In the mountainous and diverse kingdom of Mistral, the earthquake had left devastation in its wake. The capital city, perched atop cliffs and terraced mountainsides, bore the brunt of the seismic force, with its intricate architecture cracked and broken. People stumbled out of temples and homes, bewildered and terrified, clinging to each other as the aftershocks continued to rattle the earth. The narrow streets were crowded with people, voices raised in confusion and fear.

For a kingdom as spread out as Mistral, the damage was more than just in the capital. The rural settlements and outlying villages had felt the earthquake even more severely. Unlike the fortified walls of the capital, the smaller towns and villages weren't built to withstand such force, and many had been reduced to rubble. The people in these settlements, vulnerable and exposed, were easy prey for the Grimm drawn to their despair.

In the outer reaches, small groups of desperate villagers found themselves in the unthinkable position of turning to the local bandit tribes for assistance. These tribes, fierce and often ruthless, held power over certain regions, and though they were notorious for raiding and pillaging, they were also hardened survivors with the means to fight the Grimm. In these times of dire need, even bandits could be an unexpected ally.

In one of the more remote settlements, Raven Branwen watched the chaos unfold with a calculating gaze. Her bandit tribe had been stationed nearby when the earthquake hit, and though she despised the idea of being forced to help these villages, she knew they had little choice. If the Grimm overran the countryside, they'd have no resources left to plunder. More than that, something about this disaster left her uneasy.

As her tribe worked to defend the village, cutting down Beowolves and Beringels that had descended upon the frightened villagers, Raven's mind churned with suspicion and doubt. The devastation, the lack of any explanation or warning—it reeked of something deliberate, something malevolent.

One of her men approached her, out of breath and wild-eyed. "Boss, the Grimm are just pouring out of the forest! They're relentless, like something's driving them straight at us."

Raven narrowed her eyes, a spark of anger and recognition flashing within them. "This is Salem's doing," she muttered under her breath. "It has to be. There's no other explanation for this level of destruction."

The man looked at her in confusion, but Raven dismissed him with a wave, her attention already elsewhere. She had long been wary of Salem's power, but she had never expected an assault on such a scale. Earthquakes, Grimm attacks, and the severed CCT network—it all felt like the beginning of something larger, a calculated move to isolate the kingdoms and weaken them before striking.

She clenched her fists, frustration simmering beneath her cool exterior. "She's playing a game," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. "A game to break us apart before we even know we're under attack."

In the capital, Huntsmen and local guards scrambled to contain the chaos. Even without communication from the other kingdoms, the people were beginning to piece together that this wasn't just a random disaster. For those who survived on the edges of civilization, it was painfully clear that they were alone, unable to call for reinforcements, relying solely on themselves and, in a twist of bitter irony, on the very bandits they'd once feared.

The village elder of one settlement, a frail but wise Faunus woman, approached Raven, her expression torn between gratitude and wariness. "Thank you, for your help. Without you, we wouldn't have survived."

Raven met her gaze with a smirk, her red eyes gleaming. "We're not doing this out of charity, old woman. Don't think for a moment that this changes anything. The Grimm threaten us as much as they do you. We're simply doing what we need to survive."

The elder nodded, undeterred. "Survival, yes... But sometimes, survival requires unity. Even with those we do not trust."

Raven sneered but said nothing, turning her gaze back to the mountains. Deep down, she knew the elder's words held some truth, yet she had always been a lone wolf, avoiding alliances whenever possible. But this earthquake, this sudden isolation—it was forcing her hand.

The nights that followed were relentless. In the capital city of Mistral, the Huntsmen and city guards barely managed to hold back the Grimm that came in waves, forcing their way into the city's outer edges. With no communication to Beacon, Atlas, or even Vacuo, Mistral was on its own, and the people knew it. Desperation hung thick in the air, thick enough to keep drawing more Grimm, fueling the monstrous forces that battered the city's defenses.

As the days passed, Raven gathered her tribe in secret, her voice low and commanding. "We'll keep to the outer villages and ensure they don't fall," she told them. "We don't have the luxury of picking sides right now. If the Grimm keep spreading, we'll be overrun. Once things stabilize, we'll go back to our ways. But until then, we're no one's enemy... not yet."

Despite her misgivings, she sensed that there was more to this event than met the eye. Salem might be behind this, but if so, her strategy was far more complex than Raven had anticipated. And if it wasn't Salem, then the source of this upheaval was something unknown—something that was already shaking Remnant to its foundations.

