Chapter 87: The Shifting Tides
In the heart of Chicago, chaos erupted like a tempest unleashed. A cacophony of shrieks and frantic footsteps filled the streets as news of the impending catastrophe spread through the city. For many, the alarming broadcast was nothing more than an unheeded warning, a distant rumble amid the city's usual clamor. But for those who had heard the chilling message, a palpable sense of dread hung in the air.
The city's arteries, once bustling with the rhythm of daily life, became choked with desperation. Cars, once sleek and efficient, now stood in gridlock, their drivers' faces masks of panic and confusion. People spilled out of their homes and offices, some with terrified urgency, others in a daze, struggling to comprehend the gravity of the situation.
As the clock struck 13:23, the missile's descent seemed almost like a cruel inevitability. The city, resilient through countless trials—wars, invasions by beings beyond human comprehension, and cataclysmic battles between inhumans and those they referred to as "source-user's"—had weathered the storms of history. Yet, this time, it was as if fate had chosen to deliver its final blow.
But amid the chaos, a miracle unfolded.
At exactly 13:23.0000001, as if guided by the hand of destiny itself, every resident of Chicago was whisked away from the path of destruction. In the blink of an eye, the entire population—men, women, children, pets, and even the city's denizens, all materialized upon an island far from the obliteration. The speed of their relocation was almost imperceptible, a fraction shy of the speed of light.
Perched upon a nearby mountain, a solitary figure stood resolute. The woman's white hair flowed with the wind, a stark contrast against the turbulent sky. Her red lips curled into a smirk, her violet eyes fixated on the explosion below. With a casual motion, she slid her hands into her pockets, observing the devastation with an air of detached satisfaction.
This Is Raksha, ｢The monarch of motion｣.
Her reputation as the fastest being alive was not a mere boast but a testament to her extraordinary power. Raksha was the linchpin that had ensured the survival of Chicago's inhabitants. She held the head of an inhuman in her grasp, treating it as one might a trivial artifact. To her, the inhuman was inconsequential, a symbol of the frailty of those who challenged her supremacy.
"As you arrived in this world," Raksha murmured to the severed head, "the world cried out. But when I came, the world sang." Her voice was a whisper imbued with a chilling certainty. "I am absolute. No matter what, you shall not cause harm, for I am born."
The scene shifted from the devastation in Chicago to the more serene setting of a house where Ren and his friends prepared to depart. The group had been enjoying a time of respite and camaraderie, but now, as they gathered their belongings, the reality of their imminent departure loomed.
Ren emerged from the bathroom, greeted by the sight of his friends ready to leave. Yuuki, with his trademark nonchalance, was busying himself with his bag. "Yo Ren, ready to leave?" he asked, his voice casual but filled with an underlying warmth.
Ren nodded, grabbing his phone. "Yup. Let's go."
Yuuki's light-heartedness masked the sincerity of his words. "Thanks for letting us stay for such a long time. And sorry for being a burden, hehe." His small laugh was meant to keep the atmosphere buoyant, masking the genuine gratitude he felt.
Myushi, his gaze fixed elsewhere, responded with a simple, "Don't mind."
Mikage, ever the mediator, chimed in, his attempt at a smile looking somewhat forced. "What he wants to say is 'please come more frequently and don't say stuff like that.'"
Haruto's curiosity was piqued. "You guys are gonna stay?" he asked, eyeing the group.
Mikage's face bore a thankful smile as he spoke. "With the advice we got from all of you, we felt like we really needed to apply it, so we will stay behind
Rentaro's face bore a thankful smile as he spoke. "With the advice we got from all of you, we felt like we really needed to apply it, so we will stay behind and do some study." He looked around at his friends, their expressions mirroring his resolve.
"It wasn't anything," Yuuki said with a dismissive wave. "All we did was give some advice and that's it. Also, it's thanks to Ren we were able to convey what we wanted to. So all the credit goes to him."
"Diverting all the attention towards me so that you can escape is quite a clever move," Ren replied with a playful smirk. "But it was because of your knowledge that I had something to convey in the first place."
