My lungs are on fire.
"I... I can't... move."
My voice is a pathetic croak. The world is a spinning, grey blur. The adrenalin that let me stand is gone, and my body is remembering that it is an empty, hollowed-out thing.
"Get up."
Kizawa's voice is not kind. It is sharp, like broken glass.
"I... I'm trying..."
I push against the dusty floor of the ruined shrine. My arms shake like newborn foals. Nothing. I am a puppet with its strings cut.
"We do not have time for 'trying'. We have time for 'doing'. Get. Up. Mizuki."
He is standing over me, a tall, blue-haired silhouette of pure rage and pain. His left arm is clamped to his side, his face is sheet-white, but he is standing.
"Kizawa... stop."
Erima's voice is low. She is kneeling, pulling a roll of gauze from a hidden pouch in her combat gear.
"She is not faking. Look at her. She is in mana-recoil. She burned her entire reserve. She is lucky she is conscious."
"We are all lucky to be conscious. That luck runs out in... now."
He kicks a fallen stone lantern, and the crack of it splitting makes me jump.
"You are a fool, Kizawa," Yogawa rasps from the corner.
The magician is sitting against the wall, his grimoire in his lap, his eyes closed. He looks like a corpse.
"You are yelling at her because you are terrified. And you are right to be."
"I am not..."
Kizawa starts, his voice dangerously low.
"Yes, you are," Yogawa interrupts, his eyes snapping open. They are pale, and the pupils are tiny. "You are terrified. I am terrified. Because the city just went silent."
A cold dread, deeper than my exhaustion, cuts through the haze.
"What... what do you mean?"
I manage, pushing myself up onto my elbows.
"He's right," Erima says, her hands pausing on Hachiro's mangled fists. "The fog... the Black Fog General... it's gone. The air is clear."
"That's... good... right?"
Hachiro groans as Erima douses his knuckles in antiseptic. He hisses through his teeth.
"Ow! Ow! Warning, Erima! A little warning!"
"It is not good," Yogawa whispers, and the blood drains from Hachiro's face.
"It is... wrong."
Yogawa forces himself to his feet, using the wall as a brace.
"The General... he was a presence. A thick, static cloud that blocked everything else out. He was loud. Now... he is gone."
"So?"
Kizawa says, his one good hand resting on the hilt of his remaining katana.
"So, the King... the Spinner King... he just lost his loudest General. He is not blind anymore. He is listening."
Yogawa walks to the shattered doorway of the shrine, looking out at the dead, grey sky.
"The city... it's not a storm anymore. It is a web. And we... we are the flies... that just tore a hole in it. He feels us. He knows... exactly... where we are."
Silence. A heavy, absolute, suffocating silence. Hachiro is not making jokes. Kizawa is not moving. Erima is slowly, methodically packing her medkit.
"Right," Erima says, her voice snapping the tension. "New plan. The apartment is lost. Our supplies are gone. The city is compromised. We are leaving."
"Leaving... how?"
I ask. "We can't... I can't even... walk..."
"I will carry you," Kizawa states. It is not an offer.
"No... you can't. Your ribs..."
"I will carry you. Your argument is irrelevant."
"He will not have to," Erima says. She pulls a small, sealed injector from her kit. "Adrenaline and a high-yield painkiller. It will get you walking."
"But... my magic..."
"Forget your magic," she says, pressing the injector hard against my thigh. I hiss as the cold liquid floods my system. "Your magic is gone for today. You are a civilian. Your only job is to walk, and not get killed. Can you do that?"
The effect is instant. The world snaps into sharp, painful focus. The exhaustion is still there, a giant, heavy beast on my back, but the shaking stops. The fire in my nerves is banked.
"I... I think so. Yes. I can walk."
I get to my feet. My legs hold.
"Good," she nods. "Now, the how. Yogawa is right. The King is listening. The streets are a death trap. Every window, every rooftop... they are his eyes now."
"So... we fly?"
Hachiro asks, wiggling his bandaged, club-like hands. "I mean... Yogawa's a magician. Can't you... poof... us out?"
"I am a magician, you fist-for-brains," Yogawa snarls, his color returning with his anger. "Not a miracle worker. I just spent eighty percent of my reserves keeping that idiot Kizawa from being dissolved. I can barely... light... a... candle."
"Okay! Okay! Grumpy. Just an idea."
"We go under," Erima says, ignoring them both.
She walks to the doorway and points.
"We are in the old industrial sector. Two kilometers west is the Sumida riverbed. It is dry. But under it... are the main sewer and storm drain junctions for half the city. They are old. They are stone. And they are deep."
Hachiro's face, which had been slowly regaining its cheer, crumples.
