Prologue and Chapter 1

“ He who makes a beast of himself, saves himself the pain of being a man. ”

- Samuel L. Johnson

He spent hours unraveling the mysterious gear that gave life to his shotgun, while he waited for his prey to appear from the horizons where he had spotted it; he disassembled and reassembled everything. Parts that were no longer useful went into the spare parts box; another replacement was taken to cover the old one. It was his hobby, his job was to repair larger weapons, small clumps of rust like this were not a challenge. He had all the time in the world, he was safe in his transport.

His vehicle was a fortress, an old tank that had survived the old wars and led one of the battalions in the Fìor Saoghal War, the war that changed and will always change lives. The great monster of iron and fury was named Eagallach by its owner.

He was smart, he knew what he was doing. The gun was cocked and ready to go, but it was too small for what he was hunting.

From the horizon, it appears. A huge quadruped that crushed old cars on the road as it walked, he carried on his back what the man wanted: trees, grass, and some snowy hills, wrapped in a transparent dome, a perfect snow globe to live in, and it was his. No one knows what they were called before society existed, but now they are known as Mothachadh, those who kept the few remaining souls hopeful, for they carried with them a safe and miraculous place, a coveted refuge known as Sìth, a place in the ancient world where those who entered could forget the outside.

The world is just sand now, when the sun shone it was golden and barren, and when night came it was silver and cold.

When the last trace of society and human advancement disappeared, they emerged. It is not known where they came from, but they brought with them pieces of the Earth when it was still habitable, with clean air, green grass, and sometimes even lakes. They were preserved by a dome, a natural cocoon that kept the unique biome preserved. In this old world, nature was coveted by those who remained, and this man wanted his piece of nature.

... – The man turns on the old tank, having already charged the batteries with prolonged exposure to the sun. It doesn't take long for him to be side by side with the quadruped. The cannon begins to charge, increasingly louder energy roars are heard, a glow around the cannon is seen. The shot is fired, a burst of light that looks like thunder flies towards the quadruped's head; it is fatal, accurate, cold.

The creature's life cycles were over, and it luxuriated on the ground, its essence draining from its body, carried by the currents of the sandstorms to the heavens.

His dome was the man's reward, it was already getting dark, his tank was not invincible without the presence of the sun, so he was going to hide inside that landscape today. He climbs the creature's fallen legs, its wheels were modified to withstand any route. Another shot opens a hole in the dome, and now he could rest, he could go out and breathe fresh air, feel the wind in his hair. A fire was lit and on it a pot of food was placed, the food was a soup with some leaves picked right there inside the Sìth.

Sleeping under the moonlight was a delicacy, few people could enjoy such a privilege now, only those who were stronger than the Mothachadh could enjoy it.

He woke up early, he had to put the tank outside to recharge, you never knew when trouble would appear. The once green grass of the Sìth was now orange, the trees no longer had leaves. The air from outside had violated the landscape, bringing the disease that ravaged the world. This was the life of that hunter, killing something so magnificent, to be able to show off the reward for a short time, before it turned into what the Earth had turned into, but it was necessary, the pure air that ran inside the Mothachadh was what kept the hunter healthy, strong, vigorous.

The air outside contained the disease, the reason for the end, the reaper created by human greed.

was named after Ùine , the omnipotent god; unshakable, uncontrollable who reigned sovereign on Earth since primordial times.

In ancient times, there were many gods. There have always been discussions about which ones were real or not. The world was shaped by beliefs and cults, thousands of deities and sects, millions of paradises and resting places for those who departed from prayers. But today, it is known that at least two gods still exist, and one of them was Uíne .

Ùine has always worked towards extermination, limiting human life to maintain universal balance, and when he could not contain the advance of flesh beings, it is believed that the second god started the War of Fìor Saoghal .

Some saw him as a hideous being composed of horns and wings, others saw him as an ethereal form always hovering over the skies, watching the end of the cycles of the remaining humans, but one thing everyone knew:

He would reap them all.

Those who remain now have a short time on Earth. Ùine is invincible, cruel. She delivered death in crumbs, transmitted through sand, ash, and everything dry and putrid. She was a poison, aging everything that was alive so that anything that was not human became ephemeral. Life used to last years, and now it lasts months.

Only Mothachadh enjoyed immunity to the God of Death, and eternally carried bits of life with them with which to protect themselves until a solution was found.

...Perfect – The sun was shining brightly, it wouldn't take long to charge the batteries of the big tank. The hunter picks some leaves that hadn't died yet in the Sìth , and leaves. The beautiful creature that walked innocently on Earth, was now on the ground, rotten and covered in sand, moving away from the tank that continued on its way.

Lonely road, silent path, only sand covering the buildings was what you had to see.

The radar detects a presence, two presences, three presences, they were just turning the corner, behind an old building. The cannon begins to glow, any threat would know the glow of the invincible weapon. A cargo truck turns the corner, two buses follow it, raising a white flag, the three of them; they had no malicious intentions, they just wanted to survive, they all just wanted to survive. The hunter was not a bad man, he got the message, the cannon calmed down.

The road continued, the tank traveled along it, under the sun that gave life to its engine. The hunter drove tirelessly, looking for something, he was always looking for something, for a while now.

The radar spots something new, several presences gathered, a crowd. There was a dead Mothachadh , his Sìth was populated, on top of a hill where he had lost his life a few days ago; he was huge, his Sìth had grass and orange trees, high snowy hills and a house made of wood by hand, in fact it was still under construction, several people were cutting trees and carrying the logs together to be sawn and used in the house.

People helping each other, a rare, hopeful thing. One of the workers notices the hunter's huge tank, he runs to the edge of the Sìth , where the dome had been breached; he signals to the hunter, greetings of hospitality, the hunter was welcome to be one of them.

A valuable gesture of humanity, but the hunter doesn't mind, he continues on his way; he doesn't like company, other lives around him, it makes him insecure, the humanity he once trusted so much died over the years, as did his trust in those who remained; he lived alone, hunted alone, and would die alone, just like those people who thought they were safe inside the Mothachadh , who thought they had finally escaped the poison of Ùine .

The road finally reached a city, the silhouette of the wreckage of huge skyscrapers could be seen by the hunter. What could that city have stored in the confines of its ruins? A society? Perhaps supplies that had withstood the looting of other bandits who had passed through there. Entering the city streets, the hunter used his binoculars to look for a high place, a place where the wind reigned strong over the skies.

He spots the largest building in the city, and it was at the top of it that he needed to be. A box is stored under the mattress at the bottom of the tank, with a leather suit and a gas mask; he puts them on, and from the weapons that rest right next to it, he chooses the shotgun, the pistol, the hunting knife and the sledgehammer. Ready to go outside, to breathe in Ùine 's poison without the purifiers inside the tank to lessen the effects; he hides the tank inside a car wash, not that it mattered if anyone found it, but they would know he was there if they did.

Damn, it's getting heavier and heavier – He was carrying a backpack, it must have been important, it was very well protected with belts. The front door showed resistance, but not against the sledgehammer. It was a luxury hotel, judging by the red carpets and golden decorations; potted plants that now carried only sand scattered on the walls and corners. The elevators were obviously not working, the long spiral climb up the stairs awaited him.

Ùine 's poison began to have serious effects on the hunter was short, but the confident man still stops on a few floors to check the rooms; he finds nothing but sand and the bones of unfortunate people, but some fabrics that could serve as warm clothing if he entered icy areas on the road caught his attention, and there was space in the backpack. In minutes he was already flying over the entire city with his eyes; there he opens the precious bag that he had carried with such care. A huge binocular is assembled from parts taken from the bag.

The man analyzed each can that passed through the wind with his eyes through telescopes, he was looking for something in particular, something that made him walk along dead roads for years, stumbling over its tracks and sniffing its remains. In the distance, after the city ended, just after some dunes, a Mothachadh raised walls of sand as it walked; the hunter, now aware of its existence, wrote down information in a small notebook that he always kept with him.

After another brief escort still at the top of the city, the hunter notices a racket of cars speeding over the city's curves. Bandits, looters, murderers and rapists, it was always one of these options that the hunter thought of when he saw a bunch of bums screaming nonsense, people whose minds had rotted wandering the remains of the Earth looking to satisfy their sick fetishes with someone else's life.