In the capital, the people of Mistral grew more resilient, banding together in ways they never had before. Huntsmen joined forces with mercenaries, merchants armed themselves to defend their shops, and even the wealthiest families found themselves fighting alongside the city's poorest residents. Unity, however temporary, had become essential.

For now, Mistral would stand. But with the Grimm at their doorstep and no aid from beyond their borders, they were merely buying time against an overwhelming tide. Like the rest of Remnant, they were isolated, unaware that a new world lay beyond the sea, closer than they could imagine—a world called Earth, filled with its own threats and its own people, many of whom were watching the seas in wonder, unaware of what awaited them just over the horizon.

In Atlas, the floating city was safe, suspended high above the devastation that had struck the world below. But the people of Mantle, the city on the ground beneath Atlas, weren't so fortunate. The earthquake had ripped through Mantle like a relentless wave, crumbling buildings, tearing apart streets, and leaving its residents in a state of panic. While Atlas, gleaming and pristine, hovered untouched above, the streets of Mantle were in shambles, its people struggling to recover from the quake's aftermath.

General James Ironwood stood in his office, overlooking the city of Mantle from the vast windows of Atlas Academy. His normally composed and disciplined appearance was beginning to unravel—dark circles under his eyes, his uniform slightly disheveled, and his gaze heavy with exhaustion. He hadn't slept in days, determined to monitor every movement, every whisper of Grimm in the area, and to personally oversee Mantle's recovery. He was certain this disaster was Salem's doing; the timing, the scale, the impact—none of it felt random.

"Salem," he muttered to himself, clenching his fists tightly as he stared down at the ravaged city below. "This is all part of her plan."

A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Winter Schnee entered, her expression stoic yet strained. Even she, as disciplined as ever, looked weary from the unrelenting days that followed the earthquake.

"Sir, the CCT tower is still offline. We've deployed every available engineer and soldier, but the damage is extensive. Without it, we're completely cut off from the other kingdoms," she reported.

Ironwood gritted his teeth, turning his back to the window. "We need that tower back up, Winter. Every second we're in the dark is another second we're vulnerable. We don't know the full extent of this attack, but if this is Salem, we can be sure she won't stop with just an earthquake."

Winter's gaze dropped slightly. She knew the general's suspicions weighed heavily on him, but even so, she couldn't shake the growing unease in her own heart. The devastation in Mantle was unlike anything she'd seen. The people were in disarray, and the Atlas military—normally so efficient and composed—was stretched thin, with soldiers running on minimal sleep and forced to split their efforts between fixing the tower and managing the chaos below.

"Sir," she said carefully, "perhaps... perhaps you should rest, if only for an hour or two. The men are starting to feel the strain, and they need to see their leader at his best."

Ironwood shook his head. "I can't rest, not with Salem looming over us. If this is part of her plan, we can't afford to falter. We need to be ready for anything."

In Mantle, the situation was dire. Entire neighborhoods had been leveled, and the once-busy streets were now littered with debris. The people, already worn down by years of living in Mantle's harsh conditions, found themselves pushed to the brink. Many huddled in temporary shelters set up by the military, anxiously awaiting news from the higher-ups in Atlas.

Around the perimeter of the city, soldiers from the Atlas military stood guard, keeping watch for any signs of Grimm. The city's fear and despair had drawn them in droves, and even though Mantle's defenses had held, the soldiers were exhausted, barely holding the line as each new wave of Grimm emerged from the shadows. Inside the city, engineers and technicians worked round-the-clock to repair the CCT tower, knowing that without it, they were cut off from the rest of Remnant.

Nearby, a group of Mantle citizens gathered around an Atlas soldier, their faces a mixture of desperation and frustration.

"What's happening? Why can't we reach anyone in Vale? Or Mistral? We're not the only ones hit, are we?" one man demanded.

The soldier shook his head, clearly as much in the dark as the civilians. "We don't know. The CCT network is down, so we're... we're isolated. But we're doing everything we can to restore communications. Just hold tight. Help is coming."

The people muttered among themselves, uneasy and unconvinced. Mantle had always been left to fend for itself, overshadowed by the floating city above. This time, however, even Atlas seemed shaken, its powerful military scattered and stretched thin. Some whispered that Atlas was as vulnerable as they were, that whatever force had struck them had left even the mighty city of Atlas scrambling.

