The engine rumbled as Bob's crew drove down a ruined highway, their newly upgraded mobile safe zone rolling smoothly over cracked pavement. The safe zone field around the truck shimmered faintly, the white fragments embedded in its core keeping the Pink Fog at bay. For once, it felt like they had an advantage—until they spotted trouble ahead.
A blockade.
Bob slowed the truck as the crew eyed the improvised barricade of rusted cars and scrap metal spread across the road. It wasn't natural. Someone had put it there.
"Yeah, that's a trap," Sly muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Classic 'stop your vehicle and rob you blind' setup."
Gabe, still in his Griffin form and flying above, scanned the area. "No movement yet, but I don't like this."
Iris adjusted her stance, eyes locked on the scavengers. "We pushing through, or dealing with this?"
Bob cracked his knuckles. "Let's see who's dumb enough to try this on us."
The moment the truck rolled to a stop, figures emerged from the wreckage—Glint-formed scavengers, armed and waiting. Their eyes glowed faintly in the fog, focused on the vehicle like predators spotting prey. They weren't here to talk. They wanted supplies, Pink Fragments—anything useful. And they were ready to take it by force.
One of them, a wiry man with a scar across his nose and elongated, mantis-like arms, stepped forward, his voice rough but eerily clear. His movements were sharp and precise, his segmented limbs clicking unnaturally as he sized up the crew. Another scavenger, bulkier with a thick, plated hide like an armadillo, stomped forward beside him, his weight cracking the pavement beneath him. Further back, a hunched figure with elongated, owl-like talons perched atop a rusted car, its glowing eyes fixed hungrily on the truck. Their transformations were varied, each one unique to their survival instincts, making them far more unpredictable than desperate humans.
Bob rested an elbow on the truck's window. "We could, or you could clear the road and not waste our time."
The scavenger laughed. "That's cute. Here's the deal, you give us your supplies, and we let you walk."
Sly sighed. "Why do they all say the same thing?"
Bob nodded. "Like it ever works."
Without another word, the scavengers attacked, each moving in ways their Glint forms allowed. The mantis-armed scavenger lunged first, his bladed limbs slicing through the air with unnatural speed. The armadillo-like brute barreled forward, his plated body acting as a battering ram. The owl-like Glint took to the sky, circling for an opening.
The first one barely got a step closer before Bob launched himself from the truck, summoning a Fog Gauntlet mid-air and punching the man square in the chest. The impact sent him flying back into a pile of rusted scrap.
Sly vanished in a blur, reappearing behind two scavengers, his Quick Step Strike cutting through one instantly. The other turned in shock, only to catch a kick to the gut that sent him tumbling.
Gabe dove from above, his Griffin form clashing mid-air with the owl-like Glint, talons locking as they spiraled toward the ground in a flurry of wings and dust.
Iris leaped out, but the moment her feet hit the ground, something felt off. The remaining scavengers, instead of reacting defensively, twisted their heads toward her, their movements shifting from combat-focused to something more aggressive, almost instinctual. Their eyes glowed unnaturally as if drawn to her presence, their erratic attacks becoming frantic and reckless.
She barely had time to react before they charged at her.
"Uh, guys?" she called out as she dodged a wild swing. "They're ignoring you and coming straight for me."
Bob punched another scavenger into the dirt before glancing over. "What?"
Then he saw it, the way the scavengers' eyes seemed drawn to Iris, their movements becoming more erratic, more reckless.
Her aura was pulling them in.
Iris gritted her teeth as another scavenger lunged at her, forcing her to knock him back with a hard kick. "This is new."
Gabe landed beside her, his massive wings kicking up dust. "It's your aura," he said. "It's doing something to them."
Iris clenched her fists. She had been trying to channel emotions and desires into her transformation, but this? This was bad. She wasn't scaring them. She was provoking them.
Sly zipped beside her, knocking out a scavenger who got too close. "Not the best time for a breakthrough, Iris."
"I know that!" she snapped, barely dodging another attack.
Bob, recognizing the danger, charged forward, slamming the last few scavengers out of the way.
"Back in the truck!" he ordered.
They didn't argue. Within seconds, they were back in the vehicle.