"Ren, you traitor!" Yuuki exclaimed in mock anger, pretending to lunge at Ren. Namakemono, with a grin, grabbed Yuuki by the shoulders, holding him back. "Hold me, Namak, or else I will destroy this traitor!" Yuuki screamed.
The playful banter brought a burst of laughter from the group. Their camaraderie was palpable, a bond forged through shared experiences and mutual respect.
"We will take our leave," Haruto said with a nod. "Thanks for everything, especially the snacks, and sorry for not helping with anything."
"Don't worry about it," Okabe said with genuine appreciation. "That advice on how to fix our writing style really helped in this short time."
"Again, thank you for everything," mikage said, bowing slightly. Kagami, Rentaro, Okabe, Myushi, and Keitaro followed suit, their bows a gesture of respect and gratitude.
"Please, raise your heads," Ren said, his tone warm. As the group did so, they found themselves in a surprising reversal of roles; now the students of Roward bowed their heads in return.
"Thank you for your service," the Roward students said in unison, their voices echoing the sentiment of mutual appreciation.
"It's nothing!" Myushi stammered, his face reddening slightly as he tried to dismiss the praise. The others smiled, their shared understanding of the situation evident in their expressions.
"Keitaro..." Rentaro urged his friend with a gentle nudge. Keitaro, who had been standing at the edge of the group, hesitated before stepping forward. His expression was earnest as he faced Ren.
"Sorry for what I did," Keitaro said, his voice tinged with sincerity. "I shouldn't have acted like that."
Ren's response was a calm smile. "It's no problem, and don't worry about it. We are friends, aren't we?"
Keitaro nodded, his smile widening. The warmth in his eyes reflected a newfound sense of camaraderie. The Roward students began to file out of the house, their departure marked by the bonds of friendship that had formed despite their initial reservations.
Outside, the rain had started to fall, a gentle patter that contrasted with the chaos of their departure. The boys huddled together, trying to keep warm, their breaths visible in the cool air. Ren, being the last to leave the house, closed the door behind him and stepped into the encroaching darkness.
The rain blurred the city's lights into a muted, spectral haze, casting a pall over the streets and drowning them in a dismal glow. Ren walked alone, the weight of recent events and the fleeting moments of his existential crisis pressing heavily on his shoulders. The streets were eerily empty, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy that had briefly enlivened them. The echoes of laughter and conversation now seemed like distant ghosts, haunting the quiet solitude.
As Ren moved through the rain-soaked streets, a profound sense of isolation settled over him. The time spent with friends had offered a brief reprieve, a fleeting glimpse of warmth and connection that now seemed painfully distant. The bonds formed, the advice given, and the mutual respect shared felt like fragile illusions in the face of an overwhelming, unspoken emptiness.
There was an unsettling void that gnawed at him—a disconnect that he couldn't quite place. The city, once a lively tapestry of human interaction, had become a desolate landscape under the relentless rain. Its silence seemed to reflect an inner coldness that only Ren seemed to perceive, a quiet that swallowed the remnants of the day's fleeting joy.
Each step Ren took was weighed down by the burden of the day's events, each footfall a reminder of the ephemeral nature of human connections. The people who had touched his life, the friendships that had briefly illuminated his path, all seemed like distant memories fading into the encroaching darkness.
The rain continued its relentless descent, each drop a monotonous percussion against the pavement, underscoring the world's indifferent progression. Ren felt the cold seep into his bones as he embraced the oppressive quietude. The night's darkness wrapped around him like a heavy shroud, starkly contrasting with the fleeting warmth of his recent interactions.
In the suffocating silence of the rain, as the city lay in its somber slumber, the echoes of laughter dissolved into nothingness. Ren came to a melancholy realization that while the world moved on, the connections he had made were fading, overshadowed by an unyielding sense of solitude. The bonds of friendship, once a beacon of hope, now seemed like distant flickers in the vast, unchanging expanse of life's relentless march.