Above, Winter coordinated the repair efforts alongside Penny Polendina, the cheerful android Huntress who now wore a somber expression. Even her boundless energy was fading as she worked tirelessly, helping to lift debris and clear paths for the engineers.

"Winter, is this going to be okay?" Penny asked, her tone unusually subdued. "I've never seen Atlas or Mantle in this much trouble. The people look... scared."

Winter paused, looking down at the chaos below, her gaze hardening. "We have to make it okay, Penny. For them, for all of us. No matter what's happening, we have a duty to protect them."

Meanwhile, Ironwood continued to survey the work, his mind racing with strategies and worst-case scenarios. His gut told him that this was more than an isolated event. If Salem had somehow orchestrated this earthquake to destabilize them, to cut them off from the other kingdoms, then they had to assume she was already moving on her next target. He knew she was patient and cunning, and he had no intention of letting her catch them off guard.

Finally, one of the technicians approached, his face lined with fatigue. "General, the tower repairs are progressing, but we've hit a few setbacks. It could be another day or two before we can fully reestablish communications."

Ironwood clenched his fists, frustration boiling over. "We don't have a day or two. Every second we're cut off, we're at a disadvantage."

Winter placed a calming hand on his arm. "Sir, we're doing all we can. The men are giving everything they have."

Ironwood took a deep breath, his gaze flickering to Winter before returning to the broken tower. "You're right. I just..." His voice trailed off as he looked back out over Mantle, the weight of his responsibility pressing down on him. "I just don't know if it will be enough."

As he spoke, a distant tremor rippled through the ground, a faint reminder of the earthquake that had set this entire chain of events into motion. Even up in Atlas, Ironwood could feel it, a subtle but undeniable reminder of the fragility of everything they'd built.

Far below, in Mantle, the people continued to cling to whatever hope they could find. Though exhausted, many soldiers took up positions along the perimeter, determined to defend their city against whatever would come next. Some civilians huddled in shelters, while others worked alongside the soldiers, clearing rubble and helping the injured. It was a grim scene, but there was resilience in their eyes, a shared determination that Mantle would not fall—not today.

What none of them realized was that they were no longer on Remnant. Beyond the seas and skies, far closer than any of them knew, lay a new world—Earth—filled with its own people, its own struggles, and its own suspicions about the mysterious new lands that had appeared overnight. Atlas and Mantle remained oblivious to this monumental shift, their focus on the immediate disaster at hand, while the hidden forces that had brought them here continued to reshape their world in ways they could not yet understand.

In the arid and resilient kingdom of Vacuo, the earthquake had been little more than a tremor compared to the devastation that befell the other kingdoms. Sandstorm-prone and accustomed to harsh conditions, Vacuo's people were quick to notice the rumbling, and for many, it was no more concerning than a particularly strong gust of wind. Buildings here were designed with flexibility in mind, sturdy enough to withstand the shifting sands and minor quakes that occasionally rippled through the desert. For the people of Vacuo, survival in the face of adversity was second nature.

However, as with the other kingdoms, Vacuo's CCT tower was down, cutting them off from the outside world. Normally, such an inconvenience would have barely phased them; Vacuoans had long prided themselves on their self-sufficiency. But there was a strange air hanging over the city now, something that felt different from the usual challenges of desert life.

In the marketplace, people continued about their business with only a minor uptick in caution, whispers and rumors passing among them in the hot, dusty air. Stalls were open, vendors haggling and trading, while the more cautious kept an eye on the horizon for any signs of Grimm.

The local Huntsmen and guards had organized themselves quickly, more out of habit than necessity, forming small patrols around the perimeter of the city. Vacuo's people were tough, and they had learned early on how to handle threats. With the CCT tower down, the citizens took the news in stride, merely noting the inconvenience and moving on.

At Shade Academy, Professor Theodore, headmaster and one of the few who had contact with the leaders of the other kingdoms, stood on a balcony overlooking the city. The Academy had already mobilized teams of Huntsmen-in-training to assist with maintaining peace and security, though Vacuo was calm compared to what he imagined was happening in the more structured kingdoms of Atlas and Vale.

His deputy, a weathered and pragmatic Huntress named Zara, approached him, her arms crossed and her gaze sweeping the horizon.

"Feels strange, doesn't it?" she said, breaking the quiet.