Gabe, still in Griffin form, hooked himself to the harness and lifted the truck into the air, clearing the barricade effortlessly. Below, the remaining scavengers scrambled, watching their escape with frustration.
Inside the truck, Iris pressed her hands to her temples, trying to calm the lingering energy from her transformation.
Bob glanced at her. "You okay?"
She exhaled. "Yeah. Just need to figure out how to control my Glint."
Gabe, flying above them, sighed. "Preferably before we get rushed again."
The crew fell into silence as they continued on, processing what had just happened. They weren't just fighting external threats anymore, some of their own powers were becoming unpredictable.
---
Hours later, they reached another settlement, a fortified outpost built into the skeletal remains of an old truck stop. It looked safe enough, but the moment they arrived, they could feel the tension in the air.
The locals were nervous. Something was wrong.
Bob pulled the truck to a stop, and almost immediately, a trader approached them. He was sweating despite the cool air, his eyes darting around. "If you're looking to rest, don't stay long."
Gabe narrowed his eyes. "Something going on?"
The trader wiped his forehead. "Red Hands. They've been seen near here. They usually stay in their territory, but lately… they've been moving. Different tactics. Smarter."
Bob's jaw tightened. "What do you mean, 'smarter'?"
"They're setting up traps. Luring people in. Attacking supply routes. Before, they were just another gang with muscle, but now? Now they're thinking ahead." The trader swallowed hard. "Some say they've got something new, something that lets them fight in the fog like nothing else."
The crew exchanged glances. They had already encountered the Fog Repeller once. If the Red Hands were adapting even further… this was bad.
Sly exhaled. "Great. So they're evolving."
Bob crossed his arms, his expression dark. "Then we evolve faster."
The weight of the warning settled over them as they prepared to move again. The Red Hands weren't just a problem of the past. They were changing, adapting, and coming back stronger.
And the next fight wouldn't be like the last.
The old man shook his head, his expression grim. "The Red Hands aren't like your usual bandits. They're bad news, and picking a fight with them doesn't end well for anyone. If you're smart, you'll steer clear."
Bob was about to press him for more details when a younger man rushed over, panting. His face was pale with urgency. "Elder, we got a problem."
The old man turned sharply. "What now?"
The younger man hesitated, his eyes flickering toward the outskirts of the settlement. "Scouting team hasn't come back. They should've been here hours ago."
The old man muttered a curse under his breath, rubbing his temples. "Damn fools. They knew the risk."
Bob glanced at the younger man. "They stuck in the Fog?"
The younger man nodded. "They weren't supposed to be out there long, but something must've gone wrong."
That got Bob's attention.
Iris exchanged glances with Sly. "If their people are out here looking for them… maybe they're getting close to their timer."
Gabe exhaled. "And no one here is going after them?"
The younger man hesitated, then shook his head. "We don't know exactly where they are, and even if we wanted to find them, we don't have enough time. We have to wait until our Glint forms kick in before we can go in safely, but by then, it'll be too late. They'll be beyond saving, either dead or fully turned into Fades."
Bob didn't even need to think about it. "We'll do it."
The younger man looked surprised. The old man frowned. "You sure? No telling what's out there."
Bob cracked his knuckles. "Guess we'll find out."
---
The Pink Fog swallowed them whole as Bob's crew pushed forward, following the rough directions they had been given. Bob drove the truck slowly, navigating the uneven terrain while the others followed on foot, keeping their senses sharp. They didn't know exactly where the scouting team was, and searching the Fog was never easy. The distorted air made distances difficult to judge, and sounds seemed to come from everywhere at once.
Time passed, over an hour of scanning the mist for signs of life. By then, Gabe and Iris had reached their Glint transformation threshold, their bodies beginning to feel the familiar pull of the shift. Sly still had more time before his timer triggered, but he remained alert, knowing his window was closing too.
"There," Gabe called from above, his Griffin form gliding low. "I see them."
