Humanity’s Enemy: Humans

We step into the Chief’s office; a stone identical to ours sits on the desk. Our eyes lock on it without meaning to.

Blake: “Before we get into what happened, I’ll introduce myself. Blake Miller. Chief Commander of Base C. As for the incident… the stone exploded while a guard was holding it at the gate and—”

Kiyoshi: “—a black gate opened, right?”

Blake: “Yes. An alien with antennae came out.”

Same as ours… There’s something off about all this.

Kiyoshi: “Ma’am, the exact same thing happened at our base. Same type of alien. We’re forming a search team to investigate. We need one of your soldiers.”

Blake: “Which soldier?”

Kiyoshi: “Keiji, give the name.”

Keiji: “Ma’am, Linda Grace.”

Blake: “Linda, huh… Handing her over means sending you one of my key operators. Give me a reason. And she’s not flawless in a fight—decent, but I’m not sure she fits your team.”

Kiyoshi: “We don’t know what we’ll face. We need a strong Green to lock down our rear line. Her role could be critical.”

Blake: “…Alright. She should be in the barracks. I’ll call her.”

Fifteen minutes later, a blonde girl with a bright smile steps in.

Linda: “You called for me, ma’am?”

Blake: “Linda, I’m assigning you to a search team. They need you. Understood? From this moment on, the man at my left is your commander.”

Linda: “Yes, ma’am. Understood.”

Kiyoshi: “Linda, pack your gear. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

She gathers her things; we fly back home. This time I sit next to Keiji—a quiet flight. On the drive to base I notice how close Linda and Keiji are.

Kiyoshi: “You two have known each other a long time?”

Keiji: “Yes, sir. We’re engaged.”

Keiji… are you really running ops with your fiancée at your six?

Kiyoshi: “I won’t make a fuss. But if either of you causes trouble on mission, I’ll cut one of you from the team.”

Both: “Understood, commander.”

Matteo is snoring in the car—again. At base we head to Ellie’s office. I tell the team to wait outside; there’s something I need to say in private.

Kiyoshi: “Commander, I don’t think the stone has a timer.”

Ellie: “That’s what I was about to say. We found traces of another magic signature in the lab.”

Kiyoshi: “Ma’am… there may be traitors in the other bases. The fact that those cults wield power at all points to it.”

Ellie goes quiet. The stone on the desk pulses with a faint, throbbing glow.

Ellie: “Then we clean house first… or gates will keep opening whether we will it or not.”

Ellie: “I’m authorizing you to search this base top to bottom. I’m heading to Base B—there’s a meeting about this.”

Kiyoshi: “Understood, ma’am. Permission to come to Base B? I want to pick up one more member and complete the team.”

Ellie: “Granted.”

I step out and flag Keiji.

Kiyoshi: “Keiji, sweep the base—quietly and thoroughly. As soon as you finish, report to me; I’ll show you a magic trace. If it matches someone on base, you bring them to me. Bound—exactly as I left them.”

Keiji: “Understood, sir.”

Kiyoshi: “Linda, with me. We’re flying with the Chief to Base B—recruit one more and return.”

Linda: “Yes, commander.”

We take the Chief’s private jet to Base B. On the tarmac the “famous Black” greets us: Daniel Victor.

Ellie: “Hey, Victor—been a while.”

Victor: “Doing fine, Ellie. Seems you didn’t come empty-handed.”

Ellie: “Our new Black: Kiyoshi Kazuki. Thought I’d introduce you.”

Kiyoshi: “Pleasure, sir. I’d like a spar sometime.”

Victor: “Heh! If we find the time, why not. But first—your team’s not complete, is it?”

Kiyoshi: “No, sir. I need one more from here.”

Victor: “I can recommend candidates.”

Kiyoshi: “Much appreciated.”

We tour the list. No good. I need raw power—someone who can hit “demolition mode” when the field calls for it.

My eye lands on a cold stare. I walk toward him.

Victor: “Hmm… not a bad pick, but aren’t you a search team? This one’s a pure striker.”

Kiyoshi: “That’s exactly what I want.”

Kiyoshi: “Name, soldier?”

Bastian: “Bastian Arno, sir.”

Armband check: Fire + Wind, both dark.

Kiyoshi: “I want you on the team. Any objections?”

Bastian: “None, sir.”

We kit up and return to base. The board is set: Matteo—deputy commander; Keiji—intel; Linda—support; Bastian—frontline beside me. As we’re about to board, Keiji’s message lands: the owner of the magic trace is identified.

Back at base, Keiji’s suspect waits, restrained. I gather the team and step into the interrogation room.

Kiyoshi: “Why did you do it?”

Traitor: “You think we can win against the aliens? Even the thing I summoned pushed you and Matteo to your limit. There are dozens like it. How long do you think you can last? They’re coming. Soon. I plan to be on the surviving side.”

Kiyoshi: “Maybe we lose. Maybe our species is erased. But you thinking you’ll walk out of here alive… don’t you find that a bit selfish?”

His eyes narrow; the corner of his mouth twitches. Keiji slides a sealed envelope onto the table—lab report on the magic trace. All I have to do is open it—speak his full name.

Kiyoshi: “Last chance. Give me a name. Which cell put you up to this?”

Silence. Linda’s gaze goes frost. Bastian’s palms start to heat.

The desk lamp dips; in the hush, I almost imagine the stone’s faint pulse.