Theodore nodded, his eyes thoughtful. "It does. Normally, if one kingdom loses its CCT connection, the others remain up. But if we're down, that means the entire network has likely collapsed. This isn't some simple malfunction. It has to be something more."

Zara leaned against the railing, her gaze fixed on the city below. "Vacuoans will manage," she said with a shrug. "They always do. But the question is... how long? If there's trouble brewing, we need to know what's happening in the other kingdoms."

Theodore sighed, his mind racing through possible scenarios. Vacuo had been fortunate, its remote and loose infrastructure sparing it the worst of the damage, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were in the dark about something much larger. It was rare for all four kingdoms to be isolated simultaneously, and rarer still for communication to drop so completely.

For now, though, Vacuo could adapt. The people here were used to the unexpected, and the desert had taught them resilience. Across the city, the residents continued their day-to-day lives with little interruption. Children played in the alleyways, merchants set up shop, and warriors sharpened their weapons. There was an easygoing tension, a collective understanding that whatever was happening, they would face it as they always had.

In a shaded tent in the center of the marketplace, a grizzled former Huntsman named Juno sat with a group of locals, regaling them with tales of his younger years. He chuckled as he noticed the faint tremors still running through the ground and shrugged them off, raising his glass of chilled water.

"Feels like the earth's dancing with us today, eh?" he joked, drawing laughter from the crowd around him. "Vacuo's tougher than some rumbling ground. It'll take more than that to scare us."

A few younger Huntsmen, just out of Shade Academy, nodded in agreement. They had grown up in this environment, where heat, sandstorms, and the occasional Grimm attack were simply part of daily life. This earthquake, strange as it had been, was not enough to unsettle them.

But as the sun began to set, casting a warm, dusty glow over the sprawling desert, Theodore remained on edge. Something about this situation gnawed at him, a quiet voice in the back of his mind warning him that the worst was yet to come. He couldn't ignore the possibility that Remnant was facing something beyond their comprehension.

He turned to Zara. "We'll need to start preparing contingency plans. If this communication blackout continues, we're going to need to make sure our people can handle anything that comes our way."

Zara raised an eyebrow. "You think it's that serious?"

"I don't know yet," Theodore admitted, "but I'd rather be prepared. Vacuo may not have been hit as hard, but we can't assume that means we're safe. The other kingdoms... something's happening out there. Something big."

Below, the city continued its quiet resilience, unaware of the strange world that now lay beyond the ocean. Vacuo's people were accustomed to weathering storms, be they sand or Grimm, and they would approach this new uncertainty with the same stoic determination they always had.

As the last of the sun dipped below the horizon, Theodore silently vowed to protect his kingdom, come what may. But he couldn't shake the feeling that Vacuo, and all of Remnant, were on the cusp of something monumental—an event that would redefine their world and challenge everything they thought they knew about survival.

We come back to Jason Henderson gripped his rifle, scanning the rugged landscape of West Virginia as he moved alongside members of the National Guard. The deployment had been a whirlwind, pulling him and his unit from Delaware to the mountainous terrain of West Virginia in response to further seismic disturbances and the growing reports of strange occurrences throughout the region. Since the massive earthquake, it seemed like the whole world was on edge.

The National Guard had established a temporary base near a small town surrounded by dense forest, where they'd been tasked with providing assistance to local authorities and stabilizing the area. Jason's group was one of several units sent in to reinforce the perimeter, assisting in rescue operations for the scattered rural communities hit hardest by the tremors.

The locals were cautious but grateful, and Jason could see why. The landscape bore the scars of the recent earthquake: cracked roads, fallen trees, and landslides that had reshaped the hillsides. In some places, the ground had split open, creating rifts that cut across trails and fields. The residents were used to nature's wildness, but this had been something altogether different.

As he walked through the makeshift camp, Jason caught snippets of conversation from nearby soldiers and guards.

"Did you hear? There were reports of strange islands appearing off the East Coast—just out of nowhere," one soldier whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. "They're saying it's not just here, either. Some folks saw lights over in the Mediterranean, too."

Jason paused, frowning. It seemed like every day brought a new rumor or sighting, each more bizarre than the last. None of it made sense, and High Command was barely putting out any statements, leaving the troops to piece together what they could from rumors and briefings that rarely scratched the surface.

As he continued his patrol, he approached a National Guard sergeant overseeing a relief station, where locals were being given food and medical supplies. The sergeant noticed Jason's expression and offered a weary smile.

