The sky was burning down. Kinda cute, right?
I sat cross-legged at my low kotatsu table, fingers hovering over my laptop keyboard. A couple hours ago, the message had popped up everywhere—on TV, social media, even in my mmorpg guild's VC.
「 "There will be no further negotiation—we will now proceed with the culling of humanity. This is a declaration of war." 」
Normally I'd laugh it off. But hijacking every TV channel, every website, every platform? Not exactly the work of your garden-variety troll or hacker.
Plus, the video… yeah, no. I still see it when I blink.
That figure in white robes, blindfolded, halo hovering, six wings stretched and motionless wide like they got bored of gravity. A final boss cutscene dropped in without warning. If it was CGI, it was better than anything we humans deserve.
If it was CGI, then it was absolutely flawless.
Then there was the sky.
Bit by bit, the blue was bleeding into a deep carmine red like someone was spilling a massive quantity of wine over the world. Everyone freaked out. Me? I just stared. It's not like I had a plan for this hidden in my sock drawer.
…Not that I'd have any idea what to do in the first place.
Sure, I was concerned. I'm not a psycho, after all. But between coursework, deadlines, and practice, worrying felt like just another thing I'd fail at.
I stretched, wincing at the ache still clinging to my arms and shoulders from yesterday's HEMA session. HEMA stood for Historical European Martial Arts. Think swords, polearms, armor—romanticized medieval murder, turned into a sport. My weapon of choice was the longsword or the hand-and-a-half sword, though halberds and javelins were fun too.
My own longsword rested by my bed in its scabbard. It was solid carbon steel, double-edged, and dark grey. It tapered to a deadly point. I petted it sometimes when I walked past, the way some girls pet cats.
The clock widget on my laptop glared [ 2:16 AM ]. My tiny student apartment glowed from the desk lamp. I sighed, shut the lid, and shuffled to the bathroom.
I brushed my teeth and washed my face like usual, and I watched my reflection for a while. Average height, delicate features—ruined, probably, by the black bags under my almond shaped eyes.
My irises, by the way, are crimson. Yes, they're natural. No, they're not contacts. Stop asking. I don't know why either.
I adjusted the clips in my navy hair and fiddled with the choker around my neck. It never comes off. People always wonder about that. If they knew why I wore it, they'd stop wondering. I didn't really like to talk about it.
I dragged myself back to bed. My oversized white tee hung loose over my frame, while my short-shorts left my legs bare.
Hehe~
Nobody here but me, so what does it matter? It's not like the walls care how much skin I show.
I sighed. Big day tomorrow. Midterms. Fuck me. (No, not you, degenerate—sit down. That wasn't an offer.)
I patted the longsword's hilt before crawling into bed, like it was my talisman. A steel good-luck charm. It didn't answer, but I liked to think it listened.
- - -
I woke up to my normal routine.
I turned my lights on, then went to the bathroom and did my makeup. I slipped into my hooded blouson and pulled on tights before sliding into my shorts. I grabbed my notes and laptop before slipping them into my backpack.
Walking over to my window, I pulled my phone from its charger on the wall, pulling open my curtain with my other hand.
I looked at my phone. No messages—that's weird. My friends never shut up at night, and pinged me even when I was offline. Sometimes it made me wonder—is intentional sleep deprivation by notifications a form of torture? Maybe I should consult someone taking law…
Either way, maybe my data and wifi weren't working?
Absent-mindedly, I opened the curtains.
The sight of the sky almost made me drop my phone.
The sky had turned a solid, suffocating crimson.
I froze. "…No way." I blinked.
Still red.
Blink harder.
Still red.
Then came the droplets. Thick, dark, red droplets that splattered and spread in viscous red patches everywhere. Each one moved as something huge crawled out of each puddle.
From my sixth-floor window, I couldn't see details—just bursts of movement.
One drop hit right outside my building, smearing my view with viscous blood. I involuntarily stepped back.
The explosions came next. The building shuddered with each impact. My ears rang. The floor trembled under my feet. Then—screaming. From above, below, everywhere.
I needed to get the hell out of here.
I tied my navy hair back and pulled on a ball cap.
No way I could carry my whole HEMA kit—it was too heavy. I could take my sword, though—same with the slim black gloves that I wore underneath my gauntlets.
I slid my gloves on and I ripped my notes from my backpack and dumped them. That hurt more than I'd admit. Hours of work, wasted. But education wouldn't matter if I was dead.
Honestly, I had no idea what was going on, but my heart raced faster as the explosions sped up in intensity; boom, boomboom, boomboomboomboom.
I packed evacuation essentials in the bag: clothes, toiletries—and I kept the laptop. I strapped the sword belt to my hip and cinched it tight as I hurried out the door. I tied tightly my combats before stepping out into the threshold.
The hallway was chaos—neighboors screaming, doors slamming open. The fire exit wouldn't open, so I took the main stairs. Down and down I went, sword strapped around my waist, not knowing what waited below. It should've been a prank. It should've been an emergency drill. But the air felt wrong.
I remembered the robed figure's words from the video:
「"There will be no further negotiation."」
I clenched my teeth.
The culling had begun.