<b>Chapter 4</b>
The difference between life and death is knowing when something is wrong.
Day 3.
I spent the morning mapping the surrounding terrain, expanding my knowledge of the land beyond the sweep area. The boreal forest stretched endlessly, the snow-covered ground unmarred except for the occasional animal track.
The campfire loomed at the edge of my thoughts, but I wasn’t going to stumble into it blindly.
Caution first. Always.
It was a tiny thing. A brittle fragment sticking out of the snow, barely noticeable.
If I hadn’t been scanning the area so methodically, I would have walked right past it.
I crouched, brushing away the snow with gloved fingers. The object was about four centimeters long, metallic but weathered, dulled by exposure.
At first, I thought it was a shard of natural ore—maybe iron or nickel, something pulled from deep underground. But the way it reflected light in uneven patches made me pause.
I pulled out a sensor tool from my belt, running a quick scan.
The readings came back normal. Too normal.
It was processed metal.
I frowned, turning it over in my hand. A perfectly straight edge. Slight curvature.
I felt something crawl up my spine.
This wasn’t a naturally occurring fragment. It was manufactured.
But who had made it? And when?
For a long moment, I just stared at it. It could have belonged to anything—a rusted tool, a broken knife, even a piece of armor.
Claire''s voice broke my thoughts.
[ "Erika, you are deviating from your primary objective." ]
I blinked. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”
Still, I placed the fragment inside my sample pouch. I’d analyze it later.
With the campfire site still an unknown, I decided to prepare the approach.
I spent the next few hours setting up temporary defensive emplacements along the direct path toward it.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The terrain was mostly flat, but I used the environment to my advantage—positioning reinforced barricades of fallen logs, digging shallow pits, and strategically placing tripwires that connected to small, non-lethal noise traps.
I wasn’t expecting a fight.
But I wasn’t going to be caught unprepared.
Once I had secured my position, I returned to the Vanguard and prepared another distress signal.
I fired the flare, watching as it soared into the sky, burning with an intense red glow.
At the same time, I activated the broadband distress broadcast.
Nothing.
The same deafening silence.
I clenched my jaw, staring at the signal monitor, waiting for something—anything—to change.
Static.
I gripped the console tightly, feeling frustration bubble up inside me. Three days. Three flares. Three broadcasts.
And nothing.
Not even an automated satellite response.
I forced myself to inhale deeply, calming my pulse.
Claire, ever the observer, intervened.
[ "Your heart rate has increased by 17%. I recommend breathing exercises." ]
I exhaled, closing my eyes for a second. "I’m fine, Claire."
[ "That statement contradicts available data." ]
I chuckled dryly. “You really don’t let things slide, huh?”
[ "Correct." ]
I shook my head, letting the tension fade. No use wasting energy on frustration. I had other things to focus on.
The sky darkened. The forest changed.
During the day, the boreal landscape had felt quiet, serene. Now, it felt vast, hollow, unknowable.
As I secured the Vanguard for the night, I did my final checks.
The tripwires were in place.
The defensive structures were stable.
The drones were still patrolling.
Everything was in order.
And yet…
A deep unease settled in my gut.
It was the kind of silence that wasn’t normal.
Not a single branch cracked. Not a single animal stirred.
I knew this feeling.
Something was watching.
Then—
A sudden, sharp tremor.
It wasn’t natural.
It wasn’t random.
The ground shook once, as if something had slammed into the earth—far away, but heavy enough that I could feel it through my boots.
I immediately switched my visor to infrared scan, but the distance was too great.
Claire’s voice came through, steady but alert.
[ "Seismic disturbance detected. Source: Unknown. Distance: Estimated 6-10 kilometers." ]
I swallowed. "Was that… a natural quake?"
[ "The pattern is inconsistent with tectonic activity. Likely caused by external force." ]
I stared toward the darkness. My mind immediately flickered to the campfire.
Had something happened there?
A battle? A struggle? Had someone been attacked?
I took an unconscious step forward—then stopped myself.
No. Not yet. Too soon to jump in blind.
I had to gather more information.
Then, five seconds later—
A roar.
Deep. Monstrous. Ancient.
My blood ran cold.
I knew that sound.
I had heard it in old UN footage. I had seen the grainy black-and-white recordings from 1960.
The first Wave.
The roar of a Juggernaut.
Massive, four-legged beasts that had ripped through entire battalions in the early days of the invasion. Thick armored hides, tusks that could impale a tank, and unrelenting aggression.
Humanity had feared them in the first three Waves—before learning how to bring them down.
But this wasn''t Earth.
And if that was truly a Juggernaut…
I felt my fingers twitch toward my plasma rifle.
Claire’s voice came through, softer than usual.
[ "Erika." ]
I exhaled, slowly lowering my hand. “I know.”
We weren’t ready.
I turned my gaze toward the dark forest beyond the perimeter.
The roar faded into the night.
But something had changed.
Until now, I had been clinging to the belief that I was simply stranded in an unknown part of Earth.
That belief was crumbling.
Because if the creatures from the Wave existed here…
Then what exactly had I stepped into?