The smoke refused to clear.
It didn't drift or thin out like it should have after an explosion. Instead, it churned in place, thick and heavy, folding over itself in slow, unnatural waves. It almost looked alive—like something breathing just beneath the surface. Light couldn't pass through it. Sound seemed to die inside it. Even the air around it felt wrong, as if reality itself was struggling to process whatever was hidden within.
At the front line, the Van X operatives held their positions, though "holding" might have been too generous a word.
"Form up! Don't break formation!"
Boots scraped against cracked concrete as they adjusted their stances, tightening their formation out of pure instinct. Weapons were raised, every barrel aimed toward the shifting mass ahead. Some stood firm, jaws clenched, eyes sharp. Others weren't as steady—hands trembling slightly, breaths uneven. A few were already injured, blood soaking into their uniforms, but none of them stepped back.
Another surge of Zenthrai erupted from the line. One of the operatives stepped forward and unleashed a concentrated blast, the energy tearing through the air in a bright, violent streak. It carved a glowing path straight into the smoke—
—and disappeared.
There was no resistance. No impact. No sign that it had hit anything at all.
"…That didn't hit," someone muttered under their breath.
For a brief moment, no one moved.
Then the smoke shifted.
Not outward but inward.
It tightened, collapsing slightly into itself, like something deep inside had just taken a slow, deliberate breath.
"Back!"
The warning came too late.
A violent force erupted outward without form or direction. It wasn't a beam or an attack they could track—just raw, overwhelming pressure exploding in every direction at once. The ground fractured beneath them, cracks spreading rapidly as debris lifted into the air like it weighed nothing at all. Several operatives were thrown back instantly, their bodies slamming hard into the ground or into the structures behind them.
"Ghh!"
"Brace!"
One of them hit the ground hard, rolling before forcing himself back up, coughing as he wiped blood from his mouth. His vision blurred for a second, ears ringing from the impact.
"…What kind of—"
"Focus!"
The voice cut cleanly through the chaos.
A figure stepped forward from the line.
A faint orange aura flickered around him—not blazing, not overwhelming, but controlled. Stable. Intentional.
Vice Commander Yamato.
His gaze remained locked on the smoke, unshaken.
"Regroup," he said, his tone calm but leaving no room for hesitation. "This isn't a standard hostile."
Around him, the remaining operatives pulled themselves back together, reforming their line. Their weapons came up again, though this time there was a noticeable stiffness in their movements. The confidence from before had cracked.
Because something was wrong.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
Yamato raised a hand to his ear, activating his comm.
"…Command, do you read?"
Nothing came back just faint static.
He didn't react outwardly, continuing as if the silence meant nothing.
"This is Van X Unit, outskirts sector. We have an unidentified hostile with abnormal Zenthrai fluctuations. Current suppression attempts have failed."
A brief pause.
"…Requesting authorization for full-force engagement."
Still nothing.
No confirmation. No denial.
Just silence.
Yamato's brow tightened slightly.
"…Command, respond."
Behind him, one of the operatives spoke in a lower voice. "…Comms might be down."
"No," Yamato said immediately.
His eyes hardened, still fixed ahead.
"They're receiving us."
Another explosion rocked the area, closer this time. Debris rained down, forcing several operatives to stagger as they shielded themselves.
"Then why the hell aren't they answering?" someone snapped.
Yamato didn't respond. He didn't need to.
Because he already understood what that silence could mean—and none of the possibilities were good.
He tried again.
"…Command. Situation escalating to critical. Civilian casualties confirmed. Repeat—civilian casualties confirmed."
His grip on the comm tightened slightly.
"…If authorization is not granted, we will be forced to act independently."
The words left his mouth—but something about the moment shifted.
Subtle at first. Barely noticeable. But unmistakable.
The air changed.
Every operative felt it.
"…Did you feel that?" one of them whispered.
The smoke stopped Completely.
No movement. No shifting. No sound.
For the first time since they had arrived, it was perfectly still.
And somehow, that was worse.
The stillness pressed down on them, heavy and suffocating, like the world itself was holding its breath.
Yamato slowly lowered his hand from his ear.
"…All units," he said quietly.
His voice carried more weight now.
"Hold your positions."
No one argued.
No one moved.
Even the activity behind them—evacuation teams, support units—began to slow, people pausing instinctively as the tension spread.
Something was coming. Something worse.
Yamato's eyes narrowed slightly, his focus unwavering.
"…Whatever that is," he said under his breath, "it's not trying to escape."
He took a slow breath.
"…It's watching us."
Silence settled again, thicker than before.
Then a faint glow appeared.
Deep within the smoke.
Purple.
At first, it was dim. Easy to miss.
Then it grew brighter.
Closer.
