The day had been long, grueling even, but somehow, we managed to push through. We had left without much preparation yesterday, caught off guard by the sudden need to escape. Now, sitting in the Hybrid Beast, fully equipped with our new gear, there was a sense of security—albeit fragile—hanging in the air.
But it was clear to all of us: this gear, no matter how advanced, could only do so much. We were still just ordinary humans, with no special abilities to combat the Abyssal Creatures that roamed the world outside. Our equipment was more of a shield against the dangers that lurked among men—those who had lost all sense of morality in the chaos that had followed the emergence of the Rifts. The world had become a darker, more violent place, and the only way to survive was to prepare for the worst.
I sat in the lounge area, casting a glance around the cabin. The earlier lightheartedness, the small, hopeful exchanges, had faded into a heavy silence. The hum of the APC was the only sound filling the room, a constant reminder of the journey ahead. The others sat quietly, each lost in their own thoughts, likely consumed by the same doubts that weighed on me.
The Patrol Base, our only hope of safety, was an enigma. Had they managed to fend off the Abyssal Creatures, or had it fallen, leaving nothing but ruins and memories? There was no way of knowing. Shiori had been trying to get information all morning, but the comms were dead, and it seemed that more Rifts had opened up, drawing the Citadel's forces away from rescue operations. The Citadel had its priorities—self-preservation above all else—so we were on our own.
Despite everything, there was a flicker of hope among us. Haruto, Edward, and Shiori had been with the Patrol Base the longest, and I knew they felt a crushing guilt for saving themselves while others might be fighting for their lives. Lana and Amira were newer recruits, but I could tell they were also worried, likely thinking of the friends they had made during their short time there.
My thoughts were interrupted when I noticed Shiori glancing at me. Our eyes met for a brief moment before she quickly looked away, focusing back on the road ahead. I could tell our previous conversation was still on her mind, but she refrained from saying anything more, likely sensing that now wasn't the time. It was a small relief for me, though. I had lied for the sake of survival, and there were things I knew about her that could shatter the fragile trust Haruto and the others had in this mission.
I shifted slightly in my seat, adjusting the sleek, black combat suit that hugged my body. The material was advanced, a blend of carbon nanotubes and reinforced polymers, designed to be both durable and flexible. The spell-tech coating it was treated with could absorb kinetic energy, adding an extra layer of protection. It fit snugly, moving with my body as I breathed, and the high collar shielded my neck from any stray debris. The intricate geometric patterns woven into the fabric offered low-light visibility, a subtle glow that would only be visible to us.
The others were dressed in similar suits, and I couldn't help but notice how they accentuated the curves of Lana and Amira's bodies while still being functional. Their suits were designed with the same integrated gloves and boots, ensuring complete coverage, and the micro-weave technology inside kept the temperature just right. The HUD interface built into the suits provided real-time data on our surroundings, making us feel like we were part of a science fiction movie—except this was all too real.
We drove in silence until we reached the outskirts of Hirosaki. The dense city loomed ahead, its towering buildings casting long shadows in the early morning light. The tension in the cabin was palpable.
"We're here," Haruto announced, his voice cutting through the stillness of the cabin. The tension that had settled over us during the drive seemed to tighten as the words left his mouth.
Shiori, who had been quietly studying the map, lifted her gaze to the horizon where the city of Hirosaki lay in wait. Her brow furrowed in concentration. "Don't enter the city," she said, her tone firm but calm. "We don't know what's hiding in there. Just follow the route I made."
Haruto nodded, a silent agreement, and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. The APC rumbled forward, its heavy tires crunching over the uneven terrain. The vehicle's interior fell back into an uneasy silence, the kind that makes every sound seem amplified. The hum of the engine, the soft clinking of gear shifting, even our own breathing seemed louder in the confined space.
I glanced at Shiori, who was now leaning forward in her seat, eyes glued to the monitor displaying the route she had meticulously planned. Her fingers hovered over the controls, ready to adjust our course at the first sign of danger. The dim glow of the screen cast shadows on her face, highlighting the tension in her features. She was focused, almost too much so, and I could tell the weight of our safety rested heavily on her shoulders.
"Any signs of movement?" Lana's voice was a quiet murmur from the back, as if she didn't want to break the delicate silence more than necessary.
Shiori shook her head slightly, her eyes still on the screen. "Nothing so far. But that doesn't mean we're in the clear. Keep your eyes peeled."
We all did as she instructed, our gazes flicking between the shadows that loomed around us outside the APC. The city ahead was dark, the buildings standing like silent sentinels against the night sky. I could feel the tension in the air, a palpable thing that made my muscles tighten, my senses heighten. The quiet was unnerving, the kind that felt like it could be shattered at any moment by something lurking just out of sight.
As the APC trundled along the narrow road, I couldn't help but notice the way Haruto's knuckles had whitened around the steering wheel. He was trying to keep his cool, but I knew him well enough to sense the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. It wasn't fear exactly, but the kind of nervous energy that comes when you know things could go wrong at any moment.
