The air was polluted with the deafening shots of guns, the cries for help that were screamed, and the horizon was out of sight, covered by a sea of zombie-like creatures known as The Withered. They resided in the cloud of gas that caused their existence and surrounded the glass dome that protected the place known as Drelmaar—the only known habitable zone in this desolate world. The Withered hunted the human race, what was left of it at least.
Silken Thorn was one of the many men on the front lines defending Drelmaar. He wore the gray-black gas mask that had been created in order to stay out in the gas longer, as well as a green military-style jumpsuit that was covered in pockets for ammo storage. Thorn was young but skilled; at only 17 he had been promoted to vice-captain of the 70th Phantom Platoon, which were the subdivisions in Drelmaar's defence force known as The Phantom Line. Thorn's black hair and eyes were barely visible due to the thick gas, but his curtain bangs waved in the strong gusts that the gas brought with it, his face periodically illuminated by the light each blast of his gun gave off—this situation was life or death, and he refused to die and let Drelmaar fall.
Ksh. "Grim Tide, there appears to be even more coming from the east, according to reports from the watchtowers. Please regroup over at the east sector and continue holding down the defences, over." Ksh.
As the recently developed radio audio transmission device sounded, Thorn would hear his Phantom Name, Grim Tide, and would begin to follow the orders given. That was the current captain of the 70th Phantom Platoon who also happened to be the vice-captain of the Phantom Line itself—his name: Charles Draxel, his Phantom Name: Draco Six.
Before making his move to the eastern post of Drelmaar, Thorn would pull out his radio and activate it.
Ksh. "This is Grim Tide reporting to the 70th Phantom Platoon. Under orders from Draco Six, we are to reposition to the eastern post of Drelmaar in preparation for another, more dense wave of The Withered to attack, over." Ksh.
The thick gas felt as if it was a sandstorm, a windy hell that could infect and repurpose your entire body if out too long. This is why when platoons reposition, they are to move through Drelmaar itself in order to get to their assigned post, as a means of protecting the soldiers giving their lives to protect the city. The city of Drelmaar has seven sectors, each with different ideals and beliefs, but also different purposes. Sector One was the soldiers; the ones who trained in the barracks until they're old enough to take to the battlefield and protect the city. Sector Two was the craftsmen; these people were responsible for crafting the explosives, guns, and even defences and artillery used by the soldiers. Sector Three is the scavengers; these people mine for resources—most importantly sulfur to make gunpowder—but are also responsible for collecting wood from the trees grown inside the city, in which there is a specific beam of light produced from the sky. No one knows what this beam is, but it helps trees grow, this beam is sometimes missing and replaced by that of falling water. Sector Four is the farmers; they grow the crops and plants for the city, serving as its primary food source. Sector Five is the clothers; these people specialise in making clothes and the uniforms used by the soldiers in the Phantom Line. Finally, there's Sector Six, the creators; these are the most intelligent sector and use their brains to create new and improved weaponry and artillery for the craftsmen to make and for the soldiers to use. These are arguably the most important people of Drelmaar, besides the much smaller Seventh Sector, which is the people at the top—the leaders of the civilisation, the ones who make all the calls and decisions.
Eventually, Thorn and his squad would reach their designated post and enter combat with The Withered. All of the soldiers swore to protect their only homeland and would fight like there's no tomorrow. However, deep in the quiet centre of Sector One, in a med room bed, there's a woman who has just given birth, her bed surrounded by a midwife and two males. One looked to be in his mid-thirties—the same as the woman, presumably her husband and the father—but the other looked to be a small boy. This boy was six years old and named Dren Ranz.
"What are you going to name him?" the midwife asked expectantly; it wasn't often a family had multiple children.
"Kael, his name will be Kael, after his great-grandfather who lost his life protecting Drelmaar. He shall become great just like he did," the woman, whose name was Rosemary Ranz, would say, turning her head towards the taller, older man known as Tihbur Ranz.
"I have no objections, I think the name fits perfectly," he said. "I hope this boy will live up to the expectations you have just placed upon it."
"Well, with our brilliant parenting he should. Dren himself is already brilliant, so I have no doubt his brother shall be the same." The two were cocky; the Ranz family was one of the richer ones, especially in Sector One, and Dren Ranz was seen as a prodigy. At his young age he was already a choice to be a future captain of The Phantom Line.
"Kael it is! I wish you two the best with your family!" The midwife got up from her wooden stool and left the room.
"Kael, you will be a name to be remembered. Everyone will remember Kael Ranz. You will live up to your name. We can only hope you'll be as great as your brother and who you're named after," the mother said as the midwife left.