It had been days. Mino's sickness hadn't improved at all.
She lay on the cot, drenched in fever sweat, coughing and huffing as though every breath scraped against broken glass. Her chest rose and fell with effort, and each exhale sounded wetter than the last.
Adam sat beside Yuri, who was rummaging desperately through her torn bag. The only things left inside were expired rations and cracked pills.
"I don't know," Yuri whispered. "I don't know what this is. It won't go away. Is it a fungal infection or something?"
"There's No antifungals." Adam muttered. "There's really nothing we can do but hope her body fights it off."
He looked down, his fingers curling tightly around his knees. Everyone else just waited—silent, helpless shadows in the damp room.
What do I do... I don't know anymore.His thoughts spiraled. His chest hurt — but not from the illness.
Yuri stood suddenly. "Fungal infections... they usually don't spread from person to person," she said, unsure. "But we can't be certain. Not with this."
The metal door creaked. Kineki stepped inside without looking at Mino."Hey, Adam. Mr. Rakete wants to speak with you."
Outside, under a rust-colored sky, Rakete stood with his arms crossed, the look on his face heavy with something Adam had expected—but still dreaded.
"I'm sorry, Adam," Rakete said. "But I need you to leave. I can't risk exposing my wife or myself."
Adam nodded slowly. "I understand."He couldn't even be angry. If the roles were reversed, he might have done the same.
"But..." Rakete added, a slight grin breaking through, his eyes shining. "Before you go, I want you to see this. A little reminder that we've accomplished something."
They walked a little farther out, where the massive rocket stood—sleek, silver, and towering.
Trosterin and Rakete boarded it together, surrounded by neatly packed crates of supplies, suits, and tools. They waved from the ramp like kids off on a school trip.
Behind the glass, Yoku placed his hand flat against it. His voice cracked.
"Adam... I don't know if I'm selfish for this. But I want them to fail..no to die. so we can use this place to help Mino."
Adam turned away.
Why am I so weak?
The rocket hissed, then rose. For a moment, hope flickered like a sunrise.
Then came the explosion.
Midway through the sky, the ship ruptured — flames, metal, and dreams spiraling downward. The two figures ejected just in time, parachutes flaring open as debris rained behind them.
Adam and Yoku watched in frozen terror.
"They survived," Yoku growled, eyes bloodshot and wild. "Just say the word, Adam. Say it."
The two returned, faces blackened with ash and failure.
"I'm sorry," Trosterin coughed. "Another failure. I don't know how those ancients did it. Maybe they had... other ways."
Adam said nothing. He stared at the carved cubes—ancient technology etched with patterns that felt more like prophecy.
"What about the ceiling?" he asked.
Trosterin paused. "There are rumors. Some say another civilization exists up there." Her hands trembled as she spoke.
Is it okay to be selfish? Is it okay to choose Mino over humanity's progress?
Rakete stepped forward. "There are a few antifungal pills. Just five. Maybe they'll help her... maybe."
In the back room, a container was unlocked. The small bottle was warm in Adam's hand. Five pills. Five chances.
Yoku packed their gear. "If we can't use this place, I'll at least take whatever's useful... No most i can!"
They left again—driving toward the sky rail, aiming for the ceiling of the stratum.
As they passed through the shattered dome of the underground city, darkness swallowed them. Towering ruins loomed. Crushed pipes, shattered glass, moss-covered walls.
And standing in the center of it all — an automaton.
Dead.
Its body twisted, motionless, its metal joints overtaken by moss. But not ordinary moss.
It pulsed faintly in the dark...
"Adam… why didn't you take the base?" he asked, voice strained as the vehicle bounced over debris. "We could've stayed. Used the resources. Now we're heading to the damn ceiling."
Adam didn't respond at first. His eyes were distant, glued to nothing. Then, softly—
"I'm just following someone. He said… love your neighbor."
Yoku frowned, staring ahead into the flickering orange lights of the overhead railway. The glint of movement made them tense. Automatons—too many of them—patrolling the path like wolves on a scent. Without a word, Yoku veered the Kettenkrad off-road and slid it behind a collapsed tunnel arch.
They ducked low as mechanical shadows moved past.
Yoku hissed, "Even if your friends are dying? Even if Mino dies?"
Adam didn't look at him. "I just trust... that at the end, everything will be fine."
From behind them, Kineki scoffed, her voice sharp and bitter."What if it isn't fine? That's stupid, Adam. You really think we'll all be smiling at the end? That we'll get some happy curtain call?"
The silence afterward felt heavy.
Adam watched the vines — thick, strange things — crawling upward like they were reaching for heaven. Chains hung beside them, rusted and ancient, swaying in the stale wind that filtered down from the ceiling.
"I just refuse," he said slowly, "to believe this meaningless pain leads to nothing. That we're all just... suffering until we die. Forgotten."
He looked up, eyes burning."If that were true, then it means the moment someone forgets your name, you're gone forever. I refuse to let that be real. I reject it — to my soul."
There has to be something... sigh, at the end
Mino was confused. "What are you guys—cough—talking about?"
Yuri smirks ruffling her head, "That your the cutest person in the world"
"Sigh, now thats avoiding the question"