Hiro sensed something was wrong immediately.
The moment the mist began to spread, his brow furrowed sharply. He recognized at a glance that this was no tactical smokescreen, let alone an illusion.
The threadlike objects drifting within the mist tangled together like spider eggs, swaying slowly like unsevered umbilical cords.
They were "living things."
"Fall back! Everyone! Get out of the canyon!" he roared, screaming as though his throat would tear apart.
Hiro whipped the dagger from his waist and slashed open his palm. Blood gushed out.
He used the pain to keep his mind clear, but that resolve lasted only a few seconds. It was nowhere near enough.
Around him, the warriors turned pale one after another, their expressions dazed, their bodies swaying as though drunk.
Some clutched their chests and collapsed to their knees, bleeding from their mouths and noses. They gripped their heads with both hands as if trying to drive something out of their minds.
Then, one by one, they slowly stood.
"Rrrip..."
Some had joints twisted at inhuman angles. Others still had chests that heaved violently, yet their faces showed no fear, no pain-not even an expression.
Their pupils turned white, the corners of their mouths cracked, and something seemed to writhe beneath their skin. These were the new neural pathways the Corpse Insects formed after taking over their hosts.
Elders, children, mothers, warriors... none were spared.
They rose, no longer looking at one another, no longer speaking. Like empty shells obeying some command, they slowly gathered and formed ranks, row after row, like stone pillars rising from a tide.
Watching it all, Hiro felt as though something had seized his throat, leaving it too dry to make a sound. "...How... how did it come to this...?"
He had said, "We can win the final