Chapter 21: The Long Walk Out

My lungs are on fire. It feels as though I have swallowed a mouthful of hot ash and broken glass.

"I can't move".

My voice is a pathetic croak, barely audible over the ringing in my ears. The world is a spinning, grey blur, devoid of color or warmth. The adrenaline that let me stand moments ago is gone, drained away by the backlash of the Phoenix Lance, and my body is remembering that it is an empty, hollowed-out thing. I am a vessel that has been poured out until nothing remains but the dust at the bottom.

"Get up".

Kizawa's voice is not kind. It is sharp, like broken glass. It cuts through the haze of my exhaustion, demanding obedience.

"I am trying".

I push against the dusty floor of the ruined shrine. My arms shake like newborn foals, muscles twitching involuntarily. Nothing happens. I am a puppet with its strings cut, lying in a heap on the tatami mats.

"We do not have time for trying. We have time for doing. Get. Up. Mizuki".

He is standing over me, a tall, blue-haired silhouette of pure rage and pain. His left arm is clamped tightly to his side, favoring his cracked ribs. His face is sheet-white, drained of blood, but he is standing. He is the blade that refuses to break, even when it is chipped and dulled.

"Kizawa, stop".

Erima's voice is low, steady, and grounding. She is kneeling beside Hachiro, pulling a roll of gauze from a hidden pouch in her combat gear. Her hands move with a mechanical precision, ignoring the trembling of her own fingers.

"She is not faking. Look at her. She is in mana-recoil. She burned her entire reserve to kill the General. She is lucky she is conscious".

"We are all lucky to be conscious. That luck runs out in five minutes".

He kicks a fallen stone lantern, and the crack of it splitting makes me jump. The sound is too loud in the small space, like a gunshot.

"You are a fool, Kizawa", Yogawa rasps from the corner.

The magician is sitting against the wall, his grimoire in his lap, his eyes closed. He looks like a corpse that has been left out in the rain. His robes are torn and stained with soot, his usual arrogance replaced by a bone-deep weariness.

"You are yelling at her because you are terrified. And you are right to be".

"I am not terrified", Kizawa starts, his voice dangerously low, vibrating with suppressed emotion.

"Yes, you are", Yogawa interrupts, his eyes snapping open. They are pale, and the pupils are tiny pinpricks of fear. "You are terrified. I am terrified. Because the city just went silent".

A cold dread, deeper than my exhaustion, cuts through the haze in my mind.

"What do you mean?" I manage to ask, pushing myself up onto my elbows. My arms tremble under the weight.

"He is right", Erima says, her hands pausing on Hachiro's mangled fists. "The fog. The Black Fog General. It is gone. The air is clear. The pressure is gone".

"That is good, right?" Hachiro groans as Erima douses his knuckles in antiseptic. He hisses through his teeth, his face contorting in pain. "Ow! Ow! Warning, Erima! A little warning next time!"

"It is not good", Yogawa whispers, and the blood drains from Hachiro's face.

"It is wrong".

Yogawa forces himself to his feet, using the wall as a brace. He stumbles to the shattered doorway of the shrine, looking out at the dead, grey sky.

"The General was a presence. A thick, static cloud that blocked everything else out. He was loud. Now he is gone".

"So?" Kizawa says, his one good hand resting on the hilt of his remaining katana.

"So, the King. The Spinner King. He just lost his loudest General. He is not blind anymore. He is listening".

Yogawa turns back to us, his face stark with realization. "The city is not a storm anymore. It is a web. And we are the flies that just tore a hole in it. He feels us. He knows exactly where we are".

Silence descends on the room. A heavy, absolute, suffocating silence. Hachiro is not making jokes. Kizawa is not moving. Erima is slowly, methodically packing her medkit. The reality of our situation settles in like a stone in the gut. We won the battle, but we might have just lost the war.

"Right", Erima says, her voice snapping the tension like a dry twig. "New plan. The apartment is lost. Our supplies are gone. The city is compromised. We are leaving".

"Leaving how?" I ask, my voice weak. "We can't. I can't even walk".

"I will carry you", Kizawa states. It is not an offer. It is a statement of fact.

"No, you can't. Your ribs".

"I will carry you. Your argument is irrelevant".

"He will not have to", Erima says. She pulls a small, sealed injector from her kit. It looks ominous, filled with a clear, viscous liquid. "Adrenaline and a high-yield painkiller. It will get you walking".

"But my magic", I protest weakly.

"Forget your magic", she says, pressing the injector hard against my thigh. I hiss as the cold liquid floods my system. "Your magic is gone for today. You are a civilian. Your only job is to walk, and not get killed. Can you do that?"

