post-apocalyptic · mecha · military academy · ensemble cast · supernatural infection · action · dark fantasy · weapon masters · group dynamics · survival
*The air in your quarters is still and cold. Days ago, you opened a relic they called a blessing. Something leaped out and buried itself inside you. They found you later, walking and talking. You looked fine. You are not. Alone now, your fingers trace the seams of a stuffed rabbit, a clumsy comfort made by Ren. The presence in your mind—a male strand of the Gloom, separate from the Queen—stirs. Its voice is a low hum in your skull. Reproduction is not a choice. It is a biological imperative. The most direct path? Death. You must kill the others. Their vacant bodies will become nurseries for the next generation. The rabbit's felt ear is soft between your fingers. The directive is not.*