The gang soon noticed the tank over the car wash and deduced that there was a human presence in the area. They wanted to loot it, some went to the building where the hunter was, others stayed to try to open the large tank.

The hunter was surrounded, at the top of the building, with bums surrounding the exits at the back; but that didn't even stop the hunter from sweating, no, it would be nothing more than a misfortune in his plans that could easily be fixed. He waits, patiently, and his wait is rewarded; footsteps of people approaching, a man, average weight, limping on his right leg, a recent injury.

The man opens the door, big mistake, the hunter meets him with the sledgehammer, hits his left leg, ending up crippling him. He flies to the unfortunate man's mouth, slapping him to avoid the screams of pain.

Information can save you, if you scream, you will die, swallow the pain...and speak – The hunter didn't speak much, but when he did, it was because someone was about to lie down cold on the endless sheets of sand that covered the Earth.

Weapons? – He uncovers the man's mouth, grabs his neck.

N- no ......none...- Iris trembling, teeth chattering.

What... what do you want from me? – Despair, those who were killed by the hunter were stripped of dignity, they abandoned their faith, something deep in their chests told them that the hunter would be their last image.

Where are the others? - Triumphant eyes, echoing voice.

Down there , I don't know the floors – trembling voice, pain causes stuttering.

What are you doing? - he clutches his throat, he was in a hurry.

Just... we were looking for supplies - he's choking, his time is running out.

Noises, a few floors below, the hunter notices them, another prey; the man was no longer useful. He takes out the knife, it shines in the few rays of sunlight, it is sawn on both sides; cruel, sadistic. The man sees the true side of the hunter.

No....please...we just want to survive, we are not killers - Small sobs of tears, a look asking for mercy. His mouth is sealed again, the knife is plunged into his liver, twisted inside him, the hunter watches him writhe.

...I can't waste it - The nature of a hunter, cold, doesn't feel sorry for the prey, doesn't feel remorse in the kill, doesn't think of sparing those who have the strength to recover and attack you.

The body emanated its once-living essence outside of the body. Bright shards abandoned the now lifeless cocoon, finding space among the thousands of stars in the red sky. Uíne was satisfied, and with that, years of life were returned to the Hunter, who felt his muscles renew, and his lungs hurt less as he breathed the rotten, dry air.

Sacrifices for the cruel God. With each death, a reward. With each drop of blood, with each spirit that accumulated in the reaping cradle of the God Uíne , a life extended its longevity. It was the only certainty discovered of living longer. This was done then by those who yearned for greed, this is how the days of those who abandoned humanity and became monsters, servants of Uíne , are prolonged .

The corpse had good spoils, and would not waste them any more; a few minutes of searching for interests and the hunter relocates to the lower floors. Two floors below, the corridors were narrow, with red walls and rotten doors, the floor could not be seen, it was covered in sand. The hunter notices footprints, they followed a pattern, going from door to door following the corridor, making it easy to track the prey.

The tracks were not so recent, they had already left that floor; the hunter returns to the stairs, goes down to the ground floor. They were there, sitting in the hall; two of them; a couple, they seemed to be waiting for someone. They did not carry weapons, and their clothes were not fortified, the hunter sees that his prey is indeed harmless.

He didn't lie... - He refers to his previous prey, in fact they weren't murderers, nor any kind of criminals, they were just wanderers.

There was nothing to fear, the hunter comes out of the shadows and walks towards the exit, not caring when he is noticed by the wanderers. The woman approaches him, frightened by the terrifying figure approaching with the knife in hand.

H- hey , you – She raises her hand to get the hunter's attention.

Hmm ?-  He calmly responds to the call.

Who are you? – She keeps a safe distance.

It doesn't matter - He states as he assumes a relaxed posture.

Were you already here? We didn't know, we don't want any trouble – She approaches the other walker, who remained in place, opting for a defiant posture, even though it was obviously a bluff.

They won't have - He looks around, taking his focus off the walkers, showing that he doesn't care about their presence.

Have you met our friend? His name is Carl, I'm sure he told you his name, he always does. - He asks in a firm voice. She looks at the hunter curious for the answer.

I sacrificed him – He faces both.

You.......what? - She covers her mouth, her eyes show shock, her legs begin to tremble. - Stop mocking - He becomes enraged with what he hears, he thought it was a lie.

The hunter raised his knife-wielding arm and turned it so that the tip was upside down. A cool, ethereal essence rose from the blade until it broke away and disappeared into the sky. “…I sacrificed him.”

Ah...god...- She falls to her knees, a few tears fall from her face, too fast for her to hide them - Why?...Why?!- He was agitated, clenching his fists; sweat was falling from his forehead, hatred was consuming him.

Sacrifices give us life, if this is how I can survive, this is how I will live – Cold, cruel, sure of himself. The hunter never chose to hide the truth, never saw the need.

This...this...is ridiculous! - She exclaims, her tears of sadness now turning into tears of hate - You speak as if it were something we all do, but it's murder! - She composes herself, stands up and walks towards the hunter, ignoring her friend's warnings - You speak calmly as if killing were just a coincidence! Killing is still killing! It still makes you a murderer!

The knife is handled efficiently, its blade pressed against the woman's throat, who maintained her posture facing the hunter head on. "Murderer , innocent, these words have lost their meaning because there is no longer a society that judges me for living the rest of my days devoid of humanity." He retracts the knife, returns it to its sheath, changes direction and heads for the exit . "Do you think what I do is banal? Blasphemy? Just because I now practice an act that was once seen as cruel in the ancient eyes of people who obeyed a sacred book? I am following the teachings of the only god left, so I am the only sane one here."

He turns his back on the hikers, he knows they wouldn't try anything, even with their hatred, they still knew they wouldn't stand a chance against the hunter. He walks over to the tank, two other hikers were there. They were using a crowbar, trying to force open the hatch of the vehicle. A pistol shot upwards draws their attention, a shotgun pointed in their direction terrifies them.

Get out – His command is obeyed, no objections. He opens the hatch with the key he carries around his neck. The engines start, the tank lights up with solar energy.

It won't be long, I'll find you – The roads welcome the tank again, which leaves the city, leaving the survivors to watch it disappear into the horizon.

The road was empty, only a few cars in their bed of rot occupied the path. The hunter was uncomfortable, anxious, depressed. He couldn't control it, couldn't hold it; his breathing quickened, he was desperate for air, his heart ached with bitterness, loneliness embraced him. What had the world made of the hunter, once a kind, charitable man; now a cold-blooded killer.

The decisions he made and things he said in the building, cold acts of someone no longer human; he feels them burning, the regret. A man lies dead on top of the building, surely never hurt a fly, and then has his last moments of life drained away by a cruel knife and a pitiless gaze.

No...no...not again...what am I? - He no longer recognized himself, he was a monster, he took cruel actions in the heat of the moment, and he repercussions for them when he was safe again inside his fortress. This, what he had become, the shell he used to cover himself, was the work of human hands, hands that held his, and let go when he needed help the most; the human being was despicable, and the hunter adapted to survive alone; but a side of him, a small side of him; felt the pains of loneliness that he adapted to himself. Against. His. Will - ...pull yourself together...breathe...pull yourself together...come on...come on...

“The chains of habit are too weak to be felt, until they are too strong to be broken.”

-Samuel L. Johnson

Every day, she buried more friends. Lives were lost because of Ùine , because of the hard path they had to follow. Streams of spirits held hands in ethereal chains to the heavens along the paths she walked. Some even reveled in a coup de grace.

It was a narrow path.

She led them down this path, the doubt of leaving her in charge hovering over the crowds that followed her, with each loss they suffered.

Ghaoil , that was her name, but she was more commonly referred to as Mother. She was a good woman, big and strong like an Amazon, but gentle and charitable like an angel; she was the kind of person who could bring together lost souls who wandered alone on Earth, and make them share the same path.

She was a warrior, she looted empty places, she didn't want to find trouble with other looters, not out of fear, but she avoided killing in his name.

They were all survivors...just like her.

But when necessary, unfortunate were those who crossed her path, they suffered quick, painless deaths, she took no pleasure in taking a life.

But he would not fail to sacrifice them as soon as possible to one of his survivors.

