The sunlight was too bright.
Reika blinked rapidly, hand shading her eyes. A moment ago she had been under Tokyo's neon glow, stepping off a crosswalk with the weight of overtime still dragging at her shoulders. Now, she was staring at a sky so blue it looked painted by gods, with clouds like drifting silk banners.
Her knees buckled as her heels sank into soft grass. She pressed her palm to the ground. Cool. Damp. Alive. Not asphalt. Not concrete. Her chest tightened.
"This… isn't real. It can't be real."
Beside her, Katsusora sat up slowly. His usually sharp posture was gone, replaced by the unsteady fumbling of someone whose world had just been ripped away. His glasses hung crookedly on his face, reflecting the light of the strange panel hovering before him.
[Risk Scan Active]– Unknown Terrain Stability: 54%– Human Settlement Proximity: 3.2 km– Monster Presence Probability: 37%
The numbers flickered, shifting as if recalculating every heartbeat. Katsusora swallowed hard. He had spent years making neat little boxes of probabilities, controlling chaos with spreadsheets and forecasts. But this was no spreadsheet. The system was alive, as if the universe itself had turned into one giant risk model.
Reika tore her gaze from the sky and looked at him. Her voice wavered between disbelief and stubbornness. "Minami-kun… tell me we didn't just—" She stopped. Her own eyes widened.
A golden web shimmered faintly in the air above her. Threads stretched outward in every direction, like veins of light pulling toward distant points she couldn't see. Labels hovered over them, flickering: [Empty Barns], [Shortage: Grain], [Wagon Capacity: Critical].
She stumbled backward. "What… what is this? Why do I see—? No, this doesn't make sense. This is logistics data. Actual logistics data."
Katsusora stared at her threads, then at his numbers. His voice was steadier than hers, but his hand trembled as it adjusted his glasses. "Then we weren't imagining it. These powers… they're tied to who we were in the office."
Reika gave a shaky laugh, half hysteria, half defiance. "What, so the universe looked at us drowning in overtime and thought, 'Let's make them magical accountants?'"
Neither of them laughed after that.
The world around them was too vivid. The smell of soil, the whisper of the breeze, the distant hum of insects—they weren't trapped in a dream.
Reika wrapped her arms around herself, blazer rustling. "Tokyo's gone. My apartment, my friends, everything…" Her voice cracked, and for the first time, Katsusora saw her without her usual armor of fire and sarcasm.
He opened his mouth, but no comforting words came. What could he say? That it would be fine? That probability favored their survival? Lies. And he refused to lie to her.
Instead, he stood, brushing grass from his slacks, and offered her a hand. "For now, we focus on what we can control. Standing is step one."
She hesitated, then clasped his hand. His grip was warm, steadying. Her breath caught, but she rose with him.
The rolling fields stretched endlessly in every direction. Far to the north, stone walls and towers pierced the horizon—a city, unmistakably medieval, with banners fluttering from its spires. To the east, a forest loomed, shadows thick even under daylight. And closer, to the south, a dirt road wound lazily across the plains.
Reika's golden threads tugged faintly toward that road. Her brows furrowed. "There's movement down there."
They climbed a small rise, and there it was—a caravan of three wagons creaking along the road. Horses plodded, sweat matting their flanks. Guards in worn leather trudged beside them, spears in hand. The wagons sagged under heavy sacks, grain spilling from one torn corner.
Reika's system flared with labels again:
[Stored Grain: 62% usable][Guard Stamina: Depleted][Projected Starvation: High]
Her throat tightened. "Those men… they're starving while sitting on food."
Katsusora's Risk Scan pulsed.
[Imminent Event Detected: Caravan Ambush, Probability 71%]
He stiffened. "If we stay here, we'll see them slaughtered."
Reika spun toward him, eyes wide. "Ambush? You're sure?"
"Seventy-one percent," he said flatly. "Which means close enough to certain."
Reika's jaw clenched. "Then we can't just watch."
"And if we interfere blindly, we die with them," he countered. His voice sharpened. "Reika-san, we don't know this world's rules. We have no weapons, no allies. This isn't overtime at the office. It's survival."
She stared at him, trembling. Then she laughed—bitter, angry. "You'd really stand here and watch people die?"
His silence was answer enough.
She turned away, glaring at the caravan as if her will alone could protect it. "No. I won't. Not again."
"Not again?" he echoed.
Her lips pressed tight. She didn't answer. Instead, she began walking down the slope.
Katsusora cursed under his breath and followed. His Risk Scan flared brighter, warning after warning.
[Unknown Threat Approaching: 84%]
The air chilled. Not just a breeze—actual frost laced the edges of the grass. Reika slowed, shivering.
"…Minami-kun. Do you feel that?"
The ground ahead cracked with a faint sound, like glass splintering. Mist curled upward. And then, from the treeline, it emerged.
At first glance, it was feline—a predator's lithe grace in every step. But its size dwarfed a tiger, shoulders rippling with muscle under a coat of pale blue-white fur. Curved sabers of ice jutted from its jaws, glistening like frozen scythes. Frost trailed in its pawprints, the ground icing over where it walked.
Its eyes—crystalline, glacial—locked onto them.
Katsusora's panel screamed red.
[Frostfang Sabra]Classification: MonsterThreat Level: High (Unstable Territory Predator)Risk of Fatality: 92%
Reika's breath caught. Her golden threads shivered wildly, dozens snapping toward the beast as if acknowledging its presence in her web. "It's… it's a monster."
The Frostfang Sabra's jaws opened, mist curling around its teeth. Its growl was almost feminine, a low, resonant rumble that promised hunger and cold death.
Reika stumbled back, clutching Katsusora's sleeve. "We—we can't fight that! We have nothing—no weapons, no magic—"
Katsusora forced his voice steady, though his hands shook. "Then we don't fight. We survive."
The beast lowered itself, muscles coiling like drawn wire.
And with a roar that froze the blood in their veins, the Frostfang Sabra lunged.