I sit at my desk in Room 3B-12, staring at the math worksheet in front of me, but my pen is tapping out a rhythm I don't even notice. Kaito's beside me, lazily flipping through his notebook, doodling what looks like a robot fighting a dragon. The classroom smells faintly of chalk and old paper, the hum of the ceiling fans filling the silence between the occasional cough or shuffle of papers. Everything feels normal—too normal—and my stomach twists at the thought.
The PA crackles suddenly, cutting through the dull background hum.
"Attention all students: remain in your classrooms and await instructions. Emergency protocols are now in effect."
The teacher's lips press together, and her eyes flick toward the window, like she doesn't want us to notice what's happening outside. But I can't look away. Something in the tone of her voice—flat, almost afraid—sets my nerves on edge. Kaito fidgets beside me.
"Don't tell me it's another fire drill," he mutters, but his voice trembles slightly. I can see it in the way his fingers are curling around his pencil.
Before I can even answer, a loud, earth-shaking BOOM erupts from outside. The floor beneath me vibrates violently, and dust falls from the ceiling tiles. A sharp clatter echoes as chairs topple over. Screams fill the room, high and panicked. Kaito grabs my arm, his usual teasing grin nowhere in sight.
"What was that?!" he shouts. His eyes are wide, fear replacing humor.
I press my hands against the desk, trying to steady my own racing heartbeat. "I… don't know. Look!" I point toward the window.
Through the glass, smoke rises in thick, dark clouds from the school entrance. Flames flare for a brief moment before the smoke swallows them. Debris spins through the air, and students are scattering, screaming, running blindly in panic. My chest feels like it's going to burst. My stomach knots.
"Everyone, get down!" someone yells—one of the teachers, I think—but it barely registers. I shove Kaito down beside me and glance around the classroom. Papers are scattered across the floor. A few students are frozen, staring out the window, unsure whether to move or stay.
My mind clicks. Survival instincts kick in. I grab Kaito by the shoulder. "Go home! Now! Check on your family!"
His eyes widen. "Wait, what? You're not—"
"No time!" I snap, my voice sharper than I expected. "Go! Please!"
He hesitates for half a second, then nods and bolts down the hallway. Our houses are side by side, only a few blocks away. I know he can handle it. I just hope he gets there safely.
I turn back to the chaos around me. Students are ducking under desks, teachers shouting, trying to herd everyone toward the exits. I shove past a toppled chair and sprint toward the hallways. Plaster falls from the ceiling in clouds. My chest heaves as I push my way past panicked classmates. Every step makes me feel like the world is crumbling around me.
Outside, the street is almost unrecognizable. Smoke curls from nearby buildings. A few overturned cars block my path. Sirens scream in the distance, their wails mixing with the muffled explosions farther away. I dodge falling debris, sprinting across the street, ignoring the pain in my legs. WW3 isn't headlines anymore—it's here, in my city.
Finally, I reach my house. The gate is bent from some minor explosion, the garden trampled. My front door shudders under the distant rumbles, but it's intact. I pause at the threshold, taking a deep breath. The smell of smoke lingers in the air, and faint dust settles across the tiles. I push the door open, stepping inside, heart pounding in my ears.
The house is eerily quiet. Family photos line the walls, frozen smiles staring back at me—my parents, me as a kid, a birthday cake I barely remember. The living room looks untouched, but the tension in the air is almost physical. It presses against my chest.
I sprint through the hallways to my parents' study, the room they always called their workspace. Papers are scattered across the desk. Strange devices blink softly on the shelves, wires hanging in messy loops. Equipment hums quietly, oblivious to the chaos outside. I feel my stomach tighten. Where are they? Are they alive?
Then I notice it. A black box, sitting on the top shelf of the study, tucked between two thick binders. I don't remember ever seeing it before. Sleek, black metal, no labels, faintly glowing at the edges, almost humming softly. Something about it draws me closer, a magnetic pull I can't explain. My fingers brush against the cool surface.
Immediately, a warmth spreads through my body, strange and intense. My heart skips a beat as my vision sharpens. Every sound—the creak of the floorboards, the distant sirens, the faint hum of electronics—slices through the room like a laser. My senses tingle in a way that feels unreal.
Then a voice resonates, calm, authoritative, almost human:
"Host identified. Core bonded. My designation is ORION. Your survival is now my primary directive."
I stumble back, heart hammering. Nano machines? Core bonded? Words I don't understand, yet I feel them working inside me, enhancing me, making my body respond faster than it should. I flex my fingers, marveling at the sensation. I can hear the soft hum of energy moving through me, and I feel… different. Stronger. Faster.
I glance out the window again. Smoke rises farther now, some buildings smoldering. The distant sound of explosions shakes the house. My chest tightens with fear, but a spark of determination lights inside me.
I am no longer just a high school kid. I am something else now, something changed, something with the potential to survive what's coming.
I take a step toward the black box, heart pounding. ORION's voice continues, calm, steady:
"Vital functions enhanced. Threat assessment active. Avoid unnecessary exposure. Begin core integration sequence?"
"Yes," I whisper without thinking. "Do it."
The room hums louder, a pulse running through the floor, and I feel my body adjusting. My vision sharpens again; I notice the tiniest details—the way dust hangs in the sunlight, the faint scratches on the shelf, the slight tremor of the doorframe. Every nerve feels alive, hyper-aware.
A deep thought hits me suddenly: My parents left this for me. They knew something was coming. They trusted me with it. And if ORION is bonded with me now… I can survive this. I have to survive this.
I glance back toward the door. Kaito is safe at home, probably worrying. I can't let him get caught in this chaos. I have to understand what ORION is, what the black box does, and how I can protect the people I care about.
A distant explosion shakes the house again, louder this time. Smoke drifts in through the slightly open window. I press my hand against the black box, feeling the hum beneath my fingers, and whisper:
"Alright. Let's see what we're dealing with."
Something inside me clicks. I feel energy flowing, thoughts connecting in ways I can't explain yet. ORION's voice is in my head, patient, waiting, guiding. And for the first time since the bomb went off, I feel… ready.
The world outside is burning, and the city is crumbling under chaos I don't fully understand. But inside, in this quiet, strange moment, I am changing. Something extraordinary has begun, and there's no going back.
I take a deep breath, steel my hands, and lift the black box from the shelf. The hum grows stronger, resonating through my chest. I can feel ORION inside me, waiting, calculating, ready.
WW3 isn't a distant threat anymore. It's here. And now… so am I.