Chapter 39 Calm Skies and a Relaxing Flight to the End of the World

The impact was deafening, the crystal creature vanishing under the weight of the massive slabs. The force was brutal—its body shattered instantly, shards of it exploding outward, bouncing off the crumbling walls like bullets. But there was no time to celebrate. The ceiling cracked wider, the whole building letting out a terrible, final groan, the sound of hundreds of tons of collapsing steel and stone preparing to give in.

Jacob’s eyes snapped to Makiko—

And she was just there, frozen, wide-eyed, staring up at the incoming avalanche of death.

"LOOK OUT—!"

His voice barely made it.

Then the building caved in. It came all at once, everything crashing down in a violent tidal wave of stone, dust, and screaming metal. The roar of destruction drowned out everything else. Jacob lunged, reaching for Makiko, but—

Darkness swallowed them whole.

The helicopter cut through the sky, its rotors slicing through the thick, gray clouds that hung over the devastated landscape below. Inside, the atmosphere was heavy with tension and unspoken grief. Ichiban sat in the co-pilot’s seat, her empty stare fixed on the horizon. Akarui, his hands steady on the controls, kept his eyes forward, his mind a whirlwind of sadness. Shachiku sat in the back, clutching his briefcase like a drowning man clinging to a piece of wood.

Shujinko broke the silence. His voice was shaky, filled with a mix of anger and confusion.

“Professor Ichiban… why are they after us? We’ve done nothing wrong to them! This isn’t right. This makes no sense. We only want to save the world, save people—save them too! Why are they trying to kill you and take the cure you made? Makiko… and so many others… they’re dead because of them! Why is this happening? Why can’t we just talk and team up to save the world?”

Ichiban didn’t turn to look at him. Her gaze remained fixed on the horizon, her voice calm but hollow, as if she were speaking from somewhere far away.

“They don’t want to cure this planet, Shujinko. They don’t need the cure that cleans this world of the filth that crawls on it. They’re trying to steal it, to weaponize it, to use it against us. Kaiju said they have a cure, but it’s a lie. Their ‘cure’ won’t save anyone. It will only let the planet rot away, while they profit from it. But I… I have created a true cure. A cure that will save us. It will take several months to spread, and there will be casualties… but it’s inevitable.”

Shachiku, who had been silent until now, spoke up. His voice was low, dripping with bitterness.

“It’s that damn rich bastard, Eel Schmuck. He and his space program… he wants to get all the resources the government can give him to hasten his planet colonization project. This whole mess? It’s just a means to an end for him.”

Akarui, his eyes still on the controls, frowned.

“Why would he want that? This is insane. People are dying. The world is falling apart. How can anyone think about colonizing other planets when this one is on fire?”

Shachiku’s grip on his briefcase tightened.

“Because he’s a rich bastard who can have everything. Money, women, fame, precious things… everything. And when a man has it all, he gets bored. All rich bastards are like this. The more they have, the more unreasonable they become. They don’t care about simple people like us. They wage wars just for fun—not because there’s a need or a reason, but to get some excitement. Because they have everything, and they need a bit of elation to feel alive. I hate them. I hate them so much. And I can totally see Eel Schmuck behind this whole mess. The cure? I bet he stole it just to mock simple men, working men, commoners like us. To show us that no matter what we do, we’re just pawns in his game.”

The cabin fell silent, the weight of Shachiku’s words settling over. Shujinko stared at the vial in his hands, the shining liquid and yellow crystals inside seeming to pulse with a life of their own.

“So… what do we do? If they’re after us, if they’re willing to kill to stop us… how do we even get this to the ocean?”

Ichiban finally turned her head, her gaze meeting Shujinko’s. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—resolve, perhaps, or maybe just exhaustion.

“We don’t stop. No matter what happens, we don’t stop. This cure… it’s the only hope we have. If we fail, we die. If we succeed… we live. That’s all we can do.”

