Extreme levels of violence and gore!

"Wayne, hide now!" Loice's voice quivered with fear as she urgently ushered her son into the dimly lit basement. The entrance was a tiny, claustrophobic door leading to an underground tool room that seemed to shrink further with each passing second. Desperation flickered in her eyes, the glistening trails of tears betraying the terror she was trying to conceal. Wayne, just a 14-year-old boy with innocence etched on his face, couldn't comprehend the nightmare unfolding.

"Mom, what's happening?" Wayne's voice wavered, eyes darting to the window where grotesque figures moved in ominous blurs. His mother's reply was interrupted by a choked sob, her hands frantically wiping away tears as she implored him to remain silent, no matter what he heard.

As Wayne descended into the basement, the cacophony outside intensified. The eerie moans and snarls of unknown creatures permeated the air, sending shivers down his spine. Raised in the seclusion of the mountains, Wayne had never encountered anything beyond the quietude of his sheltered life. The isolation that once felt comforting now became a breeding ground for his fear.

Sealed within the confines of the basement, Wayne peered through the slight gaps in the door. His father, armed with a hunting rifle, stood guard against an unseen threat. The realization dawned upon Wayne that his older sister, Karen, was missing, her absence casting a shadow over the ominous events unfolding.

"Do you think Karen made it ? " Loice uttered her words carrying a weight that Wayne couldn't fathom. Johnson, the father, remained silent, his face a canvas of pain. As Wayne struggled to make sense of the situation, he caught sight of his family bracing for an impending horror.

The door rattled under the relentless assault from outside, the loud noise echoing the impending doom. Loice, gripping a sharp knife from the kitchen table, steeled herself for the unknown. As the mother and father huddled in the dimly lit room, the air thickened with an unspoken dread, each passing moment heralding the arrival of a nightmarish reality.

"I think she's dead," Johnson's voice cut through the air with a solemnity that sent chills down Wayne's spine. His father, gun poised at the door, wore a mask of seriousness, his eyes betraying a tumultuous mix of emotions, fear looming ominously above all. The firearm in Johnson's hands seemed an extension of his very being, clenched with a desperate determination.

"Dead," Wayne echoed the word, grappling with the concept. It was a term he associated with the hunted game during their hunting trips, not with his own flesh and blood. The weight of the revelation pressed upon him; a reality too grim to fully comprehend.

The relentless pounding on the reinforced door echoed like a grim drumbeat, drowning out any semblance of normalcy. Johnson's attempt to reassure his family about the door's sturdiness was abruptly cut short by a shattering crash—the weakest defense, the window, succumbed to an otherworldly force. A monstrous creature, grotesque and menacing, breached their sanctuary with an unholy entrance.

Loice, in a defensive stance, faced the creature only to have her hand sliced open by its ferocious assault. Blood sprayed in a gruesome display, the kitchen knife soaring through the air. Johnson, swift in his response, pulled the trigger, the gunshot reverberating through the chaos. The creature recoiled, wounded but not defeated.

"Loice, nooo!" Johnson's anguished cry filled the room as he fired another shot, the bullet piercing the creature's forehead, unleashing a grotesque spectacle of destruction. Wayne, frozen in shock, witnessed the gruesome scene unfold before him. His mother's agonized screams became the soundtrack to the nightmare, echoing through his mind.

As Johnson rushed to aid his wife, covering the gaping wound with a makeshift bandage, a thunderous "bam" signaled the door's demise. Five figures entered, their presence unsettling. But it wasn't just their physical appearance that unnerved Wayne—it was their glowing eyes, reminiscent of serpentine malevolence.

"Ahhh, would you look at this," one of the figures remarked, eyeing the lifeless monster. The others, with an air of curiosity mixed with malice, approached the scene. The woman with green hair pondered the impossible, questioning how Johnson managed to overcome a creature with seemingly impenetrable skin.

Wayne, still grappling with the horror unfolding before him, observed the strangers—his first glimpse of outsiders. The question lingered in his mind: were they saviors, or did their arrival signal a darker turn in the nightmare that had descended upon his once tranquil world?

