Eater Blade: Grinding in Apocalypse-Chapter 44: IT’S RAINING… COFFINS?! — PART 2.

Johnquis froze in place, staring up at the sky as dozens of black coffins fell like steel rain. The cold wind and the droplets on his skin made him remember — how it felt when he was dropped like cargo into a place that didn’t want him. That first slam into a foreign ground. The shock. The pain.

He let out a shaky breath. "Ha... so this is what it looks like from the other side. Watching ’em drop instead of being the one hitting dirt."

WHOOOOOSH — THUUUD!

Another coffin crashed down not far off. Dancer snarled at each impact, claws scraping the beam.

Johnquis clicked his tongue. "Easy, Dancer. This is how we all get summoned, remember? I still feel that first drop in my spine, the confusion, the headache... that first time my boots hit grass. Didn’t even know how to breathe right."

He tilted his head back, letting the rain wash his face. "Guess it’s someone else’s turn now... Welcome to the shitshow, rookies."

A coffin slammed down just meters away.

WHOOOOOSH!

Time seemed to slow as Johnquis caught a clear, close-up view of the thing — black plating, reinforced seams, the Guild’s blade-and-teeth insignia half scratched off by the storm. For a moment, it looked almost gentle drifting through the rain.

Then—

VOOOSHHH!

The blast of wind slapped his hair across his eyes.

THUUUD!

The impact rattled the rooftop so hard he felt it vibrate up through his feet, up his spine, until his teeth hummed. He flinched back, shoulder braced against a rusted pipe, rain pouring off the helipad’s cracked edges.

He sucked in a breath, flicked water from his lashes, his smirk somewhere between bitter and impressed.

"Fucker shit, that coffin hit like a meteor."

He tipped his chin toward Dancer, who was already poised and hissing at the street below.

"And damn... poor bastard. Bad luck getting dropped right in Sector 6."

He squinted through the rain. The black coffin had hit the street right below their perch, half-buried in cracked asphalt, steam hissing from the split seals. Its Guild crest glowed faint red, pulsing like a heartbeat in the storm.

Dancer crept to the edge beside him, claws clicking on the wet concrete. Her shoulders were hunched, every line of her ready to spring. She flicked a glance at him, then down, eyes wide and glassy like a cat catching scent of prey.

Johnquis leaned out, one hand braced on the rusty railing. From this high, he could see the wrecked street lit by the flashes of lightning. He didn’t like what he saw. Shapes were crawling out of shadows — half-bent, bone-white things that twitched with every drop of rain.

"Eaters," he whispered. "Shit..."

They came from everywhere, crawling over rusted cars, dropping from broken windows, slipping from gaps under the road like worms from a corpse. Dozens. He could hear their wet footsteps splashing through oily puddles. Some limped, some dragged their bellies, but all of them moved with the same aim... the fresh coffin.

Dancer let out a growl that vibrated in her throat. She dropped into a low crouch, her foot-blade scraping sparks as it flexed.

Johnquis’s eyes darted from beast to beast. The sight sickened him.

"They shouldn’t be moving yet..."

He glanced at the sky, at the thick black clouds smothering the city. The storm roared so loud it buried his heartbeat.

Then it clicked. His eyes went wide. "Of course... no sun. Storm’s like a blanket. They’re at full strength even in daylight. Clever little roaches."

A nearby building creaked. More Eaters slipped out of the shadows, their white skin slick and glistening in the rain. They skittered toward the coffin like iron filings pulled to a magnet.

The Guild seal on the coffin pulsed faster. A soft hiss, a faint click, the heavy locks beginning to disengage.

"Dancer, they’re swarming. It’s not open yet but they’ll rip it apart."

He grabbed the hook on his belt, thumb brushing the worn grip.

Dancer didn’t wait. She paced along the ledge, eyes locked on the street like she could already taste the blood.

Johnquis rolled his shoulders, his bronze Eater Stone flickered dull under the storm.

"They’re not even waiting for the fresh meat to crawl out."

He felt a strange shiver, part anger, part pity for whatever rookie lay curled up inside that coffin, heartbeat slow and mind still fogged from the drop.

Below, an Eater climbed the coffin’s lid, sniffing the seams with a snout split by jagged teeth. Another slammed its palm on the metal, leaving dark streaks. The hiss of the lock grew louder. Steam bled out around the lid.

Johnquis’s knuckles went white on the hook grip. He licked rain from his lips.

"Come on... come on...Not today. You’re not dying the second you open your eyes, rookie."

A sudden crash of thunder split the sky. The Eaters below flinched, then doubled their pace, claws scraping the coffin’s surface.

Johnquis snapped the hook line out, testing its pull. He shot Dancer a look, the storm flickering in his grin.

"We move now. Before they open that box for us."

He swung the hook wide, the steel line catching the rusted tower frame with a sharp clang. He braced his feet, heart hammering, eyes locked on that trembling coffin door.

"Whatever’s in there... it better be ready to fight."

The locks began to turn. Another wet hiss escaped. Johnquis gritted his teeth, rain streaming off his jaw.

"Go."

He leapt off the ledge, Dancer right behind him and the storm swallowed them whole.

Johnquis dropped like a stone, the wind tearing at his suit. The steel hook line whined as it stretched, catching the tower’s frame with a harsh—

CLANG!

It slowed his fall just enough. His bat-like cape flared open, catching the wind to steady him. He swung out wide, boots smashing into the side of a half-collapsed billboard. Rust flakes scattered under his heels.

Dancer landed beside him, claws slicing a handhold in the metal to keep her balance. She hissed at him, then pushed off, flipping down to the next ledge.

Johnquis watched the coffin below, already swarmed with pale shapes slithering through the rain. He spat into the wind, eyes dark.

"Fucking Eaters... Can’t even let a rookie take their first breath before this hell tries to eat them alive."

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