Three days later, Suka and Miya were still aboard the extremist organization's flying war platform. Dawn was breaking its first rays over the ocean of dunes: sand as far as the eye could see, and the unit, massive and motionless, hadn't moved an inch in seventy-two hours. Sitting on the edge of the cold metal, they looked like two insects on a steel carcass—still shrunk by Suka's power, completely invisible to the guards' patrols.
Suka let out a weary sigh and grumbled, "Three long days on this damn thing... and no way to establish contact with our friends."
Miya placed a hand on his shoulder, calm but tense. "The floating unit has completely neutralized our signals. We need a device capable of piercing their armor and reestablishing communication. We'll eventually find a terminal."
Suka turned his head toward the horizon, his features set. His voice took on a darker tone:
"And the last time we saw them, they were surrounded by a horde of enemies. It worries me."
Miya looked at him sincerely:
"You have to have faith in them. They know how to fight, they'll survive."
Suka replied, his jaw clenched, fear and determination mingling in his voice:
"I have blind faith in all of them, yes. But I'm especially wary of the organization trio. After Griselda left, one of them may have intervened here—and you know as well as I do that there's very little chance they'll all escape unscathed."
Miya took a lipstick out of her pocket and twirled it between her fingers with feigned nonchalance.
Suka raised an eyebrow, amused and incredulous.
"Really? You think this is the time to make yourself look pretty?"
Miya huffed, a smirk on her face.
"Don't worry, it's not just a lipstick."
She pressed a small, discreet button under the tube. Immediately, a miniature screen unfolded and tried to pick up a signal—but only displayed three cold letters: "NO SIGNAL." Miya frowned, not surprised.
"This device will allow us to precisely map the interior of the floating unit," she explained in a concentrated tone.
Suka added, his expression serious:
"...But first, we need a device capable of establishing a signal." Without that, we won't be able to locate them or send a message.
Miya shrugged and added mischievously, "Then we begin this quest. And while we're at it, we'll also find some food—we haven't eaten or drunk anything in three days."
Suka stood up. Without another word, he let his wings spring forth—thin membranes and dark scales resulting from his symbiosis with the yokai. The air vibrated around them when, despite their diminutive size, he lifted Miya onto his back and flew away.
They were tiny now, two living ants on the war beast's metallic skin. The world at their scale was a labyrinth of gears, rivets, and shadows, punctuated by smoking vents and flashing panels. The smell of hot metal and ozone bit their nostrils, and every breath of wind from the platform sounded like a hurricane.
An oppressive, almost unreal environment stretched out before Suka and Miya.
The interior of the floating unit resembled a mechanical nightmare. The narrow corridors, plunged into glowing semi-darkness, vibrated to the rhythm of the internal engines' roar and the hot breath of the steam ducts. The air was heavy, saturated with the smell of burnt metal and oil.
Black robotic guards, nearly two meters tall, patrolled slowly, their red eyes scanning the surroundings like lasers. Each step they took caused an ominous metallic pounding. Their articulated arms ended in integrated rifles, and their massive torsos glowed with warning symbols.
But these machines were nothing compared to the Paladins, four-legged steel colossi, each over ten meters long. Their massive silhouettes made the walls vibrate with every movement, and from their flanks emerged gigantic cannons capable of reducing a building to dust. They advanced slowly, like armored mechanical gods, guarding strategic areas.
Among these steel monsters, human soldiers also moved, dressed in reinforced black uniforms, their faces hidden beneath waterproof helmets. They briefly exchanged coded orders through their earpieces, unaware of Suka and Miya's invisible presence.
But the most disturbing were the deformed creatures crawling in the shadows of the corridors: old failed genetic experiments, a fusion of humans, beasts, and metal. Their deformed bodies, covered in cables or plates of flesh, let out muffled sounds, like moans or the grinding of iron.
The red light of the maintenance alarms pulsed at regular intervals, painting every corner with a bloody hue. Rotating cameras watched relentlessly, ready to detect the slightest suspicious movement. Hundreds of identical doors, marked with white numbers, stretched as far as the eye could see, forming a mechanical labyrinth.
A gloomy environment stretched out before Suka and Miya.
The interior corridors of the floating unit seemed straight out of a nightmare. Black robotic guards, two meters tall, patrolled methodically. Their thick armor reflected the reddish neon light, while Paladins, immense quadrupedal machines over ten meters tall, advanced heavily, each equipped with cannons capable of reducing a wall to ashes.