Wayne, cowering in the shadows of the basement, couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that these strangers had an air of heroism about them. A desperate glimmer of hope flickered within him as he tentatively considered the possibility that they might be here to help.

"Did they come to help us?" he whispered, contemplating whether it was safe to emerge from his hiding place. Before he could make a decision, a voice, dripping with sadistic amusement, cut through the air.

"Hey, humans, are you the parents of the delicious child we just ate?" The woman, her face concealed by a cloth, spoke with a sinister smile playing at the corners of her lips. Wayne's heart pounded in his chest, and a sickening realization gripped him.

Bum-bum. Wayne's heart skipped a beat as the grotesque truth sank in. These supposed saviors were nothing but monsters themselves.

"Your home looks decent," the woman with green hair remarked casually, her eyes surveying the scene. Filled with a surge of anger and dread, Johnson aimed his gun at her and pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through her face, obliterating half of it from forehead to mouth. Horror etched across his face, Johnson recoiled, only to witness the monstrous wound healing within seconds.

"Now, what a perfect scenery," the man with the third eye declared, bones audibly cracking as he crushed Johnson's hand, eliciting agonized screams. The grotesque spectacle unfolded before Wayne, his anger building as he watched his family fall victim to these sadistic creatures.

"That monster over there was our pet, and you killed it. So, we're gonna kill you now," the man declared, raising his head to deliver a fatal blow to Wayne's parents. Traumatized, fear intensified within Wayne, making even the act of breathing a struggle. The men callously sliced off both of Wayne's parents' heads, blood spraying into the air, drenching the room with the macabre aftermath.

"Mom, Dad, sis," Wayne's mind echoed with a cacophony of emotions—fear, pain, and seething anger. Yet, paralyzed with the grim reality before him, he understood that any attempt to reveal himself would only lead to his demise.

"You killed them too quickly. We should've played with them more," the green-haired woman remarked, crouching over the lifeless bodies. With a sadistic grin, she wiped the blood off the ground and licked it, casting a chilling smile as she loomed over the traumatized Wayne. The basement walls seemed to close in, trapping him in a nightmare that was far from over.

Wayne's heart simmered with anger, yet he clung to the suffocating shadows, knowing that revealing himself would render his parents' sacrifice in vain. He maintained an eerie silence as the monsters callously decided to abandon the lifeless remains of his family.

"We'll collect the monster's body and leave the humans here," the dark-haired man declared, callously dismissing the tragedy they had wrought. The group departed, leaving behind a shattered home and a traumatized soul. One of the creatures nonchalantly carried the monster's corpse, burning it outside before lingering for an agonizing hour. Wayne, shrouded in the basement's darkness, dared not emerge for an additional two hours after their departure.

Footsteps echoed as another group entered the room. "Oh no, they've already left. These poor people died," one of the newcomers lamented, feigning concern. The others hastily scampered outside, as they were searching for something. Wayne, still hidden, wondered if they were accomplices of the sadistic invaders.

As the insincere mourners inspected the room, one of them approached the basement door, the same door that concealed Wayne. A subtle difference in the sound underfoot caught the man's attention. Wayne seized the opportunity, springing out with a small, sharp nail poised for an attack. The man deftly deflected Wayne's assault, pushing him back.

Wayne rose slowly, tears streaming down his face, a concoction of grief and terror. Ready for another desperate strike, he steeled himself. However, the man raised his hand, signaling a desire to avoid violence.

The man Wayne had glimpsed had a sword strapped to his waist, adorned in ominous dark clothing, and a hood obscuring his features. The cold gleam of the blade hinted at a world beyond the horrors Wayne had endured, and the hood cast shadows that concealed the man's intentions.

"Wait, boy. I'm not here to harm you. I'm here to help you," he declared, attempting to diffuse the tension. Wayne, cautiously moving sideways, kept a wary eye on the man. The door loomed behind him, and as Wayne inched towards freedom, the man suddenly halted him.

Just as Wayne prepared to bolt, an invisible force struck him, and he crumpled to the ground. The men outside, witnessing Wayne's collapse, voiced their curiosity.

"What was that?" one of them questioned, revealing that he had struck Wayne in the head.

"Just the instinct of a survivor," the man who had been in the house nonchalantly replied.