"Sewers."
His voice is dead.
"Oh, no. No, no, no. Absolutely not. I draw the line. I am a premium... top-tier... brawler. I do not... do... sewers. The... the smell! The... the rats! The... grossness!"
"You do," Kizawa says, walking past him, "if you want to live. The streets are eyes. The sewers... are blind."
"He is right," Erima nods. "The streets are death. The sewers... are just... unpleasant. We go under the hive mind. We move beneath their new web. We follow the drains until we are outside the city's kill-zone."
"This is... the worst... day... of my life..."
Hachiro mutters, but he pulls his tattered jacket tighter.
"Right. Formation," Erima orders, all business. "Kizawa. You take point. You are the fastest, and the quietest, even with one arm. Find us a path."
He just nods.
"Hachiro. You are loud. You take the rear. Your hands are broken, so use your feet. Smash... anything... that... follows... us. Understood?"
"Loud... and proud!"
Hachiro tries to do a fist-pump, winces, and settles for a grim nod.
"Just... just... quietly... 'loud'..."
"Yogawa. You are with me, in the middle," Erima continues. "You are our detector. You feel a... a pressure spike... a demon... anything... you say... something... before... it is... on top... of us."
"I... can do that. I can... feel... everything... right now. It all... itches..."
The magician shudders, clutching his grimoire.
"And... Mizuki."
She turns to me. Her eyes... are not soft. They are hard as steel.
"You stay behind Kizawa. And in front of me. You are in the box. You are... precious cargo. You have one... job. Do not... fall... down. Can... you... do... that?"
"I... I can."
The adrenaline is making my heart hammer, but my legs feel strong.
"Good. Everyone. Last of the water. Last of the food. Now."
She tosses us each a single, sad-looking protein bar and a small bottle of water. We eat in silence. It tastes like cardboard and ash. It is the best meal of my life.
"Let's go."
Kizawa does not open the door. He eases his head around the broken frame. He listens. I... listen... too. The city is not silent. Yogawa was wrong. It is humming. A low, dissonant... vibration... that... gets... inside... your... teeth.
"...It is... singing..." Yogawa whispers, his eyes wide with horror.
"What?"
"The... demons... the basic ones... they are... connecting. They are singing... to... their... King. We... really... need... to... go."
Kizawa nods. He slips out of the shrine, a blue-haired shadow. I follow. The air... is wrong. It is heavy. Thick. It smells of... ozone... and... rotten... meat. The sun is up, but the light is a sickly, jaundiced... yellow. The Black Fog is gone, but this miasma... is worse. It clings.
"This... sucks..." Hachiro whispers from behind me. "My... bandages... feel... sticky."
"Move," Erima hisses.
We are in an alley. Rubble is everywhere. The remains of the foundry are smoking a few blocks away. Kizawa moves like a cat. He flows over the debris. He never makes a sound. His head is on a swivel. His one good katana is out. I... stumble. My foot catches on a piece of rebar. I gasp as I fall. Kizawa spins. He catches me before I hit the ground. His hand is a vice on my arm. He hauls me up.
"I... said... do... not... fall..." he hisses, his voice a furious whisper.
"I... know! It... was... an... accident!"
"We... do... not... get... 'accidents'... anymore. Focus,... Mizuki!"
"I... am... focusing!"
"Quiet!"
Erima's voice is a razor. Kizawa freezes. I freeze. Erima is staring up. At the roof of a collapsed office building.
"What...?"
Hachiro starts.
"Shh!"
I look up. And my blood... turns to... ice. Eyes. Hundreds of... red... pinprick... eyes. Lining the edge of the roof. They are not demons. They are... crows. Just... crows. But... they are all... staring... at us. And... they... are all... humming. The... same... terrible... song.
"They are... part... of... the... web..." Yogawa breathes, his voice shaking. "They are... scouts... Sentinels..."
One of the crows... opens... its... beak. It does not caw. It screams. A high-pitched shriek... that... sounds... like... metal... tearing.
"Move! NOW!"
Erima screams. Kizawa does not hesitate. He grabs my hand and pulls.
"Run, Mizuki! RUN!"
We are sprinting. I am flying. My feet barely touching the ground. His grip is painful. Behind us... I hear Hachiro.
"Get... lost,... birds!"
A crash. A splintering of wood.
"Hachiro! No!"
Erima yells.
"They... are calling... more! Just GO!"
Another crash.
"Pressure... spike!" Yogawa shrieks. "Left! LEFT! Big one!"
Kizawa yanks me sideways. We dive... through the shattered... window... of what used to be a convenience store. We land... on broken glass. I cry out as a shard... slices... into my hand. Erima and Yogawa tumble in after us.
