"Admiral, Sir, Prototype X is not stabilising."
On the deck of The Undertaker, the mechanised frame of Prototype X vibrated, emitting a low hum that made the platform beneath tremble.
It was not the steady hum of calibration.
It was irregular.
Uneven, and alive.
At the centre of its core, the ring embedded within the power housing pulsed faintly—feeding essence into the core of the superweapon. The core absorbed it all eagerly.
Too eagerly.
The energy began to seep out of the core, slowly leaking into the metallic body as it was absorbed into the frame.
No one noticed. No alarms. No warnings.
At least, not yet.
"If you have time to warn me, then you have time to recalibrate it. Time is slipping from our fingers. That thing is about 5000 yards." Masuyama's voice projected no emotion—perfectly reflecting his cold and eerily calm demeanour.
One of the officers bit back. "But Admiral! Re-stabilising Prototype X will take half an hour; it won't even be near ready by the time the giant arrives!" The officer's voice left a trace of fear and frustration. Something that Masuyama could sense—even with his head turned.
"So?"
Masuyama tilted his head slowly, his eyes meeting with the officers.
Masuyama's eyes twisted into a cold, hollow glare through the visor covering half his face. You could not see it clearly, but the faint glow of crimson could be seen in his shadowed eyes.
"If you want to make it out alive, obey my orders. Understand?" He said, voice flat and unyielding.
The officer could only grit his teeth in frustration, replying reluctantly. "Understood, Admiral…"
The pillar trembled beneath the distant roar of engines and sirens.
Docked airships lined its massive stone platforms, their hulls looming over fractured marble and ancient carvings that looked like they had been worn down by centuries of wind despite being new. Crew members rushed back and forth along steel ramps bolted into the old ruin's surface, shouting over the alarms echoing across the sky.
Yoriko pushed through the crowd.
"Have you seen a silver-haired boy? Blue eyes—about this tall?" she asked urgently, gesturing with her hand.
A mechanic looked up from tightening a bolt along the landing strut of the Azure Crest. "Silver hair? Haven't seen him. Try near the eastern cargo ramp—lots of scouts came in from that side."
"Thank you."
She didn't slow down.
"Lieutenant Harven!" she called to a communications officer running past with a headset half hanging from his ear. "Have you seen Mikado? He was down in the ruins earlier!"
Harven barely broke stride. "Negative! We're recalling all personnel! If he's still below, he needs to move—now!"
The sirens howled again, deeper this time. The vibration wasn't just machinery anymore. The pillar itself seemed to groan, as if reacting to something in the distance.
Yoriko clenched her fists.
"Come on, Mikado… don't tell me you're still down there."
Nearby, two deckhands—Rellis and Juno—were arguing while hauling ammunition crates toward the Flying Beauty's loading ramp.
"Hey!" Yoriko shouted. "Silver hair, blue eyes—have you seen him?"
Rellis shook his head. "No time to play matchmaker! The behemoth's five thousand yards out!"
Juno hesitated. "Wait—there was a boy I saw in the distance near the south entrance of the ruins about an hour ago. He had silver hair, and it looked like he fell. But when I got there, he was nowhere to be found."
"I think I saw a glimpse of silver hair down at the lower archway."
Yoriko's stomach dropped.
"The lower archway…?"
"That corridor maze carved into the pillar's base," Juno said quickly. "Leads deeper into the ruins."
Of course it does.
The Ancient Ruins wasn't just a docking structure. It was an ancient vertical labyrinth—bridges, hollow chambers, and collapsed halls spiralling down into darkness beneath the fleet.
And Mikado was somewhere inside it.
The wind picked up sharply, whipping Yoriko's hair across her face as engines roared to life overhead. Several ships began detaching from their moorings, hovering just inches above the Pillar's stone surface.
Time was slipping.
If the fleet lifted off before Mikado returned, he would be stranded.
And with a Category 5 approaching, stranded meant dead.
Yoriko turned toward the shadowed entrance of the lower archway tunnels.
"…Don't move," she muttered under her breath.
Then she ran.
Yoriko skidded to a halt at the edge of the lower archway ramp, chest heaving. Dust swirled around her boots.
"Kokuine! Mikami!" she called, her voice cutting through the roar of engines and alarms.
They turned, startled. Kokuine's expression was wary, brows furrowed. Mikami's eyes were sharp, already scanning the shadows below.
"There's a Category 5—approaching the Pillar," Yoriko gasped, voice tight. "And… Mikado. He's somewhere inside the ruins. I don't know exactly where."
Mikami's jaw clenched. His body moved before his mind could catch up. Without a word, he sprinted toward the lower tunnels. Dust kicked up behind him.
"Kokuine, he—wait!" Yoriko shouted, but Kokuine didn't hesitate. He launched himself after Mikami, landing with a heavy thud on the stone ramp, eyes fixed forward.
Yoriko swallowed hard. She could feel it in her bones. There was no stopping them once their minds were set. She tightened her grip on the strap across her chest and followed, boots clanging against metal and stone.
