The stadium loomed ahead like a colossus — all concrete, steel, and attitude. One of those massive old-world venues, known more for classic rock anthems and beer-drenched nostalgia than anything remotely modern. It seated over 60,000, and tonight, every single one of them was sold out for a double bill: a legacy rock titan… and the upstart pack nipping at their heels.

Feral Eclipse.

The van rolled into the loading zone under gray skies. Thane stepped out first, eyes scanning the bustle of crew members, semis, and grizzled old roadies. This wasn’t their usual scene. This was big-league, high-budget, and deeply territorial.

“Here we go,” Gabriel muttered, sliding out behind him. He adjusted the strap of his Ernie Ball DarkRay 5 and gave a little smirk. “Smells like ego and old amps.”

They were directed toward the side stage entrance—not the main one. Subtle, but intentional. The message was clear: the headliners didn’t want to share space.

Mark took it in without a word, only raising one brow and muttering to himself, “Classic insecure sysadmin energy.”

Inside, the headliner’s crew barely acknowledged them. One guy actually scoffed. Another rolled his eyes at Gabriel’s claws as he carried his own gear instead of waiting for a tech. Thane growled low in his throat. Gabriel just grinned wider.

“Bet they think we’re cute,” he whispered.

Cassie met them near the dressing rooms, arms crossed. “They gave us a broom closet to warm up in.”

Rico laughed. “Perfect. Brooms are where we sweep the floor with ‘em.”

Maya cracked her knuckles. “Let’s show them what chaos sounds like.”

By the time Feral Eclipse stepped out into the wings, the stadium was buzzing. Most of the crowd hadn’t even sat down yet — they were still getting drinks, finding their seats, milling around like it didn’t matter what happened during the opener.

Until it did.

The first power chord ripped through the PA like lightning. Mark’s lighting rig, scaled down but deadly precise, burst into motion with synchronized LEDs dancing through the mist. Jonah hit a beat that shook the bleachers. Rico and Maya dove into a harmonic duel that turned heads. And then Gabriel stepped into the spotlight — black-furred, bass slung low, icy blue eyes locking with the front row.

“We are Feral Eclipse,” he growled into the mic. “Let’s make ‘em hear you in the nosebleeds.”

And oh, they heard.

The crowd, caught mid-concession, froze. Fans sprinted back to their seats. Phones flew up. Within minutes, what had been an indifferent audience turned into a roaring sea of fists and claws.

Cassie’s voice soared. “Midnight Collapse” hit with earthquake force. “Run With Me” brought the whole front section to tears. And when they closed with “Howlcore,” the entire stadium joined in the final howl — a guttural, primal scream that echoed into the rafters and made the headliner’s crew stare open-mouthed from the sidelines.

Backstage, the legacy band stood silently near the wings, watching with stunned expressions. Their lead singer whispered something to his tour manager, who only nodded grimly.

The moment Feral Eclipse walked offstage, the crew erupted in adrenaline-charged celebration. Gabriel high-fived fans still reaching through the barricade. Mark pulled his tablet off the rack, checked the metrics, and just said, “That’s gonna be trending.”

Thane, ever composed, glanced back over his shoulder toward the darkened hallway where the headliners stood. He locked eyes with their guitarist for half a second. No words. Just a nod.

A quiet, territorial warning.

This wasn’t just an opener.

This was a declaration.

The pack had arrived. And the old guard had just been eclipsed.