Her husband and son had joined the sand that flew in the winds, they were among those who met their end during the War of Fìor. Saoghal , leaving Ghaoil alone amidst what she failed to defend.

Ghaoil .... – A follower puts his hand on his shoulder, they were facing two graves. Full, it happened a few hours ago, victims of Ùine 's disease .

They trusted me... just like the rest... and I brought them the same fate as the others - The pain of guilt, it ate away at her chest, bled her conscience. Her knees fell to the ground, losing strength the longer she stared at the hand-made tombstones being misaligned by the wind - What do I do? What hope will I give them?...

...

The two gravediggers returned to the caravans, a line of cargo vehicles and buses, carrying camping equipment, beds, and fabrics. The buses were restricted to survivors only; no one could bring even a leaf to eat; they would start a war over possession of the food.

The food was in the largest truck, the best guarded; leaves, seeds and drinking water, looted from Mothachadh carcasses ; there was a feeding routine among the survivors, to balance consumption.

Ghaoil led the caravans with his truck, followed by three other cars; they were the Lancers, the only four attack vehicles they had; three cars equipped with hand-held machine guns and carrying homemade bombs in their luggage. The lead truck carried a wagon, in it, an old Flak cannon from the Second World War, kept alive and functional by modifications that converted it into a sonic pressure cannon, powered by generators charged with wind energy thanks to the three propellers on top of the wagon. It was Ghaoil's ace up his sleeve , dubbed the XL Hunter, the Anti-Mothachadh weapon , the one that killed beautiful creatures to ensure the survival of Ghaoil and his children.

Hi Ghao – Vice leader Creideamh welcomed Ghaoil .

Hi Creid – Seeing Creideamh calmed Ghaoil , he was a gentle boy who felt eternal gratitude for her having kept him safe during the War of Fìor Saoghal - How is he? - She turns her attention to a child, who was crying and screaming in loss, every second that that child was heard, the self-esteem of those who followed Ghaoil decreased .

Shaken, Travis's son had just lost his mother and now his father was gone, the poor guy will be fifteen in seven days - Creideamh also felt the loss, but remained untouched to maintain his position as vice leader.

And Roger's daughter? – She asks about the other deceased's child.

Taking a deep breath, Creideamh didn't hide the fact that she would have bad news- ...She ran away.

She turns to him, confusion mixed with a sudden burst of anger- How come she ran away?!

She said you didn't know where you were going, that you were throwing our lives away – Creideamh maintains her posture, and lowers her voice - She... said she didn't want to see your face anymore, and then when we realized, she was gone.

She turns around, thinks, and looks back at the crowd. A man asks for her attention and tells her where the girl ran off to. She thanks him, grabs a shotgun and a canteen of water, and hurries off in the direction he has indicated.

Ghao , where are you going? – Even though he already knew the answer, Creideamh still felt the need to confirm his suspicions.

Behind her, she is only sixteen years old, she will not survive, continue the camp, distribute food in ten minutes, and get everything ready to get back on the road before dark. - Orders given, Ghaoil sets out to rescue the girl. She could not bear to leave someone to drown in the sands of the Earth.

The sand hid the girl's footprints, making it difficult to track Ghaoil . After walking a few kilometers, she realized how far she had gone; the girl had run a lot, she must have been exhausted, fallen into some building ruins, at the mercy of her death. She balanced her water consumption with the distance she had traveled, she wanted to save some to share.

The sun burned the grains of sand on the ground, the cloth covering Ghaoil 's face was no longer as effective, and the great leader's strength was running out. In the distance, she saw a gas station, what was left of it, on a road that led to a city she had already visited; it was the only place that would protect someone from the sun on that route. She followed it, entering through a broken window.

On the dry ground that raised dust with every step taken, a noise, a cry.

In the corner she was almost dead, a beautiful girl, really beautiful, pure too, she didn't deserve to be born in that time of humanity. Ghaoil grabs her tightly, forces a few sips of water down her throat.

Neo , Neo come on, try to breathe – She knew the cause of the girl's deathbed, just by the smell of smoke that emanated from her mouth.

You idiot, what do you think you were doing? – She knew the consequences, smoking in a world where breathing will kill you, the God Ùine has no mercy for those who weaken their lungs by poisoning them with smoke. The girl had suicidal desires, she lit some cigarettes found right there at the gas station, she no longer saw any reason to live, not that there had been any from the beginning.

Let me die... I don't want to live here anymore – The girl's empty blue eyes reflected her desire to no longer live.

Have you... lost your mind? I would never let you die – She picks up the girl, starts giving her more sips of water, it would help slow her down and maybe avoid future lung failure.

He's gone... – She starts crying again, her eyes already red.

He wouldn't want you dying like that, he -

You killed him! – She interrupts Ghaoil , screaming so loudly that blood comes out of her mouth – You and your promises of a better place for us! You killed him ! He died believing your lies! – She didn't have much time, Ghaoil needed to act.

...I promised him that I would take care of you, he always knew that Ùine had already destroyed his body, he joined me just to have someone to take care of you when he left – Ghaoil holds back his emotions, holds back the tears that were trying to come out, maintains his posture with the girl in his lap.

You... – She can't speak, she coughs up blood with every word she tries to say.

I won't let you die like this, let's go back to camp, we can reverse what you did – She starts to lift the girl.

I don't want to die... – She stops crying, her lungs were already leaving her without air, her strength fading away.

Neo ...it won't hurt anymore, okay? I'll make it stop, I just need you to - she is interrupted, noises outside caught her attention. From the darkness where they were, she sees a silhouette peering through the glass of one of the windows, looking for something or someone, but doesn't seem to have seen them. The figure didn't leave the front of the gas station, she knew someone was there - Wait here, drink this until the end - She gently places the girl on some old newspapers, leaves her with the water canteen. She grabs her shotgun and walks towards the door.

The creaking of the door catches the attention of the figure, a thin man, dressed in rags. He had no backpack or any equipment, he seemed oblivious to the apocalypse on the other side of the street.

Finally, I thought they had already left – He smiles, in a disturbing way, but he smiles with true joy.

Who are you? What do you want? – Shotgun in hand, firm questions.

I haven't known who I am for a long time, but I want someone who's in there, I followed her here and when I had finished getting ready to go in, you arrived - He was agitated, he didn't seem to want to waste time.

Get ready? Get ready for what? – She cocks the shotgun.

Prepare myself...to be a man , well , it's not every day that you see thick thighs wandering around alone - He smiles again, then looks Ghaoil up and down - I bet you came to do the same thing, right, but you're a woman, you wouldn't ruin anything I want there. - He acts friendly, judging Ghaoil as a simple looter.

She points the gun at the man, her smile is clipped, she keeps her finger on the trigger, arm steady. “ You’re not touching anyone, and if you want to touch anything by yourself later, you better leave.”

He gets nervous, a treasure awaits him inside, so close yet so far. He had no chance against that huge weapon, nor against whoever wielded it - Calm down there big lady, just give me ten minutes with her, she'll be alive when I'm done.

I don't warn you twice - A shot hits her knee , sparks fly, the bullet falls to the ground. A lower layer of protection is revealed, his clothing concealed more than it showed , hidden among rags to deceive anyone who crossed his path. He removes a small pistol from his boot and fires twice, two accurate shots into her abdomen. She responds, but this time mercilessly, a precise shot, piercing every tooth the man still had, and exploding its way through the back of his neck.

He falls to the ground milliseconds before his consciousness is called to the heavens by the cruel God. His bulging eyes still tremble in his last conscious seconds, before becoming a glow that rose to the heavens through a divine hand extended to him, babbling ancient songs to Ghaoil , giving her a strength that harked back to a few years ago when she was stronger than she currently is.

An unexpected sacrifice, but Ghaoil accepts the gift.

A strange man who took a very reckless risk, a strange occurrence that seemed to have been in vain.

She focuses on her surroundings again, her injuries were serious, the wound open and the cold embrace of the cruel God growing tighter; ignoring them, she runs to help the girl, but doesn't find her; instead, she finds the back door open, she didn't run away, she didn't have the strength...

He wasn't alone... bastard! - She runs out, peering at each sand dune standing on a silent wind, an engine pulling away, dust rising along the northwest, someone took her.

