Primordial: Revelation (Part II)

[December 6th, 11:50 JST]

Shizuoka Prefecture – Primordial Ruin, Mount Fuji

No one moved.

The newly revealed passage stood open before them. Despite the darkness, it felt almost inviting, as if the ruin itself were beckoning Reina and her team forward. Around them, all activity had stopped.

Reina pressed a finger to her earpiece.

“This is Tempesta. Producer, do you copy?”

A brief pause.

“A concealed passage has appeared in the main chamber,” she continued. “The timing suggests a resonance response—possibly requiring a specific frequency to activate. My assessment is that this passage connects to the two sealed sections.”

“Director here,” the reply came calmly. “Copy that, Tempesta. We have everything recorded. Bring your team and proceed into the passage. Over.”

Reina exhaled once and signaled to Emiko.

Emiko stepped forward to the entrance and drew her D-Mic. She hummed softly as she raised her right hand, a small sphere of controlled light forming above her palm.

She then released the sphere. The light drifted forward slowly, floating several steps ahead of them, illuminating the passage without the need for torches.

Reina entered first, Emiko followed close behind, the others filing in after them.

The passage began narrow, its walls pressing close, before gradually widening as they advanced. Their footsteps were muted. The only sound was the faint hum of Emiko sustaining the light.

Then Reina saw it.

A soft blue glow shimmered at the far end of the tunnel.

She raised a hand, signaling the team to stop, and moved ahead alone. As she reached the end and stepped out, the space beyond revealed itself.

The vast room was carved directly from the rock of Mount Fuji. There were no inscriptions lining the walls, only smooth natural stone. The blue light illuminating the chamber did not come from a single source. It reflected across the space from the rectangular stone pillars that filled the room.

Each stood nearly the height of an elephant, arranged with deliberate spacing. Their surfaces were etched with drawings and unfamiliar symbols, unlike anything Reina had seen before.

She scanned the chamber once more, then turned and motioned for the others to follow.

As the girls entered the room, Reina spoke into her earpiece.

“This is Tempesta reporting,” she said, pausing briefly. “We’ve reached what appears to be the second chamber. The space contains multiple stone pillars carved with non-linguistic symbols and drawings. No immediate threats detected. Area appears stable.”

“Roger that,” the reply came after a moment. “A small team will be dispatched once ready. Proceed with caution. Director out.”

The girls spread out across the chamber, drawn instinctively to the pillars. They examined the drawings etched into the stone, trying to piece together the meaning from the unfamiliar symbols.

Then Mika gasped. Her sharp intake of breath echoed through the room.

Everyone turned toward her at once, converging on her position.

In front of Mika stood a set of pillars unlike the others. They were positioned closely together, arranged in a straight line that extended toward the far end of the chamber, as if meant to be read in sequence.

Reina glanced once — and immediately understood Mika’s reaction.

The drawings carved into the stone were familiar.

They depicted the meteor shower — the same carving pattern they had studied long ago. But here, they were rendered in far greater detail, clearer and more expansive than anything in their records.

Stone lines curved downward in dense arcs, streaks descending from above. Their shapes were unmistakable as the blue light glimmered periodically, as if the mural itself were breathing. The upper portion of the carving was filled with an overwhelming number of meteorites.

Beneath them stood human figures.

Their bodies were wrapped in what appeared to be animal hides. Crude sticks and stone implements were clutched in their hands, their proportions broader, heavier — reminding the girls of prehistoric humanity.

Some figures raised their arms toward the sky. Others shielded themselves. A few were carved mid-motion, frozen as they ran, their steps caught in the moment they realized what was falling toward them.

Their gaze shifted to the adjacent pillar.

The drawing changed.

The figures now stood together, their postures upright. Animal hides still covered their bodies, but their purposeful movements were deliberate.

In their hands were carvings of small stone fragments. Beside them loomed a massive chunk of meteor rock. The fragments were raised close to open mouths, emphasized by the mural.

Waves radiated outward from the figures, etched into the stone. On the opposite side, blocks of rock were shown suspended mid-air. Behind the figures, rough sketches of structures took shape: walls, platforms, foundations. A civilization in its beginning.

Another pillar revealed its completion.

The carving expanded into a dense cityscape — layered stone buildings rising atop one another, terraces and arches interwoven with elevated walkways. The mural seemed alive.

The figures had changed again.

They no longer wore crude hides. Their garments were patterned, refined. In their hands were slender, straight, rod-like objects, held close to their mouths. Male and female figures alike were depicted this way throughout the mural.

Reina could feel the resonance emanating from it.

Waves moved through streets and structures, weaving naturally between the figures. Near the lower edge of the carving, smaller figures stood alongside taller ones, holding the same objects, their resonance patterns flowing outward in the same rhythm.

Here, singing was as ordinary as breathing.

The following carving was different.

At its center loomed a massive meteor fragment, the largest yet unmistakably the same stone shown before, now rendered in full.

Around it stood human figures. But they were no longer aligned.

Some faced one another, arms raised in confrontation. Others were carved with mouths open wide, bodies twisted in tension, their postures sharp and hostile. Groups fractured into clusters, their stances charged with discord rather than harmony.

They were still singing.

