The leaders of Earth continued to deliberate further with Chief Executor Blade. The head of the Executor delegation also introduced them briefly to Executors Durran and Preserver and Assistant Executors Guileful and Gluttonous.

Each being exuded different auras of strength when they presented themselves to the human leaders.

Executor Durran was a colossal mountain, insurmountable and indomitable.

Executor Preserver was a font of knowledge, like a library that stretched a continent.

The two Assistants radiated great cunning and hunger for scholarly pursuits, respectively.

After these introductions, both parties began to cooperate earnestly. At times, a fierce debate would erupt on which country would get more significant shares of resources. The heads of these prominent nations were all savvy and knew how monumental this was as an advantage.

The USA, Russia, and China were particularly competitive with each other.

"America is under immense turmoil ever since this horseshit began! Our military would easily become the strongest force on Earth with alien tech. My people will not get the short end of the stick," President Athena Armstrong shot a vindictive glare at the heads of her country's rivals.

"I would argue that Russia is in greater peril. We have the largest land mass amongst everyone here, we also have more manpower than anyone barring China," President Valentin Kozlov sneered.

"The people of China needs more resources than anyone, we have the largest population on the planet and a greater proportion of Tier Is. With alien tech we can supplement this advantage further and possibly extend aid elsewhere!" President Qiao Guozhi retorted, causing the leaders of the South East Asian Coalition to instantly voice their concerns.

"Like hell we're letting your government get resources our people need!"

"Our people is more desperate than you! Why is it always you big countries that get everything!?"

"Curse you, you'll just invade us after the aliens are finished!"

The shouting match erupted, and President Evangeline attempted to gather the voices of the SEAC to push their opinions.

"We should coordinate more, instead of acting like rabid dogs over scraps!"

"Easy for you to say!"

"Peace friends! Peace!"

It wasn't enough and everyone continued to argue. If those in attendance were in a physical location, fists may have already started to fly. Before this circus could continue further, a booming voice echoed.

"ENOUGH!"

The Chief Executor had to step in and quell the unrest using her wealth of experience dealing with similarly splintered civilizations. Inexorable Blade paused and flared her dominating aura which quickly quelled the rowdy human leaders. President Evangeline tensed her muscles but couldn't help but smirk as she compared the scene to a mother scolding her children.

Seeing the assembly properly cowed, the Chief Executor then began her solution.

"Here is how things will divided. Listen carefully, now."

The allocation of resources was to be determined using a complicated equation that accounted for population count, defensibility, area, and other minute factors.

The long spiel of numbers and jargon managed to placate or confuse most of the leaders in attendance, though the keener among them noticed the shrewd play. Nevertheless, Chief Executor Blade presented the solution as attractive as possible. In the end, everyone had to deal with the outcome.

President Evangeline resigned herself with a slumped posture as she saw the numbers given to her. Still, she had to be satisfied with not getting the absolute bottom of the barrel like other countries. On another note, she messaged her assistant to move the nation's address to tomorrow noon, seeing as how this assembly would be a long one.

"I need to work harder than this," The president of the Philippines cracked her knuckles as she got ready for the next topic and obvious shouting match.

Once both humans and Executors settled the foundations for logistics, the assembly moved on.

The First Contact Assembly continued to discuss in detail how to minimize human casualties and beat the Incursion back. But unfortunately, while this was going on, the rest of Earth was still in the middle of dealing with civil unrest, mass panic, cultist sabotage, and packs of abyssal monsters.

The vermillion tinge in the air from the thick membrane encasing Earth and its atmosphere did not alleviate the growing chaos.

However, after Chief Executor Blade donated a tiny portion of her abundant energy to the Harbingers deployed on the planet, the following cast of calm successfully brought the billions of fearful humans back to a rational state—to a certain degree.

All across the world, the ‘Red Day’ event ushered human civilization into a new epoch of constant struggle in a hostile universe—inaugurated by the planetary bioshield’s emergence that had enclosed the planet.

Many people of note reacted differently to this development.

In Hong Kong, a mass of panicked civilians was fleeing from a rabid pack of Malformed Voidlings led by Junior Acolyte. The horde of beasts looked like a wave of purple flesh and glinting claws from afar.