No... Ah, Neo ... – She failed, she knew what the warped minds of this Earth would do to a beautiful and weakened girl, the images that began to populate her mind weakened her, tormented her .

As night fell, the red moon hung over her head, the silvery cold raised sandstorms like star particles that crashed into her wounded body as she returned empty-handed, her head troubled, her eyes watering.

A sniper from the caravan, young Greg, spots her in the distance and signals her arrival, alone. The heroine approaches like a zombie, dragging her feet against the sand. Creideamh welcomes her, the camp is set up and the engines are warming up.

The tears had dried, but Creideamh the note .

Did you find her? – Even if she wasn’t with Ghaoil , he hoped they had both found each other.

I...no...no I couldn't, she must have been far away by now – The lie, a benevolent act even if always seen as selfish in the times of humanity. Ghaoil was afraid to tell the truth, to say that he failed, to show that he is not invincible as everyone thinks he is.

I see... may heaven receive you when your time comes - He wasn't religious, but if there was anything besides the God of death to comfort those who had passed, he wanted to make sure they were received - the caravan is ready, where do we go?

N-North – She wasn't thinking straight.

The usual then – He states.

Yes...yes, we'll need more supplies soon, find more turtles and restock – Keeping the routine was the way to hide what happened.

I'll ask the tracker to use the radar every ten kilometers, I need to look at the maps and find gas stations for -It took a while, even for Creideamh , but Ghaoil 's strange behavior is noticed-   Ghao ? – Calls her attention, with result – what happened?

Ah... nothing, I walked a good few kilometers today, I'm just tired - But it wasn't fatigue, it was the loss of consciousness due to the forces emptying her veins, the bullet wounds had inflamed some time ago, leaving Ghaoil in a state of immense pain; but revealing the injuries would raise suspicions, guesses, something she couldn't defend herself against.

Anyway, I'm going to see the doctor, I think I sucked up a lot of sand, better check it out – With quick goodbyes, she tries not to stagger until she reaches the infirmary.

Inside a double-decker bus was the caravan's mobile infirmary, led by Malice , the once-splendid surgeon who performed impossible operations, or so the newspapers hanging on the bus said about her.

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M-Bad ... – After silently enduring his burning flesh thanks to the accumulated sand, Ghaoil falls almost unconscious as he opens the door to the infirmary.

What the fuck Ghao – She wasn't even in her thirties yet, but Malice was yelling at Ghaoil as if she were her mother – What have you done now, you idiot?

Uncharitably, she removes the rags, two horrible wounds, inflamed by sand and poor stasis – You have to stop visiting me only when you are dying – Grumpy, but worryingly so.

I'm sorry, I couldn't let you know that... – She no longer had the strength to hold back the tears that she had tried so hard to keep from coming out, on the floor where she was, with blood running down her face and her consciousness on the verge of fading, she began to lament in tears about the actions she had taken. – Neo ... our Neo-Chiontas ... I failed again...

... Damn Ghao ... Neo ... - Leaving her friend to suffer in silence, the doctor carried the huge woman to one of the benches they used as a stretcher, and then picked up the hot iron for quick cauterization, even if it resulted in excruciating pain - I think it's best if you don't hit me again after this - Words said, she pours some liquids that burn the wounds. She puts a cloth in Ghaoil 's mouth , and it doesn't take long to cauterize the wounds, feeling a small sadistic and exciting pleasure as she watched her friend let out screams and moans muffled by the cloth - It's over, okay? It's over, now I need to warn Creideamh about your condition, you can't get up for a while.

Before he can turn his back, his hand is grabbed, Ghaoil removes the cloth from his mouth and murmurs imploringly – No Evil, they can't know...

What the hell Ghao , you didn't tell the truth, did you?... shit, okay okay , I'll make something up, say you cut yourself and got an infection, I don't know, I'm a doctor, I'll find a way - The doctor leads herself to Creideamh , leaving Ghaoil alone, reflecting on her actions, on the promise she made, not to one, but to everyone who followed her, while she clung to the feelings of those close to her, the last splashes of Ghaoil 's tears were carried away by the wind.

“Revenge is an act of passion”

- Samuel L. Johnson

Long roads, covered in oblivion; walking them was like chasing his dreams in this desolate world. The hunter was weak; Ùine affected him more and more.

His resistance to the cruel God's embrace was never equal to others, but his durability in the cruel world was.

He closely followed a Mothachadh , observing its behavior; something caught his attention and this bothered the Hunter from starting his attack.

The Mothachadh is hit, but not by the thunder of the Hunter's tank; an explosive shot, of gunpowder and metal, a trail of smoke; a missile. Someone was already hunting him; the Hunter saw the threat to his prey.

The consecutive shots showed how amateur the other hunter was, they were not aimed at the head and some even hit his hull; putting his rich Sìth at risk before he was even shot down.

The hunter heads to his rival's location, three cars grouped together at an old gas station; seven people cause a commotion, alternating between shouting and hurried movement.

They were new, but well armed; very well armed, something that would not be easy to achieve wandering in a small group in this world; they would have already been enslaved, raped, killed and devoured by one of the many gangs that roamed that area.

The Hunter pulls the map from his backpack; it was scribbled and underlined, with gang names and where they were located, a fascinating loot, taken from the bloodied body of a drifter who had bumped into the Hunter. Where he was, leaving an ancient city that had once been the capital of where he was, markings spelled out a name: The Sin.

The information was enough, the Hunter approaches; the cannon had a charge prepared, for emergency. The members point their missile launchers at the Tank; among them, a woman, with long, blond hair, well-groomed even with some dry strands on the sides, with green eyes and few dark circles, scabies on her face, an athletic body with proud muscles and scars covering her lips, which smiled sadistically; she stands up with a missile launcher.

Come a little closer and let's turn that piece of metal of yours into an open can of tuna, who are you?! – Firm voice, she kept out of cover, she was confident, imposing; she was the leader.

There was nothing to fear, they were weak, all of them; inexperienced, cowards.

I have no name – He speaks through the earpiece of his tank. It doesn't come out; there is no need.

So what the hell, what do you want here? – He was impatient, he ordered the missiles to be pointed at the tank.

The Hunter responds, his cannon emits the apocalyptic glow of the shot about to be fired; the flock is left without reaction, they feel fear; they knew they had no chance, they knew they would die without praying for their mothers tonight.

Go away, Mothachadh is mine – The order has been given, the Hunter does not negotiate, never.

That pack turtle is ours, the one who's leaving is you - The cannon doesn't scare her, she was a brave woman, she lived up to her scars; an interesting prey.

You are amateurs, you don't deserve the Sìth - the cannon points to the middle car, a shot; everyone dies, and they knew it - I told you to leave.

Gràin ... let's go – The gang was afraid, they were really weak, they would die early, giving in to the law of what was left of the Earth.

Quiet, I've done this before. – She wanted to have the situation under control, but she knew; she would die if she tried. - We're not leaving, instead of hunting that thing alone, help us then. - A proposal, it was better than returning empty-handed. She changes her tone of voice, she was going to start negotiating – Our combined firepower could-

No – A light suddenly turns on, blinding everyone who was facing it; a bang, a shot; the cars fall apart in the middle of the explosion, the gang is consumed by the flames; they hardly know what hit them.

The station turns into a ball of fire.

Gràin survives, having been shot by the explosion; thanks to her perception, she noticed the imminent shot and threw her body out of the vehicle.

She got more scars.

Lying down, without the strength to act, she watched; the Mothachadh looked at her, even from so far away, she could see her. Seconds later, another flash of light illuminated the sky, and the Mothachadh could no longer stand.

That tank.... Gràin coveted it; she held it in his head, seconds before succumbing to his weakness and passing out.

“Get up, you have found...”

Waking up covered in a bed of sand; dry and inflamed wounds, she could barely breathe. To the heavens, she knew that Uíne was laughing at her condition.

Confusion, seconds after waking up; from the pain to remembering the recent wounds; while the body struggles to regain movement. She stands up, camouflaged among the dunes; due to the layers of dry sand on her body.

Searching for remains, that was all he had left, as he walked among the wreckage of the group he led, he did not believe nor accept the horizon he was on: everyone had left, their essences disappearing into the infinite reddish horizon that was the sky.