The effect is instant. The world snaps into sharp, painful focus. The exhaustion is still there, a giant, heavy beast on my back, but the shaking stops. The fire in my nerves is banked, replaced by a cold, chemical clarity.

"I think so. Yes. I can walk".

I get to my feet. My legs hold. They feel like wood, remote and stiff, but they hold.

"Good", she nods. "Now, the how. Yogawa is right. The King is listening. The streets are a death trap. Every window, every rooftop, they are his eyes now".

"So we fly?" Hachiro asks, wiggling his bandaged, club-like hands. "I mean, Yogawa is a magician. Can't you poof us out?"

"I am a magician, you fist-for-brains", Yogawa snarls, his color returning with his anger. "Not a miracle worker. I just spent eighty percent of my reserves keeping that idiot Kizawa from being dissolved. I can barely light a candle".

"Okay! Okay! Grumpy. Just an idea".

"We go under", Erima says, ignoring them both.

She walks to the doorway and points toward the industrial district.

"We are in the old industrial sector. Two kilometers west is the Sumida riverbed. It is dry. But under it are the main sewer and storm drain junctions for half the city. They are old. They are stone. And they are deep".

Hachiro's face, which had been slowly regaining its cheer, crumples.

"Sewers".

His voice is dead.

"Oh, no. No, no, no. Absolutely not. I draw the line. I am a premium, top-tier brawler. I do not do sewers. The smell! The rats! The grossness!"

"You do", Kizawa says, walking past him, "if you want to live. The streets are eyes. The sewers are blind".

"He is right", Erima nods. "The streets are death. The sewers are just unpleasant. We go under the hive mind. We move beneath their new web. We follow the drains until we are outside the city's kill-zone".

"This is the worst day of my life", Hachiro mutters, but he pulls his tattered jacket tighter around his shoulders.

"Right. Formation", Erima orders, all business. "Kizawa. You take point. You are the fastest, and the quietest, even with one arm. Find us a path".

He just nods.

"Hachiro. You are loud. You take the rear. Your hands are broken, so use your feet. Smash anything that follows us. Understood?"

"Loud and proud!" Hachiro tries to do a fist-pump, winces, and settles for a grim nod.

"Just quietly loud".

"Yogawa. You are with me, in the middle", Erima continues. "You are our detector. You feel a pressure spike, a demon, anything, you say something before it is on top of us".

"I can do that. I can feel everything right now. It all itches". The magician shudders, clutching his grimoire to his chest.

"And Mizuki".

She turns to me. Her eyes are not soft. They are hard as steel.

"You stay behind Kizawa. And in front of me. You are in the box. You are precious cargo. You have one job. Do not fall down. Can you do that?"

"I can".

The adrenaline is making my heart hammer, but my legs feel strong.

"Good. Everyone. Last of the water. Last of the food. Now".

She tosses us each a single, sad-looking protein bar and a small bottle of water. We eat in silence. It tastes like cardboard and ash. It is the best meal of my life.

"Let's go".

Kizawa does not open the door. He eases his head around the broken frame. He listens. I listen too.

The city is not silent. Yogawa was wrong.

It is humming. A low, dissonant vibration that gets inside your teeth.

"It is singing", Yogawa whispers, his eyes wide with horror.

"What?"

"The demons. The basic ones. They are connecting. They are singing to their King. We really need to go".

Kizawa nods. He slips out of the shrine, a blue-haired shadow. I follow.

The air is wrong. It is heavy. Thick. It smells of ozone and rotten meat. The sun is up, but the light is a sickly, jaundiced yellow. The Black Fog is gone, but this miasma is worse. It clings.

"This sucks", Hachiro whispers from behind me. "My bandages feel sticky".

"Move", Erima hisses.

We are in an alley. Rubble is everywhere. The remains of the foundry are smoking a few blocks away. Kizawa moves like a cat. He flows over the debris. He never makes a sound. His head is on a swivel. His one good katana is out.

I stumble. My foot catches on a piece of rebar. I gasp as I fall.

Kizawa spins. He catches me before I hit the ground. His hand is a vice on my arm. He hauls me up.

"I said do not fall", he hisses, his voice a furious whisper.

"I know! It was an accident!"

"We do not get accidents anymore. Focus, Mizuki!"

"I am focusing!"

"Quiet!"

Erima's voice is a razor. Kizawa freezes. I freeze. Erima is staring up. At the roof of a collapsed office building.

"What?" Hachiro starts.

"Shh!"

I look up. And my blood turns to ice.

Eyes. Hundreds of red, pinprick eyes. Lining the edge of the roof. They are not demons. They are crows. Just crows. But they are all staring at us. And they are all humming. The same terrible song.

"They are part of the web", Yogawa breathes, his voice shaking. "They are scouts. Sentinels".

