Capture

The voice—if it could even be called that—lingered in the air like a ripple in reality itself.

It wasn't sound. It wasn't language. It was a presence, something that coiled around their thoughts, pressing down on their chests like an invisible weight.

"You… should not be here..." the voice repeated.

Ryujin wanted to breathe, but his lungs refused to move. The others looked just as paralyzed.

Something shifted in the distance. The shadow, no, the thing began to move again. The air vibrated with a deep, unnatural hum, almost like a pulse.

Ryujin swallowed hard.

Fuck. We can't let that thing catch us. We need to run away from here!

But how? And where could they go?

There was no cover, no real terrain to use to their advantage. The crystallized roots stretched endlessly, offering no real hiding spots.

The Rift five hours away from them was their only known exit, but stepping back through wasn't an option, not when it wouldn't send them back to Earth. 

Nelson was the first to recover. He gestured sharply.

Ryujin wasn't versed in military speak, but that gesture was intuitive.

Move.

The squad obeyed instinctively, keeping their footsteps light and quick as they crept along the massive roots.

Everyone here survived from the initial onslaught of white-scaled monsters on Earth. While their survival could mostly be attributed to luck, they were all at least adept at hiding their presence.

The towering tree trunk in the distance was their only landmark, and with no other direction to go, they had no choice but to head toward it.

Ryujin's heart pounded in his chest. He forced his breaths to stay even, but the weight of the thing's awareness pressed down on him like an unseen hand.

Then—

A gust of wind that wasn't wind swept through the area.

A pulse. A disturbance.

And suddenly, the world itself shifted.

Ryujin stumbled, disoriented. One moment he was stepping forward, the next—it was like the space around him had folded.

The horizon stretched unnaturally. The roots twisted at angles that shouldn't be possible. The massive tree flickered, as if its very existence was uncertain.

The others felt it too.

What the hell is happening?

And then—

Ryujin couldn't see.

He let out a silent gasp, realizing he had woken up surrounded in darkness.

He had not even realized when or how he had fallen unconscious.

Wait. 

It was not that he was in a dark place, but he's blindfolded.

Something soft and gauze-like covered his eyes, pressing gently against his face.

The texture...A bandage? Had he been injured?

He checked his body for any pain, but he came up blank.

The last thing he remembered was…

Damn. What was it?

The squad had been walking toward the crystal tree's trunk, climbing its enormous roots, moving like hikers on a treacherous trail.

And then… nothing.

His memory cut off like a severed thread.

When had he fallen unconscious?

A firm grip enclosed his hand. Someone was holding it tightly, fingers pressing into his skin as if afraid to let go.

The calloused texture reminded him of his younger brother's hands, hardened from completing his mandatory military service years ago.

Military...

A soldier's hand...

There were three military men in the squad. Ryujin couldn't imagine the Captain to be the type to offer skinship as support, and he wasn't friendly with Jack, the other soldier in the group.

Was it Eu?

Before he could let him know he's awake, a strange voice cut through the silence.

A woman's voice.

Ryujin stiffened.

The fuck? We did not bring a woman inside the Rift!

Who the hell was speaking?

Ryujin sharpened his senses, taking in his surroundings despite the lack of sight.

He was lying on something soft, a bed, not the hard crystallized roots of the gigantic tree nor the thin sleeping bag he had been issued by the military.

He stiffened.

Fuck. Where am I?

Did we somewhat return to the city? Is the squad at least safe?

His nose picked up the faint scent of herbs and incense, mingling with traces of cologne. 

From the sound of voices, it seemed the man holding his hand and the unknown woman were talking, their tones bordering on an argument. But Ryujin couldn't understand a single word.

Neither English, nor Mandarin, the languages used by the majority of the survivors.

It wasn't even Korean, my native tongue.

A sinking feeling settled in his stomach.

If he couldn't understand them, then that meant he did not return to the city. 

Had another Rift spat him out somewhere else?

Another country? Another world?

"Rio?! …Rio…?"

The man's voice broke with panic—or was it astonishment? The grip on Ryujin's hand tightened.

"Rio!"

Looks like he realized Ryujin was conscious and immediately began shouting. From the sound of it, he was calling for a physician.

No use pretending then. Pretending to be unconscious wouldn't do him any good now.

Ryujin flexed his fingers, noting the numbness in his limbs. He wasn't in pain, just weak, like he had been asleep for too long.

Slowly, he pushed himself upright.

The moment he moved, a pair of strong arms rushed to support him. The touch was unfamiliar, yet oddly careful. Long strands of hair brushed against his face.

Confused, Ryujin reached up to brush them away, only to freeze.

The hair wasn't the man's.

It was his own.

His hands darted to his head, feeling the unfamiliar length. His hair had grown far longer than it should have in the span of a few days.

How long had he been asleep?

The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

With growing urgency, Ryujin tore off the bandages wrapped around his head, blinking rapidly as his vision adjusted to the light.

The room before him came into focus.

It was one his brother would call a grand chamber. It had red-and-gold walls, designed with intricate landscape paintings. He was sitting on a canopy bed that belonged in a Western period drama.

And then he saw them swarming into the room, no, chamber.

A crowd of people.

Strangers, dressed in foreign garments, gathered around his bed. Their faces bore features more Caucasian than anything else he had seen in recent memory.

What am I, a celebrity?

One, two… eight, ten—no, more were spilling into the room, their expressions ranging from awe to curiosity, to delight and then wariness.

What the hell was going on?

Ryujin's instincts screamed at him to move, but his body felt sluggish, still adjusting to wakefulness. He gritted his teeth, forcing his breathing to steady.

This was bad.

Had he been captured?

No. This wasn't how one would treat a prisoner. 

No restraints. No visible weapons. No immediate threats. Yet.

But that didn't mean he wasn't in danger.

He needed answers.

And fast.