Fátimeh

Zora hummed, her tail flicking lazily as she sauntered toward Seraniti with a bright smile, her usual carefree completely unfazed by the mayhem around them.

"Looks like things have calmed down, no~?" she mused, leaning in slightly, her feline ears twitching as she peered at Seraniti's expression.

Seraniti, however, was not amused in the slightest.

Her deadpan stare lingered on Zora for a few long, silent seconds before she took a step forward. Then another. Her movements were slow, deliberate, and brimming with unspoken intent.

Zora's ears perked up immediately, her instincts screaming at her before her conscious could even process what was happening.

"Mashaa? Wait!"

Her feet moved on their own, backing up as Seraniti picked up the pace, closing in like a predator on its prey.

Zora's tail flicked wildly as she continued to retreat, her arms raised slightly in an attempt to look as harmless as possible. But Seraniti said nothing, her strides growing faster with every step until—

"Mashaa—?! STA—Stap! That's harassment! NO—!"

Zora turned tail and ran, darting in frantic circles as Seraniti chased her down, her movements sharp and unforgiving.

"Stand still, you lazy—!"

"Mashaa! I'm sorry! Let's talk about this—!"

Zora's voice broke into half-laughs, half-panicked yelps as she weaved between debris, dodging left, then right, her feline agility barely keeping her ahead. But Seraniti was relentless, her determination fueled by sheer grudge-fueled purpose.

Then—

In a single, precise motion, Seraniti lunged forward and grabbed Zora's tail.

The effect was instantaneous.

Zora froze mid-stride, her entire body going rigid as a visible shockwave of stiffness rolled through her spine. Her ears flattened, her back arched unnaturally, and her mouth fell open—

A silent scream escaping her lips.

Seraniti smirked, tightening her grip just slightly. "Got you."

Minutes later, they walked through the streets, stepping over shattered stone and splintered wood as the aftermath of the battle lingered around them. The town's rescue efforts were in full motion—survivors dragging the wounded from the wreckage, hastily built medical stations forming in alleyways, the distant echoes of crying children and shouted orders filling the air. The scent of smoke, blood, and dust clung to everything.

Seraniti had seen battles before. She had fought, survived, and moved on. But this—the sheer scale of it—was something new. Watching the people scramble to piece their world back together left something unsettling in her chest.

She hid it well.

But she wasn't sure how long that would last.

"Now that I think about it, I didn't see any of those things on him."

"Mmm? Could you explain how it works again? Please~"

Zora's tone was playful as she stepped in front of Seraniti, walking backward with ease, her grin bright despite the destruction around them. Only the hilts of her Twin Mŕtvy were visible, the rest of her weapons submerged in the shifting shadows at her feet.

A sharp gust of wind rushed past them.

WWWWSSSHHHHHHHHH!

Seraniti's ears twitched. Her muscles tensed.

That sound.

It was familiar—too familiar.

"No."

She shut down Zora's question immediately, head tilting slightly as she listened, straining past the noise of the town's commotion. The sound was distant but approaching fast.

"Zora, do you hear it?"

Zora's feline ears perked up. She glanced past Seraniti before dramatically pointing behind her with both hands.

"You mean that?"

Seraniti turned, her stomach dropping at the sight.

Far in the sky, small dots speckled the blue expanse, descending rapidly. The distant whistle that had barely been audible before now grew into a sharp, piercing shriek.

Incoming artillery.

"Didn't you say it calmed down?! One, two, three, four, five, six—fuck, I don't know how many more!"

She snapped her head back to Zora, her frustration clear. The feline, however, simply clasped her hands behind her back, rocking slightly on her heels before letting out a ridiculously pathetic whistle, feigning innocence.

Seraniti clenched her jaw.

Her ΜΙСΛ chimed as her vision narrowed towards the oncoming projectiles, heading straight for the town. 

She exhaled sharply while still looking at them.

"Wanna make a bet?"

Zora's ears flicked, curiosity piqued.

"Oh?"

"If I can take out one with a single shot, I get to do the thing. In or out?"

