A heavy silence hung over the desote wastend, broken only by the crackle of dying fires. Two soldiers stood behind the charred remains of an armored vehicle, eyes fixed on the shimmering rift of the Gate in the distance. Once spewing violet and green tongues of energy into the sky, the ominous glow was now dimming.

  Hundreds of corpses y scattered around them—mangled bodies of civilians and soldiers alike, the aftermath of a brutal massacre. The air reeked of blood and smoke.

  The older soldier, a sergeant with a soot-smeared face and a hardened jaw, raised a trembling hand to his radio. He swallowed dryly, his throat parched. His pulse still roared from the nightmare that had unfolded.

  He gnced once more—yes, the rift in reality was closing, folding in on itself like a wound reluctantly healing.

  "Delta-3 here... Confirming, the Gate is closing," he rasped into the radio. He tried to sound steady, but his voice quivered. The image of those people being herded into sughter was still fresh in his mind.

  The command's reply crackled through the speaker: "Copy that, Delta-3. Report casualties."

  The sergeant wiped sweat from his brow, exhaling sharply through clenched teeth. "Casualties... total. Roughly a thousand dead inside."

  His voice broke, just for a second. A thousand lives. A thousand souls offered to seal that hellish breach.

  The younger soldier beside him shifted uneasily, gripping his weapon tight and avoiding the battlefield before them. "Holy shit..." he whispered, burying his face in his hands.

  "Silence," the sergeant snapped, his tone sharp but his eyes haunted. He pressed the button again. "Our own losses: four dead while securing the perimeter. No signs of life from within the Gate."

  In the distance, a final mournful hum echoed as the Gate disintegrated. Its glow vanished, leaving behind only a wisp of smoke curling into the night sky. The Gate was closed—its hunger satisfied by the sacrifice.

  The sergeant slowly lowered the radio. His task was complete.

  "Command, objective complete. Gate closed after required sacrifice," he added bitterly, then clenched the device in his fist like he could crush the vile thing.

  Static crackled, then came a cold voice: "Excellent work, Delta-3. Return to base."

  The sergeant snorted under his breath, switching off the radio. "Excellent"... Like it had been a victory. Like it hadn’t been a sughter. He looked at the younger soldier, who still stared bnkly at the pce where the portal to hell had just faded.

  "You heard the order. We're leaving," he said, trying to sound firm. But the weight in his chest remained.

  They walked through the carnage, stepping around shattered remains. Each step squelched in the mix of blood and mud. Neither dared speak. Behind them y a thousand corpses—a thousand lives turned into offerings the world would never know about.

  The luxury suite was bathed in dim candlelight. Dozens of flickering fmes danced across marble floors and ornate walls, casting long shadows on velvet curtains. Through an open window, the distant sound of waves drifted in—soothing, and yet oddly out of pce amidst the opulence. The air was thick with perfume and the scent of spilled wine.

  Two men sat at a massive mahogany table. One—tall and broad—lounged zily on a leather sofa, a young woman in a skimpy maid outfit perched on his p. Her eyes were downcast, her smile forced, as the man idly traced her exposed thigh. The other man, dressed in an elegant charcoal suit, stood by the window sill, pying with a crystal gss filled with wine.

  "Confirmation just came in," the suited man said coolly, though satisfaction shimmered behind his narrow eyes. "Gate Number Four is closed."

  The burly man chuckled hoarsely, reaching for his wine. The girl on his p flinched as his motion jostled her, but he didn’t notice. He took a long sip.

  "Well, well," he licked his lips and set the gss down, turning to the other maid kneeling beside the table. "A thousand souls, huh? Just enough to feed one of those hellholes." He grabbed the kneeling girl’s chin and tilted her head up. She was young. Beautiful. Terrified. He grinned. "A thousand lives, just to satisfy one Gate... And the people think some soldier heroes saved them."

  "Let them keep thinking that," said the Governor of the coastal city, lifting his shoulders in a slight shrug. He sipped his wine and narrowed his eyes, pleased. "The City Council will decre a military victory. No one needs to know the details."

  The Awakened veteran—one of the first survivors of the Gates—snorted and shoved the girl’s chin away. She stumbled but caught herself quickly, lowering her gaze. He spped the thigh of the maid on his p.

