The Mammoth's Last Cry

[Opening Scene: Voice of Sam]
“They say the truth will set you free. In my case, it got me chained up in an old, square room—with no windows, no clock, just the steady drip of rusted silence.”

Flickering light bulb swinging gently above Sam, blindfolded, sitting on a corroded metal chair. The chamber is silent except for distant echoes of water and wind. Chains clink softly as she shifts.
Sam:
“Don’t get me wrong—this isn’t a sob story. I’m proud of what I did. Proud that I saw the mission through… even if it left me here, alone, wired shut. That’s part of what it means to be 'Unwired.'”

Her lips looks like thirsty. Heads up then slowly nods down. Voice over inside her head continues.
Sam:
“While you imagine this cell they’ve left me in, let me take you back. Just a little. To the cold morning when everything was set into motion…”

[Flashback ― One Day Before the Warehouse Infiltration]
Morning light. Steam rises from a mug of black coffee. Sam is in her purple hoodie, staring at the Toyohashi skyline. Ere appears quietly at her door—tired, concerned, but focused.
Ere:
“Sam, I had a dream last night. But this wasn’t just a dream—it was a warning.”
Sam (tilting her head):
“About what?”
Ere (pulling a card from his pocket):
“Judith’s going to send a vision. But not the real kind. It’ll come through this.”
(Holds up a black calling card with a red sharp ‘#’ then vanish)
“If the symbol’s red—not silver—it’s fake. Manufactured to poison your thoughts. She wants you angry. Especially at me.”
Sam:
“I am expecting that Judith will plan her evil thoughts as precise as she can."
Ere:
“I saw it all. The exact time. The twist she’s planning. I won’t let her use you.”
Sam (softly):
“And what will you do?”
Ere (gently):
"The dream I saw… it wasn’t conjured by a black calling card." Walks a little. Then locked on Sam's eyes. "I know that means judgment awaits me. But if it means sparing you from stepping into her illusion—then let the consequences fall on me. I’ll carry your fate in exchange."

[Flashback fades ― Back to the chamber]
Sam:
“That morning, Ere made a choice. One only someone with a heart like his could make. He let them capture him in the Mirror Realm… so I could break free from the lie.”

[Another Flashback ― Yoshida Castle under Full Moon]
A quiet breeze. Sam and Ere, sitting on opposite ends of a narrow stone bench. They’re not talking—yet. Sam stares at the moon. Ere holds a worn sketchbook of mirror symbols.
Ere (softly):
“I saw it in a dream again. The red sharp symbol. Not silver. Not real.”
Sam (still staring ahead):
“She thinks I’m fragile. That I’ll explode and burn everything.”
Ere:
“Then let her see fire.”
Sam (turning to him):
“And ashes.”

Ere slides the sketchbook over. Inside is a diagram: a performance of betrayal, emotional rage, separation… all acted.

Ere:
“You’ll capture me. Curse me. Even cry.”
Sam:
“I won’t need to fake the tears.”
Ere (smiles faintly):
“Good. Truth layered in lies always stings deeper.”
Sam (whispers):
“Will it be enough to fool Judith?”
Ere:
“She’s always believed in her own genius. We’ll let her. Let her pull the strings. And then…”
Sam (finishes):
“…we cut them.”

[Flashback fades]
A faint buzzing hum fills the air. The walls sweat with moisture. The single hanging lightbulb swings slightly above a corroded metal chair. Sam sits motionless, blindfolded, wrists loosely bound. Her breathing is steady. Her voice, internal, cuts through the stillness.

Sam:
“We almost won an award for that performance. If they gave Grammys for deception, Ere and I would’ve swept every category.”

A brief pause. The light flickers.
Sam:
"We thought we had them fooled. Ikir copied Ere’s face and body. We rigged the setup perfectly. The fake capture. The emotional bait. Five 'Vietnamese footsoldiers'—stoic, in formation. They surrounded the fake Ere. One of them tilts his head, sniffing. We didn’t know was that Romals—despite changing their faces—can still smell each other. The lead soldier squints, eyes narrowing. He leans closer to the fake Ere, sniffs again. His expression tightens. A silent signal—two fingers twitch. Suddenly, chaos erupts. The fake Ere lunges, but it’s too late. The Romals move fast—unleashing electric rods and black cable snares. They knew. One of them recognized the other as kin—another Romal in disguise. The betrayal we staged got intercepted by the betrayal we never planned.”

