar running down his jawline, stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the body.
"Holy—what happened here?" he demanded, eyes darting between the prone figure and the panicked soldier who had called him.
"I-I don't know," stammered the first soldier. "I was just—just coming back, and then—"
Before he could finish, another voice cut through the confusion. "There's more!"
All heads turned toward the gate, where yet another soldier was pointing with a shaking hand. Beyond the gate, illuminated by the faint glow of floodlights, lay more bodies—at least a dozen hunters scattered across the ground like discarded puppets. Some were unconscious, their twisted forms barely rising and falling with shallow breaths. Others were eerily still, their blood-soaked uniforms glinting in the light.
The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. One of them pulled a radio from his belt and barked into it, "We need medics at the south gate, now!"
Inside the command center, The General stood at the helm of a room bustling with activity. Screens lined the walls, each displaying live feeds, maps, and data streams. Soldiers sat at rows of computers, their fingers flying across keyboards as they monitored the surrounding area.
The general was a towering man with a grizzled beard and sharp, piercing eyes. His hands rested on the edge of a console as he stared at the massive screen in front of him. The screen displayed a map of the plains surrounding the base, dotted with flashing red markers.
The air was thick with tension as a young soldier entered the room and marched up to the general, saluting crisply. "General," the soldier began, his voice steady but urgent.
"Speak," he replied without taking his eyes off the screen.
"We've recovered the hunters outside the gate, sir," the soldier reported. "But… we haven't identified who brought them back."
The general finally turned, his brow furrowing. "No one?"
"No, sir. It's as if they were just… dropped there."
Hayes narrowed his eyes and turned back to the screen, where the red dots representing the reconnaissance team were still scattered across the map. His gaze fixed on one dot in particular—a marker that was moving at an unnatural speed across the terrain.
"Zoom in," he ordered, his voice low but commanding.
A soldier sitting at one of the consoles adjusted the controls, and the map on the main screen shifted. The rapidly moving red dot became more prominent, its trajectory erratic yet purposeful.
"What's that one doing?" He muttered, leaning closer to the screen.
"Sir!"
The voice came from another soldier seated at a computer. He adjusted his glasses and swiveled his chair to face the general. "We've located all the commander-level formlings on the plain."
Hayes straightened, his attention shifting immediately. "How many?"
The soldier tapped a few keys, and a new overlay appeared on the screen. Five large red markers flashed in unison, each one positioned strategically across the battlefield.
"In total, there are five commanders, sir," the soldier confirmed, pointing at the screen.
Murmurs rippled through the room as the other soldiers processed the information. Commander-level formlings were a strong and terrifying sight, their power far surpassing that of ordinary mutants. Facing even one was a death sentence for most hunters.
One of the younger soldiers, standing near the general, shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, what do we do?"
The General crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. His eyes remained fixed on the screen, where the red markers continued to pulse ominously.
"We wait and see," he said finally, his tone calm but firm.
The young soldier's brow furrowed. "With all due respect, sir, it's their first reconnaissance. Don't you think this is a bit harsh?"
Hayes turned to him, his piercing gaze silencing any further protest. "If it doesn't kill them," he said, "it teaches them."
The room fell silent. The younger soldier swallowed hard and nodded, stepping back.
The general turned back to the soldier with glasses and gestured toward the screen. "Keep tracking their movements," he ordered. "Inform me the moment they start to take action."
"Yes, sir."
The general's gaze returned to the map, his eyes narrowing as he studied the red markers. "Let's see what these hunters can really do."
Outside, the battlefield remained eerily quiet. The unconscious hunters at the gates were carried away one by one by medics, their bloodied forms a grim reminder of the dangers lurking beyond the walls.
And far out on the plains, the red markers on the map continued to shift and converge, their movements setting the stage for a confrontation that would test the limits of humanity's resilience.
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