"
"Haruto! Wake up!"
"Rei? Tatsuya?" Haruto called out, his voice barely more than a whisper in the silence.
"I'm here…" he tried again, but no one seemed to hear him.
It was then that Haruto realized he wasn't truly there. He couldn't feel his own body—he wasn't in his body. Instead, he felt himself floating, watching from above as his friends huddled around his limp form, their faces etched with worry and grief. A chill settled over him, sinking deep into his bones. He had never felt so helpless.
Haruto blinked.
When he opened his eyes, everything had changed. His body now floated in a sterile, lab-like room, suspended in a cylindrical tank filled with a thick, greenish liquid. Wires and tubes connected to him like some grotesque lifeline. Monitors and machinery surrounded him, casting an eerie, fluorescent glow across the room. It was surreal, more like a nightmare than reality.
He blinked again, and the scene shifted once more. Now, he lay strapped to a table, a thick tube drawing blood from his arm. Two figures, their faces hidden beneath dark hoods and gas masks, hovered over him. They wore red gloves that moved with cold, clinical precision. Their silence, interrupted only by the soft hum of machinery, made the moment even more chilling.
And then, once more, Haruto blinked.
This time, he was back inside his own body, submerged in that strange liquid. Panic seized him as he realized he could move. Desperately, he slammed his fists against the glass, over and over, his mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion. He didn't know how, but he needed to get out.
Crack.
A hairline fracture snaked across the glass. Then, with a deafening shatter, the tank burst open, spilling him out onto the cold, unforgiving ground. Haruto gasped, drawing in air for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Trembling, he pushed himself up, dazed, his senses overloaded as he tried to take in his surroundings.
Looking down at himself, he was shocked—his body was unchanged. No signs of time passing, no growth, no scars. It was as though he hadn't aged a day. His hair was exactly as he remembered it, short and unruly. How long… how long had he been asleep?
A filthy, tattered robe lay over a nearby metal drawer, and he pulled it around himself, shivering as much from the cold as from the fear tightening in his chest. He stumbled toward a door, catching himself on the handle to avoid falling.
With a shaky breath, Haruto turned the handle and opened the door, stepping into a dimly lit room filled with debris, broken equipment, and scattered papers. A single, ancient computer sat on a desk, its screen flickering faintly in the shadows. Desperate for answers, Haruto powered it on, hoping for any clue about where he was or what had happened to him.
A document appeared on the screen—an old diary entry. Haruto's eyes scanned the words, his pulse quickening with every line:
"The human race… is nearing its end. These things just appeared one day, their only goal to colonize, to claim the world as their own. They've pushed us to the brink of extinction."
"But I believe this young man could be the key."
"We must understand how his body never ages, how he resists all physical damage. The secrets to human survival could lie within him…"
– Dr. Yusuke
Haruto's heart pounded against his ribs. "Wait… how long have I been asleep?" he whispered, his voice barely holding together.
Frantically, he opened the browser, his fingers trembling as he checked the date.
October 8, 2997.
The air left his lungs. Haruto sank to his knees, his mind struggling to process the impossible truth: Nine hundred years had passed.
"Nine hundred… that's impossible," he murmured, tears filling his eyes. "Mom… Dad… Ren…" His voice cracked, his hands gripping the cold floor as reality sank in.
And Tatsuya. Rei.
Everyone he'd ever known, everyone he'd ever loved—gone, lost to a time he could never return to. Every memory of his old life now felt as distant as a fading dream.
"What am I supposed to do now?" he whispered, his voice barely audible in the emptiness around him.
A raw ache settled in his chest, the weight of everything he'd lost pressing down on him. But as he sat there, he knew he couldn't stay here, paralyzed by sorrow. This new world, changed beyond recognition, needed answers—and somehow, it seemed he was part of them.
"They wouldn't want me to die meaninglessly… not to spend my whole life sobbing like a helpless loser with no hope," he muttered to himself, summoning a spark of determination.
It was then Haruto spotted a ladder in the corner of the room, faint light filtering down from somewhere above.
With no other choice, Haruto grabbed hold of the rungs, climbing slowly, the metal cold against his hands. After what felt like an eternity, he finally reached the top, pulling himself up and out of the dark chamber.
A cold breeze struck his face, sharp and unfamiliar, and he squinted against the blinding sunlight that flooded his vision. For the first time in 900 years, Haruto inhaled the crisp, fresh air.
Relieved, he fully climbed out, standing upright and taking in the world around him.
"What… what is this?" he murmured, eyes wide with shock.
Where he had once been underground in a city, he was now in a desolate wasteland. Buildings lay in ruin, twisted and broken. Rubble littered the streets, and skeletal remnants of skyscrapers jutted into the sky like jagged bones.
The world he'd once known was gone, replaced by a world he didn't recognize—one ravaged by time, conflict, and unimaginable change.