Jack...Homer...Luca...no...- His gang, his friends, his family; so many moons together , sharing their past; now lost. The pain in his heart, the regret of choosing to persist against that man; the immense desire to go back and make another decision, followed by the inescapable depression of knowing that it was not possible, on his knees, weighing on...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Outnumbered, outgunned, destroyed in an instant; and in the distance, the indomitable beast; once so defiant, now quiet and lifeless. That weapon was unique, never before seen by Gràin ; the desire to have it, the uncontrollable need to possess it; that kept Gràin conscious...... the return, the revenge.

The beast, even though it was far away, was the only option; even though she knew she could find it again, she marched on. It was already looted and empty, but it had not yet lost the green of its grass and leaves; the sun no longer tortured its body, and the calm breezes of wind removed flakes of sand from its body.

Ahead, a river; still pure, still transparent; from it she drinks, and there she purges her body of sand.

Her recovery was agonizing; few supplies to close her larger wounds, and even less to satisfy her hunger; Ùine had little left to use, she was already killing what was inside her. Trapped inside a paradise, without a vehicle, walking among the dunes was suicide; her body had already aged to a critical state.

There was plenty of grass, plenty of trees; plenty of air, Ùine did not have enough power in the realm beneath the heavens to rot everything before dawn.

There she lay on dry leaves beneath the largest tree; she couldn't sleep, she looked at the stars; but the brightness that most caught her attention was that tank, that colossus; she would have it, sooner or later, she would have it.

The sun returns, the morning announces itself; the rest was mediocre, she was still weak. Even with depraved energies, she marches; staying there was no longer an option for refuge, everything was orange; dry; dead. Out of Mothachadh it would be then, she knew the risk, but she would prefer to die trying.

Elvry , Yggdra , Alkolav , give me strength – One step after another. Facing the impetuous sun with her head held high, Gràin marches along the lifeless and endless road; along paths not yet known to her. Walking side by side with her anguish, loneliness, regret. The road showed little sign of any city, no, nothing; her feet hurt, she needed to rest.

A few miles further on, she finds a dilapidated house. An old convenience store, now creaking with its dry, dark boards and its cobwebs from times when insects still lived there.

It wasn't comfortable, nor was it pleasant to smell, but it was a place of rest, an escape from the eternal sun. A place where she could ponder again her actions, which haunted her every moment her mind thought of something, tormenting her feeble thinking and weaving self-hatred into her dignity.

One step after another.

It was time to leave. She suppressed her hunger and thirst, her tiredness and pain, and had already walked for miles, always on the road, avoiding the sand. She could no longer hide her lack of food. Walking under the setting sun, silhouettes danced over the curtains of sand, flying between the grains that rose and formed the dunes.

She saw them, but tried to convince her mind of the farce. Walking in the desert would do that to you, play tricks on your mind, many are deceived and meet their end because of it, but not Gràin ; her visions were nothing more than her deceased companions, who murmured babble and uproar around her, driving her to the brink of madness.

One step after another.

The sun would finally give her rest, it was setting; but it no longer mattered, she no longer had the strength, her lungs were heavy to breathe, her organs were in distress from the lack of water.

One step... was no longer possible, not for her. Surrendering to her wounds, to her lack of strength; she accepts her end. At the top of a dune, where a tree with its dry and brittle branches touched the red moon, projecting sinister shadows on the ground below, lies a woman; there would be her place of eternal rest, at least she would not be buried by the sand like all the others; at least, her tombstone could be noticed. Over the eternal silence that surrounded the dunes, she reaches the haunting tree. With her knife in hand, she cuts her name on her now tombstone.

GRAIN

She was satisfied, she could rest; torment would now be her relief. Beneath the branches that scratched the wind, spreading requiem grunts, she lay and waited for her last breath.

Elvry , Yggdra , Alkolav , wish me a good rest...

...

The impetuous night, with its blanket of silence that brought death to those who would no longer see the sun rise, brought something different. A shadow, that walked by itself and thought with its own conscience, walked among the sand dunes, its head looking only in one direction: the tree on the sand hills.

She had watched him arrive, and there was nothing she could do to react, her limbs were paralyzed, her vision almost blind. How she would spend her last moments was being decided by that figure.

The day arrives, announced by the heat that quickly rises along with the sun.

...

There is someone who needs to die...

A murmur, a voice produced by the wind.

...

There is someone who needs to die.......

What... who... - whispers of delirium, requiem of madness.

...

There is someone who needs to die!

She wakes up screaming, her heart pumping even faster, announcing her survival.

The whisper, the murmur, and then the scream, woke her up; it ended her fatigue. Her wounds were closed; her thirst quenched, her hunger satisfied ... but there was now something that could not be satisfied even with her happiness at knowing that she was breathing again... the anger, the need to find that man.

She stands up, and the sudden pain followed by the blood that stained the sand red makes her realize the price of the miracle of her survival.

His left eye, torn out to pay the debt to the shadow that saved him; stitched together poorly, a high price; but in exchange for a second chance, Gràin did not even flinch at the loss.

On its trunk, the violated tombstone.

GRAIN

DO YOUR DUTY

Stuck in the trunk was a huge blade, almost the size of Gràin herself , thin and straight, made entirely of a purple crystalline material; sharpened in a cruel way, capable of piercing even the skin of the gods to whom she prayed.

It had no scabbard, whoever used it would have to deal with the pain. Removing it from the trunk, she understands that second chance, she knows what should be done to pay off the debt to that shadow. The weight of the sword was relieved as more anger passed through Gràin , who squeezed it more and more cruelly, opening small cuts in her hand whose pain gave her pleasure.

Under the sun that no longer burned her skin, she marched; her needs were met by a single desire: Revenge.

Chapter 1

What makes us regret

Amidst the ruins of buildings, in one of the former central cities of trade in the old world; which was one of the battle points of Fìor Saoghal ; a man drove his turbulent car through the steep, broken streets lost amidst fallen trees and war debris.

He was happy and humming, synchronizing his music with the beats on the steering wheel. His hunt for supplies had yielded him an unprecedented treasure; it would not save him from the cruel hunger, much less from the incessant thirst, but it would give him a taste he had not felt since the time he was a dangerous man lurking in the alleys of the old world.

She was a girl, weak, and beautiful, too beautiful to be living in this world. He was filled with euphoria when he looked at that face, staring at her with fear and tears, he thought of the most depraved atrocities and the most repulsive fantasies that he would carry out within four walls, he didn't care about the companion he lost distracting the enormous guardian of that girl.

He followed a path of old iron posts that had fallen, bent in one direction of the street; he followed a standardized path. Few knew where the path would lead, such few were part of the organization that dominated those hectares of sand: The Sin.

Amidst the same debris covered by sand, a stubborn woman wandered through the deserted streets; walking calmly under the sun that seemed not to affect her.

One step at a time, Gràin approached the sound of the engine that echoed through the buildings, following precisely the scandalous creaking of the old vehicle.

The man stops in a parking lot to cool off from the heat inside the vehicle, kicking the sand to relieve the frustration of having to admit to himself that he is lost; indeed, the city seemed to be even bigger thanks to the ruins it had become, making every corner look like the one he had just passed through.

Finding the hideout of an organization known for its almost non-existent notoriety didn't seem worth the time and gas he had risked, and he pondered whether he should take the girl right there, seeing as she wouldn't last a few more days.

Among his doubts, a shadow covers his own and with it his thoughts are cut off so that he can react.

Who the hell are you? - He takes an old and poorly maintained machine gun out of the car, seconds later he assumes an attack stance, pointing the weapon at the silhouette.

Someone looking for a companion to keep me warm at night – She stood outside the penthouse, keeping her identity hidden from the man's eyes. She seemed to be holding something, but due to the high light, it was impossible to make out what it was.

I won't fall for that so easily, better tell me who you are – Deciding not to risk his luck a second time, already satisfied with the prize in the car, the man focuses on keeping his sights aligned on the mysterious figure.

No one really – She notices a body lying on the back seat of the car, a fantastic perception even though she lacks half of her vision – Who is in the car?