Zora squinted at her, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"The thing?"

Seraniti smirked.

Zora's tail swayed lazily behind her as she considered it. Then, with a shrug, she sighed.

"Fine, but if you miss—uh… I don't know, we find a place to stay first."

"DEAL!"

Seraniti's eyes gleamed, excitement surging through her veins.

She snapped her palm forward, pointing at the artillery shell falling directly toward them. One of her cannons shifted, aligning itself with her trajectory as its apparatus spun up, the low hum of its internal escalating. The charge built rapidly, Collapse Fluid condensing, the weapon adjusting to her movements like it was a limb.

Her breath steadied.

The barrel vibrated faintly as potential surged through it, magicules coagulating along its length, from its base to the muzzle.

Then—

BANG!

The lavoisier round streaked through the sky, cutting through the wind like a comet.

It shot toward its target—

And missed completely.

The explosion detonated too early, the fireball flaring harmlessly, nowhere near the artillery shell still hurtling toward the town unharmed.

Seraniti froze.

Then it hit her.

"NO! HIJA DE PUTA! FUCK!"

She grabbed her hair, aggressively ruffling it in pure frustration, her voice dissolving into a chaotic mix of furious curses and unintelligible groans.

Meanwhile, Zora stood smug as hell, her hands on her hips, her tail flicking in victory.

Seraniti stomped the ground, seething.

Zora simply smiled, completely unbothered by Seraniti's meltdown.

Seraniti exhaled sharply, letting the frustration drain out of her system before clearing her throat with a pointed cough. "Cough... I think we should run, no?"

Zora hummed lightly, tilting her head with a playful glint in her eyes. "Did you forget already? I feel so hurt~" Her tone was exaggeratedly dramatic, her hands moving theatrically from one side to the other as she leaned back and forth, as if her words needed physical emphasis. "Apart from being a knight, I also do surveillance, dummy."

With a sweeping motion, she pointed back at the shell Seraniti had missed.

"Fifteen seconds. It'll hit the middle of the street—right next to that cafe ooooveeeerrrr there!"

She spun around dramatically, her entire body following her pointing finger until it landed on an empty, rundown cafe at the street corner. Not a single soul inside.

Across the town, people had already begun scrambling, abandoning their posts, homes, and whatever stability they had left. Some jumped into cars, tires screeching as they sped out of the area. Others ran into alleyways or dived behind cover, their eyes darting between the sky and the buildings around them.

And, of course, there were the opportunists—those who took havoc as an excuse to ransack stores, shoving whatever they could grab into their bags before bolting. Because looters existed everywhere.

Even with Zora's confident assessment, Seraniti wasn't about to take any chances. She flicked her wrist, and Svalinn repositioned itself in front of them, its surface shifting slightly as it layered itself with additional protection. Her cannons hovered, their apparatuses spinning up as they created a makeshift barrier.

The whistling overhead grew sharper, louder.

And yet—no alarms blared this time.

Only the mayor would know how many would die this round. How much of the town would be swallowed in flames.

Ten. Nine.

Zora, still unbothered, casually shifted closer, one hand resting against Svalinn. "Mashaa, where should we stay since we'll be here for a while? Uptown? Downtown? In between?"

Even in the middle of an artillery strike, they spoke as if discussing weekend plans. This—this moment of calm in the midst of everything—was one of the few luxuries Seraniti could afford to enjoy.

"Somewhere near the center. That's where most of the defenses would be, no?"

She adjusted her grip on Svalinn with her right hand while Zora's fingers tapped idly against its edge. For all her laziness, Zora wouldn't lie about something like this—unless, of course, the truth would cause more harm than good.

Eight. Seven. Six.

Seraniti twisted her left wrist slightly, a screen appearing above her bracelet. It shifted as she navigated, waiting a beat as the connection to the local network loaded. A map appeared on the right, while news updates flickered across the left side of the screen.

She scanned the locations, selecting a few that seemed promising. Small circles appeared over the map, each marking a potential place to stay.

Five. Four.

