«Бесшумный Хор»

The events unfold in the neutral wasteland, shrouded in a thick, anomalous fog. A squad of fighters led by Viktora is sent into the center of the anomaly to capture an unknown target on Agrion's orders. Instead of the main objective, the squad encounters an army of silent puppets—dead soldiers controlled by "27" from somewhere in the fog. The boy becomes a nightmare: the dead attack completely silently, an unnatural headache weighs on his mind, and slain enemies are dragged into the darkness, only to return to the ranks again. Viktor's spatial Venrite proves useless against the superhuman hearing of his religion. Having lost two fighters in the pitch-black darkness, the squad is forced into battle. After retreating, the fog suddenly dissipates completely, leaving behind only ordinary corpses and an abandoned battlefield. The target has vanished without a trace. The mission has failed. _________________________________________________________________________ https://t.me/Kazteim _________________________________________________________________________ Текст: A week's journey from living cities, No light, no wind, no traces left. Only a white haze spread like a carpet, And a children's song resounded like silver. Five of us emerged into the solid ocean, Set mines, preparing a trap. And then shadows appeared in the distance— Dozens of soldiers who had risen from the earth. But not a clang, not a cry, not a step, Silent dolls—empty courage. No sound in the darkness, only torn smoke, In this game, I become almost blind. An invisible ringing split my skull, But I smiled through a stifled groan. They advance, unafraid, A silent ballet on burnt bones. My own delusion has no effect here, I have simply found that cherished limit. We strike them point-blank, tearing apart their bodies, But as soon as a corpse falls, like a needle— It is immediately dragged into the darkness by the dead, Where someone in the gloom is once again connecting the dots. And the dead soldier returns to the ranks. And the pain in his head became a new wall. One of my men couldn't contain this roar: He took two steps—and sank into the abyss. The crowd closed in without a single movement, And the alien shooter is no longer visible. I tore space and darkness with my teleporter, Dashed into the darkness like a hunter to a corner. Twenty steps, again, and again— Trying to feel the alien shoulder. But sensitive ears picked up my scent, The girl slid, bringing everything to nothing. And the corpses dragged me back all the time, Breaking my cold and precise square. An hour later, the second one disappeared. The three of us remained beneath the white wall. But here's the paradox: we abandoned the battle, And the fog suddenly crumbled into gray ash. As if someone had turned off the lights, Leaving a dead answer in the wasteland. We returned. And all we see is scattered ashes— But I'm not upset. The game has begun. And this riddle has caught my heart. #эхопустошей #darkstory