A distant metallic clank echoes. Footsteps. Three sets—measured, deliberate. A heavy door groans open, letting in a sliver of fluorescent blue light from the hallway beyond. The guards drag in a second prisoner, place another rusted chair opposite Sam. The figure groans softly. Sam turns her head slightly, sniffing the air.
Sam (quietly):
“…Cassy?”

The figure gasps.
Cassy (blindfolded, confused):
“Sam? How do you—wait, are you not blindfolded?”
Sam (small smile, relaxed tone):
“I am. But you used peppermint spray on the Romal that caught you, didn’t you? The scent of the peppermint is strong.”

Cassy lets out a short, tired laugh, shaking her head gently.
Cassy (with forced humor):
“Yeah… same one I used on you back then.”

A brief silence. The air grows heavier.
Cassy (soft, resigned):
“We’re busted now.”
Sam (calmly):
“This is still part of the mission. Hold on. Trust the threads. Ere and Dence will come through.”

[Mirror Realm ― Toyohashi South Station Square]
The square is warped—familiar yet twisted, like a decayed reflection of the real Toyohashi Station. The skies above are a flickering grey, as if time itself is fraying. Dence, Ere, and the Five Wolves walk cautiously through the area. Locals emerge from broken windows, alleys, and rooftops—watching in silence.

Fear gleams in most eyes. But not all. A few figures glare with sharp, dangerous focus. Something feral lingers in their gaze.
Dence (quietly):

“They’re afraid of us…”

Ere, wearing his red cloak, slowly walking, scanning, narrows his eyes. He notices a mark—subtle but unmistakable—on the backs of several necks: a crow’s foot, burned into the skin like a brand.
Ere (grim):
“It’s begun. Just like the prophecy said. Half of Mirror Realm’s creatures... marked by the beast.”
Wolf – Marvin (growling):
“Why? Why do this to their own kind?”
Ere:
“Judith wants power. She used the Romals. Pay them. Control them. Command them to use power against the locals of the realm. The Mirror Realm is her mine—and its people, her fuel. She's stripping this place of its essence to destroy the Realm of the Unwired.”

They cross a warped bridge—the water beneath it frozen mid-flow, as if time paused. The fog thickens.
Ere (continuing):
“There’s magic here—artifacts, lifeforms, plants. Like Ikir said: their potion came from the Mimic Vine. And that’s just one. So much here is still buried. Untapped. Forgotten.”
Dence (getting tired):
“Let’s find shelter. We’ll plan our strike once we rest.”

As they wander, the wolves suddenly grow restless. Growls turn to howls. Their eyes dart. The ground quivers—a short, sharp quake.

The Fifth Wolf freezes, nose raised. He sniffs the wind and barks twice, pointing toward the fog-drenched horizon.

They advance cautiously across the cracked, dry earth. From the mist, shadows emerge—Wolves. But not hostile.

These are broken creatures: limping, blood-streaked, eyes hollow. They collapse before the group, barely able to stand. A faint glimmer wraps their front left paws—matte-black beaded bracelets.
Ere (eyes narrowing):
“They’re not from here…”
Dence (frowning):
“What are you saying?”
Ere (pointing to the bracelets):
“They're from the Realm of the Unwired. These wolves… they crossed over.”

The mist parts slightly. A towering figure steps forth—half-man, half-wolf, his features shifting with each movement. Electric energy flickers in his fur. His eyes meet Ere’s.
Ere (eyes wide):
“Raiju…”

The wolves lower their heads in reverence. A storm brews in the distance.

Lightning pulses faintly in the mist as the hybrid figure steps closer—scarred and breathing heavy. Blood mats his fur in places, but his eyes burn with leadership and defiance.
Raiju (voice gravelly, proud, despite the pain):

“Allow me to introduce myself... I am Raiju, Alpha of the Tribe of the Wolves.”

He straightens despite a limp. Thunder echoes in the distance.
Raiju (continued):
“I crossed into this cursed mirror... not to conquer—but to protect. To save what remains. But the Soma Eater—he’s too strong. Too fast. Too ancient. Most of my pack... didn’t make it.”

