D-Animal
Three days.
Three full days since Elara, Rafael, and Lucas had escaped the SIF base, running like ghosts through concrete, steel, and explosions. Three days living on the edge between exhaustion and constant vigilance, sleeping little, eating when they could, always alert to any sound out of place.
The forest appeared as a silent relief.
Tall trees, thick trunks, closed canopies filtering sunlight into deep shades of green. The air was humid and cool, heavy with the scent of living earth and ancient leaves—an almost painful contrast to the scorched concrete and twisted metal they had left behind.
Fenrir moved ahead, silent steps over moss-covered ground. Kaiser followed close behind, heavy and alert, while Cain streaked through the sky between the treetops, watchful.
Lucas was the first to stop.
— "Wait…"
He frowned, tilting his head slightly. Elara followed her brother's gaze—and then she noticed it.
The forest hillside looked too normal.
An extensive rock formation covered in vines, thick roots, and shrubs. But something there broke the natural pattern. The shadows didn't behave as they should. The wind didn't move certain leaves.
— "Optical camouflage," Rafael murmured, narrowing his eyes. — "And a good one."
Elara dismounted Fenrir and approached, running her hand over the rock surface. Beneath the false organic layer, she felt the cold of metal.
— "A bunker…"
She took a deep breath.
The access panel revealed itself slowly as Kaine slid to the surface, metallic legs touching the hidden console. Three systems activated at once:
• Ocular analysis
• Digital biometric scan
• Physical access card
— "No chance the normal way," Lucas commented.
Rafael didn't answer.
Kaine was already working.
The king spider latched onto the panel, ultra-thin filaments extending like living nerves. Data began to cascade, encrypted codes dismantled layer by layer. The bunker reacted—sensors awakened, defensive routines tried to rise—but it was too late.
Kaine was patient. Meticulous. Cruel with closed systems.
— Access granted.
The sound came with a deep groan, massive gears awakening after years of dormancy. The artificial rock split in two, revealing enormous doors of reinforced steel and concrete, impregnated with magnetite. Cold vapor escaped through the seams as internal cooling systems activated.
— "Beautiful…" Rafael murmured.
Elara raised her wrist.
— "Fenrir. Go first."
The black wolf acknowledged without a sound and vanished down the deep bunker stairs, descending like a living shadow swallowed by darkness.
Seconds passed.
Affinity pulsed.
No threat.
Elara nodded to Rafael.
— "It's clear."
Rafael dismounted Kaiser and helped Lucas down. The boy was better—still tired, but awake, eyes alert. Kaiser was recalled to the D-Armilla, while Cain remained deployed, gliding to an external surveillance position.
Elara recalled Fenrir and released Visio, the metallic owl opening its wings with a soft thermal hiss before taking flight to watch the forest perimeter.
The three descended.
The door closed behind them with a dry crash, followed by the heavy sound of internal locks engaging. Gears turned deep within, sealing the bunker from the outside world.
Soft lights illuminated the main corridor.
— "Welcome," said a neutral, calm voice. — "Green Fortress, autonomous system active."
Kaine moved again, inserting access keys directly into the control core. In seconds, three profiles were created:
• Elara Pack
• Rafael Richter
• Lucas Pack
— "It's ours now," Rafael confirmed.
The Green Fortress revealed itself in layers.
The entrance tunnel made a precise ninety-degree turn, designed to block radiation and toxic gases. A decontamination antechamber scanned the three, releasing them after confirming the absence of biological and chemical agents.
Beyond that… an entire underground world.
Vast halls lit by organic LED panels simulating natural day and night cycles. Modular suites of two hundred square meters, with interactive walls capable of projecting landscapes—mountains, oceans, open sky.
— "This was built to house people for years…" Lucas murmured, impressed.
And he was right.
Hydroponic silos stretched across vertical levels, plants growing under perfect artificial light. Water purification systems worked in constant silence. Robotic pharmacies awaited commands, ready to synthesize personalized medications.
Weapons rested in armored vaults, sealed by multiple biometric layers. Rifles, pistols, blades, ammunition enough for a long war.
— "Whoever built this knew exactly what was coming," Elara commented.
Training areas opened into colossal sectors.
Virtual reality gyms where combat scenarios could be simulated to psychological limits. Shooting ranges with acoustic suppressors, projectile recycling, intelligent holographic targets. Obstacle courses capable of training a thousand people at once.
Deeper still, the technological core.
Quantum supercomputers operated in absolute silence, handling orbital surveillance, NBC filtration, and vertical agriculture. Modular reactors ensured continuous power, shielded against electromagnetic pulses. Automated hospitals, surgical robots, therapy and psychological rest areas—everything designed to keep bodies and minds functional through long periods of confinement.
Elara stopped at the center of the main hall.
She took a deep breath.
For the first time since the chaos began…
there were no sirens.
no gunfire.
no immediate need to run.
— "This isn't just a hideout," she said quietly. — "It's a base."
Rafael crossed his arms, scanning the space with a critical eye.
— "It's ground zero," he corrected. — "From here, we decide the next step."
Lucas smiled, tired but relieved.
— "So… we survived."
Elara closed her eyes for a moment.
Yes. They had survived.
But she knew.
The Green Fortress was not the end of the road.
It was the beginning of something much bigger.
---
Elara closed the suite door behind her and stood still for a few seconds, simply observing.
The space was wide, too clean for someone who had spent days running through ruins. The walls projected a soft light-green tone, as if imitating sunlight filtered through leaves. A large bed occupied the center of the room, immaculate sheets still vacuum-sealed. There was a minimalist desk, a small sofa, and at the back, an entire wall of built-in wardrobes.