Shadows twisted around the lower archway. The tunnels yawned below like a living mouth. Every footstep echoed. Every gust of wind rattled loose dust and sent it dancing in the weak light.
Somewhere in the distance, the faint roar of the approaching behemoth rolled over the Pillar like distant thunder. It made the stone tremble under her feet.
And then she saw it.
A figure. Standing at the edge of the platform above the hovering airships. Still. Silent. Unmoving.
The brim of a military hat cast a shadow over its eyes. But she could feel the stare, sharp and unblinking. Glaring. Piercing through the chaos. Through smoke. Through the endless hum of machinery.
The figure's coat flared lightly in the wind. One slow step forward, and then another. Toward the nearest airship.
Yoriko's stomach churned. Her pulse slammed in her ears.
Who…?
But there was no time to think.
The three of them—the two chasing shadows and herself—descended into the labyrinth. The tunnels swallowed them immediately. Darkness pressed in from all sides, heavy and thick.
Every echo of their boots sounded like whispers of warning. Every gust of wind rattled stone like the whispers of the dead.
Above, the figure paused on the platform. One gloved hand brushed the brim of the hat, tilting it just enough to let a glint of eyes flash. Cold. Calculating. And then… It was gone, swallowed by the stairs leading to the airship dock.
Yoriko kept running. Breath burning. Heart hammering.
The ruins themselves seemed alive. The corridors narrowed, then widened, then twisted. Shadows pooled unnaturally. Every corner she passed felt like it might conceal something watching, waiting.
Somewhere, Mikami's shouts cut through the dark.
"Yoriko! This way!"
She followed the voice into a shadowed hall, but every instinct screamed: look up. Look behind. They're not alone.
And she wasn't sure if it was the behemoth's distant roar—or the presence of something else—that made the walls themselves seem to pulse with unease.
The upper deck of the Flying Beauty roared with life.
Thirty turbo-propeller engines coughed, sputtered, then began to howl in unison. The vibration rolled across the steel runway like distant thunder. Mechanics ducked low between wings. Final checks. Final nods. Final glances.
Magnus adjusted his gloves slowly, methodically. No rush. His aircraft hummed beneath him like a predator eager to be unleashed.
To his left, Miyuki flicked a switch with a sharp snap.
"Fuel pressure stable. Compression green. If any of you stall on takeoff, I'm leaving you behind."
A few pilots chuckled.
Hielo's voice crackled through the comms from high above, smooth and effortless.
"Visual confirmation. Category 5 silhouette acquired. It's… larger than projections."
Static hissed.
"Scratch that," he added casually. "Much larger."
Several engines revved harder.
Along the strip, other pilots ran final checks.
Aidan rolled his shoulders.
Sora muttered a quiet prayer under her breath.
Hans tightened his harness twice.
Naomi adjusted her goggles.
Ibrahim tapped the side of his engine housing.
Luka smirked nervously.
Elena closed her eyes for exactly three seconds.
Jin bounced his knee impatiently.
Zara exhaled slowly.
Mateo flexed his fingers over the trigger grip.
Amara stared straight ahead.
Theo checked his altitude dial again.
Cassia whispered, "Let's dance."
Dante grinned too wide.
Leila steadied her breathing.
Haruto gave a firm nod to no one in particular.
Arjun cracked his neck.
Selene adjusted her scarf.
Noah tapped his radio twice.
Yara checked her wing flaps.
Tariq wiped sweat from his brow.
Mila stared at the horizon.
Taylen leaned back casually.
Freya smirked.
Omar rolled his wrist.
Anya blinked away nerves.
Diego drummed his fingers.
Linh adjusted throttle sensitivity.
Kai whispered, "We've got this."
Thirty engines.
Thirty heartbeats.
In the communications room below deck, Haruuna leaned over his console, headset pressed firmly against his ear. Screens flickered with flight paths and shifting data.
"Flight squadron, report readiness."
Static.
Then Magnus.
"Ready."
Miyuki's voice followed immediately, sharp as ever. "Obviously ready. We've been waiting on you."
A few snickers broke over the line.
Haruuna adjusted his glasses. "All systems are cleared. Wind velocity acceptable. You are authorised for launch upon command."
Miyuki hummed softly through the radio.
"Mm. You always sound so serious when you're talking to me."
Silence.
"Is that regulation, or just your personality?" she added lightly.
Someone choked back a laugh.
Haruuna blinked once, eyes fixed on the screen. "…It is standard communication protocol."
"Ah", Miyuki replied. "So if I request special treatment, do I file paperwork first?"
More snickering.
A faint pink crept up Haruuna's neck.
Behind him, a technician leaned closer and muttered, not quietly enough, "Why is your face red?"
The room went still.
Static crackled.
Haruuna cleared his throat sharply. "All pilots, standby for lift."
The radio cut immediately.
