Kill to evolve: A system that demands blood
Chapter 29: More blood

Chapter 29: More blood

Chapter 29

"I’ll be sure to inform Nathaniel about this when we get back... or not. I’ll just head straight to HQ," Commander Eland muttered, then walked off, his boots thudding down the ramp as the aircraft door hissed open.

The rest of Squad Four remained seated for a moment, like corpses propped up in their gear. Even the rush of cool evening air outside couldn’t stir them.

The flight back had been silent.

Utterly, eerily silent.

Jace was unconscious, a blood-soaked IV attached to his arm, keeping him stable. Ronan hadn’t moved a muscle since whatever the hell that was. His body lay still, but around him... something hung in the air. A presence. Like standing too close to an active reactor.

Siena sat across from him, arms crossed over her cracked and blood-streaked uniform, jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might snap. Karla’s head leaned back, a dried smear of blood beneath one nostril. Mila was cleaning her blades like it was the only thing anchoring her to reality. Hugo hadn’t blinked in what felt like hours.

They were all breathing.

But none of them felt alive.

When the aircraft finally touched down, medical teams swarmed the entry platform.

"Vitals unstable on Subject Vale—prepare a stabilizer just in case," one of the medics whispered, eyeing Ronan like he was a ticking bomb.

"Where do you want him?" another asked Siena.

She didn’t look up. "West Wing Isolation. No visitors. No questions."

"But—"

Her glare cut through him like a blade. "Not. A. Word."

He nodded, palms trembling as he signaled for the stretcher.

As Ronan and Jace were wheeled out, a faint static pulse rolled through the air. The temperature dropped for half a second. Every medic froze instinctively—but then it passed.

They blamed the chill on nerves.

They were wrong.

—

It wasn’t until Squad Four stepped into their designated quarters—Unit 4 Dorm Sector—that the real storm began.

Squad Seven’s base was just down the hall, and someone peeked out as they heard the door slam.

"Yo—what the hell happened to you guys?" came the first voice.

Heads turned. A couple more feet shuffled closer.

"What the...?"

"Holy sh—"

Squads 5 to Seven had members lingering around the common space, a mix of post-training chatter, caffeine, and casual sparring. But as Squad Four limped in—clothes torn, faces pale, boots caked in dirt and dried blood—the room stilled like someone had cut the audio.

No one said a word for a full ten seconds.

Then chaos.

"Is that Karla?"

"She’s limping—why is she limping?"

"Is that blood on Mila’s face or someone else’s?"

Yeah, every other lower squad knew squad for to be among the elite group, no mission had ever left them this disheveled.

Siena didn’t stop walking.

She didn’t even look at them.

She headed straight toward the stairwell without a word.

Karla slumped into a couch, half-dead. Her uniform was soaked in what had to be at least three people’s worth of blood. Maybe one was hers.

Mila looked around once, expression flat, and muttered, "Don’t touch me," as she passed a guy trying to offer her a bottle of water.

Hugo? He just sank to the floor against the nearest wall, ran both hands through his hair, and whispered, "We weren’t supposed to survive that..."

Jordan, squad leader for Unit 5 stepped in front of Siena, arms crossed. "We were told it was a recon mission. Why do you guys look like you went to war?"

Siena’s eyes locked with his. "Because we did."

That alone was enough to shut him up. For a second.

But someone else said what everyone was already thinking.

"Where’s Ronan?" Yeah, everyone knew Ronan, the newbie who had scored 900 on the mana examination.

The entire room turned quiet.

No footsteps. No breathing.

Then Karla laughed—dry, empty, cracked. "Oh, he’s fine. He just exploded. Literally. Blew up half the battlefield with his what-the-hell-is-happening powers and then collapsed."

Silence.

Mila kicked off her boots, threw one at the couch, and added, "Also, Jace died. Briefly."

"What?!"

"No, seriously. His heart stopped. I saw it on the scanner."

Someone from Squad seven leaned forward. "Are you guys joking or high?"

Hugo, now reappeared from nowhere, raised a shaky hand. "There was this... creature. No, Creatures. Regenerating. Screeching. Eating bullets. We fought for hours. I swear one of them even moved with lightening speed like... those things we’re beyond what any of you could imagine."

People started whispering.

"They’re exaggerating, right?"

"They must be..."

"Is this some kind of messed up drill?"

"Should we report this—?"

Karla threw her head back and screamed, "SHUT UP!"

Everyone froze.

She stood, wobbling, and pointed at them all.

"You weren’t there. You didn’t see what we saw. So unless you wanna hear the whole horror story about how Squad Four nearly got erased from existence by things that don’t even follow the goddamn laws of physics—then shut up."

No one said a word after that.

Siena finally turned. Her voice was calm but cold. "He’s in medical. He hasn’t woken up yet. And until we get answers, don’t ask me about him again."

She stormed off.

Behind her, Karla collapsed back into the chair again and muttered under her breath, "They still don’t get it. They think this is just another mission."

Mila didn’t say anything.

But she knew.

Nothing was ever going back to normal again after this experience.

Meanwhile...

West Wing Medical—Restricted Sector

Room: RONAN VALE VIP PATIENT

Status: Critical – Do Not Enter

Two guards stood outside. Armed. Alert.

Inside, machines beeped.

One nurse was adjusting Ronan’s IV drip when the heart monitor jumped once—then twice—then flatlined.

"Wait, what—"

A violent pulse of static surged through the room. The lightbulbs flickered, popped, and died. The nurse screamed, backing up, heart pounding as she hit the emergency button.

But the screen came back.

Only now, it showed something impossible.

Unknown Energy Detected – Core Surge Unstable

Then... movement.

Ronan’s fingers twitched.

His chest rose—slowly, like something waking from beneath the ocean floor.

The nurse stumbled back. "Security—security get in here now—"

But then, Ronan’s lips parted.

A single breath.

A whisper.

Not a cry for help.

Not confusion.

Just one word.

Deep.

Visceral.

Wrong.

"...more...blood."

The machines exploded into static, and the room plunged into blackout.

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