Chapter 4 — The Safe Point

From a distance, the military convoy almost looked peaceful.

Trucks rumbled down the highway in a long, orderly line, packed with civilians—women clutching children, elderly survivors wrapped in thin blankets, students huddled together in stunned silence. Soldiers rode along the sides, rifles resting casually against their shoulders, faces unreadable.

Arata followed from far behind, headlights off, keeping to the shadows.

They really think this is a safe place…

Inside one of the trucks, Takeru sat with his arms crossed, jaw clenched tight.

“He just left us,” he muttered. “That bastard.”

“Easy,” Riku said quietly. “Getting angry won’t help.”

For the first time since the outbreak began, the girls looked almost relieved.

“At least we’re with the military now,” Mina said, her shoulders finally loosening.

“Yeah…” Haruka added softly. “We’ll be okay, right?”

The trucks slowed.

Then stopped.

“Why are we stopping?” Mina asked.

A soldier slapped the side of the truck.

“Out. Everyone out.”

Floodlights snapped on as survivors were herded into a fenced military outpost. Watchtowers loomed overhead. Armed guards tracked every movement with mechanical precision. Medical tents lined the concrete yard in perfect rows.

“Standard procedure,” a medic announced. “Checking for bites, scratches, or signs of infection.”

One by one, people were examined.

“Name?”

“Mina Hasegawa. Eighteen. Third-year.”

“Next.”

“Haruka Kugisaki. Eighteen. Third-year.”

A needle pierced Haruka’s arm. She flinched, rubbing the spot afterward.

“So those are your names,” Takeru said, forcing a thin smile.

“Yeah,” Haruka replied quietly. “Guess we never really introduced ourselves.”

Outside the fence, Arata watched from the darkness.

Watchtowers.

Patrol patterns.

Blind spots.

When the last truck emptied, he parked behind a collapsed storefront and stepped out.

He removed the tactical vest and left it behind with the shotgun. Only the Glock and knife remained. His dog tags vanished beneath his shirt.

“…Damn it,” he muttered. “I should’ve just left.”

At the gate, three soldiers blocked his path.

“Hey, kid. What are you doing out here?”

“I got separated from the convoy,” Arata said evenly. “I was left behind.”

One soldier called out, “We’ve got another survivor!”

Another studied Arata’s face, brow furrowing.

“…You look familiar.”

Arata met his gaze without blinking. “Don’t think so.”

A pause.

Then the gate slid open.

Inside the outpost, Riku spotted him instantly.

“—Arata!?”

Takeru stormed over and swung.

Arata dodged on instinct.

“HEY!” Riku grabbed Takeru’s arm. “Enough!”

“What the hell is wrong with you!?” Takeru snapped. “You ditched us!”

“Takeru,” Riku said sharply. “Stop.”

Arata pulled them into the narrow shadow between tents.

“The military isn’t saving people,” he said quietly. “They’re filtering them.”

“Filtering?” Riku asked.

“They kill anyone they think is a liability,” Arata continued. “The rest get experimented on.”

Takeru scoffed. “That’s insane.”

Riku didn’t respond.

“If you don’t believe me,” Arata said, stepping back, “that’s your choice.”

A voice cut cleanly through the noise.

“Are you sure you saw him?”

Arata froze.

A woman stepped into the light, flanked by soldiers. Short dark hair. Cold, focused eyes. Perfect posture.

Ayame.

Codename: Ghost.

Age: nineteen.

Specialization: martial arts, firearms, infiltration.

One of the original five.

“Yes, ma’am,” a soldier replied. “I’m certain.”

Arata turned to leave—

Then stopped.

Ayame stood behind him.

For half a second, his body remembered before his mind did.

That was enough.

Her pistol was already raised.

“…Hey, Ayame,” Arata said quietly.

Her expression hardened.

“Arrest him.”

Hands slammed him to the ground. Cold cuffs snapped shut around his wrists.

“Tch,” Takeru muttered. “See? He ran off again.”

Riku didn’t answer.

Ayame searched the outpost personally.

Tents.

Barracks.

Checkpoints.

Nothing.

That night, Arata watched from behind reinforced fencing.

Some civilians were cleared and released.

Others were escorted away—and never returned.

Behind sealed walls, muffled screams echoed through the compound.

“They planned this,” Arata whispered. “All of it.”

Riku found him near the fence.

“We have to go,” Arata said under his breath. “I found a blind route.”

“Not yet,” Riku replied. “Tell me the truth.”

“I did.”

“No,” Riku said firmly. “Why do soldiers recognize you? Why did she—”

“We don’t have time,” Arata snapped. “If you want to live, come now.”

He turned—

“Arata.”

The voice stopped him cold.

Ayame stood behind him again.

This time, closer.

“Take him.”

Hands dragged him down. The cuffs locked tight.

Once again—

Arata Kurogane belonged to the military.