The shambling form of the leading alien cultist treaded aggressively with heavy stomps.

This Junior Acolyte had a fatter stomach than others. Moreover, two pairs of incredibly long limbs extended out its belly and ended in menacing scythes. The gut scythes audibly slashed through the air while its actual arms reached out to grab the fleeing humans.

It had a hairy amorphous head with numerous craters all around its surface. The only orifice was a bloodthirsty maw where a rank stench emanated.

“Come to my arms, you wicked! Sacrifice yourselves to sustain my form!”

His guttural voice bellowed out in Cantonese as it strode forward. Acolyte Ooras’mantaek had to hurry as, despite being cleanly summoned unto this misbegotten planet, the ritual in and of itself was crude and done in haste.

As he bisected a pitiful human female, the alien acolyte continued to feel displeased at having drawn the short end of the stick.

He wished to serve the Church of the Void with all his heart. That was never in doubt. But a recent blunder in a previous assignment demoted his ranking amongst the acolyte circle. As such, he and many others were ‘politely requested’ to make up for their shortcomings by being the tip of the spear during this holy incursion.

Their once beautiful bodies would melt away, and presiding Deacons would cast their souls into a psionic vortex. Once caught in this maelstrom, the new converts of the planet targeted by their Master's fleet would use beacons powered through blood sacrifice to summon the acolyte’s souls into vicious combat forms.

Their only directive was to gather more into the flock with the Song of Woe and cause chaos amongst the populace.

Any surviving acolytes would be forgiven and brought back to the fold. Bodies restored if they so wished. Exceptional feats would grant better boons should they accomplish it.

Acolyte Ooras’mantaek chanted and sang dark hymns as he slashed and sliced. Inside he was razor-focused on returning to his siblings. He glanced at the thick membrane far off into the sky and scowled.

Vile Lifers and your Ethmazdhâl! You cannot stop the inevitable with such a trifling shield.

Even so, his connection with the wider fleet had become faint ever since the bioshield emerged.

Before the Junior Acolyte could curse any further, the hum and glow of Lustrous Steel came down hard on him. The alien cultist realized what had happened too late. The blade of a halberd had already lacerated his chest and dismembered one of his gut scythes.

The acolyte howled in pain as it stumbled back.

It slashed through the air to deter any follow-ups before glaring at his would-be attacker.

A young Shaolin monk was wielding a lethal-looking Conscript’s Halberd in front of him. A look of focused fury was on his face as the young man twirled his weapon.

Besides him, the light brown robes of other monks were evacuating the mass of people toward their temple. With blades, staff, guns, and determined war cry—the monks and additional Tier I’s faced the pack of voidlings that hounded at the poor civilians’ heels.

The Junior Acolyte gazed at the scene impassionately before slowly facing his human opponent.

“A pitiful collection of defenders. Cease your struggles, human, and embrace solitude in the dark where the pain is non-existent. Eternal slumber sounds good, yes?”

The monstrous cultist trailed his claws and scythe on the paved road, creating sparks, as he menacingly approached the Conscript before him. The wound he was dealt already began to clot as the acolyte’s wide and toothy maw morphed into an uncanny grin.

“It doesn't matter. There's no cause for worry mow. I shall help you sleep.”

The young monk clenched his jaw, a tinge of fear and hatred coursing through him. In the end, he let out a scoff as he pointed his halberd toward the abomination.

“Cockiness does not suit you. That’s more my style.”

With a wild grin, the young monk charged.

Elsewhere, in Bangkok, Thailand.

The bustling city was experiencing a different kind of excitement. Crowds of people were running through a street in a panic. The red sky only added to the hysteria.

Among the deluge of people, two groups were distinct in the chaos.

Thralls led a frenzied mass of human cultists in a mad rush against an organized group of police and Tier I’s. The human defenders stayed behind a hastily erected barricade as they shot their firearms.

A hail of bullets—both lead and Lustrous Steel—soared through the air before meeting their targets.

Numerous cultists were gunned down, but the mass of lunatics did not stop, and with the return fire from armed Thralls, they slammed into the barricade.