Akarui’s voice cut through the tension, his tone laced with anger.

“Then we get this cure to the ocean, no matter what. For my brother. For my father. For Makiko. For everyone who’s already died because of this mess. We don’t let them win.”

Shachiku nodded, his grip on his briefcase loosening slightly.

“For once, I agree with you, kid. We don’t let them win.”

Ichiban took her gaze away from the horizon and asked, "How long until we reach the ocean? I have noticed that we are flying slower than we should. Is there a problem?"

Akarui barely spared her a glance, too focused on the controls in front of him. His fingers were tight on the cyclic stick, his eyes darting between the gauges. There was a hint of frustration in his tone as he answered.

"Yeah, I was wondering about that too. I’ve been pushing this thing at full throttle, but we’re not getting the speed we should."

He let out a breath, his expression twisting into something between irritation and concern.

"I think something got messed up when those damn crystal vines started throwing buildings around like pebbles. We’re lucky they didn’t smash this thing."

Akarui tapped the dashboard, glancing at the flickering parameters on the screen.

"Engine’s holding. No warning signs on the dash. No critical failures. As far as the system is concerned, we should be going full speed—but we’re not."

He gritted his teeth, adjusting the throttle to no effect.

"I don’t think we’ll crash, though. At this rate, we’ll hit the coastline in about an hour or so."

Shujinko exhaled, relieved.

"At least there’s that."

But Ichiban? Ichiban whispered something to herself. So soft. So quiet.

"An hour… Good. Very good. Just in time."

She continued staring at the horizon, her gaze empty and infinite, as if watching something only she could see.

An hour later, the horizon finally split open to reveal the distant blue of the ocean and a small, weathered bay dotted with humble docks. For a brief, desperate moment, a flicker of hope sparked in the cramped helicopter. They were nearly there—until trouble struck from behind.

Warning shots whistled past, slicing through the air like deadly shrapnel. In the blink of an eye, a menacing chopper materialized from the haze. Its rotor blades churned the air into violent gusts as it closed in fast. A grating, amplified voice boomed from a megaphone fixed to its side, unmistakably the voice of Kaiju.

"You damn fools! Where do you think you're taking that thing? Land now and surrender the compound! Or we’ll shoot you down and take it from your cold, pathetic hands! I’m giving you one last warning—if I don’t see you landing by the time I count to ten, we will open fire!"

And then—the count began.

"One. Two. Three."

Shachiku’s grip on his briefcase tightened. Akarui clenched his teeth, fingers gripping the cyclic tightly, sweat dripping down his temple.

"Four. Five."

Shujinko’s hands shook, his mind racing, heart pounding in his chest.

 And then—

Ichiban moved. 

Her head snapped toward Akarui, her eyes cold and alien. Before anyone could react, she lunged, her fingers clamping onto the cyclic stick with unnatural strength.

"What the hell—?!" Akarui barely had time to yelp before she wrenched the controls out of his grasp.

 The helicopter swung violently to the side. The ocean below tilted, the horizon spinning as the craft veered hard.

Kaiju’s voice stammered.

"Six—wait—what the—?! Oh shit—!"

The two helicopters collided with a shriek of tearing steel, rotor blades slicing through the hull of Kaiju’s craft like a saw through flesh. Sparks EXPLODED inside as the spinning rotors hacked through the body of the helicopter, sending shrapnel screaming through the air, tearing through seats, flesh, and bone. The pilot barely had time to scream before shard of rotor blade punched through the cockpit like a harpoon, impaling him in the chest.

Blood splattered across the controls. The co-pilot didn’t even get that much time—a chunk of metal ripped through his skull, brain matter spraying across the shattered windshield. Inside the carnage—Conor moved on instinct.

"DOWN!"

With a soldier’s reflexes, he grabbed Kaiju by the collar and yanked him to the floor just as propeller blade speared through the cabin, punching through the seat where Kaiju had been sitting not even a second ago.

"OH SHIT—!"