The Legion Camp near the El Dorado Dry Lake was in utter chaos. Fires burned out of control, tents collapsed as Legionaries scrambled for weapons, and the ground shook with the frenzied roars of the pack drug-fueled Yao Guai.
"For Caesar!"
The Legion warriors bellowed, charging forward with reckless abandon.
They had no formation, no strategy—only bloodlust and steel. The Yao Guai, their senses heightened by the absurd amount of cocaine running through their mutated systems, moved with terrifying speed. Their eyes were wide, their muscles twitching, and their strength beyond anything natural.
Decanus Gaius, determined to prove his worth, led the charge. His machete gleamed as he lunged at the closest beast, aiming to cleave into its skull.
The Yao Guai barely registered the attack before it lashed out with a monstrous swipe.
Gaius barely had time to register the movement before pain erupted across his chest. The bear's claws tore through his segmented armor like it was parchment, leaving deep, bloody gashes that sent him staggering back. He hit the ground hard, rolling just in time to avoid the beast's crushing weight as it slammed down where he had been.
A strangled cry of pain escaped his lips.
Around him, Legionaries were cut down one by one, their blades barely making a dent in the drug-crazed beasts. The air was filled with the screams of dying men and the victorious roars of the Yao Guai.
Gaius clutched his chest, struggling to push himself up. His vision swam, but he could still hear the chaos unfolding around him. The roar of another beast, the gurgling death rattles of his men, and the sheer madness of it all.
The Legion had faced death before. But this?
This was a slaughter.
"We need to retreat, now!"
Titus the Legionnaire next in charge said as he lifted up Decanus Gaius, who was moaning weakly. He was almost just as in bad shape as Gaius.
The Legionnaires were breaking. Their famed discipline had been shattered under the relentless assault of the cocaine-fueled Yao Guai.
"Recruits, hold them off!"
Titus barked, dragging Gaius away as the decanus wheezed in pain. His own wounds burned, but he forced himself forward, his body running on sheer adrenaline.
"Hold them off with what?! Our bones?!"
The panicked recruit shrieked, backing away from the approaching beast. His gladius trembled in his grip.
"I don't know, but we can't stay here!"
Titus snapped. He turned, eyes scanning the darkened woods for any escape route. But the recruit was right—this was their domain. The thick trees cast long shadows in the clouded moonlight, the wind howling through the branches like mocking laughter. The smell of blood was everywhere.
The recruit took a shaky breath, then looked at the Yao Guai closing in. It was sniffing the air, as if savoring their fear.
"Screw this! I'm out!"
He screamed, turning and sprinting into the darkness.
He made it five steps before a second Yao Guai exploded from the treeline, its jaws snapping around his skull with a sickening crunch. His body went limp before it even hit the ground.
The remaining recruits screamed in terror.
Titus cursed.
"Shit, shit, shit!"
"Fall back to the ridge! Move!"
He ordered, knowing full well that the only thing waiting for them there was maybe a slightly less horrifying death.
The Legionnaires scrambled, tripping over roots and bodies as the Yao Guai pack descended upon them. The air was thick with the scent of blood and gunpowder, the screams of men being torn apart echoing through the night.
Titus gritted his teeth, dragging Gaius with him. If they survived this, he was going to put in for a very different assignment.
"I think We lost the... uh-oh."
Titus's words barely left his mouth before the sound of cracking branches reached his ears. His heart sank, and he whipped his head around just in time to see a massive Yao Guai burst from the underbrush with terrifying speed.
It charged at him, its eyes wide with savage bloodlust, and Titus barely had time to react. The beast's claws raked through the air, and with an unholy screech, it slammed into him. The force of the impact sent him tumbling backward, pain shooting through his body as his armor took the brunt of the hit.
The Yao Guai didn't waste time. It was on top of him in an instant, its claws digging into the ground around him as it prepared for the kill. Titus scrambled, trying to get to his feet, but the mutated bear was faster, more vicious than any creature he'd ever faced.
"Run!"
He managed to scream, his voice hoarse with fear. The remaining Legionnaires, those who hadn't already fallen, took off, but Titus knew it was too late.
The Yao Guai dug its claws into the ground again, its jaws snapping shut dangerously close to his head. He could feel its hot breath, the smell of blood and chemicals wafting into his nose.
With a final desperate move, Titus kicked out, managing to land a blow to the creature's gut. The bear snarled in response but didn't retreat. It was still coming for him.
And then, in the chaos of the moment, Titus saw it—an opportunity. His hand darted for his sidearm, fingers wrapping around the handle just as the Yao Guai lunged again.
The shot rang out, echoing through the woods. A clean hit to the bear's eye. For a moment, the creature stopped, rearing back, its eyes clouding with pain. It howled in rage, but it was too late.
Titus scrambled to his feet, his legs unsteady, adrenaline pumping. He turned and bolted, weaving through the trees. He didn't stop to see if the bear fell. He didn't need to. The sickening crunch of bones, the wet tearing of flesh, and the gurgling death rattle of Gaius were all the confirmation he needed. The Decanus was gone.
The Yao Guai didn't pursue immediately. The wounded beast lingered in the clearing, snarling and growling in frustration, but Titus knew it wouldn't give up so easily. They had bought themselves a moment of life, but that was all.
The remaining Legionnaires followed his lead scattering like rats, their once-proud battle cries now reduced to panicked shouts and desperate gasps for air.
The Yao Guai, high on whatever insane cocktail of chems had been pumped into them, were relentless. They didn't just kill—they tore apart, reducing men into unrecognizable scraps of meat and armor.
Titus vaulted over a fallen log, ignoring the burning pain in his side. He could hear the heavy footfalls behind him, the huffing breaths of the mutated bears. His legs burned, lungs screamed, but he pushed forward.
"Get to the ridge! We can lose them in the rocks!"
He bellowed.
A recruit beside him stumbled, his foot catching on a root.
"Help! Help me!"
Titus hesitated for only a second—then he ran.
A horrible screech filled the air as the recruit was dragged screaming into the underbrush, his cries of agony cut short with a sickening crunch.
'Better him than me.'
Titus told himself, trying to ignore the guilt twisting in his gut.
The remaining few Legionnaires reached the ridge, scrambling up the jagged rocks with bloody hands. The Yao Guai reached the bottom, sniffing and growling. They didn't follow—not yet.
Titus slumped against the rocks, gasping for air, his body shaking.
For Caesar, he thought bitterly.
If he made it back to camp, he was definitely reconsidering his career choices.