"Heard the latest reports, huh?" the sergeant asked, glancing toward the horizon as if he could somehow see these supposed new landmasses in the distance.

"Yeah," Jason replied. "They're saying whole new continents have shown up. It doesn't make any sense."

The sergeant shook his head, his face lined with exhaustion. "No, it doesn't. But I can tell you one thing—whatever's going on, it's got people in a panic. D.C.'s barely holding it together. High Command's scrambling for answers, but all we know is what we can see. These earthquakes, the strange sightings... it's like we're living in a sci-fi movie."

Jason nodded, looking around at the National Guard troops and volunteers working tirelessly to help the locals. Despite the strangeness, the focus here was simple: keep people safe, keep order, and wait for more information.

But the waiting gnawed at him. They were trained to handle emergencies, to respond to threats they could see and understand. But this was something else—an unknown force, looming over them like a shadow.

Suddenly, the air was split by a shrill, piercing sound. Every head turned as a tremor shook the ground, though not as intense as the one they'd felt weeks earlier. Jason's grip tightened on his rifle, and he exchanged a glance with the sergeant.

"What the hell was that?" he muttered, scanning the treeline. The forest was dense, shadows pooling between the trees as dusk began to settle in.

The National Guard scrambled, moving civilians to safer areas and securing the camp. Jason and a few other soldiers advanced toward the source of the noise, adrenaline spiking as they moved cautiously through the forest. The woods were eerily silent, the usual sounds of rustling leaves and chirping insects noticeably absent.

"Stay alert," Jason murmured to his team. He had no idea what they were facing, but every instinct told him to be on guard.

As they moved further into the forest, Jason spotted something through the trees. A group of large, shadowy figures seemed to be moving at the edge of his vision, just beyond the tree line. He squinted, struggling to make out their forms. They were massive, larger than any animal he'd seen in these woods. Their eyes glinted red in the fading light, and he felt a chill run down his spine.

"What... what are those things?" one of the soldiers whispered, his voice barely audible.

Jason didn't answer. The creatures moved with a deliberate, predatory grace, and as they came closer, he realized they had strange, bone-like armor covering parts of their bodies—something he had only seen in nightmares. They were unlike anything he'd encountered in training, their very presence exuding a menacing aura that filled the air with dread.

The largest of the creatures let out a deep, guttural growl, its red eyes locking onto Jason and his team. He raised his rifle, every nerve screaming at him to run, but he forced himself to hold his ground.

"Fire at will!" he shouted, his voice breaking the silence. The soldiers opened fire, the sharp crack of gunshots ringing out through the forest.

The bullets hit the creatures, but instead of dropping, they barely staggered, the rounds seeming to glance off their armor. Jason felt a surge of panic as he watched them advance, their eyes glowing with unrelenting malice.

One of the creatures lunged, covering an impossible distance in seconds, its massive claws swinging down at the nearest soldier. Jason barely had time to shout a warning before the soldier was flung back, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

"Fall back! Regroup at the camp!" Jason yelled, his heart pounding as he fired again. The soldiers began to retreat, shooting over their shoulders as they moved back through the trees.

As they stumbled back to the edge of the forest, Jason caught sight of the camp in chaos. The creatures had followed, crashing through the treeline like forces of nature, their roars filling the air as civilians scrambled to safety and soldiers fought to hold the line.

Jason's mind raced. These weren't any kind of animals he'd seen in his life, and no amount of training had prepared him for creatures that shrugged off bullets like rain. The camp's defenses were quickly overrun, and it became clear that they were dealing with something otherworldly.

The largest creature advanced toward Jason, and he braced himself, his rifle aimed directly at its chest. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, he caught sight of something strange in its eyes—an almost primal rage, an unthinking hunger.

In that moment, something clicked. These creatures weren't just animals. They were monsters—something out of legend or nightmare, something that had no place on Earth.

The realization sent a wave of cold terror through him, but he shoved it aside, focusing on what he could control. "Everyone, regroup!" he shouted, rallying the soldiers to form a line. "Keep your distance—aim for the head!"

The creatures charged, and Jason steeled himself, knowing that they were facing an enemy they couldn't hope to fully understand. But he also knew that he wasn't about to back down. Not here. Not now.