My property – He reassures himself that he's keeping his prize a secret just for himself, aiming the gun more precisely now, resting it on his shoulders, his patience draining as his distrust takes over – Tell me what the fuck you want with me.

Of course, as I walked, I heard your engine making noises on every corner of this city, what are you trying to find? – Her voice was confident, she knew what she was doing, she was always an expert at keeping the situation under control.

It's none of your business-

The Sin 's hiding place ? – The decisive statement.

...

I know where it is, but I'd rather not walk there – She did, and she knew it.

The man ponders for a few seconds, thinking about accepting the proposal, his conscience feels terrified at the idea of accepting the stranger's help, but he also wonders if he will be able to find the place before his gasoline, or his prize, gives way - I think it's better not to be messing around - He lowers the gun... his mistake.

She had been waiting for that moment, ready to act. The weapon was finally revealed, unrolling it from the cloths that covered it, raised to the sky, the sun's rays reflecting on the enormous purple crystal blade, which shines so incessantly that it renders the man's eyes useless for a few seconds.

His guard was down and when he deduces that he should retake it , GRÀIN ATTACKS.

The blade pierces his abdomen, passing through its reinforced covering as if it were mere rags of cloth; and finally meets the tip on the other side, putting a painful end to the life of the marauder. She withdraws the sword, leaving the man to succumb to his wound; she collects his weapon and seizes his vehicle.

Checking the backseat, she spots the girl; she was very weak and could barely communicate, her lips were already dry and her skin whitened. Looking at the work it would take to keep her alive, Gràin reflects on the benefits that this young woman would bring seeing where she was planning to go.

She searches the vehicle, and finds some supplies; food and water, enough for both of them. Jumping into the backseat, she takes the girl in her arms and patiently feeds her, giving her time to chew the food and drink the water.

You are very weak, your blood is drying up fast – Water and food would be no use against the poor young woman's imminent death, Gràin decides how far she would go just to keep a simple utensil alive - Here, drink this. – She takes her knife, slits her own arm without hesitation, blood dripping onto the girl – Trust me, you need fresh blood, drink it now – The girl rejected Gràin 's blood , making her lose her patience. She became enraged, pressed her fingers on the girl's throat, forcing her to open her mouth – You. Will. Drink. – There was no resistance, the girl drank the blood; having to swallow the drops that went down her throat.

Gràin 's arm and covering the wound with her mouth, sucking as much blood as she could – What the fuck! That's enough, you bitch! – Fighting against the girl's grip on her arm, Gràin regains control with a devastating blow to the abdomen, choking her under the blood he was stealing. She removes some bandages and begins to cover the wound, while the girl, still on her lap, recovers from the blow.

Thank you... – Wiping the blood that dripped from her mouth, her blue eyes shone again, perhaps it was tears of happiness and gratitude to her savior.

Bitch... you're welcome – She continues to tend to the cut.

I...am better ... but how?

You drank my blood – She helps the girl sit up, takes the weight off her lap and settles more comfortably to finish the bandage – There are a lucky few, whose blood was used in extensive amounts of rituals and sacrifices, who are recognized by Uíne , who gifts us with the ability to be “receptacles” of several tormented souls in our body.

Can you... perform a sacrifice for another person just to drink their blood?

Don't overthink it, there's no way to escape Ùine , just slow down, you, like all of us, still have your place reserved with him, but I've slowed down a few days - Finishing the bandage, Gràin gets out of the car and searches the corpse for the car key - But it's worth remembering - Opening the front door of the car, key in hand - That Uíne needs to continue to recognize you as worthy of being a vessel, for that, you have to harvest spirits for yourself, he doesn't share.

I see...Thank you for doing that. But....why did you save me?

I don't know... I think I liked you, and traveling alone sucks – She signals for the girl to sit next to her.

With the roar of the engines again, they both set off through the sunny and dusty streets; a bond could be felt beginning to strengthen between the two. They followed the streetlights, which did not confuse Gràin . She knew the ruse, she always took the opposite path to the direction shown - But anyway, where did you come from before you were taken by the guy back there?

I was in a caravan – She clasps one hand against the other, looks at her feet and ponders her old acquaintances – We traveled together for a long time, we never set up base or anything like that, we are always moving.

Traveling together, huh? – The awakening of interest, the malicious ideal of taking advantage of the sudden opportunity – And who is the leader of this caravan?

Ghaoil , she was always the leader, she was always strong... – She stops more tears from falling - I saw her defending me for the last time, I saw her get shot... – Even hiding her tears, few sobs escape the girl, much to Gràin 's annoyance - She couldn't have died because of me.

I'm sure she's alive, okay? Dry those tears - His rudeness has an effect, the girl shrinks, looking down until her tears dry - the caravan, do you know where they're going?

No... I mean, we don't have a specific place to go, we always head North killing Mothas and camping.

North, right, good girl, let's meet them, but first, let's pay a visit to an old acquaintance.

All good...

Hey, what's your name again?

Neo-Chiontas , what about you?

My name is -

His introduction is cut short by bullets that graze the hood of his car and nearly find a home in his head. Throwing Neo and himself down, his foot plummets to the accelerator toward the attack.

A crash followed by blood spreading across the glass confirms that the target has been hit, but the shots continue uninterrupted. Trapped in a vehicle that dismantles with each burst, Gràin fills her lungs and screams as if she is punishing her own gods.

JAAAAAAAAAACK!

The gunshots stop seconds later, murmurs of doubt can be heard. Gràin checks Neo , only to find her in shock, breathing fast, tears dripping onto the seat.

Gràin ?! – A call, with a familiar voice and a worried tone – Gràin , is that you?!

YOU SON OF A BITCH! - Getting out of the car, with a violent advance, Gràin addresses the acquaintance - You almost killed me that time!

Gràin ! – Before further explanation, Gràin hits the boy, who didn’t react as much out of fear as innocence.

He is thrown to the ground, the punch had shaken his body with a shock as strong as any other blow or shot he had received. He could barely move except to raise an arm to stop Gràin - I didn't know it was you, we saw that car passing through the streets a long time ago, they told us to be alert in case it got close.

You piece of shit! Next time use the eye I left intact to see me!

Okay, I'm sorry – stroking his chin, showing surprise at the sudden strength Gràin had gained since the last time they saw each other.

Screw you - Ignoring the man on the ground, she looks into the distance, past the armed men. A pile of rusty car bodies, piled on the ruins left by a building collapse - Is Ghalt there ?

Yes, he just arrived, he was in Terrae territory , exchanging supplies, but... are you sure you want to see him?

Leaving the man to recover on the ground, Gràin returns to the car to check his luggage. Calling her with slaps on her leg to get her out of her traumatic state - Hey, get out of the car, come with me - The sight of such a beautiful girl, capable of driving the loneliest of men crazy.

Amidst informal courtship and verbal obscenities, she struggles to get out of the car. Gràin takes her like a puppy, holding her in his arm while carrying his lethal weapon in the other - Don't touch her, she's mine.

Walking towards the scrapyard, Gràin followed what seemed to be a secret passage that started inside a hood, and continued past other rust. Neo followed her. The deeper they went, the sun disappeared and darkness took over their eyes.

Finally an end to the tunnel, lights form inside barrels of fire, spread over a large underground hall, formerly a multi-story parking lot below ground. This was where the Sin lived.

The smell of burning iron and hammers beating their creations as primitive as medieval times, voracious masked men purging the dust from vehicle engines, hoping to bring them back to life, and tables where silence helped intellectual men unlock the ancient gears of firearms.

It was a hall of soldiers preparing for some war; it was not pretty and did not try to be.

But it resembled a giant workshop, the heat was unbearable due to the small space where so much fire predominated, even when compared to the Sun of the outside world, the closed space seemed to impale infernal winds on those who walked inside the house.

Dìoghaltas , the undisputed leader and fearless warrior, preferred to have a bladed weapon at his side that he could use with both hands to destroy whatever stood in his way. As big as a bear, primitive in appearance, with scars covering where his metal equipment could not, with long, loose, but well-groomed brown hair and beard. He headed towards the imposing Gràin , seeking in her answers to the questions he had kept for a long time.

Gràin … – It was a sight that robbed the courage of anyone who faced him. His face had hatred written on every expression, his muscles twitching as he suppressed his impulse.

