Chapter 10: What Lies Ahead (1)

It had been three years since the last time he called on that part of himself. Three years since he felt the push and pull of mana swell in his body. There were days he’d convinced himself it was all a dream. But when he closed his eyes and reached inward, he could still feel it. When he looked at his arm, he remembered the sword that skewered him all too well.

Ren felt a faint ache in his chest. His pace slowed a tad, distancing him further from the rest of the group. I feel colder.

In that moment, a reality he’d long suspected but never confronted stared back at him from the dark of his own mind. The shadow he’d felt lurking at the edges had finally taken form, and despite having lived with its whispers for so long, the proof still chilled something deep inside. His mouth twisted into something not quite a smile—a brief, bitter acknowledgment.

What’s next, hero?

The storm had begun to thin, though the wind still drove sheets of rain across what remained of the bridge. Asphalt flashed under the lightning, their footsteps wet, uneven slaps as their little group pulled itself along, skirting along the feeder ramp.

Thirteen people had made it out of Seiryo University. Ren watched their hunched silhouettes trudging ahead, their voices lost to the storm. Midori, Haruka, and Kurobane were huddled together at the front. A few paces behind, Yuka kept close to Satsuki and Haruto. The newcomers formed their own island, while Shion, oddly enough, had drifted to Reina’s side, who was half-carrying her little sister.

Their gazes met, blue irises steady beneath wet strands of red hair. Her stare pierced him, as if she were peeling back layers. Did she see? No... Too much chaos. He offered a slight nod, meant to reassure. The smile she returned before turning away left him feeling uncertain. If you knew what I was, I wonder if you’d ever look at me the same again?

The ramp sloped upward, and the storm clouds parted just enough to cast a feeble light on what lay ahead. By the time his feet reached level ground, he found the others already gathered at the edge, standing rigid against the red skyline, mouths shut in silent testimony to what they witnessed.

Hanamizu City lay gutted.

The streets were clogged with cars abandoned mid-escape, doors flung open, hazard lights blinking. Entire blocks burned unchecked, red and orange firelight clawing up steel and glass towers. Skyscrapers loomed like candles left to melt. And through it all—thousands upon thousands of figures, shambling with a terrible wrongness.

When he first arrived in this world, he had marveled at the sheer scale, the lights, the noise, the endless waves of people. “There must be a million living in our fair city. If ya think that’s impressive, I’ll take you to Tokyo one day,” the old man had told him.

“Lord, help us,” Kurobane whispered.

“Are we all that’s left?” Midori said. “There have to be more people…”

The newest face finally spoke, his words stumbling out between ragged pulls of air. “You all, you are heroes! Selfless beyond all measure. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. We saw you running by chance. When you made it to the tour bus, my heart felt like it was going to explode!” He stopped, biting his bottom lip. “I know I risked your lives, risked all of our lives, but you have to believe me when I say—” He was cut short as the tall woman beside him dropped to her knees and vomited, retching hard into the gutter. “Ms. Kyrie! Are you alright?”

She gave the faintest nod while wiping her chin. Stray strands of light-brown hair stuck to her face where her braid had half-undone, but her eyes never stopped moving, scanning each of them as though their skin were charts waiting to be marked. “S-Sorry. Not very professional. Kyrie Hayami, at your service.”

“It’s quite alright. And you, Amira? Now I’m worried,” Shigure said to the younger woman, half-hidden by his shadow.

“I’m fine.” She stepped forward only slightly, the storm outlining the curve of her face. Two long braids came down to her chest, dark strands plastered against olive skin.

They were trying to hold together some scrap of normalcy, Ren realized. Clinging to names, formalities, to a world that might already be gone. All the while, beyond the city, over the mountains, the sky was marred with more scars. Columns of black smoke rising from the horizon, far-off cities drowned in the same nightmare.

“Look. Over there.” Satsuki said.

Ren followed her finger. Past the rivers of fire and shifting bodies, a pocket of light shimmered through the haze. A barricade? Floodlights glared through the storm. Figures moved along the perimeter, too distant to make out clearly.

“There are people there!” Haruto breathed. His glasses slipped down his nose as he leaned forward. “I’ve never been so happy to see other people in my life!”

From here it might as well have been another world, cut off by oceans of flame and the infected. Hope was dangerous when dangled just out of reach.

“We can make it, right?” Lilly clasped her hands tight, words rushing out. “We can—Huh? What’s going on down there?”

Along the overpass beneath them, a cluster of armored figures worked methodically through the bodies strewn across the road. Ren recognized their uniforms. Riot gear, black and faceless. Hayate had shown him pictures once, back when the old man still carried the badge. In their hands were reinforced batons and weighted clubs, the kind meant to split skulls in a single blow.