Raiju turns, locking eyes with Dence. His voice shifts—softer, but reverent.
Raiju:
“Dence... Dence Unwired. I’m relieved you still draw breath.”
Dence (cautious, surprised):
“You know me?”
Raiju (nodding solemnly):
“The Realm of the Unwired remembers you. The Musical Storm? You changed the tide of fate. You reminded us what courage sounds like.”

Raiju extends a hand. Dence grips it—an arm-to-arm clasp. A warrior’s bond.
Raiju (voice low):
“We were here when the Romal stabbed you. I thought you were gone. I wept... from across the battlefield, while fangs clashed with steel.”

Before Dence can respond, the wolves around them grow agitated—growling, snapping at the wind. The sky responds. Clouds collapse. A torrential downpour erupts, soaking the cracked earth and casting the world in grey. Ere looks up sharply. He steps forward, eyes narrowing as droplets streak down his face.
Ere (to himself):
“The sign... it’s time.”

He turns to Dence and gives him a subtle, knowing nod—a signal. Then, from Ere’s forehead, a glow pulses. Letters sear into existence:

Zechariah 10

Dence stares at it, stunned. A memory awakens. Something sacred. Something promised. He lifts his gaze to the heavens, eyes fierce, rain washing down his cheeks like war paint.
Dence (whispers, like a vow):
“Nothing will harm us... Nothing.”

He turns to the others, voice rising like thunder.
Dence (roaring):
“They bring us rain? Then we’ll bring the storm!”

The wolves howl in unison—broken but not defeated. Lightning dances along the ground. War is no longer coming. It has begun.

[At the Dark Chamber With Sam and Cassy]
The chamber is soaked in shadows. Rain pelts the roof like war drums. Thunder cracks overhead. But through the roar—a sound pierces the storm. A wolf’s howl. Far. Lonely. Defiant.

Sam (lifts her head, hope flickering in her voice):
“Did you hear that? The wolves… They’re here. They came to save us.”
Cassy (blindfolded, confused):
“Where are we, Sam?”
Sam:
“We’re not in our world anymore. This is the Mirror Realm.”
Cassy (a beat, then stunned):
“Wait—Mirror Realm?!”
Sam:
"They wanted to mislead us. That’s why they blindfolded us—so we’d never see the truth coming."

[Tribe Of Romals – Continuous]
The storm has swallowed the sky. Drenched in rain, thunder booming overhead, Dence, Ere, and the wolves face the oncoming tide of Romal Soldiers.

They’re grotesque—beastlike, with warped monkey features and twisted limbs. Their armor glints dully in the lightning. The ground trembles as they charge.

Then—chaos explodes.

Dence surges forward, guitar on his back, katana blazing with electric resonance. One swing shatters Romal swords like brittle glass. With a strum, a soundwave erupts from his guitar, blasting enemy shields into fragments. Ere launches sharpened guitar picks like shuriken from his trunk—each one hitting with deadly precision. The wolves are fury incarnate—biting, clawing, ripping off limbs. Rain mingles with blood on the battlefield.

Overlooking it all from a high balcony, the Leader of the Romals watches impassively.
Romal Leader (to his generals):
“Let the pawns be their appetizer… now prepare the cadets. Full armor. And summon the Twelve.”

Below, over 300 Romal soldiers lie defeated. But then…

A creak. A boom. The massive gate of the Romal stronghold opens. A new force marches forth—100 cadets, clad in breastplates and helmets. Behind them… twelve towering figures. They’re monsters—seven-footers in grotesque armor. Faces hideous, melted. Not Romals. These are the Silent Board Members of X-Spence Corp., stripped of their human disguise in the Mirror Realm.
Romal Leader (raising his blade):
“Attack!”

The battle surges into madness. Chaos reigns. Desperation thickens the air.
One by one, the wolves fall—battered, broken, collapsing beneath the brute force of monstrous warriors. The four performers, still in wolf form, bleed from deep, punishing wounds. Dence fights among them, a storm of breath and steel, but he is no match for trained killers. His katana slices through flesh, severs limbs—yet the giants keep coming, undeterred, as if pain itself had been stripped from them. His desperation is raw. His rhythm falters. And still, he swings.