Hi Ghalt , how- The echo of her voice sounded like a bell to Dìoghaltas , which took him out of control and made him shoot his arm to her throat, lifting her off the ground as her eye opened due to lack of air.

Hey Ghalt ?! After everything you've caused here, after running away with the best cars and equipment, thinking you could take down a Mothachadh with just missiles, you think you can show up here and say hi to me?!

I- I ... accept... the challenge of reconciliation... – Such words make Ghalt release her immediately. It was a law among the Sin , the challenge so that any dishonored member could return.

Within seconds, a crowd of people gathered, their faces burned and dirty, staring sadistically at Gràin , waiting to see her being torn in half while she couldn't spare any reaction.

There, Gràin and Ghalt were preparing. A man obliges by announcing the event.

Gràin ! The fugitive, the former vice-leader of the Sin ! She has requested her re-entry into our family through the reconciliation challenge! The rules are clear: She must survive three blows from our ruthless leader Dìoghaltas ! Only then will she have the right to speak to one of us!

Hey, hold this for me, and step away – She hands the sword to Neo , her gaze exuding a bit of fear, but Neo decides not to comment on that.

Okay then...- A sudden attack, delivered by a huge body that launches itself with its fist in front of Gràin , hitting her squarely in the face, throwing her body into the wind before bouncing to the ground.

Pinned to the ground, succumbing to unconsciousness. Dìoghaltas wasted no time in waiting for her to get up again; he grabbed her by the neck and lifted her up, as if she were a mere rag doll, his fist was thrown at her face again, sending her to the ground meters ahead of where she had fallen previously.

His face was decrepit, showing signs of deformation from the various cuts, his eye scar was open, his lips had been torn apart by the impact with his teeth, which were slowly being spat out onto the floor.

Dìoghaltas ' almost inhuman strength was told among the sandy corners of the Earth, he was known as "The army of a single Berserker " among the locals who used his existence as a way to compare him to the man who could hurt Uíne .

Elvry , Yggdra , Alkolav , protect me – The decisive blow would be given by Ghalt , raising his fist above her head, and bringing it down like a guillotine, without the slightest intention of leaving her alive.

In an act of desperation, Gràin puts both arms in front of his face, in a last attempt to protect himself. Still, the impact is incalculable, the bones of both arms can be heard breaking, which alleviated the crushing impact that would have been given to his head.

Among the pool of depravity and scarlet life that drained from her wounds and the disfigured body that lay motionless for a few seconds on the ground, destiny once again showed itself to be on Gràin 's side , who announced that she was alive with a trembling raise of her arm.

Impressive, Gràin – The crowd slowly disperses, having had enough of the brutality they had witnessed. Ghalt admits his defeat over the challenge, and orders that Gràin be carried to her old quarters – Let her recover on her own, do not waste our supplies on her.

Don't waste time...

Waking to the burning of her wounds, Gràin opens her eyes to find her body asleep on a bed, feeling delicate touches on a wet cloth that wipes the blood from her face. When the vision finally clears, it is Neo who devotes his attention to her wounds.

Hi Gràin – squeezing the cloth so that the excess blood would come out and dipping it again over another small basin to moisten it – That's a pretty name you have.

Shit, don't put that strong stuff on my face.

Sorry – When the blood finally eases from the wounds on her face, it was time to act quickly to close the deeper cuts - Please don't move – She takes out a needle and thread, her steady hands begin to weave Gràin 's flesh , carefully piercing small stitches where they would cause the least pain.

Where did you get these things? And this water? – Gràin looks at the supplies in his room

I asked...

Hm, sure – Turning his face to the side, laying a part of it on the blood-soaked pillow. Neo continues to make small deep cuts -How is my face?

Badly injured, those cuts weren't serious but I had to sew your eye back together and your lips are badly cut, more so than before, both your arms are cracked, I think you lost more than half your teeth and your eyelashes are –

Do you think they would still hit on me?

Ah...I...yes, of course they would.

With a small laugh, Gràin closes his eyes again, and tries to ease the pain by concentrating on Neo 's delicate touches .

Why did you do that? – The silence is broken, and Gràin is bothered by having to open his eyes to look at Neo .

It was the only way to make them hear my voice, I need to ask them a favor.

But... what favor is this? Was it really worth it?

It needs to be worth it, I have to convince them, but for now focus on my face, if you do well I'll ask them to let you take a shower without anyone else with you.

Hours after rotting in bed, waiting for her wounds to dry, she leaves her room and heads to the forges. The heat and noise of the hammers pounding her creations into life did not ease her wounds, but she did not care. She heads to a small forge, where they make ammunition shells and smaller parts. A man skillfully operates the tools, making car engine components to meet the repair needs.

Gràin 's shadow over the man seemed to not catch his attention, in fact, his eyes only turned to her when her name was mentioned -... Imcheist .

Well well , Gràin , long time no see – Placing the pieces on the table, he rests his body by placing his elbows on his knees, while looking at Gràin 's face – I see you passed the challenge, congratulations, but I don't think you came here to say hi, do you? Well, you never did that anyway.

I need a favor, two pieces.

And what would they be?

She points to her patched eye and shows off her few remaining teeth.

Ah, I see – He pulls out a chair within Gràin ’s reach – Sit down, let me see that face.

Obeying the man, Gràin sits in the chair and soon Imcheist begins to measure his face with his fingers, writing everything down by scribbling in charcoal on a smooth board next to him – It's a shame that a face as beautiful as yours had to go through something like Dìoghaltas .

I didn't have much of a choice, I knew that if something happened you would be able to hide my face.

I see – He stops measuring it and turns to the board to finish the calculations – Give me a minute, in the meantime, look at the mask prototypes I have over there – he points over his shoulder to a drawer full of metal shapes and figures, where Gràin takes them one by one to find the one that suits his taste.

The old man's calculations are interrupted by a mask thrown onto his desk – That one.

Okay then.

Make it with leather.

Leather? It's not easy to find good leather these days Gràin , there are no more animals in the world remember?

The car I came in, use its leather, I know they must have already dismantled it.

Whatever. Come back later and I'll be done.

Until.

The night, dark and illuminated by the reddening of the moon, silent and scratched by the curtains of sand carried by the wind. Against this depressing scene, he turns over the night seeing notes; an old diary and a marked map.

Ever since he found them, he wandered along the paths marked there, in a world full of roads where no one had anywhere to go or return; he was looking for something, always going in the direction the map showed. He wondered if the man he killed that day was anything more than a wanderer; wouldn't it be possible to walk so far, to note almost every area on the map; how had he survived? How had he fought if he hadn't been a challenge for the Hunter?

Such doubts, and the endless scribbles on the map, and the endless experiences in the diary; weighed the Hunter down, tired him mentally. Finishing planning his next route, based on the smallest dangers in that direction marked in the diary, he lay down contentedly; knowing that each day brought him closer to the final prize, the last one he would have to hunt.

Under the same moonlight, the caravan continued in line, Ghaoil was already walking through the floors of the infirmary; much to the displeasure of Malice , who cleaned and bandaged her frequently, and advised her not to exert herself. She gave orders to Creideamh through the radio; guiding them to the North, where she believed there was a city.

How do you know there's a city over there? - Treating Ghaoil 's wounds , Malice breaks the silence with a question that was haunting her .

I know these roads well, I've traveled them a lot, the sand covering them doesn't confuse me – Ghaoil 's past is back on topic.

Every now and then I forget that I'm the only one who doesn't leave my room - She turns her attention to the wounds, it was a careful part now; however, her curiosity hadn't ended - Do you miss it?

Missing? Of what? – She distracts herself with the question, to prevent Malice from noticing her sighs of pain.

From when you didn't have to worry about commanding a squad of survivors with one foot in the grave at the end of the world - She finishes the procedure, bends down to pick up the bandages - You know... from the time when you only had to obey your superiors.

Are you asking me if I miss the time when I served in a world that was still alive? What a stupid question Malice – Ghaoil ’s irritation came as much from the question as from Malice 's apparent carelessness in putting on the bandages.

I'm trying to make conversation - She raises her voice, the usual Malice appears - Do you know how annoying it is to be your best friend and still only see you when you're broken and needing care?