Bob squinted through the haze. A small group of survivors huddled near a collapsed bus, barely holding themselves together. They had already transformed into their Glint forms, their bodies twisted but still sane. Two of them were in critical condition, a man with thick, armored plating across his back had been impaled by a metal pole, the jagged end still protruding from his torso, pinning him to the wreckage. Another had a completely shattered leg, his lower limb twisted unnaturally, his reptilian-like Glint features twitching as he fought the pain. Unlike Bob and his crew, these two hadn't reached Stage 1 in Fog power yet, meaning they couldn't heal on their own. Without immediate medical attention, their chances of survival were slim. The rest had minor wounds, but they refused to leave, their expressions grim.
Bob could see why. These two injured were their strongest fighters. If the others left them behind and tried to escape alone, it would be suicide, a near-certain death sentence in the Fog without their protection.
Their time was running out—if they remained in the Fog much longer, their transformations would become permanent, turning them into Fades.
"Move fast," Bob ordered.
Iris and Sly reached the survivors first. One of them, a man with jagged, crystalline growths along his arms, looked up with wild, desperate eyes. "You... You came for us?"
"We don't leave people to rot," Iris said. "Can you move?"
The man nodded weakly, but the others weren't as responsive. A woman with partially scaled skin was barely conscious, slumped against the wall. Another trembled violently near the bus, their Glint form unstable, sweating, shaking, and clearly close to their limit.
"They're too weak to walk," Sly muttered. "We need to carry them."
Bob crouched, preparing to lift one of them, when something shifted in the Fog. A presence—not a Fade, not a scavenger, but something different.
Then they appeared.
The Medics.
Dr. Callahan "Cal" Voss and his team stepped out from the mist like phantoms, their movements controlled, precise. Unlike other survivors who treated the Fog like a death sentence, they moved as if they belonged in it.
Bob instinctively stepped in front of the wounded, but Dr. Cal didn't even glance at him. His focus was on the injured.
"They're at the threshold," Dr. Cal said to his team. "We don't have much time."
Harlan Kade, the Harpy-Glint assistant surgeon, was already moving. His sharp eyes scanned the wounds, and with inhuman speed, he began cutting away at infected tissue, quickly prepping for deeper surgery.
Lynn Aster, the Sphinx-Glint Diagnoser, knelt beside the impaled man, her golden eyes glowing faintly. "Major internal damage. If we don't remove the pole carefully, he'll bleed out in seconds."
Victor "Vik" Reiss, the Gorgon-Glint anesthesiologist, moved in. "I'll keep him from feeling a thing." He let a few drops of venom drip onto his clawed fingertips and pressed them against the man's neck. Almost instantly, the pain in his expression faded, his body going still but stable.
Avery "Aves" Salis, the Dryad-Glint monitoring expert, placed her hands lightly on the one with the broken leg. "His body is in shock, vitals are dropping. If we don't set the bone now, he won't make it far."
Dr. Cal's tentacle-like appendages, a result of his Cecaelia Glint, a mutation granting him the traits of an aquatic hybrid, part-human, part-octopus, moved with mechanical efficiency, gripping the jagged pole protruding from the man's torso. "On my count," he instructed. "Three… two… one." With a swift motion, he extracted the metal in one smooth pull, while Harlan immediately sealed the wound with rapid stitches.
Bob and his crew watched in silence. It was a well-oiled machine—a team that had done this so many times, they didn't need to talk. They knew their roles. They knew exactly how long they had.
It was unsettling and impressive all at once.
Iris took a step forward. "You… work inside the Fog?"
Dr. Cal finally glanced at her. "Someone has to."
The Medics continued their work, ignoring Bob's crew completely as if they weren't even there. Within minutes, the worst injuries were treated, and the survivors were stabilized.
Bob crossed his arms. "You're good."
Dr. Cal didn't look up. "We know."
Before they could leave, one of the settlement's traders hurried forward. "Wait! You saved our people, please, come back with us to the safe zone. We'll offer you shelter, food, anything we can spare."
Dr. Cal met his gaze. "We don't take payment."
Bob frowned. "Then why do it?"
Cal's expression was unreadable. "Because we choose to."
Gabe narrowed his eyes. "You work in the Fog like it's just another day. How?"
Dr. Cal's gaze flickered to him. "The Fog isn't the problem. It's the people who try to control it that you should be worried about."
Bob opened his mouth to press further, but the Medics were already moving, vanishing back into the mist as quickly as they had appeared.