Ere watches—heart pounding, eyes wild. Around him, the world slows. He reaches into his cloak. Fingers curl around a small glass vial. The potion from Ikir. His mind echoes with Ikir’s warning—“My father’s formula works on Romals... but humans... one overdose, they burst. He tried to warn them.”

Ere looks across the battlefield. Sees Dence struggling. The wolves dying. His family—falling.
Dence sees him. Eyes wide in horror.
Dence (yelling through the storm):
“Ere—NO!”

Too late.
Ere (softly, to himself):
“I’m sorry, Captain Dence... This is for all of you.”

He drinks.

Silence... then his body trembles, expands, warps—
In a flash of thunder and magic, Ere transforms—
A colossal blue mammoth bursts forth, his tusks sharp as blades, his eyes glowing with sorrow and fury.
Ere (as mammoth):
“ROAAAAAAR!!!”

He charges—smashing through cadets, crushing armored giants beneath his weight. He tosses one into a steel truck with a single tusk. Another is impaled and hurled into the air like a ragdoll.
The tide turns. Dence, inspired, redoubles his strength.
The cadets fall. The grotesque board members falter. Confidence surges through the resistance.
The battlefield falls quiet. The rain slows. Blood and steam mix in the air.
Dozens lie still. Only a few remain standing. The wolves gather around Ere’s massive form, panting.
Dence breathes hard, soaked in sweat and rain. He looks to Ere. Then to the shattered gate.
Dence (low and steady):
“This was just their first wave.”

He tightens his grip on the katana.
Rain pours like punishment. Thunder cracks across a bruised sky. Smoke and steam swirl around bodies—Romals, wolves, cadets—fallen, bleeding, disappearing into the mud.

In the center of the chaos, a monstrous blue mammoth stands—Ere, no longer the gentle elephant but a towering beast, tusks soaked in blood and rain, eyes blazing with sorrow and rage. He breathes heavily, steam rising from his back, water cascading off his body like a veil.

Dence, soaked, muddy, and bloodied, stands frozen, staring at Ere.
Dence (whispers):
“Ere…”
Ere (voice deeper, broken, echoing):
“I can still hear the music... even if it’s only thunder now.”

He sways, weakened. A dozen armored cadets lie crushed or tossed into shattered trucks. But the battlefield is not silent—behind Dence, wolves howl in mourning. A low, rising keening fills the air.

Ere’s trunk touches the ground. His body begins to flicker, unstable. The potion’s effect is fading—or burning him from within.
Ere (softly):
“Tell Sam... the vision was real. It's not a curse. It’s the key.”
Dence:
“Ere—no! Stay with me. You did it. You saved us!”
Ere (small smile):
“No. You will.”

Suddenly, a crack of lightning pierces the clouds. For a moment, Ere is bathed in blinding white—his massive silhouette frozen in time.

Then—

FLASH.

His form disintegrates. Shards of blue light scatter across the battlefield like fireflies, vanishing into the storm. Nothing remains but his cloak, now half-buried in the mud.

The storm begins to clear. Rain slows. Smoke thins.

Dence walks slowly toward where Ere vanished. Picks up the cloak. Clutches it tightly. Breathes deep. Thunder still rumbles faintly in the distance.

Behind him, the wolves regroup. Wounded, but alive. One of them limps forward—Raiju—bowing his head. Around them, the Mirror Realm watches.

[At the Dark Chamber]
Sam and Cassy sit back-to-back, chained, soaked, heads tilted toward the ceiling as the faint sound of wolf howls echo through the stone.
Sam (soft, tears falling):
“He made it.”
Cassy:
“Who?”
Sam:
“Ere. He kept the storm alive.”

[Final Scene: Amid the Ruins]
The storm rages on. Rain lashes the earth in relentless sheets, thunder cracking like war drums overhead. Lightning veins the bruised sky.

Below, the battlefield lies drowned in silence. Rivers of green Romal blood swirl into the pooling rainwater—flooding the broken ground with the price of war.
Dence (quiet, then rising with fire):
“This is not the end. This is just our beginning.”

Fade to black.

[End of Volume 2]