With each strike, heads caved. The unit advanced in sync—strike, step, strike again. A body came up mid-swing and dragged one of the men down. Rifles came up, muzzles flashed. Bursts of gunfire split the night, sparks ripping into pavement.

Gunfire echoed down alleys, and the infected stirred. Shapes came charging out of the shadows, drawn by the noise.

“Up here! Run up here!” Haruto called. He waved frantically, as if urging them toward higher ground.

One helmet jerked up. The man pivoted, rifle snapping toward them. The shot came with no hesitation.

“Hit the deck!” Midori commanded.

Concrete spat at Ren’s feet. Sparks bloomed along the railing. Another burst followed, wild, ripping the road apart around them. He stole a glance—Reina had Lilly pressed tight against her side, eyes wide, mouth set. There was fear, yes, but she was moving.

They ran, scattering and reforming, feet hammering wet asphalt. More rounds screamed past, tracer streaks slicing the rain. Ricochets shrieked off the railings, biting into the road ahead. Ren didn’t look back. None of them did.

When they finally stopped, they lingered at the roadside longer than they should have, lungs dragging in air, stares darting between the dead city behind them and each other.

“We can’t stay here...” Midori’s voice trembled, barely above a whisper, but in the hush it carried like a shout.

“And where exactly are we supposed to go?” Kurobane spat. “We’re dead if we go back.”

“They shot at us. Why?” Lilly hugged herself tighter.

Ren’s attention swept across the group, but it was Reina he lingered on. She stood straighter than most, the same hard line to her mouth.

“What the fuck are we going to do?” Kurobane snapped, frustration boiling over. “If this is a fucking dream, I want to wake up now! Now! Right now! I want to see my mom! I want things to go back to normal!”

Silence.

Shigure cleared his throat. He stood a little apart from the others, pale in the light, Amira at his side. When he spoke, his words were careful, deliberate. “There are roads that circle the city,” he said. “Smaller ones. They pass through the woods, but if we follow them, we can loop around to where we saw those lights.” His eyes flicked upward, briefly, toward the glow. “It’s not safe, but it is safer than cutting through the city.”

Haruto adjusted his glasses, peering into the treeline. His voice was low, almost as if he didn’t want the forest itself to hear him. “That’s Tsubakuro Woods. I used to always hear rumors that people went in and never came back out.”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Shion added, rolling her shoulders.

The woods it was.

* * *

The trees pressed too close, branches clawing together overhead, choking what little moonlight managed to pierce through. The rain had dulled to a mist, but the damp clung thick to Ren’s skin, soaking through every layer. He wasn’t familiar with these trails. Every path looked the same: mud-slick ground, crooked trunks. Ahead stretched nothing but blackness.

“Stop,” Midori said, more weariness than command this time around.

They slowed into a small clearing, breath steaming in the night air. The ground here was soft, stamped by their boots, puddles reflecting the faint glow of the sky above. The horizon was still black and red where Hanamizu smoldered, firelight painting the storm clouds.

“We’re going in circles.” Kurobane dropped onto a fallen tree with a groan.

Yuka shook her head, eyes flicking nervously to the treeline. “We can’t stop now.”

“We’re lost!” Haruka snapped. She whirled on Shigure. “You said we could wrap around! And now look at us, wandering in the dark!”

The thin man stiffened. Amira shifted closer, her expression unreadable.

“Haruka—” Midori said.

“No!” she pressed on. “This lying piece of shit. You can’t trust a word he says. He probably led us out here to die!”

Ren saw it building—panic, grief, rage—each voice rising louder, overlapping, spilling out into the clearing. Midori pleading. Kurobane cursing. Even Reina’s attempts to calm them carried an edge of iron.

The sound carved through his ears.

Click.

A man stepped out from the treeline, broad-shouldered despite his age, a hunting rifle leveled steadily in his hands. The mist clung to him, his coat heavy, face hidden beneath the brim of a soaked hat. “You’re a lively bunch,” he rasped. His gaze swept the group, hard and unblinking. “Are any of you feeling sick? Have any of you been bitten?”

No one answered.

His finger flexed against the trigger.

“No! No, we’re fine.” Midori shook his head so hard droplets flung from his hair.

“Sir, please,” Shigure added quickly, his hands raised. “You can check us all one by one.”

The man’s finger lingered, measuring, before the rifle finally lowered. “Good.” He tilted his head toward the trees. “Follow me.”

With nowhere else to go, they did.