The first one to wake up was the young woman with auburn hair and hazel eyes—who, if not for the fact that I was in a student's body, would have been younger than me.
The second was the girl with jet-black hair and sharp gray eyes. She seemed to be the same age as the boy with crimson-red hair and matching eyes—the same boy who had freed all of us.
The third to stir was the boy who appeared to be around my age—or rather, the age of the body I currently inhabited.
Except for the young woman, all of them wore matching uniforms that seemed to belong to some prestigious academy: black coats and slacks lined with distinct colors, the insignia too distant and obscured for me to make out clearly, especially from my limited vantage point in the shadows. The young woman, on the other hand, was dressed in a sleek professional suit. From what little I could see, she wore a badge clipped to her chest, but the angle and darkness kept its details hidden.
There was confusion and shock in their eyes as they awoke, yet no one screamed or panicked. They recovered faster than expected, perhaps trained for situations like these.
The first to regain composure was the auburn-haired woman—if she had lost any to begin with. From the instant she opened her eyes, her presence was calm and commanding. She quickly scanned the wreckage-strewn landscape beyond the collapsed walls and shattered glass.
Then she stood up.
She began to chant—words flowing from her lips in a voice alien and rhythmic, filled with syllables I couldn't recognize. Her eyes were closed, and yet she spoke with such fluidity and speed that it felt as if she recited entire volumes in mere seconds.
Then she opened her eyes.
I nearly lost my balance from my squatting position as I caught a glimpse of the glowing symbols spinning in her irises—and even her ears. Glowing letters and cryptic runes, like something out of a forgotten myth, shimmered and rotated in mesmerizing patterns.
She scanned the surroundings again with those glowing eyes. The others—now fully awake—watched her warily. All three fell into martial arts stances I couldn't identify, movements honed and silent.
I didn't know any martial arts. So instead, I simply tensed my muscles, preparing to run if needed. But instinct told me this woman wasn't attacking. She was searching—protecting.
The tension in the air thickened as her glowing gaze swept across every shadow and crevice.
Gradually, the letters and circles dimmed, fading from her eyes and ears. Her stance relaxed, and she lowered her arms.
She looked at each of us and made a small motion with her hand—an unspoken signal to relax.
Everyone exhaled in near-perfect unison, releasing breath they had held. Their stances eased, but the tension lingered in their shoulders and eyes.
I too relaxed, stepping out of my runner's crouch. A few of them glanced at me with raised eyebrows—mild amusement or confusion flickering in their eyes—but those expressions were quickly withdrawn, as if they realized this wasn't the time for such thoughts.
We regrouped behind the largest tree in the wreckage, hiding among grass that grew taller than any adult. If not for the life-threatening circumstances, I might have marveled at the sheer size of the blades—towering, emerald walls in a surreal forest of ruin.
After all, where in the world could you find grass this tall?
"What happened, Professor?"
While my mind raced with questions and fragments of useless awe, someone finally voiced the thought gnawing at all of us.
It was the boy who appeared to be my age. I silently thanked him for saying it aloud and turned to the auburn-haired woman.
Everyone else did the same, their attention fixed on her.
She didn't answer immediately. Her expression remained composed, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty.
"We don't know," she said finally, her voice steady but laced with confusion. "This was supposed to be a controlled test… the monsters were capped at Stage 3." Her gaze fell to the dirt. "We… we don't know when a Stage 6 got in."
Stage 6?
The girl with black hair spoke next, concern deepening the lines of her brow. "What about the townspeople?"
"Don't worry," the woman replied quickly. "They should've been evacuated by now and reinforcements should be on their way for us."
"Eight hours."
All eyes turned to the red-haired boy, who had spoken without looking up, still focused on a glowing holographic screen that floated above his wrist.
"It's been eight hours since the monster attacked," he said.
Silence fell.
He tapped the display again, and the screen shifted—projecting the time for all to see.
1:30 AM.
The clock glowed ominously in the night.
Everyone stared at it, their expressions shifting slowly from confusion to something more unsettling—realization. Hesitantly, they activated their own holographic devices, checking the time and other data.
I alone remained still, watching them.
The only one not confused… was me.
I wore a cold, unreadable expression. I had no intention of showing emotion—but beneath that facade, a storm raged.
Stage? Monster? Test? Tentacles covered in eyeballs?
The words meant nothing. And yet… there was a strange familiarity that refused to leave me.
The more I thought about it, the more it unsettled me.
I tried to trace the feeling back, again and again—but it was like chasing shadows in fog.
Then, a cold wind swept through the wreckage. The grass rustled, and for a moment, moonlight broke through the clouds and bathed us in silver.
My gaze shifted—drawn to the insignia on the students' uniforms.
A sword… piercing through something that looked like a wolf.
I froze.
Not because of the imagery—it was gruesome, yes—but because it stirred something deep in me.
Familiarity.
Undeniable and chilling.
My thoughts surged. Countless fragmented memories clawed their way up from the depths of my mind.
And then, in the chaos of those thoughts, one idea surfaced—one terrifying, impossible possibility.
Could I be…?
No. It was absurd.
But everything that had happened so far was absurd.
I took a deep breath, then another, grounding myself as best I could.
The others were still focused on their holographic screens, absorbed in decoding their situation.
And for the first time since waking up, I spoke.