"Haruto," I said, keeping my voice low and steady. "How are you holding up?"
He shot me a quick glance, a flash of something uncertain in his eyes before he looked back at the road. "I'm fine," he replied, though the tightness in his voice suggested otherwise. "Just… trying not to screw this up, you know?"
"You're doing fine," I reassured him, leaning back in my seat. "Just keep following Shiori's directions. We'll get through this."
Haruto nodded again, and I could see him relax, if only slightly.
Amira, who had been sitting quietly beside Lana, shifted in her seat. "How much farther do we have to go before we're clear of the city?"
"Not much," Shiori replied without looking up. "Another few kilometers, and we'll be out of the urban area. But that's where things might get tricky. The terrain gets rough, and there's less cover. We'll be more exposed."
"Great," Amira muttered under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest. "Just what we need."
"Better than running into whatever's in there," Lana added, nodding toward the darkened cityscape outside.
Amira sighed, but didn't argue. We all knew Lana was right. The city, with its abandoned streets and crumbling buildings, was a death trap waiting to be sprung. Out here, at least, we had a fighting chance.
The APC hit a rough large patch of road, jolting us all in our seats. Haruto cursed under his breath, wrestling with the controls to keep the vehicle steady. The road ahead twisted and turned, the path growing narrower and more treacherous with each passing kilometer.
"Take it slow," Shiori instructed, her voice steady despite the bumps. "We don't want to rush and end up stuck or worse."
"I'm trying," Haruto grunted, his focus razor-sharp on the road ahead.
I could see the strain on his face, the way his jaw clenched as he maneuvered the APC over the rugged terrain. This wasn't just about getting from point A to point B; it was about survival. And Haruto knew it as well as any of us.
"Just a little farther," Shiori murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. "We're almost there."
We all held our breath, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The city's edge was just ahead, where the buildings thinned out and gave way to open fields and dense forest. It was our ticket out, but also a potential gateway to a different kind of danger. The unknown.
As we crossed the city limits, the APC creaked and groaned under the strain, but Haruto kept it steady. The terrain opened up before us, the road giving way to gravel and dirt, with patches of grass and weeds reclaiming what man had once tamed. The relief in the cabin was almost palpable, but it was tinged with an underlying wariness.
"We're clear," Shiori announced, exhaling a breath she must have been holding for some time. "For now, anyway."
"Good job, Haruto," I said, clapping him on the shoulder. He didn't say anything, just nodded, his expression a mix of relief and exhaustion.
"We should still be on alert," Lana cautioned, her eyes scanning the landscape. "We may be out of the city, but we're not out of the woods yet. Literally."
Amira let out a dry chuckle at that, shaking her head. "Never a dull moment with us, huh?"
"Nope," I replied, leaning forward to get a better view of the road ahead. "But that's what keeps life interesting."
"Interesting?" Haruto scoffed, though there was a hint of a smile on his face. "That's one way to put it."
We continued on, the APC moving steadily through the rough terrain. The silence that had descended earlier wasn't as oppressive now, more of a shared understanding than anything else. We were in this together, and that was what mattered. The camaraderie we'd built over the past few weeks was our greatest strength. It was what kept us going, even when the odds seemed insurmountable.
"Let's keep moving," Shiori said, her voice determined. "We've got a long way to go, and who knows what's waiting for us out there."
"It's ready," Edward suddenly said, holding up a small device.
The drone he held was tiny, no larger than a fist, its matte-black surface gleaming in the dim light of the cabin. The design was sleek, almost menacing, and the soft hum of its micro-rotors barely registered above the engine's noise. It was equipped with a high-definition camera and a suite of sensors, allowing it to navigate complex terrains and detect threats before we encountered them.
"Good, let's get that to work," Shiori said, her voice betraying a hint of relief.
"What's that?" Amira asked, her curiosity piqued.
"It's a drone," Lana explained, smiling as she leaned closer to Amira. "It'll help us navigate and spot any dangers up ahead. If there's anything in our path, we'll know about it before we get there."
Edward opened a small hatch on the side of the APC and carefully released the drone. It zipped out, disappearing into the shadows ahead. The APC's system was connected to the drone, allowing it to run on autopilot while feeding data back to us. Shiori adjusted the settings, programming it to scout several kilometers ahead.
"That should do it," Shiori said, her eyes glued to the monitor. "If anything comes up, we'll be notified immediately."
Edward nodded, already moving toward the back of the APC. "I'll assemble the others. We need at least four drones to cover all directions."
Shiori didn't respond, too focused on the data streaming in from the first drone. The rest of us waited, the tension gradually easing as the drones took over some of the burden of vigilance.
* * *
The hours crept by as we navigated the twisting roads that led us closer to Hachinohe. The landscape outside was a desolate blur—abandoned buildings, overgrown roads, and the ever-present shadows that seemed to dance just beyond our line of sight. The drones buzzed ahead, their silent vigilance our only defense against the unseen threats lurking in the dark. We had narrowly escaped disaster more times than I cared to count, each encounter leaving us more on edge than the last.