She walked to them almost silently.
Opened the first door.
Clothes.
Clean. New. Folded with near-obsessive precision. Shirts, pants, training gear, thermal jackets. In another section, underwear, still sealed, in various sizes.
Elara blinked, incredulous.
— "…You've got to be kidding me," she murmured.
For a second, she almost laughed.
She grabbed a full change of clothes, hugging them to her chest like a rare treasure. Five days. Five days without a proper shower, without changing clothes, covered in dried sweat, soot, concrete dust… and blood.
She quickly turned to what she assumed was the bathroom door.
She was right.
The room was as immaculate as the bedroom. Light tiles, matte metal surfaces, a wide mirror, soft lighting. The glass shower looked unused.
Elara didn't think twice.
She closed the door, dropped the clothes on the bench, and began undressing with quick, impatient movements. When she stepped into the shower and closed the glass behind her, she reached for the control panel.
Water.
Hot.
Elara let out a low sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.
— "Victory number two…"
The water hit her shoulders like a pleasant shock. Her entire body responded at once, muscles forced to relax, accumulated tension finally finding a place to drain away.
She grabbed one of the small packaged soaps and began washing, feeling days of grime slowly disappear. Dark soot mixed with the water, flowing down the drain in grayish streams.
When her hand reached her back, her body reacted before her mind.
A groan escaped involuntarily.
The improvised bandage had to come off.
She took a deep breath, braced one hand against the shower wall, and carefully—still not carefully enough—began removing the wrapping. The fabric had stuck to her skin. Dried blood. Pus. Every centimeter peeled away felt like reopening cuts that had barely begun to heal.
— "Damn it…" she whispered, teeth clenched.
The hot water helped… and made it worse at the same time.
It was a clean pain. An honest one. Not like gunshots or explosions. The kind of pain that reminded her she was still alive.
She let the water run directly over her back despite the shivers and cleaned the wounds as best she could, knowing it hurt now to prevent infection later. Her shoulders trembled slightly, but she didn't stop.
Then she washed her hair.
The blonde strands, once heavy with dust and sweat, became light again, slipping through her fingers as she massaged her scalp. The water carried away the weight of the last few days, little by little.
When she finished, she turned off the shower and stood still for a few seconds, leaning against the glass, breathing deeply.
The bunker's silence was almost surreal.
Elara grabbed a towel, dried herself carefully—especially her back—and stepped out, body still warm, skin slightly flushed.
She dressed slowly in the clean clothes.
When she finished, she looked at her reflection in the mirror.
The exhaustion was still there. The pain. Marks that wouldn't fade anytime soon.
But for the first time since everything began, Elara looked… whole again.
She took a deep breath, ran a hand through her still-damp hair, and left the suite.
The bunker wasn't just a shelter.
It was a point of renewal.
---
Elara left the suite with light steps, almost bouncing, as if her body were finally remembering what it felt like not to hurt with every movement. The new clothes fit her naturally—not like armor, but like a choice.
She wore a tight black high-neck top with strategic cutouts at the chest and a front lacing that kept it secure without restricting movement. The fabric was flexible and breathable, designed for light combat or intense training. Over it, a short black hooded jacket with wide sleeves and fitted cuffs, open enough not to hide the top but ready to close at the first sign of cold or danger.
Her pants were black, snug, made of durable material with enough elasticity for running and jumping—no loose fabric to snag on structures or equipment. A simple belt kept everything in place. On her feet, mid-calf black boots with thick, stable soles, firm laces, and heels built for impact and endurance, not fragile aesthetics.
Around her neck, a black tubular mask rested like a collar for now, ready to be pulled up to cover mouth and nose if needed.
It was a clean look. Dark. Functional.
And definitely new to anyone who knew Elara only as "the girl who ran in the mornings."
She entered the dining area with that same quiet calm.
Lucas was sitting at the table, drinking water, when he looked up.
He choked immediately.
— "— WHAT are you wearing?" he asked, coughing and nearly spitting water back into the cup.
Elara stopped, looked herself over from head to toe, then looked at him with genuine confusion.
— "Clothes." she replied, shrugging.
Lucas stared at her for a few more seconds, processing. It wasn't ugly. It wasn't excessive. Just… different. Firmer. More decisive.
— "…Since when do you wear that?"
— "Since today." she answered simply. — "There are clean clothes in the rooms. Go grab some."
Lucas sighed, running a hand through his still-messy hair.
— "I thought this place would only have weird military uniforms…"
Elara gave a faint half-smile.
— "Flexible, comfortable, and doesn't get in the way."
He nodded, defeated.
— "Alright. I'm taking a shower too."
And he hurried off toward the suites, still shaking his head.
Elara watched for a second, then headed in another direction.
The infirmary wing was quiet, lit by soft white light. She entered, chose an empty medical bed, and sat carefully. With a practiced motion, she lifted the back of her outfit, exposing her scarred back—some marks pink and fresh, others still sensitive.
A medical drone glided toward her, sensors blinking light blue.
Elara rested her arms on the bed and took a deep breath.
— "You can start."
The drone emitted a low sound and went to work—fine jets of light and micro-needles applying localized healing, regenerating tissue, closing wounds her body hadn't yet managed on its own.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
For the first time in days, she didn't have to run.
Or fight.
Or decide anything immediately.
The Green Fortress lived up to its name.
Here, for now…
she could breathe.