013. An Illusion?

Finally, just a few feet from where she’d started, Olga spotted Sergei. He was locked in a desperate struggle with the creature, his fists swinging with a ferocity that matched its savagery. Her finger hovered on the trigger, one pull away from sending a bullet into the fray, but the fight was a blur of rapid motion. Sergei and the creature moved so quickly that she couldn’t get a clear shot. Frustration twisted her features as she growled under her breath, waiting for the split-second opening that might never come.
The moment she’d been waiting for finally came when the creature drove its fingers into Sergei's stomach. The brief pause was all Olga needed. Without hesitation, she squeezed the trigger. Years of experience as a sharpshooter had honed her aim, but the creature turned its head just as she fired. Instead of piercing its eye, the bullet slammed into its forehead, a fraction of an inch from the kill shot she’d intended.
The bullet ripped through the creature’s flesh, revealing the glint of a metallic black skull that shimmered ominously under the dim light. As it slowly turned its head toward Olga, its eyes locked onto her with a cold, mechanical malice. The moment stretched, dread clawing at the edges of her resolve.
Just as the creature shifted its weight, ready to lunge, Sergei, pale and wavering on his feet, thrust his dagger into its eye with a desperate, brutal force. A sickening crunch echoed through the air as the creature staggered, its movements jerky and unnatural. Bloodied and nearly fainting, Sergei still fought on, his grip tightening on the dagger as if his life depended on it—because it did.
The brutal attack barely fazed the creature. It slowly turned its head, its unblinking eyes locking onto Sergei with a chilling detachment. Sergei, visibly drained of strength, swayed on his feet, his breath ragged. He muttered something in the Eldest Tongue, a question, but the creature gave no response. It stood there, eerily still, like a grotesque human-sized mannequin, its presence more terrifying in its silence.
"Who… the fuck… are you?" Sergei finally gasped in Russian, his voice trembling with a mix of defiance and exhaustion.
"*Be proud, young one*," the creature responded, its voice a low, ancient whisper that sent a chill down Sergei's spine. The words, spoken in archaic Slavic, seemed to echo from the depths of forgotten time. "*For thou art chosen 'mongst the rare and blessed to stand as cornerstone 'neath the rising glory of the Vorshkony*!"
Without another word, the creature stepped toward Sergei, raising its hand with chilling deliberation, ready to strike. Its movement was agonizingly slow, as if savoring the moment. As it advanced, the moonlight cut through the shadows, casting its full form into stark relief. The creature was a grotesque fusion of pale human flesh and alien machinery, a nightmarish blend of biotechnology and cyberpunk horror brought to life. Its skin, sickly and translucent, stretched over mechanical joints, creating a monstrous vision of twisted creation.
Realizing her standard rounds were useless, Olga quickly switched to *mjorask* bullets—a rare metal from another dimension, renowned for its ability to cut through anything. Olga then fired three shots, each one hitting its mark with deadly precision, drilling clean holes into the creature’s head. But to her horror, even the *mjorask* had no effect.
The creature remained imperturbable, its body absorbing the impacts without so much as a shudder. Slowly, it turned its attention toward the source of the shots. Despite the distance and Olga's careful camouflage, she felt a cold dread settle over her as its one remaining eye seemed to lock onto her, piercing through the darkness with unsettling precision. It was as if the creature could see her soul, its gaze a chilling reminder that no distance could protect her from what was coming.
As the creature took a step toward Olga, Sergei, mustering every ounce of strength left in his battered body, lunged and wrapped himself around its leg, refusing to let go. In that tense, breathless moment, a sudden gleam sliced through the air, drawing a sharp, horizontal line across the creature’s neck. It stood motionless, as if time itself had paused, before its head finally toppled to the ground with a heavy thud. Anna’s *mjorask* blade had struck true, decapitating the creature just in time. With a fierce kick, the young woman sent the limp body sprawling three steps away, her eyes blazing with the adrenaline of the fight.
"Look at me!" Anna's voice was sharp with concern as she knelt beside Sergei, tapping his face repeatedly. His eyes were unfocused, drifting away as if he was slipping into unconsciousness. "Sergei! Look at me!" she shouted, desperation creeping into her tone.
"Start the car, Olga!" Andrei barked into his device, his voice tense as he motioned for Anna to help him lift Sergei's weakening body.
Without wasting a second, they moved with urgent precision, quickly leaving the scene. Anna, cradling Sergei's legs, kept talking to him, trying to keep him conscious, while Andrei, supporting his upper body, scanned their surroundings with vigilant eyes, every muscle tensed for any sign of danger.
When they finally reached the black SUV, parked at a distance from the scene of the incident, Olga was already there, flinging the door open for Sergei. Andrei and Anna carefully laid him inside, their movements quick but cautious. Without missing a beat, Olga, her hands steady despite the tension, began wrapping Sergei's wound with practiced precision, the veteran's instincts kicking in as she worked to stabilize him.
"Go!" Andrei commanded sharply.
Without waiting for a response, Andrei sprinted back to where the headless creature had fallen, determined to secure the corpse for further analysis. But as he reached the spot, his breath caught in his throat—the body had vanished. No trace of tissue, no drop of Sergei’s blood, not even a hint of the struggle remained. The ground lay eerily untouched, as if the violence had been an elaborate illusion. A cold shiver crept down Andrei’s spine as he surveyed the area, a creeping sense of dread settling over him. It was as if the creature had never existed at all, leaving behind only an unsettling emptiness where reality had been torn asunder.
Andrei quickly drew his gun, a pistol with a sleek, futuristic design reminiscent of a micro UZI but far more intricate and otherworldly. With his left hand, he reached for the communication device in his ear, murmuring the word "Moscow" into it. His sharp gaze swept over the area as he spun in a tight circle, every muscle tensed and ready to react. He maintained an unwavering focus, preparing to counter any attack from any direction while conversing through his communicator. His readiness was palpable, a stark contrast to the eerie emptiness that surrounded him.
"Point Zero has been located, Konstantin," Andrei said into the communicator, his voice taut with urgency. "I need your blessing now, old friend!"