When we finally reached the outskirts of Hachinohe, the tension in the APC was palpable. Every muscle in my body felt taut, coiled like a spring that had been wound too tight. The others weren't much better off. Haruto's hands had barely left the steering wheel, his knuckles white from gripping it so hard. Lana and Amira sat huddled together on one of the benches, their faces pale and drawn, the color drained from them by the close calls we had experienced.
As the APC rolled to a stop in a relatively safe spot, Amira let out a long, shaky breath and immediately collapsed onto the nearest sofa. The relief in her voice was almost palpable as she muttered, "We made it."
Lana sank down beside her, her body sagging into the cushions as if the very act of holding herself up was too much. "Yeah," she echoed, rubbing her temples as though trying to ward off a headache. "I thought we were done for back there. Those things… just thinking about them makes me sick to my stomach."
The memory of the Abyssal Creatures we had narrowly avoided flashed through my mind—their grotesque forms, the twisted, almost unnatural movements they made as they prowled the ruins. It was hard to believe we had escaped, that we were still alive to talk about it. The sight of them had been enough to send a shiver down my spine, a deep, visceral fear that clung to me even now.
Haruto, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke up, his voice rough with exhaustion. "I know what you mean," he murmured, staring down at his hands. They were trembling slightly, the aftereffects of adrenaline still coursing through his veins. "My hands… they're still shaking."
I could see the way his fingers twitched, as if they were still trying to grip the steering wheel even though the APC had come to a stop. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement, but it spoke volumes about the toll the day had taken on him. Haruto was usually the one who kept his cool, the one who could always find a joke or a smile even in the darkest of times. But today had been different. Today, we had all been pushed to our limits.
Just as Haruto was about to take a deep breath, Shiori's hand darted out, and with a swift, practiced motion, she brought a small wooden stick down on his head. The sound it made— a sharp, almost hollow
Tak!
—echoed through the cabin.
"Ow!" Haruto yelped, rubbing the spot where Shiori had hit him. He shot her a wounded look, more surprised than hurt. "What the hell, Shiori?"
"Don't take your eyes off the road next time," Shiori said, her tone firm but not unkind. She leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes still sharp despite the weariness that clung to her like a second skin. "We can't afford any mistakes out here."
Haruto opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his lips when he saw the expression on her face. She wasn't angry, not really—more like exasperated, a little annoyed that she had to remind him of something so basic. But there was something else there too, something unspoken. Concern, maybe. Or fear. Fear that the next time we wouldn't be so lucky.
"Alright, alright, I get it," Haruto muttered, though there was a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to massage away the tension. "Just chill, okay? I'm doing my best."
Shiori's eyes softened just a fraction, and she nodded, satisfied. "I know you are," she said, her voice quieter now, more resigned. "We all are."
For a moment, the cabin was silent, the only sound the soft hum of the APC's systems as they powered down. The atmosphere had changed, the earlier tension giving way to something else—something warmer, more human. Despite everything we had been through, despite the fear and the exhaustion and the ever-present danger, we were still together. We were still a team.
Lana, who had been watching the exchange with tired eyes, let out a soft chuckle. "You know, Shiori," she said, leaning her head back against the sofa, "you'd make a great drill sergeant. Or maybe a schoolteacher."
Shiori raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Is that so?"
"Yeah," Lana replied, her voice lightening as she teased. "You've got the whole 'stern but caring' thing down. Plus, you're really good at hitting people with sticks."
Haruto let out a snort of laughter at that, and even Amira cracked a smile. The tension in the cabin seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of camaraderie, of shared relief. We had made it through another day, another close call. And for now, that was enough.
I watched the exchange in silence, my eyes flicking between them. On the surface, it was a moment of camaraderie, the kind of lighthearted banter that kept us grounded in the midst of chaos. But beneath it, there was something deeper—a shared understanding of the dangers we faced, and the unspoken fear that this could all go wrong in an instant.
As I sat there, observing them, I felt a strange sense of detachment. I mirrored their reactions, the small smile, the nod of agreement, but inside, there was nothing. No fear, no relief, no sense of camaraderie. Just a hollow emptiness that I'd long since grown accustomed to.
But that was my role here, wasn't it? To blend in, to act the part. They needed someone who could keep it together, someone who could stay calm when everything else was falling apart. And so, that's what I gave them.
The cabin echoed with laughter once again, filling the air with a warm, joyful sound that seemed to seep into every corner of the cozy space. The walls, once silent, now vibrated with the infectious mirth, creating an atmosphere of pure, unfiltered happiness. The tension that had gripped us just moments ago slowly dissipated, replaced by a fleeting sense of normalcy.
But even as I joined in, adding my own quiet chuckle to the mix, that emptiness remained, a cold void at the center of my being. No one noticed, of course. They never did. I made sure of that.