PROJECT ALPHA

Near one of the six suspected hideouts captured by Hayato during his ambush on the bandits, tensions ran high. The Novare Organization's second base in the Sirocaan Nation pulsed with activity under the bright, silvery gaze of the full moon. It was 9 PM, and workers scurried like ants, loading crates of glowing serum vials into armored trucks. The vials—a potent power serum—were destined for five other Novare outposts spread across the nations. Failure was not an option.

"No slacking, people!" bellowed the operation overseer, a stern man with a scar running diagonally across his face. His voice cut through the cool night air like a whip. "These serum vials must be delivered safely by dawn. Be vigilant! Bandits are prowling to steal the cargo. If anyone suspicious approaches, shoot to kill! We cannot afford losses. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" came the unified reply, a chorus of tension and determination. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter, their rifles glinting under the moonlight as they scanned the surroundings. The workers moved in a well-rehearsed rhythm, sweat glistening on their brows despite the cool night.

But amidst the organized chaos, a shadow loomed.

On the roof of the warehouse, a figure cloaked in black stood motionless, his mask reflecting the moonlight. His voice, low and venomous, broke the quiet hum of work below. "Finally," he murmured to himself, "this is the first step toward my revenge on Genta."

Without warning, he leapt from the rooftop. The air seemed to ripple as his body descended with terrifying speed. A guard spotted him mid-air and shouted, "Intruder! He's coming from above! Don't let him near the trucks!"

Gunfire erupted like a violent symphony. Bullets tore through the air, aimed at the descending figure. But before he could be struck, he twisted in mid-air and slammed into the ground with the force of an earthquake. The impact shattered the earth, sending a shockwave that knocked workers and guards off their feet. Smoke and dust enveloped the area, obscuring everything in a thick, choking cloud.

"Don't stop shooting!" a guard yelled, desperation creeping into his voice. "Empty your magazines!"

Bullets tore into the smoke, a cacophony of gunfire echoing through the mountain. But the figure within moved with terrifying speed. The workers could hear it now—the crunch of boots on shattered stone, the faint hiss of a blade being drawn. Then, the screams began.

One guard's cry was cut short as he was hurled from the smoke, his body slamming into the side of a truck with bone-crunching force. Another was dragged into the haze, his gurgled pleas for help silenced by a sickening snap. The remaining guards froze, their hands trembling on their weapons as the smoke began to clear.

"H-halt!" one stammered, his voice quaking. "S-stop right there, or we'll… w-we'll shoot!"

From within the dissipating smoke, a figure emerged. His glowing red eyes burned like embers, and his cloak was now streaked with crimson. He advanced slowly, deliberately, his footsteps echoing in the deathly silence.

"Monster…" one of the guards whispered, his knees buckling.

In a blur of motion, the masked man lunged. A guard was lifted off the ground by his neck and hurled into a group of his comrades, their bodies crumpling like ragdolls. Another guard fired point-blank, only for the masked figure to sidestep with inhuman speed. The man's retaliation was swift: a blade flashed, and the shooter's arm fell to the ground, his scream drowned out by the sounds of slaughter.

Inside the building, the leader barked orders, his voice barely masking his own fear.

"Get the trucks inside! Seal the metal doors! Leave a squad to deal with him. We can't let him get through!"

The trucks rumbled into the warehouse as the heavy doors clanged shut. Outside, the remaining guards stood paralyzed, their breaths shallow as the screams of their comrades grew faint. Then, silence.

A single guard whispered, his voice barely audible:

"Did we get him?"

The answer came in the form of blood, a crimson tide that seeped under the metal doors. It pooled at their feet, its warmth a grotesque reminder of the massacre beyond. Then came the sound—a deep, resonant thud against the door. Another. And another. Each impact sent shivers down their spines, the reinforced metal beginning to dent inward.

"Grenade launchers!" the leader shouted. "Aim for the door! If he gets through, blow him to hell!"

The pounding stopped. For a moment, all was still. One soldier dared to hope.

"Is… is it over?"

The leader didn't answer. Before he could, the door exploded inward, the force of it hurling soldiers across the room. The flying metal struck one of the trucks.. The explosion tore through the warehouse, a fiery inferno consuming everything in its path.

Bodies were flung like ragdolls, their screams swallowed by the roar of the flames. Amid the chaos, the leader lay bleeding, his legs severed. Through his fading vision, he saw the masked man, drenched in blood, striding through the fire. The flames licked at his cloak but left him untouched, an unholy figure emerging from hell itself.

The masked man descended into the underground facility, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. The air grew colder as he entered a dimly lit chamber filled with massive tanks. Inside each one floated a beastman, their grotesque forms suspended in glowing green liquid. Monitors displayed their vital signs, and a chilling message: "Blood extraction complete. Ready for conversion."

His fists clenched, trembling with rage. "You monster, Genta. What are you doing?" he growled.

In the center of the room stood a massive console, its screens filled with data. The masked man's fingers danced over the keyboard as he searched for answers. Minutes passed, each one dragging like an eternity. Finally, a file caught his eye: "PROJECT ALPHA."

He opened it, his eyes scanning the words. With each line, his breath quickened. "This... this can't be real," he whispered. The details were sparse, but they painted a grim picture. Genta's personal project was nearing completion, something monstrous and unstoppable.

Anger boiled over, but his search yielded no further clues. He planted explosives throughout the facility, ensuring every corner was wired to blow. As he ascended back to the surface, he spared one last glance at the tanks. "Rest now, beastmen," he said softly. "Your suffering ends here."

On the mountain peak, he stood silhouetted against the moonlight, the detonator in his hand. Below, the facility lay silent, unaware of its impending doom. "You took everything from me, Genta," he muttered. "But I'll make sure no one else suffers at your hands."

With a press of the button, the mountain erupted in fire and smoke. The ground shook as the explosion consumed the facility, a fiery beacon of vengeance against the night sky. Watching the destruction, the masked man turned, his voice a whisper. "I need to warn him... or he'll lose someone again."

And with that, he vanished into the shadows of the forest, a harbinger of wrath and retribution.