Human soldiers marched among them, accompanied by deformed creatures: twisted monstrosities, a fusion of flesh and metal, which wandered the corridors, leaving behind a foul stench.
The entire structure was bathed in a black and red decor, punctuated by metallic noises and burning steam escaping from the pipes. The rotating cameras observed every corner, and the doors stretched as far as the eye could see, giving the impression of a hellish labyrinth.
Suka groaned, "Fuck... it really feels like we've stepped into hell."
Miya, her eyes fixed on the glowing horizon, replied, "This place perfectly reflects the image of the extremist trio."
Moving forward silently, they arrived at a large, reinforced room. Miya clung to the edge of the door, as did Suka. Through a small circular window, they glimpsed the interior.
A vast space stretched out before them. Human bodies were suspended, attached to machines, or submerged in strange vats filled with a greenish liquid. Some were still breathing faintly. Others were nothing more than the remains of failed experiments. Scientists, their gazes blank and emotionless, calmly manipulated their instruments.
Suka and Miya slipped discreetly under the door, slipping into the shadows. They approached the holographic analysis panels projected onto the walls. The data was displayed in the form of luminous tables—experiment results, compatibility reports, and above all… a multitude of genetic tests.
Miya murmured, her voice trembling,
"It's truly horrible... why inflict this on their own kind?"
Suka replied icily, "They've lost all trace of humanity. Morality no longer means anything to them."
Two scientists then approached the panel, discussing, unaware of the intruders' presence.
The first spoke:
"Most of our guinea pigs can't tolerate Crinothesia. Their cells disintegrate quickly, and they die before they can fully mutate."
"That's a problem," replied the second. "But the massive production of dark sludge thanks to the Heart of Shadow opens up new avenues for us. We're no longer limited to creating genetically modified superhumans..."
Suka frowned.
"In that case... those monstrosities we encountered in the corridors... they're not mistakes?"
Miya whispered, "No. According to what they say, the Heart of Shadow isn't just used to create 'perfect' humans. It's also used to experiment on other life forms—abominations."
The first scientist continued thoughtfully, "I've actually formulated a new hypothesis."
"What is it?" asked the other.
"About 35% of our best results come from subjects already suffering from serious and incurable illnesses. Their morale is shattered, their willpower nonexistent." And since the Heart of Shadow feeds on negative energy, this accelerates the mutation process. A desperate guinea pig transforms more easily than a healthy individual.
The second stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"Indeed... that seems logical."
The first touched the screen, displaying a series of statistical curves. The data was clear: the sick subjects showed a much higher compatibility with the Heart of Shadow.
Miya said in a trembling voice, her gaze fixed on the greenish vats:
"It's... appalling. Our kind are nothing more than experimental tools. Poor people kidnapped from all over the place, reduced to serving as guinea pigs for their sordid projects..."
Suka, his face hard and his jaw clenched, replied:
"That's one more reason to continue. We must find a way to contact the others and prevent these abominations from multiplying. Come on, let's move."
Without another word, they slipped through the door again, leaving this room of horror.
The same corridor stretched before them: dark, scarlet, saturated with burning steam. The metal of the floor vibrated under the heavy footsteps of the robots and the mechanical groans of the Paladins. Human soldiers patrolled, some accompanied by hideous monsters with distorted silhouettes. The cameras slowly swiveled, scanning every corner, while a dull rumble echoed throughout the entire structure.
Suka and Miya moved quietly along the metal walls, blending into the shadows.
But suddenly, a commotion caught their attention. Further on, a large door stood wide open, and a line of soldiers was heading towards it. Intrigued, they approached cautiously.
"It looks like... a common room," Miya murmured.
Peeking inside, they discovered a vast, impeccably maintained canteen.
Perfectly aligned tables, white lights, and an almost... normal atmosphere.
The soldiers laughed, chatted in low voices, and joked among themselves as if they weren't the guardians of a mechanical hell. The clinking of cutlery, murmurs, and a few peals of laughter echoed in the hot air.
This stark contrast with the rest of the base sent a shiver down Suka's spine.
"It's crazy... they live here as if everything were normal," he breathed.
Miya watched for a moment as the soldiers ate calmly, oblivious to the horror unfolding a few doors away.
"They've surely been conditioned. Or... they chose to ignore the truth."
Suka clenched his fists.
"It doesn't matter. We'll find a way to end this, but first, let's find something to eat."