The collection of metal fences and yellow tape did nothing to stop the oncoming rush, and a brutal melee ensued as machetes, Conscript weapons, and police batons clashed.

Pained shouts echoed across the narrow streets as the fight continued. The defenders were slowly whittling away at the cultists' numbers, but many already had grievous injuries inflicted on them.

Nearby, an elderly man carried his granddaughter in his arms as he ran through a dark alley—with them was a copper-furred Suphalak cat.

The three had avoided the brutal scenes in the streets. But now, they were being chased by three blade-wielding cultists. They had just fled their home in a hurry when the madmen invaded their neighborhood.

The little girl in the elderly man’s arms was in a fit of tears, while the silver-haired man was in deep sorrow. The man’s heart pained as if someone had it in a crushing grip.

All because there was another who was with them just a moment ago.

The girl’s sickly mother had tripped on the way and became prey to the cultists. The child had screamed when heavy blades struck down.

The elderly man cursed himself for his failure. He wished dearly to go back a few minutes ago. If only he were faster, he could have saved his sickly daughter.

Indeed when the mother screamed from accruing a nasty gash on her back, the elderly man turned to help. But before he could do anything, the mother had shoved her daughter into his arms.

It was too late by then, and the elderly man could only bite his lips until they bled as they ran.

“I’m so sorry, my dear,” he choked with shuddering sobs, “I’m sorry.”

Unfortunately, the grandfather, granddaughter, and cat encountered a dead end when they turned a corner.

“No!” the grandfather shouted in dismay.

The little girl in his arms turned to look at the three-meter high chainlink fences and looked at her grandfather in a panic.

“Bpòo (granddad), it’s so high.”

The grandfather looked at her daughter’s sweet child. Her soft meek words sparked a protective instinct—one empowered by the recent death of his child. When he heard the footsteps and shouts of their pursuers behind them, his mouth formed a stony scowl.

He gave his granddaughter a final look of endearment before setting her down behind a dumpster. The little girl looked alarmed as she saw her granddad’s expression.

“Bpòo! W-what are you doing?” she spoke with hot tears down her cheeks.

“It’s ok, little one,” the elderly man gently patted her on the head before standing straight, “Stay put. This will be over soon.”

The small child shakily nodded before making herself smaller in her hiding place.

The elderly man stood in the center of the dark and damp alley. He rolled his shoulders and slowly massaged his neck—his muscles felt tight from years of disuse.

When three cultists turned the corner and saw their victims, the madmen cruelly grinned as they waved their blades, laughing like hyenas.

The grandfather stretched his legs before taking his posture. The man looked down and noticed his old cat was hissing at their pursuers—the hairs on the feline standing up.

The old man smiled at the sight.

“Are you ready, Kraisee?”

The cat continued to growl at the slowly approaching cultists.

The grandfather finally turned his glare at the madmen as he adopted a southpaw fighting stance.

At that moment, the cultists faltered as they seemed to see the illusion of a fearsome warrior and his feline partner. However, the retired Muay Thai champion did not let them recover as he let out a mighty and energetic shout.

“Come on, then!”

In the renowned Orchard Road of Singapore, a sergeant of the Singapore Infantry Regiment was moving through the empty boulevard of the famous retail heart of the small island nation.

The vibrant city that attracted millions of tourists annually had sections engulfed in the pitch dark.

The Singaporean government learned to their dismay that cultists had assaulted several powerplants to cut off electricity to the city. Although many establishments had their own generators for emergencies, the absence of street lights, neon, and others bathed the island city in deep gloom.

That was a problem for the government and the People’s Defence Force Command to solve.

The sergeant and the squad under his command had no time to look at the bigger picture as they dealt with a strange series of murders on Orchard Road.

Of course, such a thing was, unfortunately, becoming more common due to the presence of the madmen and their acolyte masters—not to mention the increasing number of voidling packs that stalked the streets and sewers.

What set these corpses apart from the rest littering buildings and streets was how surgically precise the inflicted wounds were.

The privates raised their rifles vigilance while the squad sergeant knelt on the newest victim.