"Hachiro!"
Erima yells, scrambling to her feet.
"I... am... COMING!"
The wall of the store explodesinward. Hachiro plows through cinderblocks and dust. He is laughing. A wild... maniacal... laugh.
"That... was... AWESOME! My... hands... are... broken... but... I... do not... care!"
"You... idiot!"
Yogawa screams, pulling himself behind a rusting shelf.
"You... just... told... everything... in... the... city... EXACTLY... where... we... ARE!"
"I... know! Is... it... great?!"
"You... are... insane!"
"INCOMING!"
Kizawa's voice is steel. He is staring... at the hole... Hachiro made. A shape... is crawling... through. It is not a crow. It is big. It is black. And it has... too... many... legs. A Jorogumo. An Onyx Spider. But it is different. It is not like the ones we fought before. It is larger. And the red eyes... are glowing... with intelligence.
"That... is not... a basic... demon..." I whisper, my own... bleeding... hand... forgotten.
"That... is an... Advance-class... Hunter..." Yogawa breathes. "It heard... the call... It found... us."
The spider... hisses. It unfurls... its... legs. Kizawa steps... in front... of me.
"Erima. Eye. Yogawa. Bind. Hachiro. Distract."
He does not wait... for confirmation. He charges.
"You... got... it,... Blue!"
Hachiro roars... leaping... over... the counter.
"Hey,... Ugly! Want... a... knuckle... sandwich?! It is... extra... bloody!"
The spider... hisses... turning... its head. TWANG. An arrow... sprouts... from its... center... eye. A perfect... shot... from Erima.
"SCREEEEEE!"
The demon... rears.. back.
"Terra-Vincire!"
Yogawa slams... his hand... on the floor. The broken tiles... erupt. Rebar... and concrete... wrap... around the spider's... legs. It is trapped. For a second.
"Kizawa! NOW!"
I scream. He is alreadythere. He leaps... onto the creature's... back. He raises... his one... good... sword.
"Tsunami... Fang!"
He stabs... down. Once. A geyser... of black... ichor. The spider... convulses. It dies. It all... happened... in five... seconds. Silence. We all... just pant. Hachiro spits... blood... onto the floor.
"See?... Loud... and... proud..."
"That... was one..." Kizawa says, his voice... dangerously... low. He pulls... his sword... free.
"It... was alone."
"Do... not... count... on it..." Yogawa groans,... clutching... his chest. "That... was too... much... magic..."
"He is right," Erima says, nocking... another arrow. "That shriek... we heard... it... was not... just... pain. It... was a... beacon."
"How... long... do... we have...?"
I ask, wrapping... my bleeding hand... with a rag.
"Seconds," Kizawa says. "Maybe... a minute."
"So... the sewers... then?"
Hachiro grins... a bloody... grin.
"The sewers," Erima confirms.
"Lead... the way,... Kizawa," Hachiro gestures. "I... am suddenly... a huge... fan... of underground... travel."
Kizawa nods. He grabs... my good arm.
"This... time... try... to keep... up."
"This... time... try... not... to be... so bossy."
He almost... smiles. It is a terrifying... sight.
"Let's... go."
He pulls... me through... the back... door... of the store. The alley... behind... it... is dark. And... there... it... is. A... manhole... cover.
"Hachiro," Erima says.
"On... it!"
He wedges... his broken... fingers... under... the lid. He grunts.
"Ugh... heavy..."
"LIFT!"
Yogawa yells. With a groan... of metal,... Hachiro... throws... the cover... aside. A wave... of stench... hits us. It is unbelievably... bad.
"Oh,... come... ON!" Hachiro gags. "That... is VILE!"
"It is... beautiful," Erima says, her eyes... gleaming. "It is cover. It is darkness. It is our... way... out."
She looks... at Kizawa.
"Point."
Kizawa nods. He drops... into... the blackness... without... a sound.
"Hachiro. Rear guard. Go."
"Fine! Fine! But... I... am complaining... the entire... time!"
He slides... in.
"Yogawa."
"Yes,... yes... I know... I am going..."
The magician... lowers... himself... in... groaning... pitifully. It is just... me... and Erima. I stand... at the edge,... staring... down. It is so... dark.
"Mizuki."
Erima's voice... is gentle.
"It is okay... to be... scared. But... it is not... okay... to stop. We go... together."
She holds... out... her... hand. I look... back... at the city. The sick... yellow... sky. I can hear... it. A chittering. A thousand... legs. More... spiders.
"Okay," I breathe.
I take... her... hand. And... together... we step... down... into... the darkness.