On the runway above, Magnus exhaled a quiet laugh.
Miyuki smirked to herself.
"Cute," she muttered under her breath — then her expression hardened instantly. "Formation Delta. Focus up."
The corridors beneath the fleet thundered with movement.
Gan turned the corner at full speed — and nearly collided with a wall of armoured bodies.
Tenma caught him by the shoulder before impact.
"Watch it."
Gan blinked, then grinned. "Ah. There you are."
The Special Teams unit stood assembled in the narrow hangar corridor — weapons strapped, gear secured, visors lowered. Not scrambling.
Waiting.
Tenma's gaze flicked toward the tremor rippling through the ceiling. Dust sifted down in faint streams.
"You felt that?" he asked.
Gan rolled his neck. "Hard not to. Big guy's close."
Another tremor.
Stronger.
A few overhead lights flickered.
Behind Tenma stood the rest of the unit — Rei adjusting her gauntlets in silence. Daigo locking a magazine into place with a sharp click. Shun rested his weapon over his shoulder, expression unreadable. Kael checking the seals on his forearm bracer. Mei tightening the strap across her chest. Idris scanning the hallway with quiet intensity.
No one was smiling.
Gan reached into his coat and pulled out the Firepower ring, spinning it once on his finger before slipping it on.
A faint hum answered him.
Tenma noticed.
"…New toy?"
Gan's grin widened slightly. "Something like that."
The floor shook again — this time followed by a low, distant roar that didn't belong to engines.
It rolled through the metal like something alive pressing against the world.
Shun looked up.
"That's not artillery."
"No," Tenma replied quietly.
It wasn't.
A voice burst over the internal comms.
"All ground-response units prepare for possible impact scenario. Repeat — possible impact scenario."
Silence followed.
Gan tilted his head slightly. "Impact?"
Daigo scoffed. "It's flying."
Another tremor.
Harder.
This time the metal wall behind them groaned, bolts straining.
Tenma's eyes sharpened.
"…Unless it doesn't plan to stay grounded."
Gan's grin faded just a fraction.
Above them, engines screamed to full power.
The sky squadron was launching.
Tenma drew his blade halfway from its sheath — just enough for steel to whisper.
"Special Team. Move to outer defence ring. If anything breaches the Pillar, we intercept."
A unified response.
"Understood
Gan stepped beside him, rolling his shoulders.
"Finally", he muttered.
The roar outside deepened.
Closer now.
And somewhere far above — something massive shifted its direction.
The ruins were quieter the deeper Mikado went.
Too quiet.
The distant sirens above had faded into a dull echo. Dust drifted lazily through thin shafts of light cutting down from fractured ceilings. The air felt heavier here. Older.
"Left." Saku said casually.
Mikado turned left.
Dead end.
A cracked wall greeted him.
"…You're kidding."
"Ah. My bad. Then right. Definitely right this time."
Mikado exhaled slowly and retraced his steps. Boots scraping against stone. The labyrinth twisted back on itself. Corridors split, rejoined, and narrowed. Every turn looked the same.
He turned right.
Another dead end.
This one collapsed entirely, rubble sealing the path.
Mikado's eyebrow twitched.
"Saku."
"What?"
"You're sure you know where you're going?"
"I said I saw this place before! It's just… slightly different from memory."
"'Slightly different' as in completely wrong?"
A pause.
"…Maybe."
Mikado dragged a hand down his face.
Above, the stone trembled faintly. Dust sprinkled from the ceiling.
The behemoth was closer now.
"Okay, okay," Saku said quickly. "Straight ahead. There should be an archway with three cracks running through it. That leads upward."
Mikado moved forward cautiously.
One step.
Two.
Three.
The corridor widened unexpectedly.
And there—
At the far end of the hall, light poured in from an opening above.
A silhouette stood against it.
Familiar.
Silver wind catching dark hair.
"…Mikado!"
Yoriko's voice echoed down the hall.
Clear. Relieved.
His chest loosened instantly.
"You found me—"
She ran toward him.
Without thinking, Mikado broke into a run too, a grin spreading across his face.
Relief hit like sunlight after drowning.
"You're actually here—"
His fingers tightened around Saku.
A pulse.
Sharp.
Cold.
Saku's voice cut into his mind — calm. Eerily calm.
"That is not Yoriko."
His steps faltered.
The smile froze on his face.
The figure kept running toward him.
Same hair. Same uniform. Same voice.
"Mikado, hurry! We need to go!"
The ring pulsed again.
Stronger.
"Unknown anomaly. Mikado, run."
The air shifted.
Just slightly.
Yoriko's shadow stretched too long along the floor.
Her footsteps made no sound.
Mikado's grin disappeared.
His eyes sharpened, a foot taking the slightest step back.
"…Who are you?"
The figure slowed.
Stopped.
Its head tilted.
Too far. Too unnatural.
The light behind it flickered.
And for a split second, the face wasn't Yoriko's at all.
It smiled wider than it should have.