Chapter 2: When The Alarm Is Not A Drill

The alarm sounded without warning.

Its vibration was low and heavy, crawling through the walls of Horizon Gakuen like a pulse rising from deep underground.
Not a training siren.
Not a sealed-room simulation.

Pulse.

Akane stopped in the middle of the corridor. Her steps froze as the vibration echoed again—closer, heavier, unmistakably real.

“Monster…?” Her voice wavered. “Since when—”

A scream from the neighboring classroom cut her off.

Panicked.
Disordered.
Real.

Seconds later, Milena pulled her headphones off. The music died instantly, replaced by alarms and the sound of running footsteps. Her expression remained flat, but her eyes changed—focused, calculating.

“…This isn’t a drill,” she muttered.

They didn’t wait for instructions.

Basic training took over.
Evacuation.
Civilian priority.
Move.

They checked corridor after corridor. Doors were thrown open one by one. Desks overturned, screens shattered, bags scattered across the floor. No students. Too clean—like a place abandoned in a rush.

“How is it?” Milena asked briefly, scanning the corners of the room.

Akane shook her head.

There was only one thing drilled into them: evacuate.
Not engage.

Another scream rang out—closer this time.

From the end of the hallway.

A female student was hiding beneath a desk, her body shaking violently. Akane immediately crouched down, lowering herself so she wouldn’t appear threatening. She extended her hand slowly.

“It’s okay,” she said firmly. “We’ll get you out.”

The student nodded stiffly.

The Pulse came again.

Louder.
Closer.

“Why now of all times…,” Akane whispered, her jaw tightening.

They moved fast.

On the next floor’s restroom, they found another victim. A female student was curled up in the corner of a stall, hugging her knees, her breathing erratic. No injuries—only pure terror.

There was no discussion.

Akane moved in front, her body becoming a shield.
Milena took the rear, her magic pistol already in hand. The barrel steady. Her finger calm.

They descended toward the ground floor.

The moment the door opened—

The air trembled.

Five shadows leapt out of a distortion of light.

Luphos Rift-Hounds.

The wolf-like creatures landed lightly and spread out in a natural formation. Their bodies resembled dense smoke, thin lines of glowing fractures running along their spines to their tails. Their eyes were dim—not furious, but hungry.

Akane held her breath.

“There’s no other choice,” she muttered.

“Standing still is pointless,” Milena replied flatly.

The first shot rang out.

Magic energy slammed into the head of the lead Luphos. Its body shattered into dark particles. Two more shots followed—fast, precise. The wolves collapsed before they could close the distance.

Silence.

They moved again—faster now.

The ground began to shake.

Heavy footsteps echoed from the open field outside. Each impact reverberated through bone and concrete alike.

Something massive emerged from behind a support structure.

Ursavore Groundbreak.

Its body was enormous, layered in black, cracked hide like fractured concrete. Thick dorsal plates rose along its back. Each step sent a pulse through the ground. It didn’t run. It didn’t chase.

It advanced.

The remaining Luphos retreated, crouching low in fear.

“They… stopped?” Akane whispered.

“Not because of us,” Milena answered quietly. “They’re afraid of him.”

Her eyes never left the creature.

“GWE-B,” she continued. “Something we were only taught in theory.”

Akane swallowed.

“What does that mean?”

“It means this thing is far more dangerous,” Milena replied.
“Our bullets won’t work. Magic won’t either.”

Ursavore released a low roar. The sound made the glass tremble. The students they were protecting cowered in terror.

Akane stepped half a pace forward—hesitating for a fraction of a second before steadying herself.

“Hold on to me,” she told the two students. “Don’t let go.”

Milena shifted her position, taking a firing angle—not to attack, but to delay.

On the rooftop of the main building, a man stood quietly.

Kiryu Masuda.

His arms were folded. His expression calm. His gaze wasn’t on the monster, but on the two students now standing between fear and responsibility.

“Good,” he said softly.
“A moment of panic. Then movement.”

Ursavore slammed its limb into the ground. A shockwave tore through the courtyard.

Akane nearly lost her footing—recovering at the last moment.

Milena drew a deep breath.

“If we stop,” she said shortly, “we die.”

They moved—not backward, but sideways, using the building as cover. Ursavore smashed into a wall, concrete collapsing as dust swallowed their view.

They escaped—barely.

When the dust settled, the courtyard was in ruins. No additional casualties. But the Pulse still echoed in the distance.

In the temporary medical room, the rescued students sat in silence. No more screams. Only heavy breathing and hollow stares.

Akane leaned her back against the wall. Her hands were shaking—only now did she feel it.

Milena lowered her pistol. For the first time, a crack appeared in her expression—not fear, but realization.

“…This isn’t a drill,” she said again. This time, it wasn’t an assumption.

Outside, Horizon Gakuen’s systems reactivated. Energy barriers reinforced. Security drones arrived—too late.

On the rooftop, Kiryu looked down at the shattered courtyard.

“Consequences recorded,” he murmured.
“Now they know.”

In the distance, Ursavore disappeared behind collapsing structures.

The test wasn’t over yet.