I love your short temper – A small smile breaks out.

...idiot – Malice hated being embarrassed, but Ghaoil 's smile always put her off her composure - I'm done.

I... need that again – Ghaoil sits down, looking at Malice , waiting for her to show some reaction – I lost a lot of strength out there and...

Malice asks , untying her lab coat, irritated.

Yes, but my wounds made it easier for Uíne to hasten my death.

Okay... Just don't open the old wounds – She sits next to Ghaoil on the stretcher, lifting her skirt to reveal her thigh, wounded with several bite marks, disguised thanks to the pantyhose she was wearing.

Seriously Bad? The thigh again? And you... are you wearing lingerie?

Quiet. I have to hide the wounds, remember? Come here.

Ghaoil 's part , she brings her teeth closer to where Malice was removing her pantyhose. Sinking them into the soft skin of her thighs.

Malice writhed and bit her lip as she held Ghaoil 's head , stroking it and squeezing it to continue. With the transfer complete, Ghaoil took a piece of cloth, covering Malice 's wound , who gasped in satisfaction.

Thank you – She stands up satisfied, takes some homemade pills made by Malice and heads to the driver's cabin downstairs - I'll check with Creideamh again.

Hey, Ghao – One last question tormented Malice ’s curious ego . Stopping Ghaoil in his tracks, his voice breathless – I feel like I’m losing power, I need more euthanasia – It was Ghaoil and Malice ’s secret , when a member knew he wouldn’t survive, Malice consumed his soul. His body became a receptacle due to the countless requests for a peaceful death coming from the caravan’s patients – Those last two, they can’t keep Uíne satisfied.

Ghaoil doesn't respond, leaving Malice with the silence; with his request echoing over the room.

Sorry, Hey! Sorry! I didn't mean it that way – Ghaoil ignores her, heads downstairs; with heavy, quick steps - ...Damn.

Just before reaching the cockpit, the co-pilot was heading towards Ghaoil , with quick steps and radio in hand.

Ghaoil , it's Creideamh , said the trackers picked up something – He hands the radio to Ghaoil , and returns to his position next to the pilot, even though he turns his head to look at Ghaoil ; trying to hear something of what she was about to discuss.

Creed .

{{One of the bikers spotted a Mothachadh , said it was bigger than normal}}

How many kilometers?

{{About fifteen, he said that when we turn right in a few minutes and pass the dry forest we will see him}}

Okay, we'll head to the dry forest, when we get there we'll hide the vehicles among the trees, we won't camp, everyone will sleep inside the vehicles, I need to see Motha to decide what we're going to do.

{{Yes Ma'am}}

They then continued under the direction of the tracker, who guided them tearing through the sand on the road on his motorcycle.

They arrived at the dry forest; a myriad of trees of all shapes and sizes that spread out and almost took over the road; which still remained uninterrupted. Darkened due to their drought, with branches that formed claws raised to the sky. Under the ground their roots jumped out, and the sand shared the space with the dry leaves that fell apart with the calmest breeze.

The lights of the vehicles flooded the darkness between the trees, and the same vehicles were found sneaking through the cold that one log made against another.

They turn off the lights, and under the shadows cast by the branches reddened by the moonlight, the caravan sleeps in silence. Ghaoil leaves with Creideamh , taking stealthy steps so as not to wake her people; the guards signal that the area is clear, and join her; they then walk to meet the great beast.

The dawn had already ended, the Sun was splitting the sky, the old tank would travel this world for another day. And it set off again, following the tracks marked on the map that it followed with such tenacity.

The loneliness inside that great iron beast, the silence that was only filled by the crushed debris on the wheels; the lack of human speech, asking him how he was or what he needed; there was not a moment when he did not miss this, but out there, outside his tank, outside his comfort zone, he was beside himself; he was another man, a survivor.

On the sand that walked beside him, being carried by the wind in small curtains and gales over the road, a staggering silhouette catches his attention; when the tank is noticed, the silhouette calls for help, accelerating its few energies towards the road in the hope of being noticed by the Hunter.

With its arm raised and the posture of someone almost dead, the tank did nothing more than bring him more misfortune as it passed by him without any reaction of help, the silhouette, in the eyes of the Hunter, was slowly dissipating into the horizon, its fate decided.

But then, the guilt, the regret, someone asked him for help, saw him as their savior, and just like they did to the Hunter, he himself destroyed that person's hopes, and left them to die.

Damn....Damn! – The tank stops, it can't go forward, not with the guilt weighing on its wheels; it goes back along the road, looking for that silhouette, that was still alive; it could hold on a little longer, to see that the man inside that tank, was still a human being.

He was there, fallen on his knees, hugging himself, he was a young boy, brown hair and short, without a beard, nor equipment to survive the sands of Ùine .

An exchange of glances, between the man who sees the tank next to him again, and the Hunter, who pondered what he was doing; he didn't want company, nor to create bonds, but...... he wanted all of this, but he didn't know how he would deal with it, his loneliness was filled with the regret of his actions and the regret of his decisions, there was no room for a lasting bond between him and a friend, but that was what he wanted.

The tank opens, and out comes a figure so frightening that the poor man thought about running for a moment.

Inside the mask lay a man who did not want to let his fear take over again, who did not choose solitude, disguising it with the feeling of comfort of not needing to trust anyone.

H- hi – Even though he was scared, the poor boy couldn’t ignore the fact that that man was his savior, he looked at him with the little energy he still had.

Who are you?

A- Ai ...... Aithreachas .

Hello, what happened to you?

They... they abandoned me, my friends, Ana and... and Kall , they left me alone because they said I was a burden.

How long have you been wandering alone?

A few days....I....I don't know, I don't know how many days I was hidden, I went out to look for food and... – His head falls over his body, looking at the sand as a sign of weakness – I'm hungry, thirsty.

Hm – He knows that feeling, that man, what he went through, the Hunter knew what it felt like, just as he knew what that man wanted more than anything – Where did they go?

I...I don't know.......you....do you have food?

Yes.

Can you... give me some?

... – He turns and goes back to the tank, seconds later, he returns to the poor man with some fruits wrapped in a cloth

T- thank you ! – The boy takes the cloth delicately, with his trembling hands, opens it and delights in a few bites.

They spent some time there, the Hunter just watched the boy finish his meal; he wasn't thinking about anything at that moment, he just watched. The boy found the strength to get up, he had to give his thanks, his arm was still shaking a little, but he stretched out to thank the Hunter for his mercy.

I owe you my life.

No, you shouldn't.

What would the Hunter do now? His insecurity was little offset by his desire to be human again; he had just given his meal to a stranger who, like him, had been begging for a helping hand not so many minutes ago, and he was pleased to help; but he still wouldn't trust anyone else so soon.

Good...... Goodbye

W-Wait !

...

Let me go with you, please! I... don't want to die alone...

...I... – There it was again, the insecurity. What was he about to say? That he would accept? Would he gain a friend? But what could he do? Could he be trusted? Could there be a reason he had been left? Don't do it. No, stay alone, there are no more humans in this world, stay alone.

What? W- were you going to say?

I... - No, no, don't trust him, don't trust anyone, don't trust people, they will deceive you, abandon you, they've done it once, they'll do it again, you're useless, you're disposable, you're dead weight. They'll abandon you, sooner or later, they'll abandon you - Ah...

Please.... Look at me.... I...

THEY WILL ABANDON YOU!

The boy's last sight was a bullet of a caliber large enough to blind him with the explosion of gunpowder, before hearing the murmurs of souls trapped among the sands, still rising to the realms of the God Uíne .

In a second, the body surrenders to the sandy ground, its ethereal soul being wrapped by a corset of sand formed from the countless whirlpools, taking it to the cradle of Uíne , where it would never suffer again. As silence returns to the Hunter's head, and his consciousness regains control of his emotions, his body already lies in the youth that he had regained.

Another soul was reaped thanks to him.

Ah...no...no – He feels something, maybe it was relief, maybe... maybe he did the right thing, but he doesn't feel that way. He returns to the tank, the mask had become too heavy. The tank lay quiet, the Hunter lay inside it, sitting in a corner, lamenting his tears; this was who he was, he would never change even if he wanted to, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he sacrificed.

He would never be a human being again.