The grizzled veteran set down his Conscript Slugger Rifle, which he managed to get via drawing lots. The Harbingers of Singapore had been busy equipping the military with better weapons, but supply could not keep up with demand, so NCOs like him were lucky if they got one from a random draw.

Nevertheless, the sergeant cursed under his breath as he looked over the small body. He had already spotted the corpse but prayed that what he saw was a trick of the eye.

A few of the infantrymen sneaked a glance at the corpse before gagging.

Though they had passed by many bodies with missing arms, legs, heads, or even specific organs, they had never seen a child no older than ten so perfectly bisected along the vertical.

As with the other victims, the left half of the young boy was missing.

The image in front of the soldiers looked straight out of a diagram from a medical book. The only thing that made them realize it wasn’t fake was the blood, organs, and viscera.

The sergeant scowled as he closed the terrified eye of the boy. Dry streams of tears stained the young face.

Every corpse they encountered had looks of absolute agony and horror, even cultists—though the soldiers had less sympathy for them.

“I don’t understand any of this,” the sergeant let out a heavy sigh as he rubbed his neck, “We never see the missing parts. We don’t even know the murderer’s motive.”

One of the privates in the squad groaned under his breath.

“We should be hunting down those alien spider things or cultists instead of mucking about doing detective work.”

The sergeant narrowed his eyes before he stood up and slapped the whining man’s helmet.

“Enough, we have our orders, and the police force is already under heavy strain. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sergeant!”

The squad proceeded forward as alert and careful as possible. SAR-21 rifles were pointed in every direction as they slipped past cars and empty sidewalks. A private grimaced as they spotted a burnt cafe.

“Yesterday, my sister treated my parents to a drink in that cafe.”

“Shit, are they ok?”

“Yeah, thankfully, they were long gone when those crazy fucks started popping up,” the man let out a trembling chuckle, “they’re in one of the shelters, so it’s fine.”

The sergeant raised a hand signal as they stopped in front of a department store. His clutched fist slowly changed into a palm, signaling the soldiers to move in.

Inside was as empty as the boulevard outside, signs of hasty departure and looting were clear. But what drew the squad to the place wasn’t the discounted jeans but a tiny trail of blood by the entrance.

The sergeant could have missed it was he less attentive, but the past few hours of tracking some alien serial killer pushed him to edge. He wanted to find the bastard and put a few rounds in its face.

He had already joined a pursuit against a Senior Acolyte with other squads, police, and civilian militia. It was a large abomination of tangled whip-like appendages that stretched meters. But, in the end, the humans brought the thing low from a storm of lead and Lustrous Steel slugs.

The Ichor he received was minute due to the multitude of people present during its execution.

He couldn’t care less, though. He merely wanted the invaders gone from his beloved country.

They went inside the store in silence, fanning in formation to scout out the expansive, dark interior.

The sergeant heard a noise somewhere behind racks of polos. He immediately raised his alien rifle toward the noise. The shine of a built-in flashlight lightened the area before him.

“Contact!” he shouted to his squad.

The soldiers brought their rifles to bear, muscle-memory and constant drills honing their response time.

The soldiers pointed their lights toward the spot. The men and women tensed their muscles and gritted their teeth as the air began to feel thick with quiet malice.

Sinister.

Insidious.

The soldiers felt as if they stepped into a murky swamp where a sadistic monster swam its depths.

Even the sergeant felt his heartbeat rapidly as he motioned for his men to move forward at the ready. The grizzled veteran swallowed as they neared a section of men’s jackets.

“Come out! Whoever, whatever you are!”

Impatient and agitated from the long day, the soldier shouted, “If you’re a civilian, there’s no need to worry. We’re soldiers. You’re safe now, so hurry up and come out.”

A rack of jackets rustled, and everyone jerked, fingers on the trigger, ready to gun down whatever was hiding behind.

“Come out, now! Or we will shoot! Don’t test us!” The sergeant called out a final time. His instincts were screaming at him to start shooting the area and leaving. But his training forced him to follow protocol.

The sergeant even briefly brought up his [Map]. A single erratic life sign was hiding inside the store. It eased his worries that it wasn’t a blaring red like voidlings or acolytes, but he didn’t take the chance.

