The ruins of the old train station stretched before me like the skeletal remains of a forgotten world.
Cracked pavement sprawled underfoot, weeds clawing through the gaps, their roots intertwining with shards of shattered glass. Rusted train cars stood in solemn silence, their once-polished exteriors now corroded by time and neglect. Faint echoes of a bustling past lingered in the air, like whispers of ghosts refusing to fade.
I leaned heavily against a crumbling wall, struggling to steady my breath. Each inhale burned my lungs, each exhale felt like a fight against the weight pressing down on me. My right arm—damaged from the battle—spat out faint sparks, exposed wires hissing in protest. I clenched my fist, but even that small motion sent a sharp jolt of pain racing through my body.
A few feet away, my fallen opponent lay in a grotesque heap. Its insect-like frame was shattered, razor-sharp appendages bent at unnatural angles. Its iridescent carapace still glowed faintly even in death, casting eerie reflections on the damp concrete. A pool of black ichor seeped from beneath its body, the thick stench of decay clinging to the air.
I exhaled sharply. "Damn it…"
My mechanical core hummed unevenly, a fractured rhythm that mirrored the unease settling in my chest. The silence pressed in—too thick, too unnatural. Even the wind seemed reluctant to stir, as if it feared disturbing something best left undisturbed.
And then, a voice.
"You're not entirely human, are you?"
The words cut through the stillness like a blade.
I jerked my head up, every muscle in my body tensing as I spun toward the source. My glowing blue eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows. Instinct took over—I raised my uninjured arm defensively, bracing myself for another fight.
Then she stepped into the light.
She moved with an effortless grace, her presence both commanding and ghostly. Silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the faint glow of the ruined station. And her eyes—glowing, like mine—held an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.
Metallic plates shimmered beneath the tears in her clothing. The seamless integration of flesh and machinery… she was like me.
"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice sharp, but edged with wariness.
She tilted her head slightly, studying me with unreadable eyes. "Izumi," she replied, her voice smooth—too smooth. There was something unnatural about it, a mechanical undertone laced within her words. "And you?"
I hesitated for a brief second before answering. "Daichi."
Her gaze flickered past me, landing on the lifeless remains of the creature I had just fought. Something shifted in her expression, a shadow of emotion I couldn't quite place.
"Do you know what happened here?" I asked, my voice quieter now. "Where is everyone?"
Izumi's lips pressed into a thin line. She took a slow breath before answering. "Gone."
The word hung in the air like a death sentence.
I felt my stomach tighten. "Gone?"
She nodded, her voice softer this time. "Vanished. Without a trace. But… you already knew that, didn't you?"
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My fingers curled into a fist at my side as a deep, gnawing emptiness settled inside me.
"I…" My voice wavered, and I exhaled shakily. "I don't remember much." My gaze drifted down to my damaged arm, to the flickering sparks dancing along the exposed wires. "I woke up like this. I don't know why… or even who I am anymore."
For the first time, Izumi's expression softened. It wasn't pity—it was something deeper. Understanding.
"Then we're the same."
Her voice was quieter now, almost fragile. She took a cautious step forward, her movements slow, deliberate. "I woke up like this too. Alone. Confused. Searching for answers that never seem to come…"
Something in my chest twisted.
She wasn't lying—I could feel it. That same emptiness, that same quiet desperation mirrored in her voice. For a brief second, it was like staring into my own reflection.
Izumi held my gaze. "Maybe we can find those answers together."
A part of me wanted to pull away. Instinct screamed at me not to trust so easily, not in a world like this.
But another part of me—the part that had spent too long wandering alone, too long fighting battles without a reason—felt something stir at her words.
Hope.
It was dangerous to hope. I knew that better than anyone. But still…
I nodded slowly. "Alright." My voice was steady, but cautious. "Let's find the truth. Together."
A small smile tugged at Izumi's lips, though there was sadness in it, too. She turned, her silver hair catching the faint light. "Then we should move quickly," she said, her tone shifting. "There are worse things out here than the one you just fought."
I cast a glance back at the lifeless creature behind me. Its twisted form looked like something out of a nightmare. My jaw tightened.
"Worse than that?" I muttered under my breath.
Izumi didn't answer. She simply kept walking.
With one last glance at the ruins behind me, I stepped forward.
The sound of our footsteps echoed in the emptiness, the faint hum of our mechanical bodies the only sign of life in the darkened world around us. The ruins of the train station faded into the distance, swallowed by the night.
I stole a glance at Izumi's profile—the glow of her eyes, the quiet determination etched into her features. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't alone.
But even as hope flickered faintly inside me, the weight of unanswered questions loomed overhead like an impending storm.
Who was Izumi?
What had happened to the world?
And… when we finally found the truth, would it bring salvation?
Or something far, far worse?
The wind carried with it the lonely echoes of a forgotten past. And as the darkness stretched out before us, I realized—
This was only the beginning.