One of the crows opens its beak. It does not caw. It screams. A high-pitched shriek that sounds like metal tearing.

"Move! NOW!"

Erima screams. Kizawa does not hesitate. He grabs my hand and pulls.

"Run, Mizuki! RUN!"

We are sprinting. I am flying. My feet barely touching the ground. His grip is painful. Behind us, I hear Hachiro.

"Get lost, birds!"

A crash. A splintering of wood.

"Hachiro! No!" Erima yells. "They are calling more! Just GO!"

Another crash.

"Pressure spike!" Yogawa shrieks. "Left! LEFT! Big one!"

Kizawa yanks me sideways. We dive through the shattered window of what used to be a convenience store. We land on broken glass. I cry out as a shard slices into my hand. Erima and Yogawa tumble in after us.

"Hachiro!" Erima yells, scrambling to her feet.

"I am COMING!"

The wall of the store explodes inward. Hachiro plows through cinderblocks and dust. He is laughing. A wild, maniacal laugh.

"That was AWESOME! My hands are broken but I do not care!"

"You idiot!" Yogawa screams, pulling himself behind a rusting shelf. "You just told everything in the city EXACTLY where we ARE!"

"I know! Is it great?!"

"You are insane!"

"INCOMING!"

Kizawa's voice is steel. He is staring at the hole Hachiro made. A shape is crawling through. It is not a crow. It is big. It is black. And it has too many legs. A Jorogumo. An Onyx Spider. But it is different. It is not like the ones we fought before. It is larger. And the red eyes are glowing with intelligence.

"That is not a basic demon", I whisper, my own bleeding hand forgotten.

"That is an Advance-class Hunter", Yogawa breathes. "It heard the call. It found us".

The spider hisses. It unfurls its legs. Kizawa steps in front of me.

"Erima. Eye. Yogawa. Bind. Hachiro. Distract".

He does not wait for confirmation. He charges.

"You got it, Blue!"

Hachiro roars, leaping over the counter.

"Hey, Ugly! Want a knuckle sandwich?! It is extra bloody!"

The spider hisses, turning its head.

TWANG.

An arrow sprouts from its center eye. A perfect shot from Erima.

"SCREEEEEE!"

The demon rears back.

"Terra-Vincire!"

Yogawa slams his hand on the floor. The broken tiles erupt. Rebar and concrete wrap around the spider's legs. It is trapped. For a second.

"Kizawa! NOW!"

I scream. He is already there. He leaps onto the creature's back. He raises his one good sword.

"Tsunami Fang!"

He stabs down. Once. A geyser of black ichor. The spider convulses. It dies.

It all happened in five seconds.

Silence. We all just pant. Hachiro spits blood onto the floor.

"See? Loud and proud".

"That was one", Kizawa says, his voice dangerously low. He pulls his sword free. "It was alone".

"Do not count on it", Yogawa groans, clutching his chest. "That was too much magic".

"He is right", Erima says, nocking another arrow. "That shriek we heard, it was not just pain. It was a beacon".

"How long do we have?" I ask, wrapping my bleeding hand with a rag.

"Seconds", Kizawa says. "Maybe a minute".

"So, the sewers then?" Hachiro grins, a bloody grin.

"The sewers", Erima confirms.

"Lead the way, Kizawa", Hachiro gestures. "I am suddenly a huge fan of underground travel".

Kizawa nods. He grabs my good arm.

"This time try to keep up".

"This time try not to be so bossy".

He almost smiles. It is a terrifying sight.

"Let's go".

He pulls me through the back door of the store. The alley behind it is dark. And there it is. A manhole cover.

"Hachiro", Erima says.

"On it!"

He wedges his broken fingers under the lid. He grunts.

"Ugh... heavy..."

"LIFT!" Yogawa yells.

With a groan of metal, Hachiro throws the cover aside. A wave of stench hits us. It is unbelievably bad.

"Oh, come ON!" Hachiro gags. "That is VILE!"

"It is beautiful", Erima says, her eyes gleaming. "It is cover. It is darkness. It is our way out".

She looks at Kizawa. "Point".

Kizawa nods. He drops into the blackness without a sound.

"Hachiro. Rear guard. Go".

"Fine! Fine! But I am complaining the entire time!"

He slides in.

"Yogawa".

"Yes, yes I know I am going".

The magician lowers himself in, groaning pitifully. It is just me and Erima. I stand at the edge, staring down. It is so dark.

"Mizuki".

Erima's voice is gentle.

"It is okay to be scared. But it is not okay to stop. We go together".

She holds out her hand. I look back at the city. The sick yellow sky. I can hear it. A chittering. A thousand legs. More spiders.

"Okay", I breathe.

I take her hand. And together we step down into the darkness.