[b]“Move move MOVE!”[/b]

Bearing bags full of their metallic bounty, six men rushed out of aboveground factory with as much speed as they could muster. Their leader, graying underneath the bright yellow hardhat he wore, constantly looked up towards the clouds, as the dreary gray gained a tinge of scarlet. They were running out of time. It had been a surprising treasure trove, that unmarked factory, and he had been the one that decided to take such a risk, but now…

[b]“Almost there, lads!”[/b] he shouted, catching sight of the inconspicuous piece of rebar they had used to mark their entrance point, [b]“Pick up the p-”[/b]

His breath caught in his throat suddenly, feet skidding on cracked pavement.

The building that lead to the sewer system had been reduced to rubble, the Tyrant that caused such wanton destruction nowhere to be seen. One by one, his fellow scavengers stopped, grim expressions forming on their faces, some of them collapsing onto their knees in exhaustion. The man’s beady eyes turned towards the sky once more, as the Scarlet Moon rose over a veil of clouds. 

Callused hands tightened the filters of his respirator, an old model that had saved his skin much too often. Would it do it again, long enough for help to arrive as immortal monsters began their hunt? He breathed deeply, sweat trickling down a creased forehead. His men, some of them still childless, looked at him with uncertainty, hoping that he had a plan.

He didn’t.

But it was the task of a leader to pretend otherwise.

Those that could no longer move, paralyzed by their mortality, would be left behind. Those that still followed him will do so without any words. Stalwartly, he turned towards the largest building nearby, and marched on, thumbing the transceiver pinned to his chest.
[hr]
Even far underground, the force of the Tyrants could be felt, occasional quakes sifting plates on tables, children coming to the sides of their parents for comfort. The rise of the Scarlet Moon may have been a daily event, but it was nevertheless unpleasant for all involved, especially in a community as small as Bosesa, one that persisted mainly because it served as a convenient location for traders and messengers to rest. With multi-level clay buildings and a well that tapped into a large reservoir of water, the town had no real form of agriculture, leading to only a small population.

For all its failures as a self-sustainable town, however, it served very well as a temporary home for many, a gathering point for those travelling out from the Lastlights. Wicks of flame lit the way inside buildings, while more sustainable forms of illumination brightened the pathways formed from years of travellers coming in and out.

However, on that particular day, the town of Bosesa was not just a traveller’s rest stop.

It was the closest point below ground that a distress signal was detected at. Within half an hour, five Daybreakers converged upon the spot as they responded to the call for help.

The Scarlet Moon was up, and the number of scavengers were low, but, nevertheless, the Council within the Lastlights had deemed this as an important enough assignment that multiple Daybreakers were assigned to it.

While humans cowered within their fragile buildings, the monster slayers stood outside. It would take five minutes to reach the surface. After that, it was just a matter of aiding the escape of the scavengers who were caught under the gaze of the Scarlet Moon, while destroying all Tyrants nearby.

Nothing too out of the ordinary.