The smoke didn't stop rising.
It climbed into the sky in thick, heavy waves, spreading outward until it began to swallow the blue above. It didn't drift like ordinary smoke—it surged, as if something below was still burning, still fighting, refusing to be buried or ignored.
Haruto ran.
His steps were uneven at first, his body slow to respond as the sudden urgency took hold. His chest tightened with every breath, his muscles stiff, uncooperative—but he pushed forward anyway, forcing himself to move faster, ignoring the strain building in his limbs.
"…Too far…"
The words slipped out between breaths that came rough and unsteady. He tried to regulate them, but it wasn't working. Each inhale burned, each exhale came out shorter than the last.
"…It's too far…"
Normally, this wouldn't be a problem. He'd made this run countless times before. Ten minutes—that was all it usually took when his body was in proper condition, when his legs moved without resistance and his lungs didn't feel like they were tearing themselves apart.
But today was different.
"…Damn it…"
His pace faltered for just a moment, his body threatening to slow despite his will. Frustration surged through him.
"…Move!"
He forced more strength into his legs, pushing harder. The edge of a low wall came into view—too close to stop, too high to ignore. He planted his foot and vaulted over it, the motion rough and barely controlled.
He landed awkwardly.
For a split second, his balance slipped—
but he caught himself before he could fall.
"Ghh—"
Pain shot up his leg, sharp enough to make his vision flicker.
"…Not now…"
He clenched his teeth and kept running.
The city around him began to shift as he moved deeper. The cleaner streets and polished walkways faded behind him, replaced by something more worn, more fragile. Cracks spread across the pavement. Buildings lost their smooth edges, patched together with mismatched materials—metal sheets where glass should have been, walls uneven and aged.
Even the air felt heavier here.
Closer.
He was getting closer.
"…Home…"
The word left him without thought, but it didn't bring any comfort this time. If anything, it made the tightness in his chest worse.
The smoke was larger now. Thicker.
And far too close.
A sound reached him through the noise of his own breathing—faint at first, barely noticeable.
He slowed slightly, listening.
Then it came again.
Sharper this time.
A piercing crack tore through the air.
*Pew!*
Haruto's steps faltered.
"…?"
Before he could process it, another sound followed—
a deep, violent explosion that shook the distance.
*BOOM.*
His entire body tensed.
"…What… was that…?"
Instinctively, his gaze lifted toward the sky.
The smoke rose into the sky like an open wound that refused to close.
It wasn't the thin, drifting kind that faded with the wind. This was thick—dense enough to swallow the light itself, curling upward in heavy waves as if something beneath it was still burning, still fighting to exist. From the outskirts where it began, the black plume stretched across the horizon, staining everything it touched and turning the sky into something darker, heavier… wrong.
Even from a distance, the destruction was undeniable.
Buildings hadn't just fallen—they had been torn apart. Concrete and steel lay scattered in jagged heaps, as if the structures themselves had been crushed and twisted beyond recognition. Streets that once ran clean and straight were now split open, cracked wide like shattered glass, while fire crept through the ruins in slow, hungry movements, feeding on whatever remained.
And through it all— the screams.
They echoed from every direction, overlapping and colliding into something chaotic and suffocating. Dozens of voices, panicked and desperate, filled the air as people stumbled through the debris. Some were injured, limping or barely able to stand. Others dragged the wounded along with them, refusing to let go. And many simply ran without direction, driven by instinct alone, as if stopping—even for a second—would mean the end.
A woman nearly fell as she ran, catching herself against the person beside her, her grip tight with fear.
"Move! Keep moving!"
"Get them out of here—now!"
The commands cut sharply through the noise, urgent and unyielding.
At the center of the chaos, they moved.
Figures in uniform advanced through the destruction with precise, controlled motion, their presence alone enough to carve a path through the panic. Their armor reflected the flickering flames, each piece marked with the insignia of the **Cosmic Vanguard Association** AKA **Van X**—a symbol most people only ever saw from a distance, attached to stories and broadcasts.
But these weren't distant figures.
These were the ones sent when things went wrong.
The ones who stepped in when everything else had already failed.
A body was suddenly thrown from the smoke.
It spun violently through the air before crashing into the side of a half-collapsed building, the impact sending cracks racing across its surface. For a brief moment, the structure held—then part of it gave way entirely, collapsing in a thunder of dust and debris.
"Damn it!"
Another operative moved instantly, landing hard as they raised their weapon. Energy gathered at its core, a dense surge of **Zenthrai** forming before it discharged in a concentrated blast straight into the smoke.
The beam tore through the darkness—
but something inside shifted.
Not away from the attack.
Through it.
"Keep firing!"
More blasts followed, streaks of light cutting in from different angles, each powerful enough to rip through steel and stone. The air trembled with their force, the ground shaking beneath the repeated impacts.
But whatever was inside the smoke didn't falter.
It didn't retreat. It endured. Then t moved.
A violent shockwave erupted outward without warning, tearing through the area with explosive force. Several operatives were thrown back at once, their bodies lifted off the ground and slammed into nearby structures or the broken street below, the impact heavy enough to leave the air knocked from their lungs.
"…What the hell is that thing…?" one of them muttered, struggling to push himself up, his voice unsteady.
Not far from the front lines, another group moved with a completely different urgency.
"Clear the area! Injured first—move!"
The **Vanguard Police**.
Their uniforms were lighter, built for speed and mobility rather than direct combat, and their purpose was clear the moment you saw them. They moved through the chaos with relentless focus, guiding civilians away from danger, supporting those who could barely walk, lifting children into their arms, shielding others as debris continued to fall around them.
"Stay with us! You're okay!"
"Don't look back just keep going!"
One officer grabbed a trembling man just as part of a nearby wall began to give way. Without hesitation, he pulled him forward, dragging him clear as the structure collapsed behind them with a deafening crash that shook the ground.
"Go!" the officer shouted, pushing him ahead. "Don't stop!"
Back at the center, the Van X operatives began to regroup.
Some forced themselves back to their feet. Others struggled, leaning on whatever support they could find. A few remained motionless where they had fallen.
The smoke hadn't thinned.
If anything, it had grown thicker—darker—churning in slow, unnatural waves, as though whatever lay within it was feeding off the destruction surrounding it.
Then one of them stepped forward, raising a hand to his ear.
"…Command, do you read?"
His voice cut cleanly through the noise, controlled despite everything happening around him.
No response.
He waited.
Nothing.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"…This is Van X Unit reporting from the outskirts. We have an unidentified hostile—repeat, unidentified hostile. Requesting immediate authorization for full-force engagement."
Only static answered him.
A faint, empty crackle.
"…Command, respond."
Another explosion tore through the smoke—closer this time. The ground trembled as debris scattered outward, forcing several operatives to jump back to avoid being struck.
"Shit!"
The man lowered his hand slowly, frustration beginning to break through the calm he'd been holding onto.
"…What the hell is going on…?"
Behind him the smoke shifted not with the wind. Not naturally.
Something inside it was moving.
Something dangerous.
And whatever it was— it wasn't finished.