Prolouge

Kaede Sato crouched at the ridge, disappointed. She’d expected an alien world to assault her senses—acrid vapors, exotic spices, some overwhelming stimulus. Instead, the Empty World offered no scent whatsoever. Around her stretched the Grassy Sea. Massive stalks—each one towering well above human height—shifted with unsettling coordination, swaying like a single organism breathing in slow, patient rhythm.

“God,” murmured Private Tanishi behind her. “Every time we come out here, I feel like we’re trespassing.”

Kaede felt the same unease.

The five-person expedition huddled beneath a colossal ruin. Above them rose a fractured arch that made Kyoto’s grandest temple gates look like toys. River-wide channels ran across its stone surface, filled with countless symbols that, from the ground, resembled nothing more than random gouges carved into ancient monoliths.

Kaede absently traced her thumb across her fingertips, feeling the reactive polymer of her enhancement suit beneath the expedition coat. The armor emitted its characteristic low vibration—standard Rank 2 reinforcement, good enough to help her vault over a bus or sprint from danger. Nothing more.

In her visor’s reflection, the Grassy Sea stretched beyond comprehension—an endless carpet of movement reaching toward infinity.

The light here behaved wrong—dimmer and somehow thicker around the Ladder, that impossible spire piercing the sky. Despite countless expeditions, no human had ever reached its base. Yet the structure remained visible from anywhere in the Empty World.

Static erupted in her comms. “Squad Three, status update,” Command demanded, the voice breaking into digital fragments. Like everything else in the Empty World, radio signals refused to behave normally. Kaede often suspected this entire dimension rejected their presence outright.

“Kaede Sato, Rank 1 Reader,” she replied, tapping her mic. “Surveying sector 11-B. No contact with hostiles. Scans consistent with last week’s reading. No structural shifts detected in the ruin.”

“Copy. Proceed with caution. The Land Beast’s presence has been confirmed deeper inland. No signs it’s migrated, but stay alert.”

Kaede studied her team. Tanishi’s throat bobbed with a nervous swallow. Corporal Mizuno’s fingers danced over his Glyphgun—the sixth weapons check since arrival. Even Sergeant Honda, who’d survived three Chimera encounters, pivoted his head in sharp, mechanical sweeps across the undulating green expanse.

The Land Beast cast long shadows over every expedition. Its aquatic cousin had claimed thousands before finally falling in a seven-year hunt.

“This area is clear,” Honda said at last, voice steadier than his eyes. “We push to the next ridge. Stay close. Don’t get isolated.”

They waded into the green sea, their footfalls swallowed by dense undergrowth. Each blade of grass whispered against Kaede’s suit, sending faint vibrations along her arms and spine—tiny shivers that set her teeth on edge. The weight of her Glyphgun provided minimal comfort—its triple-ringed barrel aimed forward.

Against her hip, three script cartridges waited:

<BURN>, <PUSH>, <SLOW>.

Kaede kept one eye on her scanner. The digital display flickered and distorted, the numbers and coordinates twisting into nonsense before stabilizing, then dissolving again.

“Readings are compromised,” she murmured.

Mizuno’s jaw tightened. “Nothing works right in this hellscape.”

Mid-stride, Kaede froze.

A distinct rustle cut through the ambient sway.

Honda’s hand shot up. “Movement. Defense formation.”

Weapons out, they clustered back-to-back in a tight defensive ring. Kaede felt her heartbeat thundering against her ribs as the grass about thirty meters ahead parted in a clean, unnatural line.

“Land Beast?” Tanishi whispered.

Kaede shook her head. “Probably a—”

The grass exploded outward. A creature burst into view, armored exoskeleton glinting with reflected light. Nearly ten feet tall, its body was a grotesque hybrid of industrial metal grafted onto living bone. Exposed circuitry pulsed between joint segments. Its scythe-like arms clicked together—sharp and metallic—sending ice water racing through Kaede’s veins

Mizuno fired first.

The Glyphgun activated silently. The <BURN> command seared a luminous wound into the Mantis Chimera’s torso. Its half-screech, half-mechanical failure echoed as it staggered back.

“Sustained fire!” Honda barked.

Kaede pressed a fresh command strip to her Glyphgun’s surface. It fused with the metal in a brilliant flare. <PUSH> triggered on her next shot—an invisible force slamming the Chimera sideways, tearing grass from its roots.

Claws gouged the earth as it regained footing with horrifying speed.

Behind it, the grass canopy erupted again. A Beetle Chimera thundered forward.

“Oh hell,” Mizuno breathed.

The creature barreled toward them. Honda’s orders cut through the chaos. The squad broke formation, weapons firing in controlled bursts. Kaede rolled aside as the Mantis Chimera’s blade-arm cleaved through the air where her skull had been moments earlier.

A scream tore through the field—Kaede spun to see Tanishi pinned beneath the Beetle Chimera’s horn, his body slack against churned dirt.

“Left flank, Mizuno!” Honda shouted, slamming a <BURN> strip into his weapon. The command discharged, liquefying half the Mantis Chimera’s face. Black fluid sprayed across the grass, sizzling where it landed.

Kaede triggered <SLOW>, and the Mantis Chimera’s movements thickened—yet it continued its relentless advance.

Her heel caught on something hidden in the grass, sending her sprawling. Her weapon clicked empty. The Chimera’s hulking silhouette eclipsed the dim sky as its blade-arm arced downward—

Shhhhhk.

The Mantis Chimera stopped.

A perfect line split its center, widening without sound—clean and absolute, as though reality itself had rejected the creature’s existence.

Kaede blinked.

The Chimera fell apart—clean halves collapsing into a steaming heap of circuitry and viscera. No squad member had fired. No one had moved.

As dust settled and the grass drifted back into place, a figure materialized where emptiness had been seconds earlier.

A man.

Unarmored. No squad insignia. No Glyphgun.

He wore a weathered coat, edges frayed by time, hanging loosely from his frame. In his hand, he held a single sword. Etched into the blade was a solitary glyph:

<SEVER>

Kaede stared, breath shallow.

The stranger never acknowledged her. Never surveyed the battlefield.

Never spoke.

He simply turned away, lowering the blade. The grass bent aside for him as he walked. It closed behind him in perfect silence, until nothing remained but the undisturbed sway of the Grassy Sea.