Rod-like objects remained clutched in their hands, but the resonance carved around them had changed. The waves bent sharply as they approached the meteor, warping into jagged, uneven patterns. Notes overlapped chaotically, collapsing into one another. The stone absorbed it all.

The following carving was suffocating to behold.

Unlike the others, it was almost entirely devoid of light.

Darkness spilled across its surface in thick, coiling shapes. On one side of the pillar, smoke-like forms rose from the meteor fragment, dense and alive. Within them, shapes emerged.

Closest to the stone were small, misshapen bodies, barely held together. Farther out, the same shapes grew larger, heavier, their silhouettes more defined. Beyond them, distinct animal traits appeared — powerful frames shaped like predators, massive bodies resembling mammoths and other beasts.

On the opposite side stood the humans.

They were no longer unified. Some raised their voices toward the rods in their hands, but the waves around them were thin and broken. Others recoiled, bodies turned away, arms lifted in fear or desperation. Several figures were carved fallen to the ground, their voices absent entirely.

Warm blue light returned with the next pillar.

A group of figures stood apart from the rest.

They were drawn with deliberate emphasis — their bodies slimmer, their proportions youthful. Adolescent girls. Their faces were carved with care, expression focused and sharpened with resolve.

They were singing.

Lines of waves erupted from them in clear, distinct forms. Flames surged from open palms, blades of wind curved through the air. Waters coiled and stone lifted. Each girl wielded something different, yet all held the same rod-like object close as they sang.

Opposite them stood the creatures born of smoke.

The air in the chamber seemed to tighten as the mural shifted onward.

This pillar showed something they had never wished to see.

At its center rose a single towering form. Its size immediately reminded them of the Level 4 CODA they had fought before. The body was dense, no longer smoke-bound or unstable. An existence fully realized in stone.

Buildings were carved splitting apart, walls collapsing inward as if crushed by invisible force. Yet along the lower portion of the stone, figures still stood facing it, singing.

The singers were drawn with strained postures. Their limbs trembled, resonance thinning as it collided against the massive body before them. Some had fallen to one knee. Others were carved mid-collapse, their voices cut short.

The destruction continued outward — ground splitting, structures reduced to rubble, human figures scattered or struck down.

Nana’s hand slowly curled into a fist. Her breath caught. Memories of the Ibaraki operation flashed through her mind.

One pillar dominated the others.

It depicted a form so vast that the stone itself was carved larger to contain it. A colossal shape towered over everything that came before. Its body rising beyond buildings, beyond the limits of the city itself. An overwhelming presence that blotted out the sky.

The city was gone.

What had once stood was now reduced to collapsed terraces, shattered towers, foundations torn apart. The ground itself was carved splitting open, the destruction rendered without scale or boundary.

Below it stood the singers.

Dozens of young girls filled the lower half of it. Some sang alone. Others stood in groups, their resonance overlapping in dense layers. The resolve carved into their forms was unmistakable.

Some were shown falling. Others remained standing, their postures unbroken despite the devastation around them. A few faced the colossal form directly, arms outstretched.

Emiko’s tears fell freely. Momoko’s vision blurred.

Then came the final pillar.

The singers no longer stood upon the ground.

They were rising.

Each girl was carved suspended above the ruined city, her body encased within a sphere of light. The spheres varied in size and intensity, yet all radiated the same truth. The overwhelming resonance that drowned out everything else in the carving.

Their mouths were open in song.

This time, there were no waves.

Instead, beside the figures, four lines of unreadable and incomprehensible writing were etched into the stone. Reina reached out instinctively.

The moment her fingers brushed the symbols, she recoiled.

Her knees gave way.

She knew those words. Not by meaning. But memory.

It was the song she had sung before — the language born before words ever existed.

Tears fell silently as she continued to stare at the mural.

Above her, the massive creature was carved straining upward, its body fragmenting under the converging light. There was no aftermath. No victory shown.

Only a single moment, frozen forever in stone.

The sequence ended there.

Reina drew a slow breath, then exhaled as she stood, steadying herself while pressing her earpiece.

“Director,” she said. “Tempesta reporting.”

“Yes. Copy that. Any new information?”

Reina hesitated for a fraction of a second.

“Our previous assumptions were incorrect,” she said. “What we believed to be external does not align with what we’ve confirmed here.”

There was a brief pause on the line.

“Understood,” the Director replied at last. “The dispatched team will log your findings when they arrive. We’ll reassess once you return.”

Reina lowered her hand and turned back to her team.

Emiko and Momoko were still sobbing quietly. Emi met Reina’s gaze without speaking. Mika remained fixed on the final pillar. Nana stared at the stone beneath her boots, searching for words she didn’t have. Misaki leaned back slightly, eyes lifted toward the ceiling above.

Yuzuriha stood behind Emiko.

Her fingers rose to her braid, brushing the white ring once out of habit, before her hand fell back to her side. A moment later, she noticed Reina’s gaze and looked away.

Reina forced a small smile and turned toward the far end of the room.

A wide carving filled the space ahead, broader than the others. Its surface rose above them, tall enough to require lifting one’s gaze, every section crowded with layered drawings.

The others followed quietly behind her.

Yuzuriha stopped.

Her eyes locked onto its surface. Her fingers curled slowly at her side, knuckles paling as her grip tightened.