As the night deepened, the battle raged on, the eerie glow of the creatures' red eyes illuminating the darkness. In that moment, Jason understood that whatever was happening, whatever had brought these monsters to their world, had changed everything. The Earth he'd known was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous—and far more deadly.

The forest erupted in gunfire and the fierce roar of monstrous creatures as Jason and his team fought desperately to hold their ground. The strange, bone-armored beasts—relentless and seemingly impervious to their bullets—pushed them to the breaking point, advancing with terrifying speed and strength. Just when the situation seemed hopeless, the distinctive thrum of helicopter rotors filled the air, growing louder and louder until it was nearly deafening.

Jason glanced up and saw two Apache attack helicopters streaking across the darkening sky, their searchlights piercing through the trees and illuminating the chaos below. He could almost feel the relief spreading through the soldiers as the Apaches circled overhead, their powerful engines shaking the ground beneath them.

The Apaches opened fire with a fury that sent chills down his spine. The sound of the 30mm chain guns tore through the air, unleashing a barrage of high-velocity rounds that pounded into the monstrous creatures with relentless force. The creatures, which had shrugged off rifle fire as if it were nothing, stumbled and fell under the impact of the Apache's heavy weaponry. Explosions rocked the forest as the Apaches fired Hellfire missiles, each one finding its mark with deadly accuracy.

One of the beasts, a massive, hulking creature with jagged, bony armor and glowing red eyes, lunged toward the helicopters, letting out a bone-chilling roar. An Apache pilot wasted no time, unleashing a Hellfire missile that streaked through the air and collided with the creature's chest in a brilliant flash of light. The beast's roar was cut short as it was blasted apart, its remains scattering across the forest floor in a shower of bone and gore.

The soldiers cheered, their morale soaring as they watched the Apaches mop up the remaining creatures. Jason fired a few more rounds into a smaller creature that had managed to dodge the initial assault, but he knew the helicopters were doing most of the heavy lifting. The Apaches swept low over the treetops, their guns spitting fire as they hunted down the last of the beasts, moving with lethal precision.

One Apache pilot, communicating with the ground troops, called out over the radio, "All ground units, maintain positions. We'll finish the job up here—just keep those creatures away from civilians."

Jason relayed the message, shouting to his team. "Hold the line! Let the Apaches handle it!"

They watched as the helicopters circled back, unleashing another volley of rounds and missiles. The beasts were being decimated, one after another falling to the relentless aerial assault. Some attempted to flee, retreating deeper into the forest, but the Apaches tracked them, firing round after round until nothing remained of the creatures but smoldering craters and scattered remains.

As the last of the beasts fell, the forest grew quiet, the only sounds the distant rumble of the helicopters and the crackling of smoldering trees. Jason lowered his rifle, breathing heavily, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. Around him, the soldiers began to relax, some slumping to the ground, exhausted but relieved.

The Apaches circled one last time before breaking formation, heading back toward their base, their mission complete. Jason watched them go, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for the support. Without the Apaches, he wasn't sure any of them would have made it out of that battle alive.

The sergeant from earlier approached Jason, his expression a mix of awe and exhaustion. "Hell of a sight, wasn't it?"

Jason nodded, still catching his breath. "Yeah... those pilots saved our lives tonight."

He looked around at his team, taking in the aftermath. The civilians were being escorted back to the camp, where medics and volunteers had set up makeshift treatment stations. A few soldiers moved through the area, checking the bodies of the creatures to confirm they were down for good.

Jason approached one of the fallen beasts, examining its bone armor and dark, coarse fur. Up close, the creature was even more alien, unlike anything he'd ever seen or imagined. It was monstrous, yes, but there was an unnatural quality to it—a strange, primal rage that lingered in its dead eyes. He shuddered and looked away, a sense of unease settling over him.

The sergeant clapped him on the shoulder. "I don't know what these things are, but they sure as hell weren't from around here."

Jason nodded slowly. "Yeah... I've never seen anything like it." He felt a chill run down his spine as he considered what they'd just faced. If these creatures were somehow tied to the strange new continents that had appeared, then Earth was dealing with something far beyond a simple disaster.

As the soldiers regrouped and began to tend to their wounded, Jason couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. The creatures they'd faced were a warning, a glimpse of something larger and darker lurking on the horizon.

For now, they had survived. But Jason knew that the world he once understood had changed forever, and that whatever forces had brought these monsters into their lives would not be satisfied with a single battle.