Yamato's voice dropped, just enough for those nearest to hear.
"…Contact."
Haruto kept running, pushing himself forward with everything he had—but it wasn't enough. His breath came out uneven and ragged, each inhale burning his chest as if something inside was tearing apart. Every step sent a dull jolt through his body, the pain stacking until it became a constant, suffocating weight he couldn't ignore.
"…Damn it…"
His legs felt heavier than they should have, slower, unresponsive in a way that made his frustration spike. On any other day, this distance would've been nothing to him. He could've crossed it in ten minutes without breaking a sweat—cutting through alleys, leaping across rooftops, scaling walls most people wouldn't even consider. But now, his body refused to cooperate. Every movement dragged just slightly, his balance felt off, and his strength wasn't where it should be.
He didn't need to think hard to know why.
"Of all days…" he muttered under his breath, irritation slipping through despite the fear clawing at his thoughts.
He shoved himself forward anyway, grabbing the edge of a low wall and pulling himself up. His arms trembled under the strain, but he forced past it, swinging over and landing on the other side without stopping. There was no time to hesitate, no room to slow down—not now.
Because the image of the smoke wouldn't leave his mind.
Thick. Black. Rising from one place.
"The outskirts…"
His chest tightened painfully.
"Mom… Reina…"
The names caught in his throat as he clenched his teeth and pushed harder, ignoring the protests of his body, ignoring the burning in his lungs. He vaulted over a broken fence, his foot barely catching the top and throwing him off balance for a split second before he stumbled forward and regained his footing.
*Please… just be okay…*
People were rushing past him now, moving in the opposite direction. Panic spread through the streets like wildfire.
"Move!"
"Get out of the way!"
Someone slammed into his shoulder as they passed, nearly knocking him off course. The man didn't stop, his face pale with fear.
"There's something there—don't go that way!"
Haruto didn't even slow down.
He couldn't.
"…Sorry," he muttered out of habit, even though the man was already gone.
Turning sharply into a narrow alley, he sprinted toward a stack of crates and jumped, planting his foot against the wood to launch himself upward. His fingers caught the edge of a rooftop, and he pulled himself up with a strained breath, his arms shaking under the effort.
"…Come on…"
He dragged himself onto the roof and immediately kept moving, his pace uneven but determined. From up there, he could see more clearly.
The smoke had spread.
Flames flickered between damaged buildings, swallowing parts of the outskirts.
And in the distance—flashes of light.
"…They're already fighting…"
His eyes narrowed as he ran along the rooftop's edge. That alone told him everything he needed to know.
This wasn't something small.
He leapt across the gap between buildings, landing harder than before. His knees buckled slightly on impact, pain shooting up his legs, but he forced himself upright and kept going. His breathing grew louder, faster, each breath harder to pull in than the last.
"Come on…"
His body felt like it was falling apart—but his mind refused to stop racing.
*What if I'm too late?*
*What if I'm something happened to them?*
The thought hit him like a blow to the chest.
He shook his head immediately, as if he could physically throw it away.
"No…"
Another step. Another jump.
"No—they're fine…"
His voice came out uneven now, barely steady.
"They have to be…"
He pushed himself faster, ignoring everything else.
*Nothing's going to happen to them.*
Even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it wasn't certain.
But he didn't let himself stop.
The closer he got, the louder everything became—the crackling of flames, the distant echoes of destruction, the rising chaos pulling him forward whether he was ready or not.
Explosions echoed through the air, one after another, followed by the deafening crashes of collapsing structures. Somewhere in the distance, something massive tore through buildings like they were nothing, the sound raw and violent, carrying far beyond the smoke.
Haruto landed hard on another rooftop, his feet skidding slightly against the surface before he caught himself just at the edge. For a split second, his body tensed—then he looked up.
And froze.
Because now… he could see it.
Not clearly. Not completely. The smoke still swallowed most of its form, twisting and shifting as the destruction continued. But there was no mistaking it anymore.
Something huge was moving inside it.
Too huge.
Too aggressive.
Each movement sent shockwaves through the surrounding structures, as if the city itself was struggling to endure its presence. Flashes of Zenthrai energy flickered around the shape, striking again and again—but it didn't slow down. If anything, it kept pushing forward, relentless.
Haruto felt his breath catch.
"…What is that…?"
For a brief moment, hesitation crept in. Not fear exactly—but something close. The kind that makes your body pause before your mind can catch up.
That thing… isn't normal.
His fists tightened slowly at his sides.
"…No."
The doubt didn't last.
His jaw set, eyes sharpening as something steadier took over.
"I'm not stopping."
Before he could think any further—before hesitation had a chance to return—he moved.
He stepped forward and launched himself off the rooftop without looking back, diving straight toward the chaos below.