D-Animal
Night descended over the Green Fortress like a heavy, silent mantle. The bunker, though alive with technology and constant energy, seemed to respect the hour—lights softened, corridors dimmed, systems running at the minimum required. The world outside might be in ruins, but inside, time breathed differently.
Elara slept alone in one of the suites. She was sprawled sideways across the double bed, hair still slightly damp and spread over the pillow. Her breathing was deep, yet uneven—her body resting, but her mind still wandering through too many images, too many decisions, too many recent losses. Even in sleep, her brows knit for a moment, as if her subconscious refused to completely let go of control.
In another wing of the bunker, Rafael and Lucas shared a smaller room.
Lucas slept in a single bed pushed against the wall, curled beneath the blanket. Rafael occupied the larger bed, lying sprawled carelessly, wearing only shorts. His bare back rose and fell too fast, dark skin glistening under the faint night-panel light, soaked in cold sweat.
The first whisper slipped from Rafael's lips, barely audible.
Then another.
Broken words. Disconnected sounds. A name Lucas didn't recognize. A low, strangled groan, as if torn by force from deep within his chest.
Lucas woke immediately.
He sat up in bed, still groggy, rubbing his eyes until his vision focused on the other bed. That was when he saw Rafael thrashing violently, muscles tensed, fingers clawing brutally into the sheets as if trying to grab something slipping away.
— "Stop… stop…" Rafael murmured, his voice hoarse, almost childlike.
— "No… I did what you told me…"
A strange tightness seized Lucas's chest.
He stood slowly and walked to the older man's bed. He sat on the edge, hesitant, unsure what to do. He had never seen Rafael like this—Rafael, always gruff, aggressive, closed off, now looked… broken.
Sweat ran down Rafael's temples, across his broad shoulders, over a chest marked by old scars and newer ones. His breathing faltered, irregular, as if he were running without moving.
The dream dragged him back.
To the small, suffocating house.
To the sound of the door slamming at the end of the day.
To his father's voice, heavy with frustration and contempt.
"You're useless."
"Can't even work properly."
"Look at you… worthless."
The invisible blow always came next.
Shouts. Shoves. The constant feeling of being too small, too weak, too wrong.
Then the other scene overlapped.
The oppressive silence of the bedroom.
The metallic smell in the air.
The image that never left him.
His mother on the floor.
Wrists slit.
The knife buried in her chest.
Her hands still gripping the handle, as if even death hadn't been enough to make her let go.
Rafael sobbed in the dream.
Then came the fire.
The police raid.
The gunshots.
The explosion of the stolen panther.
The white flash.
The unbearable pain tearing through his body.
The claw piercing his back.
The world going dark.
The cold table of experimental surgery.
Faceless voices deciding his fate.
Programs being implanted into a wounded mind.
Orders. Protocols. Limitations.
Obey.
Survive.
Execute.
Rafael twisted on the bed, a low cry finally escaping—real now, no longer just a dream.
Lucas swallowed hard.
Carefully, he moved closer. He didn't touch him at first—he remembered how much Rafael hated physical contact—but his voice came before he could overthink it.
— "Rafael…" he called softly.
— "It's okay… you're not alone."
No reaction.
Lucas took a deep breath and tried again, his voice trembling but firm.
— "I'm here."
— "Elara is too."
— "No one's going to hurt you here… no one."
Rafael let out a hoarse groan, fingers still dug into the sheets.
Lucas, overcoming his fear, gently placed a hand on Rafael's arm.
— "You can trust us."
— "For real."
— "We won't judge you… or treat you badly."
His voice faltered for a second, but he went on.
— "You're… family now. Whether you like it or not."
The grip on the sheets slowly loosened.
Rafael's breathing began to slow, still uneven, but less desperate. A silent sob escaped, followed by a heavy sigh, as if his body finally surrendered to exhaustion.
— "…family…" he murmured, barely audible.
Lucas didn't reply. He just stayed there, sitting on the edge of the bed, keeping his hand where it was, in respectful silence, like someone guarding something too fragile to disturb.