The smell made Suka's stomach churn: grilled salmon, rare steak, crispy chicken, golden fries, well-cooked eggs—a festival of aromas that made his mouth water and his pupils bulge despite his diminutive size. Miya also pursed his lips as he breathed, his eyes shining with suppressed desire.
"Let's eat," Suka breathed, his voice full of an appetite he struggled to hide. "I'm gargantuanly hungry."
Miya hesitantly placed a hand over his mouth.
"What do we do? If we grow up again in here, we'll be spotted immediately. It would be certain death."
Suka thought for a second, his eyes scanning the vastness of the cafeteria like a predator calculating its prey. A sly smile twisted his face.
"I'll take care of stealing a few generous plates." We then hide in the food storage room behind the canteen and eat in peace. We have no other option.
Miya narrowed her eyes, skeptical but convinced by Suka's assurance:
"And the key to the storage room? How do you plan to open it?"
Suka replied confidently:
"We find the person who has it. Simple. When I find the owner of the key, I miniaturize it with my power—I make it tiny, I hide it on me without them noticing. No one is going to search a tiny speck of key. We go unnoticed and leave with the food."
They walked down a table, pressing against the cold metal with their feet, watching. The canteen was a ballet of carefree soldiers: fat discussions, handshakes, raucous laughter. The station commander—tall, square, with an important air—wore a keychain attached to his belt. The key shone for a moment in the light, in time with his movements. It was the target.
Suka gave Miya a discreet sign. They crawled between crumbs and drops of oil, slithering up to the leader's leg. Suka inhaled, his insect-like mandibles quivering; he projected a tiny wave of attraction—enough to make a small ant (himself) slide toward the keyring's loop, without attracting attention. His hand, agile as a pair of pincers, brushed against the key. The contact was enough.
With an imperceptible movement, Suka contracted his power: the key shrank, became tiny like a speck of metallic dust, and slipped beneath his palm. His heart was beating fast, but his voice remained calm when Miya whispered,
"Do you have it?"
"Yes. Let's go."
Suka and Miya quietly made their way to the food storage room. The long scarlet corridor echoed with mechanical noises and metallic footsteps, but their diminutive size made them invisible to sensors and guards. Arriving at the storage room door, Suka returned to normal size, as did Miya and the key he still held miniature in his palm. In an instant, the key returned to its original size, shining in the reddish light of the corridor.
"Be ready," he murmured.
He inserted the key into the lock and turned it slowly. Click. The door opened silently. The two youths immediately rushed inside before closing it behind them, carefully locking the door.
The storage room was much larger than they had expected. Entire shelves were laden with sauces of all kinds—mayonnaise, mustard, ketchup, white sauce—and dozens of carefully arranged jars of condiments. Further on, a refrigerated section housed perfectly preserved fresh meats, beef, chicken, and fish. Fruits and vegetables were stacked in climate-controlled compartments. The air smelled fresh, salty, and with a faint scent of flavored oil.
Miya's eyes widened, almost in awe.
"Fuck... this is heaven."
Suka, a mocking smile playing on his lips, replied with a sneer, "Not so fast, dry your saliva. I'll get the main course."
Before Miya could even reply, Suka activated his power again. His body contracted, shrinking to a tiny size. He winked at Miya before slipping through the keyhole, disappearing in a whisper.
A few seconds later, he found himself in the main kitchen of the canteen. The floor vibrated under the soldiers' footsteps, the cooks shouted orders, dishes clattered, but no one noticed the small, invisible figure weaving between the pots. Before him, a row of steaming plates awaited him: grilled salmon, roast chicken, rare steak, golden fries, sautéed vegetables, and creamy sauces.
"Jackpot," he breathed, breaking into a carnivorous grin.
He raised his hand and used his power. Six plates instantly shrank, becoming as tiny as coins. He carefully stacked them on top of each other, then teleported with a pulse of energy, reappearing in the storeroom where Miya was waiting for him.
With a fluid gesture, he returned to his normal size. The plates returned to their original shape simultaneously, settling on a can of food that served as a makeshift table. Miya was speechless at the sheer quantity of food.
"I swear, you're a genius, Suka," she laughed.
"I know," he replied with a smirk. "Come on, let's eat before the smell betrays us."
The two sat down at the table, savoring each bite as if it were the first time they'd tasted a real meal in centuries. The silence was replaced by the soft clinking of cutlery and sighs of satisfaction.
For a moment, despite the war, despite the darkness surrounding them, they forgot everything.
They were just two companions lost in the belly of a mechanical monster, sharing a stolen meal, a moment of humanity suspended in the midst of hell.