The siren wailed again.
"Engagement begins. Opposing battalion approaching.
Eliminate or be eliminated."
The ruins quaked as gunfire erupted in the distance. Screams cut through the smoke-filled air.
Arata's group crouched in the shadow of a crumbling wall, watching as the enemy battalion advanced across the field. Dozens of frightened faces. Some carried rifles. Others wielded pipes, knives, or nothing at all.
Fear made them sloppy. Their formation broke immediately.
Arata's lips curled. Perfect.
"Stay hidden," he murmured, voice calm and steady. "Don't move until I say."
Aya trembled, pressing closer to him. "A-Arata-kun…"
Haruto clenched his fists. "We can't just sit here—"
"Yes, we can," Arata cut him off, his tone sharp as glass. "Let them come. Let them waste bullets. We'll take what's left."
Riku glared. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
Arata's eyes flicked to him, cold. "Enjoyment has nothing to do with it. This is survival. You'd know that if you stopped pretending you're better than me."
Riku opened his mouth to retort, but Sayaka raised a hand. "Enough. He's right. Panic gets us killed. Strategy keeps us alive."
She turned to Arata, smirking slightly. "What's your play, commander?"
Arata stood, rifle in hand, scanning the field.
The enemy battalion had spotted them. A group of five rushed forward, weapons raised. One tripped on the rubble. Another fired blindly, bullets sparking against stone.
Arata didn't fire. Not yet.
Instead, he whispered to his group: "Wait. Let them close the distance. Bullets mean nothing if you can't aim."
Aya clutched his sleeve tighter, eyes wide. Ren licked her lips, twirling the bloody knife she'd scavenged. Haruto looked ready to explode. Sayaka's sharp gaze never left him.
The enemies charged. Twenty meters. Fifteen. Ten.
Arata raised the rifle. One clean shot. The lead attacker dropped instantly.
The others froze — just for a heartbeat.
It was all Arata needed.
"Now," he said calmly.
Ren darted forward, slashing a throat before the man could even scream. Haruto swung a pipe into another's skull. Riku, though hesitant, shoved one attacker into rubble, where he cracked his head open.
Arata fired twice more — precise, surgical.
Five enemies. All dead.
Blood soaked the ground. Aya's scream caught in her throat.
Arata lowered the rifle, his face unreadable. "That's how you survive."
Silence. Then whispers rippled through their group.
"He's a monster…"
"No, he's a leader."
"Without him, we'd be dead already…"
Arata ignored them. His eyes were already scanning the field, calculating the next move.
Sayaka stepped closer, lowering her voice so only he heard. "You're dangerous. Too dangerous for anyone else here."
Her lips curled in the faintest smile. "But maybe not for me."
Aya stiffened beside him, jealousy flashing across her tear-streaked face.
Ren giggled darkly. "Ohhh, I like this battlefield. Blood, fear, loyalty… It's just like love, isn't it?"
Arata didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Because above the smoke, the metallic voice spoke again.
"First engagement complete. Casualties recorded. Battalion survival rate: 62%.
Proceed to Phase Two."
The ground trembled as the ruins shifted, walls collapsing to reveal a new stretch of battlefield — trenches, barbed wire, and burning wreckage.
Aya clutched Arata tighter. Haruto swore under his breath. Riku's glare burned holes in him. Ren's grin widened. Sayaka adjusted her glasses, unreadable.
Arata only smirked faintly.
Phase Two had just begun.