But the eerie atmosphere was sending warning signals that battered his mind. The grizzled veteran

Before he could fire, a young, terrified voice called out from behind the rack.

“Wait!”

“Hold!” The sergeant called out to his squad as the small figure of a young girl emerged out of his hiding spot. Tears were running down hot on her cheeks.

The soldiers all let out sighs of relief as they lowered their rifles. A private even cursed before he chuckled.

“Fucking hell, I thought we were gonna see a devil or something.”

“Language!” The sergeant scolded the cheeky soldier.

The grizzled man softened his stern features as he turned toward the little girl.

“It’s alright, little one. The cavalry is here. I’m sorry for asking, but why are you here alone? Where are your parents?” the man asked slowly and gently to the trembling child, who proceeded to jump into the soldier’s arms.

“I ran from scary monsters. I don’t know where mama and papa are.” the young girl sobbed as she nestled her face on the sergeant’s shoulder, wetting that portion of his camo uniform.

The soldier patted the girl on her back, softly hushing her as he slowly rose from his knelt position.

“It’s alright, we’ll find your parents,” the soldier reassured her before turning to his men, “Alright, we’re done here. We’ll continue the search after getting this girl to a shelter.”

“Yes, sergeant!”

The squad left the store in haste, and the hostile atmosphere had lightened though they don’t know why. The sergeant couldn’t be bothered to think about it. He needed a break before heading back into the city.

Still, the sergeant felt content as he carried the little girl. The child had kept her face buried on his shoulder as she quieted down.

She must be exhausted—poor girl.

It was yet another thing to be hateful about with what was happening. The sergeant was determined to scour the nation of these vermin.

The soldiers walked down the street in vigilance, unaware that buried on the sergeant’s shoulder was a cruel grin plastered on the little girl’s face.

Similar stories happened throughout the globe, whether they were supernations like the United States or third-world countries like the Philippines. People of different origins were faced with grueling challenges whether they wanted to or not.

Fear of death, rageful vengeance, a duty to one's people, or the joy of battle were but the tip of the reasons humans strode forward to fight.

It gave credence to the old adage “hard times create strong men.”

Of course, such a quote included all genders—verified in many cases everywhere.

Heroes had begun to rise in their local neighborhoods, stories abounded on the internet of Tier I’s going forth and fighting cultists and monsters or rescuing civilians.

It wasn’t just these empowered humans recruited by the Omninexus that were given the brief limelight.

A French firefighter chopping a voidling in half, a Korean lawyer tackling a cultist, and a Puerto Rican construction worker drop-kicking an acolyte were just a few examples floating on social media.

Unfortunately, these videos or images had to fight a deluge of negative news. Tragedy was abundant everywhere, and rising panic still gripped many despite the calm auras of the Harbingers.

While the militaries of Earth were preparing for an all-out war for survival, the populace had to take matters into their own hands.

Many banded together in safe zones to consolidate forces and make it easier to protect their loved ones. Though unofficial, these areas were in the process of becoming bastions against the vile forces on the planet.

The process was slow, as Omninexus called Tier Is many times to put out the fires in their home cities.

The following morning after the emergence of the bioshield, Rio de Oro was in such a hectic situation. Emergency services had to go long hours without rest to tackle every problem. In a city with nearly a million people, even a tiny percentage of that number turning into cultists created significant chaos.

Thankfully, the mustered Tier Is were on the task. Conscripts took care of the combat and scouting missions while the Supports assisted in hospitals, transportation, or logistics handling.

As the first rays of sunlight pierced through the translucent vermillion membrane high above the skies, Xander, Ben, and Anna were once again on the road heading toward Robin’s Supermarket, where a failed extermination attempt was calling for reinforcements.

The young man looked out at the red sky from his driver’s seat and sighed. Xander couldn’t help but mutter under his breath.

“This is gonna be a normal thing, isn’t it?”

Xander heard Anna snort from his side. He glanced at his partner, who let out an audible yawn. The young woman glanced at him, shrugging her shoulders.

“Guess we just need to get used to it.”

Xander resigned himself to that fact as they drove through the early morning bustle of a city in turmoil.