The exit (End)
The eyes of the entire world were turned to Wembley Stadium, not personally, but through the cold objectivity of drone lenses, capturing every detail. In command rooms and operation centers spread across the globe, real-time transmitted images showed the gathering of hunters at the stadium, forming a vision both impressive and worrisome.
The supervisors of the world government watched closely, assessing the magnitude of the situation, realizing both the strength and vulnerability presented by the island nation. On their screens, rank S hunters from various nationalities could see their English colleagues organizing for defense. This was a scene that spurred a complex chess game of political and strategic considerations.
Elizabeth Rose, in turn, represented more than a powerful huntress in that moment; she was a symbol of England's tenacity and resilience. The weight of the nation rested on the shoulders of the rank S huntress, not just figuratively, but also in the hopeful looks of her compatriots.
The decision by the world government and the rank S hunters from other countries not to send additional reinforcements placed Elizabeth and the English hunters before the challenge of facing alone what promised to be one of the most arduous battles in the recent history of the country. This denial of aid could be interpreted through various lenses: a show of confidence in the abilities of England's hunters, a calculated political move, or perhaps a reluctance to risk valuable resources in a conflict with an uncertain outcome.
Rank S hunters around the world were compelled to watch the events unfold, captured by a myriad of emotions - from admiration for their colleagues' courage to an unsettling sense of isolation in the face of global threats. The unity of the international front of hunters was put to the test, and the ramifications of this battle, whether in victory or defeat, would certainly have repercussions on future defense policies and collaboration among nations.
In the heart of the stadium, among companions who trusted her leadership, Elizabeth felt the gravity of her responsibility. She was about to step into the front line of a battle that would be watched by hunters all over the world, aware that her actions and leadership would be crucial not only for the survival of those present but also for the future of monster hunting on a global scale.
The portal, formerly just a menacing red anomaly, suddenly began to pulse with a glow that intensified its ominous presence. The response from the stadium and its surroundings was immediate and physical - the ground shook, sending shockwaves through Wembley and beyond, fuelling the dread in London with a small-scale earthquake that seemed to echo the collective heartbeat of the city.
In the arena, the already tense hunters felt the palpable increase in urgency. The solidification of their defense was as reflexive as their sharpened breathing, each one preparing for the imminent revelation of what the portal would bring.
Elizabeth, whose countenance reflected a mix of focus and readiness, did not hesitate. In a moment of clarity that defied the turbulence around her, she summoned a sword to her hand - a physical manifestation of her power and resolve. Without a word wasted, she directed the blade toward the portal, a series of actions that could only be interpreted as the prelude to a confrontation.
"Something is coming," she said, with a voice that, though firmly controlled, carried the gravity of what was to come. The phrase was minimal, but it bore the weight of an impending storm about to break; there was not a shadow of doubt in her statement, only the unwavering certainty of a leader prepared to face adversity head-on.
Leo and Arthur, along with all the other hunters, immediately reflected Elizabeth's readiness and alertness. The hunters' hearts beat in anticipated unison, their minds focused on forthcoming actions, their weapons - whether conventional or magical - were gripped with a firmness that confirmed their resolutions to fight.
The commotion in the stadium replaced the anxious silence of the previous minutes, for each individual present knew that the next chapter in the history of their world was about to be written, with them as main characters in this scenario that blended the real and the impossible.
The portal had reached a point of critical instability when the sight of a hand adorned with unknown symbols and black claws dispelled any remnants of doubt about the imminent threat. The hunters, driven by an instinct for survival and protection, assumed their combat positions, each adjusting to attack any entity that might emerge from that vortex.
A second hand emerged, accompanied by more intense tremors, making the portal seem further violated, as if it were simultaneously about to unravel and being forced to expand by the creature struggling to pass through. It seemed to require a massive effort, as if the individual was breaking through the density of a viscous and dark liquid.
Then, the being presented itself completely, emerging from the portal with the disturbing grace of someone passing beneath water. He was a man with hair and eyes as dark as the very darkness from where he stemmed, and his body was a mosaic of tattoos, each possibly bearing its own mystery. His smile was macabre, the kind that forebodes ill intentions and chilling confidence.
The presence of this man introduced a new dimension to what lay ahead. His posture did not suggest a cornered beast but rather a predator sure of his own power – or perhaps, a madman.
However, for Elizabeth and the gathered hunters, the strategy remained clear. Whether they faced a legion of enemies or just a solitary adversary, the objective stayed unwavering: to defend, protect, and prevail. The fate of the country, and perhaps of the world, could hinge on the outcome of the confrontation that was brewing.
The enigmatic figure who had crossed the portal was Thomas. With an air of casualness that starkly contrasted with the tension surrounding him, he cast a look over the army of hunters positioned around him and taunted, "Were you waiting for me?"
Thomas was unaware of the belligerent reception that he encountered. Nevertheless, his confusion quickly gave way to a dark understanding as the thick, charged atmosphere of battle anticipation seeped into his senses. With a flicker of irony, he deduced, "Ah, I see… I am the enemy here."
His earlier smile, which was almost innocent in its grotesque appearance, now threatened to morph into a defiant expression in the face of apparent hostility. Thomas, seemingly aware of the delicate situation he found himself in, appeared to ponder his next move within this stage of hunters ready for battle.
The forced maturation that Thomas had undergone seemed to have stripped him of conventional logic, propelling him into a state where instinct prevailed over reason. Like an animal cornered by the sound of war drums, he found himself confused and strangely detached from his humanity, which led him to reflect on his bizarre condition.
As he watched the sea of hunters surrounding him, he wondered, somewhat philosophically: "Why am I like this?" The confusion about his situation was evident, as was the unsettling recognition of finding himself as the pivot of a highly tense and dangerous situation. "Honestly, I don't want trouble, but it seems like trouble is coming to me. And there doesn't seem to be a way for me to escape," he pondered.
The disturbing vision of himself, half-human, half something indefinable, fueled his perplexity and led to fatalistic resignation. "Humans, alive or dead, it doesn't matter anymore." For Thomas, life seemed to have acquired a dark indifference, where the distinction between being alive or dead appeared blurry and insignificant.
In this context, the hunters' stance was understandably defensive, though perplexed about the true nature and intentions of Thomas. For them, the question was whether this creature before them represented a threat that needed to be contained or an enigma that required understanding. One thing, however, was certain: the charged atmosphere would not allow the stalemate to stretch indefinitely. The tension between them was a string about to snap, and the consequences of any action could be catastrophic.
Thomas's body vibrated with a disturbing energy, a turbulent reflection of a maturation he did not understand. For some unknown reason, his being was starting to radiate a hallucinatory anxiety, a latent thirst for battle that longed for a violent challenge against the hunters facing him. It was a brutal desire to fight and subjugate each of them, a wild impulse he couldn't explain.
Thomas, for some reason, smiled as he felt that sensation, a mix of ecstasy and power that emanated from his core, an expression that sealed his acceptance of this twisted reality. And as he was about to release his aura, as if it was the roar of a lion ready for battle, a new scene unfolded before his incandescent eyes.
Caroline, Marcus, and the other two hunters who had resisted the strange influence that had transformed Thomas entered the scene through the same interdimensional passage he had used. They emerged with a clear consciousness, contrasting with Thomas's tumultuated state. Their arrival suspended the impending outpouring of violence, like an unexpected pause in the prelude to a war.