"These places. They've got good reviews, close to a commercial district. Food, clothes, equipment, and some good-looking spots."

As she spoke, one of the news feeds changed, cutting to a man in a dark suit. He had a neatly trimmed beard and an authoritative stance, his mouth opening as if about to speak—

Then the screen froze.

The whistling overhead had turned into an ear-splitting scream.

Three. Two.

"One."

The first explosion hit, reducing the cafe to little more than rubble and fire. The shockwave ripped through the street, forcing both Seraniti and Zora to brace themselves, their grips on Svalinn tightening instinctively.

The ground shook violently, rattling through their bones as the concussive force flattened everything in its immediate radius. Dust and debris filled the air, choking out the sky in thick clouds of gray and orange.

Then came the next hit.

And the next.

Impact after impact tore through the town, carving deep scars into the street, tearing through buildings like they were nothing. The air roared, fire consuming entire streets as debris rained down around them.

Seraniti clenched her jaw, her ears ringing painfully from the sheer force of the strikes. The sounds of destruction blurred together, each detonation carving away at the town's fragile existence.

It felt like the moment stretched on forever, a relentless, suffocating eternity compressed into a single minute of misery and rain.

The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning debris, and the distant screams of collapsing buildings merged with the aftershocks of the artillery strike. Dust hung over the ruins like a funeral shroud, swallowing the light, leaving only a dull haze of smoldering wreckage.

The screen from Seraniti's bracelet flickering between frozen frames and fragmented feeds, caught between buffering and outright failure. The video of the suited man stuttered, his mouth hanging open mid-sentence as if he had been frozen in time. The connection was unstable, struggling to recover from the shockwave of destruction.

Then—

PSHHHFFFF!

A sharp hiss of compressed air cut through the background noise.

Both Seraniti and Zora looked up, their attention drawn to the sky just as a drone passed overhead, its thrusters pushing out hot air in rhythmic bursts. The vehicle moved with calculated precision, heading straight toward the heart of Cernobîl, cutting through the ashen skyline like a hunting bird.

Seraniti's eyes narrowed slightly. She watched the exhaust trail behind it—a murky mix of black and brown, the telltale signature of Óhreinn engineering. Unlike traditional fuels, Óhreinn combustion didn't burn with the bright blues and oranges of the old world. It was dense, heavy, carrying the distinct signature of Collapsal fluid. Just like Drivers.

But a drone in Terra II wasn't the same as those archaic machines from the old war.

Her thoughts drifted as her eyes followed its trajectory.

Drones. Controlled by two pilots, though only one is needed. They use their C/ID to connect directly with it. Hell, they can pull off maneuvers that'd make the old world jealous. And almost as fast as those metal boxes from the Columbia states.

Another drone followed, then one after one.

Before long, the skyline was littered with them, their speeds increasing as they gained altitude. The thrusters howled, the force of their acceleration drowning out the street noise. A few townspeople stopped what they were doing, heads tilting toward the sky, watching the sudden escalation unfold with silent curiosity.

"Do you think they'll accept contracts? I mean... they'll WANT help righhhttt?"

Seraniti's eyes gleamed, already picturing the payout. Even amidst the destruction, her mind honed in on the opportunity, the scent of money cutting through the smoke-filled air like a fresh breeze.

Zora, on the other hand, simply shrugged her arms, neither confirming nor denying Seraniti's thoughts. Whatever direction her master chose, she would follow. Whether it was reckless or foolish hardly mattered—loyalty had no conditions.

Without warning, Zora's swords sank into her silhouette, vanishing as if they had never been there. At the same time, Svalinn and the cannons disappeared, swallowed by the same unnatural touch.

Then—motion.

Seraniti felt it before she could fully process it, that distinct sensation of weightlessness, as if her body had been stripped of mass entirely. Her vision blurred slightly before adjusting, her surroundings shifting into a place beyond the tangible—a scene she had witnessed many times before.

The hands.

