The designation was "Ex-Load Leech." Officially, it was a classified parasitic entity, a biological weapon engineered in a forgotten war. Unofficially, it was the last thing a soldier felt before their luck ran out.
And for the first time in its existence, the predator was full.
Then the void settled, burped once inside his chest, and went quiet.
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.
He was becoming a hollow doll, a man-shaped void. Panic should have surged, but the Leech took that too. All that remained was a quiet, terrible acceptance. Just lie down , a soothing voice whispered—his own voice, but wet and empty. You’ve been tired for so long.