Chapter 1: The Shadow of Hell

A week had passed, but for Arata, time did not move. Every night, he returned to the same hell. He would wake up, not to an alarm, but to cold sweat soaking his entire body, his breath ragged, and the deafening sound of gunfire still echoing in his ears. It wasn't just a nightmare, but a perfect reenactment of a memory that would never fade.

He could feel the ground trembling beneath him, smell the dust and cordite, and hear the static from the communication line snapping amidst the desperate screams.

"Everyone fall back! Fall back!"

Amidst the chaos, there was the enemy's sinister laugh and the mournful cries of friends falling one by one. The burning heat from the gunshot wound on his side felt real again, as if the bullet had just pierced him.

"Onii-chan? Onii-chan? Wake up, are you okay?"

Koyomi's gentle voice tore through the oppressive darkness. Arata opened his eyes. Dimly, he saw his sister's worried face in the faint glow of the nightlight.

"Oh, Koyomi..." Arata whispered, his voice hoarse and distant. "What's wrong? Did I wake you up again?"

Koyomi shook her head, but her usually cheerful eyes were now glistening with tears. "Onii-chan... I think you need to see a psychiatrist more often. I can't bear to hear you scream anymore. The neighbors keep asking me about it..." She lowered her head, holding her brother's trembling hand.

Seeing his sister suffer so much because of him, Arata felt a tightness in his chest. It was a burden heavier than anything he had ever carried on the battlefield. "You're right, Koyomi. Maybe I really should go see a psychiatrist and a doctor again."

The next day, as Arata was getting ready to go to the psychiatrist, his phone rang. The name "Kazuma" appeared on the screen.

"Yoo, Arata-kun? How have you been? Good?" The cheerful voice was a stark contrast to the bleak morning, as if Kazuma lived in a different world.

"Kazuma-san... why are you calling so early in the morning again?" Arata replied flatly.

"Oyy, calm down a bit. I have good news for you. Vice Commander Ishuri Narada has called you to the base. He said you have a new assignment—he thinks this mission might be a cure for your trauma."

Hearing the name of Commander Ishuri, Arata fell silent. Ishuri was the man who had sent him on that hellish mission. "He... called me?"

"Yes, come quickly. Don't be late!"

The phone went dead, leaving Arata in a familiar silence, but this time, it was laced with a new kind of anxiety. A new mission could be the escape he needed, but it could also be another door to hell.