  "Off. Get me a refill," he ordered, gesturing to his empty gss. The girl scurried to the bar, her shaking hands nearly spilling the bottle. His eyes never left her swaying hips. His grin widened.

  When she returned and handed him the drink, he suddenly snapped, "Your hands are shaking. Rex, sweetheart. I haven’t done anything bad yet." He ughed as she flinched.

  The Governor watched with thinly veiled disapproval but said nothing. Instead, he set his gss aside and walked to the table, his polished shoes sinking softly into the Persian rug.

  "Three Gates this month," he said, shifting the topic. "All closed without our... specialists."

  He gave the Awakened man a pointed look.

  "You mean without me," the man replied with a mocking grin. "You didn’t need me, Governor. I’m just saving your resources."

  The Governor’s eyes narrowed. He knew the man was mocking him. This creature—if he could still be called that—had Awakened a year ago, surviving one of the earliest Gates. He was now an invaluable asset to the Council: a living weapon. But also unruly, unpredictable, and lethally dangerous.

  "True, we’re saving costs," the Governor said carefully. "Every deployment involves risk—gear, escort, potential losses... If we can close Gates another way, why not use it?"

  The Awakened snorted. "Sure. Why fight when you can just feed the monsters?" He shrugged with fake cheer, but his voice carried disappointment. "Still... I miss a good sughter."

  He smmed his fist on the table, making the silver candleholders tremble. Both maids jumped.

  "You sit here, scheming, counting bodies like numbers. And I’m bored out of my damn mind!"

  The Governor raised an eyebrow. "Bored?" He circled the table, approaching the hulking man. The two maids shrank back into the shadows, trying to become invisible.

  "You have everything you want, Igor," he said, addressing the Awakened by name. "Women, luxury, power... You yourself said it’s better than the life you had before."

  Igor—the scarred giant—grinned wide. His eyes swept over the maids. One instinctively bit her lip and cowered under his gaze.

  "True," Igor said, wiping wine from his beard. "I’m not compining. Your little dolls are adorable. Obedient."

  He beckoned the maid closest to him. "Come here, sweetheart."

  The girl approached hesitantly. Igor grabbed her roughly by the hips and pulled her onto his p. She squeaked softly but stifled the sound, breathing shallowly. He wrapped his arm around her like a possession, then looked at the Governor.

  "But that doesn’t change the fact I’m starving for real entertainment." His eyes gleamed with predatory hunger. "My strength is rusting without battle. If I’d gone into your precious Gate Number Four..."

  He clenched his free hand into a fist. "Pfft. An hour, tops. Those beasts wouldn’t even get a hundred kills before I wiped them out."

  "I know," the Governor replied calmly. "But what do you think would happen? That people would understand? Appreciate what you've done?"

  He gestured toward the towering window behind him, the gss overlooking the sleeping harbor city. Cranes and warehouses loomed on the horizon, and far below, the dim glow of dockside nterns shimmered across the water.

  "Society is like a child lost in the fog," he continued, shaking his head with a touch of pity. "They don’t know what’s really going on. They don’t want to know. Because the truth is too terrifying. They’d rather hear our promises—that everything is under control, that the military is watching. If we suddenly announced, ‘Hey, Gates only close after enough people die—that’s why we sacrificed a thousand citizens’... well, you can imagine the uproar."

  Igor let out a dry, humorless ugh. "Easy fix. Don’t announce it."

  "Exactly." The Governor gave a cold smile. "That’s why we keep it secret. It’s better if they believe in heroes and victorious battles. It gives them hope. And gives us peace."

  "And the truth—" Igor yanked the girl by her hair, forcing her to arch her neck. She winced in pain but made no sound. "The truth is they’re nothing but cattle for the sughter."

  "So it seems." The Governor shrugged as if discussing the weather. His indifference in the face of Igor’s cruelty was chilling in its own quiet way. "A thousand here, a few hundred there... What matters is that we maintain control."

  Silence fell. Igor sipped his wine, his hand idly exploring the terrified servant girl on his p—her thighs, her waist—treating her like a living toy. The Governor said nothing, only tightened his lips.

  Eventually, he spoke, his voice lower now.