Pillars stretched endlessly into the distance, their shapes imperfect, some tilted, others held up by distorted arms, their fingers twisting unnaturally as they grasped . Some hands were stone-like, their movements slow and deliberate, their touch anchoring the pillars to something unknown. Others looked warped, like they had been stretched and pulled in too many directions at once, their forms barely holding together.

Below her, the streets of Cernobîl blurred into a mess of colors, shifting between fast and slow at the same time. She could make out buildings slipping past, battles unfolding in fragmented glimpses, and the constant noise of the city merging into a dull, stretched-out hum.

Seraniti blinked, forcing herself to focus through the strange, layered existence.

"How much longer?"

She couldn't see Zora, but she knew she was here.

"A few minutes at most, so just relax and enjoy the view, mashaa."

Her voice sounded a bit different—distorted but undeniably hers.

Seraniti's eyes moved across the strange landscape. "Zora, do you mind the view from inside here?"

The scenery continued shifting with each passing second, but then, a voice answered.

"No, not really. I was frightened the first time I used my shadow. But besides that, this is pretty common to those like me."

A pause, as if letting Seraniti process the words before she continued.

"No one knows what these pillars represent. The hands made of stone, the distorted arms, the rectangular pillars... they exist, but no one's ever figured out why."

Seraniti's gaze lingered on one of the hands, its fingers curling slightly, almost like it was reacting to their presence.

Zora's voice came again, a bit sharper this time.

"Anyhow, get ready. We're almost there."

Not that Seraniti could do anything at the moment but wait.

And yet, waiting was but a fleeting moment.

The world around her shifted, dragging her senses back into sharp focus as the unmistakable sounds of a real battle erupted before her.

She could hear ΜΙСΛs' chiming, the distinct ringing that signaled usage—the clash of sequences forming in rapid succession. Magic collided against screens, explosions crackling as they struck their marks or shattered upon impact. Blades met in a frenzy, steel grinding against steel, weapons forged in the common era wielded by casters who had perfected their craft.

Seraniti felt her pulse quicken, her heartbeat hammering with the havoc unfolding before her. The circles in her irises spun faster, her body reacting instinctively, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Emerging from the very shadows of the streets, their limbs piercing out from the famine that ate all, palms open, fingers splayed, each moving with a purpose only the caster themselves understood.

Some of the hands held blades, acting as a third, fourth, or even a fifth arm for those who wielded them. Others carried screens, protecting their casters from incoming attacks, bending unnaturally. 

Supernatural skills were unlike sequences. They could not be mastered through practice alone.

One had to be born with them, connected to their existence in a way that could not be taught.

Soon, they were right in the middle of the street, emerging from the famine of motion, stepping into the fray where chaos reigned.

As soon as Seraniti laid eyes on the people fighting, something hit her—not physically, but like a wave crashing against her consciousness, a torrent of something unseen yet suffocatingly present.

It was the things flowing from the people.

The moment she locked eyes with one of the them, her vision was changing.

She felt herself being pulled inward, dragged into something beyond material.

A tunnel formed around her, lined with pillars supported by twisted limbs, their joints bending in unnatural angles, grasping, reaching, yet holding everything in place like grotesque architecture. The blood here flowed upward, defying logic.

And the chess pieces—black and white, cracked and pristine, connected by strings of flesh—shifted across an unseen board, their movements dictated not by hands, but by something deeper. Will? Regret? She didn't know.

It was treacherous. It was immoral.

It was the truth of every person who had ever lived.

Something she knew all too well.

Somewhere beyond this suffocating vision, she could hear Zora's voice, faint, distant—like she was calling from another room.

Seraniti barely processed it.

She felt herself being pushed out, the unnatural tunnel stretching and snapping as she was forcibly expelled from where she had been floating. The world jerked back into view, the battle around her flickering into clarity once more.

"Mashaa! Don't do anything dumb, okay?"

Zora's words reached her fully this time, her voice sharp but carrying the familiar warmth that never quite faded, no matter how many times she had said it before.

Seraniti let out a slow breath, grounding herself as the moment faded.

She had heard this warning countless times, but it never grew old.

They had too much to see, too much to do, before either of them disappeared from life entirely.