Kiyoshi: “If you don’t talk, this interrogation ends much worse for you.”

Traitor: “AHAHAHAHA! Think I’m afraid of you? You should look around more closely. Traitors are nearer than you think.”

Something shifts in the room. Air from the ceiling vents turns cold. Keiji’s brow ticks; he glances at the camera and whispers:

Keiji: “Feed’s on a loop… Someone’s showing us a recording.”

Linda scans the baseboards.
Linda: “There’s magic in here. Not stable—like a pulse.”

Bastian’s breath fogs; heat wavers off his hands.
Bastian: “Rear right corner… inside the wall is hot.”

The traitor dips his head; a black rune glows under his tongue.

Kiyoshi: “Don’t move.”

I snap a thread of Blackout at the rune—snuffs it out.

Right then, thin black cracks web across the floor—an hand-sized gate shapes open.

Kiyoshi: “Linda—shield! Bastian—right corner!”

Linda’s green drops as a thin dome; Bastian seals the corner with fire.
Keiji slides behind the suspect and double-locks the cuffs.

Keiji: “He can’t open anything on his own now.”

Kiyoshi: “Not on his own…”

My radio hisses—then the siren tears the air:

ALARM: “Level 3 Internal Breach. Gate signal in the command corridor.”

Two places at once. This room is just a distraction.

Kiyoshi: “Keiji, hold him here. Linda, maintain the dome. Bastian—on me. Command corridor!”

We burst out. The far end of the corridor goes dark; that familiar cold hiss hangs in the air. I glance back once; on the glass of the interrogation room, my reflection—and the traitor’s grin.

His lips form words, no sound—easy to read: “You’re too late.”

I square my breath; face uncovered, shoulders and arms in Blackout armor.

Kiyoshi (inner): “Not late. Right on time.”

I run. The floor at the hall’s end splits in linear seams—a gate opens.

And beyond the gate stands Matteo.

Kiyoshi: “Matteo—what the hell are you doing?!”

Matteo: “Waiting for you, Kiyoshi. I was curious about that rage on your face. How naïve you all are… you only bit the bait I left.”

Kiyoshi: “You bastard! What are you doing?”

Matteo: “What do you think? Preparing the new world.”

He pours magic into stones one after another. Each one darkens and cracks; the floor fills knee-to-knee with gates. Non-humanoid aliens drop like rocks—scaled, plated, clawed. Dozens.

I grab the radio:
Kiyoshi (radio): “Emergency support to the main gate! Over two dozen ali— REPEATING, EMERGEN—”

SLAM! Matteo closes on me. I draw the katana and meet him; steel screams.

Matteo: “Don’t wait for help. I cut every route into here.”

Kiyoshi: “You son of a—”

Blades chatter; sparks sting my eyes. A few aliens turn toward me; the rest flood the city. I sheath my katana in Blackout; Matteo is forced to draw fully.

Matteo: “Your ability is annoying. But I’ve never used my technique against you properly.”

Kiyoshi: “What are you babbling about?”

Matteo: “You’ll see.”

His shoulder twitches—his technique flows.

I know he’s coming. Armor time.

I bring the armor up— and get yanked sideways, glued to the left wall. Ribs flare.

Matteo: “My technique doesn’t just work on me— it bends the vector for others. You’ll hang there until I release it.”

Kiyoshi: “DAMN IT!”

Aliens close; I can’t move. Just then a slice of darkness rips in a sealed path—Bastian drops through.

Kiyoshi: “Bastian! Matteo’s a traitor—on me, now!”

Bastian rains fireballs on the aliens charging me. The corridor turns dust and smoke. When it clears—Matteo is gone. Clean.

Kiyoshi: “Bastian, rally whoever you can! A swarm’s hit the city. I’m going ahead—we’re cleaning the streets.”

Bastian: “Understood, commander!”

In the city the sirens braid with screams. Glass shatters, asphalt splits. Thin-wing flyers shriek, dive-bombing the evacuations; two blocks over a tank-class shoves a tram. Too many choices.

The flyers drop toward me. I flick a thin Blackout line—lock one at the throat. Wingbeats cut; its core glows behind the gullet. A leap, a clean katana slice—down it goes. The second screams; I cancel the sound, elbow the neck, short pulse on the core—snuffed.

A tank rounds the corner—shoulders like pillars; each step cracks the street. I lash a Blackout bind to the knee joint and squeeze two seconds; it buckles. I knife under the chest plate seam and plant a single pulse—cracks. The core darts; I mark the path with a thread and spear from the side—dead.

Near the square I run into the antenna alien again.

(With civilians around, fighting here is rough; their lives take priority.)

Radio fizz.
Linda: “Commander, civilians in the city are evacuated. Next order?”

(Relief. Thanks, Linda.)
Kiyoshi: “Good work. Get to the square—final boss waiting.”

Linda: “On my way, commander.”

The antenna alien dives and starts a punch storm; this time my armor is up. Every punch deadens and slows. I drive two straights to the body, then a quick left hook—send it reeling. I draw my katana and take its head—but it starts to regenerate at once.

I can’t allow that. I keep carving, hunting the core. The advantage is mine—if I find it now. But as my armor weakens, the tide shifts; its punches speed up again. I’m forced to disengage; I run, it chases. The flurry continues; a few get through and I’m flung into a building.

No time to reset— it blinks beside me, fist cocked to crush—

and just as it’s about to land the punch…