Ex-load Leech -

Then the void settled, burped once inside his chest, and went quiet.

He squeezed.

Kael stumbled, his rifle clattering into the muck. The Leech was on him. He didn't see it—he felt it. A thing of translucent cartilage and needle-fine filaments, it fused to his cervical spine, its body flattening against his skin like a second layer of frost. It weighed nothing. And then the feeding began. ex-load leech

The Leech didn't pop. It imploded , collapsing into a black pinprick of nothing, sucked into the void-fragment that lived in his sternum. For a single, glorious second, Kael felt full—not with light or hope, but with a cold, satisfying absence . The kind that didn't need to feed because it had nowhere left to fall. Then the void settled, burped once inside his

Sergeant Kael Voss knew the name well. He’d seen the aftermath—a tank crew found perfectly intact, their faces frozen in mid-laugh, their bio-signs flatlined as if someone had simply unplugged their souls. The Leech didn’t kill with claws or venom. It killed by attaching to a host and draining the one thing no armor could protect: the will to live. The Leech was on him

The Leech tasted the void.

Kael’s knees hit the muck. He lay down in the soft, rotting vegetation. The Leech pulsed gently, a rhythmic suction he could feel in his bones. He watched his own hands turn transparent at the edges. In minutes, he would be a perfect, empty shell. The kind they found in the tank. The kind that still smiled because there was no one left inside to frown.