Haru stepped into the lab. Cautious, tense, but undeniably curious.
The interior hit him all at once.
Rows of softly glowing machines lined the walls, humming gently like sleeping beasts. The light was sterile white, bouncing off silver panels and polished black floors, giving the whole place a clean yet clinical atmosphere.
Tanks of bubbling liquid—some, filled with floating alien specimens—were encased in glass chambers that stretched toward the high, vaulted ceiling. Blue data glyphs flickered across floating holo-screens like alien script mid-sentence.
And yet…
It was empty.
No scientists. No guards. Not even a rogue janitor sweeping in the corner. Just… silence.
His boots echoed with every step.
Haru narrowed his eyes, his body on alert. "That's weird," he muttered. "Where's the welcoming committee?"
He moved in further, scanning the room, his eyes still glowing gold—tracking Manna signatures. Nothing. It was almost too still.
Then—footsteps.
Hard. Deliberate. From directly behind him.
No one had been there a second ago.
Haru spun around, blasters drawn instantly.
Standing just a few feet away was a towering figure. No sound. No warning. Just pure presence.
The Ant.
Seven feet of pure, terrifying power. A chitinous head with giant black eyes that reflected the room like mirrors, twitching antennae, and a set of razor-sharp mandibles clenched with quiet confidence.
But what really caught Haru off guard was the suit.
A pitch-black, custom-fit, three-piece suit tailored to perfection over a grotesquely shredded frame. His shoulders were broad, arms rippling with insectile muscle, gloved fists resting like wrecking balls at his sides.
His wings, thin and iridescent, flexed lazily behind him, catching the lab's sterile light like living glass. The contrast was absurd. He looked like a Wall Street executive had merged with a mutated hornet.
And in his arms—like he was cradling a baby—was the Worm.
It was long, curled, and partially encased in a translucent containment shell. Pulsing softly with multicoloured veins of energy, the Worm shimmered like it wasn't entirely in this reality.
The Ant looked at Haru.
Then tilted his head like a man looking down on a puny ant.
"...You're smaller than I expected."
His voice was surprisingly deep. Calm. Smooth. Like a baritone jazz singer dipped in acid.
Haru didn't respond. He didn't blink.
All he could think was—
I'm so screwed.
Anthony tilted his head again, the massive insectoid eyes unreadable, yet somehow still condescending.
"You must be Haru, right? The boss was expecting you. My Name is Anthony."
Haru's heart skipped.
What?
How did this guy know his name?
This mission was supposed to be covert, eyes-only clearance. There was no way in hell anyone should've known they were coming.
He took a step back. Blaster aimed. Eyes narrowed.
"A bit shook, I see," Anthony said, unbothered. "Relax, I am not here to fight you, little one. Just to warn you."
Haru's mind spiraled. "How the hell do you know who I am?! And what do you mean warn me?"
Anthony didn't flinch. "Don't worry yourself about how I know your name. Worry about what's coming."
Haru's thoughts slammed to a halt.
His dream.
The mirror-sea.
The countdown.
The fire.
The voice.
The ruin.
Him.
No way.
It couldn't be that… could it?
Anthony shrugged, shifting the Worm in his arms like it weighed nothing. "I'm just a hologram. Same as this little guy." His tone dropped into something almost mocking. "We're not even here. Go on, touch us. See for yourself."
Haru didn't trust him, but his curiosity edged out his fear. Slowly, he stepped forward and reached out. His fingers passed through both the Ant and the Worm like smoke.
They weren't real.
None of this was.
His jaw clenched. Then why the hell were they here? Why send him and Celia if there was nothing to actually do?
Had they been baited?
Were the Arknights tricked?
Were the Watchers tricked?
"What is this?" Haru muttered, almost to himself. "What's the game?"
Anthony smiled. Or maybe he didn't. It was hard to tell with mandibles. But his voice carried a weight that made Haru's stomach drop.
"This was never about the Worm."
A cold shiver crawled up Haru's spine.
"It was about what follows it."
Suddenly the Manna around him seemed to intensify.
Faint at first—then stronger.
He could start to feel it in his bones.
Something was coming and it was coming fast.
From the far corner of the lab, something moved.
Silent.
Deliberate.
It stepped forward from the shadows — tall, impossibly tall, at least nine feet. Its skin was smooth and charcoal-black, stretched over a lithe frame that seemed carved from shadow. Its limbs were long and fluid, hands dangling like they didn't belong to bone.
Its face — pale like paper and mask-like — held no features except two hollow, bottomless black eyes. No mouth. No nose. No expression.
And yet… it hummed.
A low, eerie resonance vibrated through the air. Not exactly sound. Not Manna either. Something deeper. A frequency Haru could feel more than hear brushing up against his bones like potent static.
Anthony's voice returned, no longer playful.
"That my friend is a Luminarian."
The name itself made Haru's blood run cold.
"They don't speak. They don't breathe. They exist to serve their chosen master. And this one's here to kill you."
Haru's eyes widened.
"Good luck…"
Anthony vanished. The hologram flickering out alongside the Worm. Gone in an instant.
Haru's eyes flared gold instinctively. His Prophet's Curse activated, scanning for Manna lines, battle rhythms, weak points.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
His breath caught in his throat.
It had no Manna signature.
Not hidden.
Not suppressed.
None.
Division 12. Null.
A theoretical impossibility. A being that did not register in the spiritual spectrum. A ghost in reality.
His pulse spiked.
He was staring at something that shouldn't exist. Something that could only be described as...
An Abomination.
"ABEL! CALL FOR BACKUP! NOW!!!"
Haru's voice cracked through the lab, shrill with raw fear. Louder than he meant it to be. His heart was hammering like a drum. The Luminarian didn't even flinch. It just stood there.
"Already did!" Abel shot back. "Celia's heading to you right now!"
Good. Maybe. No—bad. If that thing could kill him, what could it do to her?
His breath stuttered, chest rising and falling too fast, his lungs tight. There wasn't enough air in this damn room.
Celia wouldn't be enough. Abel wouldn't be enough. Haru wasn't enough.
He wasn't enough.
"Primus… please…" he whispered under his breath, forcing his eyes shut for half a second. "Protect and preserve me. Give me strength. Please. Please…"
The Luminarian remained motionless, still watching. Still calculating. Its hollow black eyes held no emotion — not even malice. That somehow made it worse.
It was the stillness before a slaughter.
And Haru cracked.
His vision blurred as thoughts cascaded and collapsed like dominoes in his head.
He was going to die.
He was going to die.
He was going to die.
No legacy. No second chance. No one to tell the story.
He was going to die before his story even started.
Die a virgin.
Die a disappointment.
Die with every dream still inside him, untouched.
He was going to die a failure. A fake. A fraud.
The boy who was supposed to be something — and ended up becoming nothing.
He was gonna die letting his parents down. Letting everyone down.
His hands trembled. His blaster felt like a toy in his grip.
And then it moved.
Haru didn't think. He couldn't. He just moved.
And the fight for his life, or what was left of it — began.