  "Speaking of control. Have you heard about the Gate on the southern outskirts?"

  The Awakened paused and looked over with narrowed eyes. "The new one? Yeah. You mentioned something. Said it was tougher than the others."

  "Indeed." The man in the suit walked to the bar and poured himself another gss of deep red wine, swirling it thoughtfully. "It’s a fifth-tier Gate. Big. Stable. The damn military already lost a squad inside."

  "And you know how it works," he added, setting the bottle down. "Once someone enters, the Gate seals. The monsters stay trapped inside... until everyone dies."

  Igor nodded with something close to admiration. "So it's a locked door with no handle. The monsters can’t get out... but they also won’t disappear until they’ve devoured everything inside."

  "And yet the army squad was wiped out so fast?" Igor raised an eyebrow, a predatory grin spreading across his face. "So even the professionals failed."

  "They were sughtered to the st," the Governor confirmed, sipping his wine. "The Council didn’t want to waste more troops… so they held a draft. Sent in a group of civilians—volunteers or random picks."

  Igor chuckled darkly. "Perfect. Cssic strategy. You think they’re hoping for a miracle, or just feeding the Gate with trash?"

  The Governor tilted his head. "Officially? They’re hoping the mission succeeds." He snorted into his gss. "Unofficially? Most likely the second. But you never know..."

  "Heh. Maybe one of them’ll Awaken," Igor hissed the word with mockery. "Another freak for the collection."

  "We wouldn’t mind," the Governor admitted, pying with his crystal gss. "New Awakened are rare. Only those who survive the impossible..."

  "Yeah, basically no one," Igor muttered smugly. "Other than me and a handful of others in the whole damn country."

  "Which is why, my friend, you’re so valuable," the Governor said quietly. He leaned forward, resting both hands on the table, eyes locked on Igor’s steel gaze. "And why we can’t let any... unwanted additions join your ranks."

  Igor tilted his head, feigning confusion. The Governor gave him a cold smile.

  "If, by some miracle, one of those volunteers survives and gains power... well." He sighed, theatric. "We’d have to recruit them. And if they refuse to cooperate..."

  "...we eliminate them," Igor finished, no longer smiling. For a moment, a dark understanding passed between them.

  The Governor straightened, adjusting the cuff of his suit. "Precisely. We don’t need wild cards with that kind of power."

  The Awakened nodded as if it were obvious. Then he grinned, something wicked flickering in his eyes. "So... if those losers can’t get the job done in that Gate, do I get to go in and clean up?"

  The Governor considered this. Outside, a seagull’s cry echoed over the slumbering city. One of the candles hissed and went out, casting a flickering shadow across the carved ceiling.

  "If the Gate on the outskirts is still open by tomorrow," he said slowly, choosing his words, "you’ll be dispatched with a strike team. You’ll kill the boss and close the Gate by force."

  Igor spped his knee with glee, making the girl in his p flinch. "Finally! I was starting to think you’d keep me twiddling my thumbs ‘til the end of the month."

  "Easy," the Governor raised a hand to calm him. "We don’t yet know if it’ll come to that."

  The Awakened snorted. "Come on. You think that ragtag band of civilians can pull this off? You’re sending them to die."

  "Perhaps," the suited man replied, draining his gss. "But even so, each of their deaths brings us closer to closing the Gate." He added coldly, "And let’s be honest—it’s better when the people live in fear. A crowd that fears death is easier to control. They crave heroes. Salvation. They need us."

  Igor scoffed. "So it’s not just a sacrifice—it’s a marketing campaign."

  "And if, by some miracle, a hero emerges among them... well, that’s useful too."

  Igor shrugged and drained his own gss in one gulp, tossing it onto the table. The crystal clinked, but miraculously didn’t break.

  "To the suckers," he sneered, running a rough hand along the trembling maid’s thigh. "Let’s hope they die quick."

  The Governor said nothing. Both men sat in silence, one simmering with anticipation for the coming bloodshed, the other coldly calcuting possible outcomes. Between them stood two half-naked maids, barely breathing in terror, trying not to be noticed.

  The candle fmes flickered as Igor chuckled under his breath. "Let’s see how long the new meat sts..."