Chapter 13
Across the crimson skies of the Anti World, waves of black smoke spread endlessly, devouring everything — from drifting clouds to the burning red heavens themselves.
It poured forth like a torrent of ink, swallowing mountains, air, and light alike.
Anything that dared to sink into that mist fell silent forever.
High above, flocks of vultures tried desperately to flee, but their wings froze midair — muscles locking, eyes turning pure white — and they plunged like stones, crashing dead against the barren ground.
Others tried to fly harder, flapping frantically, but one by one they vanished into the darkness.
The sky went quiet again, as if the world itself had stopped breathing.
From afar, Sora stood watching it all in silence.
The black fog rolled over the mountains, drowning their peaks until only fragments of icy ridges remained — floating like lonely islands in a sea of darkness.
She took a slow sip of her black coffee.
The bitterness slid across her tongue, grounding her in a moment that felt both calm and catastrophic.
Her gaze shifted slightly — to the armored vehicle parked behind her, its matte-black surface marked by a red cross.
Inside, a team of medics worked frantically.
Monitors beeped.
Surgical lights glowed in a harsh golden hue as a doctor in a white coat drew his scalpel across Lucas's left shoulder, cutting through to the bone to extract a fragment.
Blood spurted violently.
A nurse pressed down to stop the bleeding while Lucas lay unconscious, his face pale and still.
Sora turned away.
Her blue eyes drifted back toward the horizon where the black fog devoured the sky.
Her heart pounded uncontrollably — a strange rhythm she couldn't explain.
What was this feeling?
Fear? Pain?
Or something else entirely…
Could it be love?
---
Engines roared behind her.
A convoy of BM-30 rocket launchers from the E.A.S.R.S. organization thundered forward, shaking the ground beneath their steel wheels.
The air filled with dust as they screeched to a halt, black armor gleaming faintly with silver edges beneath the blood-red sun.
Slowly, the rocket platforms lifted, gears grinding and metal shrieking.
All aimed toward the infinite darkness ahead.
After a moment of calibration —
The missiles launched.
White smoke streaked across the sky.
Sora's azure hair whipped wildly in the backblast as dozens of rockets tore through the air, their trails cutting through the crimson haze.
The earth trembled, pebbles leaping into the air.
Then — impact.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM!
Explosions bloomed like red suns across the horizon.
Flames surged upward, forming a wall of light so bright it blinded everyone watching.
The shockwaves hit seconds later, slamming into the vehicles, rattling teeth and bones alike.
But when the smoke cleared — nothing.
The black fog was still there.
Unharmed. Unmoved.
It devoured the fireballs in silence, swallowing every flicker of light, every spark, every sound.
Like a living abyss.
An unbearable silence followed.
No one spoke.
The only thing left was the sound of the wind — hollow, heavy, and hopeless.
Even with all their might, the organization could do nothing.
Every weapon, every strategy… meaningless.
The darkness was absolute.
It was beautiful — and terrifying.
---
The Real World — Greenland
A blizzard raged across the endless white expanse.
Two white UH-60 helicopters, each bearing the flag of GAM Organization, cut through the storm.
Their rotors screamed as snow and ice lashed against the fuselage, coating the glass in frost.
Ahead — a massive fissure, stretching for kilometers across the icy plains.
From within it, fire erupted toward the sky, mingled with black smoke so dense it turned the falling snow gray.
The world looked as though it were bleeding darkness.
The rear door of one helicopter slid open.
A rush of snowstorm wind howled through the cabin.
Inside, two reporters in heavy cold suits struggled to hold their footing.
One raised a massive camera, almost the size of a child, pointing it toward the fissure.
The other gripped his harness tightly, anchoring them both as the helicopter bucked in the gale.
Then — it came.
A surge of black smoke erupted from the fissure, twisting violently into the form of an Eastern dragon.
It roared silently as it lunged forward.
The first UH-60 never had a chance.
The collision was instant — devastating.
The chopper shattered into a thousand blazing fragments, rotors slicing through its own frame before the explosion consumed it entirely.
A ball of fire bloomed, and then — nothing but darkness.
The second helicopter dove hard into the storm, rotors screaming as it retreated into the blinding white, vanishing like a ghost.
---
Two hours later — London.
Beneath the grand city of London — beneath its palaces, cathedrals, and the shining clock tower of Big Ben —
lay a vast underground complex: GAM Headquarters.
In the main chamber, hundreds of figures sat in long rows, each draped in a white cloak with two black holes for eyes.
Before them were nameplates, one for each nation, arranged across three tiers of marble desks.
Soft LED lights illuminated the white stone walls, reflecting the solemn glow of the GAM insignia hanging above the stage.
At the center stood the CEO, his cold blue eyes calm beneath the weight of the world.
CEO:
> I apologize, but I ask you all to remain calm.
I understand your frustration regarding our failure in the Pacific and the anomaly in Greenland.
But I assure you — we will address every threat, as one global organization.
A man rose abruptly from the middle row — the Representative of South Korea.
His voice trembled with restrained fury.
Korean Representative:
> I don't need your apology!!! I need results!
When will GAM strike back? Right now?
We deserve an explanation!
The CEO placed his hand on the table, his tone firm yet composed.
CEO:
> I understand your anger, sir.
But please — calm yourself.
GAM will counterattack as soon as possible.
However, we must first assess every current threat to ensure the best strategic outcome.
I ask for your patience.
Before he could finish, a woman's voice echoed sharply from another section — cold, furious, and American.
U.S. Representative:
> Mr. CEO, would you care to explain where the 360 billion dollars we fund annually are going?!
Why has the organization failed?
And why are your forces so disastrously underprepared?!
Tension filled the air like static before a storm.
The CEO's expression remained unreadable.
CEO:
> I understand your frustration. But please remember —
Our mission is to protect humanity.
And I promise — this issue will be resolved… soon.
Then —
The doors to the chamber burst open.
The metallic clang echoed through the hall.
Every head turned toward the entrance —
…and silence fell.
---
[To be continued]
The secret revealed by the author: I'm undergoing psychological treatment so my writing speed will be a bit slower.