On the other side of the bunker, Elara shifted in her bed, restless for a moment, as if something invisible had tugged at her affinity. She sighed, turned onto her side, and drifted back into sleep.
For the first time in a long while, Rafael didn't wake up alone in the dark.
---
Elara grunted softly in her sleep when her vision split in two.
It wasn't pain—it was affinity.
A light pressure behind her eyes, like an internal curtain being pulled aside. Visio had opened the channel.
— "Visio…" she murmured, voice rough with sleep.
She yawned, bicolored eyes slowly opening as she sat up in bed, blonde hair falling messily over her shoulders. Still half-lost between dream and waking, she braced one hand on the mattress and focused on what the owl was showing her.
The image was stable.
Visio perched on a high branch, opposite Cain, both maintaining silent watch around the Green Fortress. The night forest breathed in shades of deep blue and dark green, wrapped in low mist and nearly imperceptible luminous particles drifting through the air.
The owl focused.
Zoomed in.
Two Ferus D-Animals crossed the forest without haste—metallic giant anteaters, large and heavy, their bodies covered in irregular plates and synthetic fibers resembling fur. Long claws scraped the ground with a low, rhythmic sound. They weren't in aggressive mode. Just… passing through.
Elara released a sleepy sigh.
— "That's not a threat…" she murmured, rubbing her face.
— "You woke me for this, Visio?"
For a second, she considered lying back down.
Then the vision shifted.
Visio's focus snapped sharply to the left. The image narrowed, contrast adjusted, zoomed in on a larger silhouette, partially concealed by trees.
Elara frowned.
The shape…
The posture…
The inner glow of the core…
The world seemed to shrink.
— "…no."
Her heart skipped a beat.
Visio zoomed further.
There, walking through the vegetation like a ghost of steel, was a metallic lion.
Worn golden plates.
Familiar internal structures.
The same segmented mane design.
The same core pulsing faintly, unstable.
— "Iron…" the name escaped in a broken whisper.
Elara's eyes widened, breath caught in her lungs.
It made no sense.
She was absolutely sure.
She had ripped Seung's D-Armilla off with her own hands.
She had prevented the Depletio Affinitatis.
She had closed his eyes.
She had done everything right.
The tightness in her chest came without warning.
This time it wasn't physical—it was memory.
Seung's awkward smile.
His polite manner.
His firm but gentle voice.
The hand he extended when no one else would help.
Tears came before she realized it.
They slid silently down her face, warm, dripping onto the dark fabric of her clothes. Elara pressed a hand to her chest, feeling as if something invisible were crushing her heart from the inside.
— "No… I didn't let you become this…" she whispered, voice breaking.
Her mind raced.
Too fast.
Affinitas.
The word surfaced like a cold blade.
A Secret Hidden Class.
Capable of transferring a D-Animal into another living D-Armilla.
Capable of preventing Depletio… at the cost of blood. A lot of blood.
Twelve liters.
Elara's stomach twisted.
She no longer had Seung's D-Armilla.
Not after they were captured.
Not after everything was stripped from them by the SIF.
— "They…" the word died in her throat.
Understanding hit all at once—cruel and clear.
The SIF did this.
Someone with Affinitas touched Iron.
Someone tore him from rest.
Someone dragged him back.
And now Iron walked alone, without a master, but not corrupted—a living echo of someone who no longer existed.
The pain turned into rage.
Elara clenched her teeth, body trembling. Tears still fell, but now they burned.
She balled her fists and slammed them into the mattress, once… twice… three times.
— "Bastards…" she hissed, voice thick with restrained hatred.
— "You had no right."
The affinity core inside her vibrated, restless.
Visio held the image steady, silent, respecting his Mistress's grief and fury.
Elara took a deep breath, forcing air into her lungs.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand.
Her bicolored eyes, still wet, were now hard.
— "Iron…" she murmured again, this time with resolve.
— "I'm going to find out who did this."
And for the first time since they arrived at the bunker, Elara didn't lie back down.
She stayed seated on the bed, staring into the darkness reflected in Visio's vision—knowing, deep down, that this story was far from over.