I’m Still Here

Yoichi

My body moved on instinct, defying the agony that tore through every inch of me. Step by step, I pushed forward through the wreckage—broken streets, crumbling buildings, and the hollow silence of a world that had long since died. This place was no longer a city. It was a graveyard. A resting ground for memories, where hope decayed alongside the corpses of yesterday.

I sucked in a sharp breath, biting back the throb of pain radiating from my wounded side.Shinkōzan was still in my hand, gripped tight like a lifeline. The blade shimmered faintly in the last dying rays of sunlight—cold, beautiful, and hungry for blood.

I have to find them.

My steps carried me deeper into the heart of the Western District, where the ruins grew tighter, the streets choked with debris, and the wind whispered through the wreckage like the mournful cries of lost souls.

In my chest, the memories played on a relentless loop—merciless and unyielding.

The five of us stood atop that crumbling rooftop. Shella stood at the center, her voice calm as she issued orders with unwavering resolve. Rissa was beside me, chanting a melodic spell that wove a shimmering barrier of protection around us. Virly and Vanny stood back-to-back, their massive gauntlets raised and ready, eyes sharp as they guarded each other with practiced precision.

I gripped Shinkōzan tightly, determined to protect them all in the midst of the ambush that had overwhelmed the five of us. But in a world like this, at the end of all things, what's bad only gets worse. Without us realizing it, from that fractured sky, they came.

Three fucking Seraph Nulls—gliding in like angels of death, if angels were made of steel and hate. Their wings didn't make a sound, but the silence they brought was louder than any scream.And then came the Venom Choirs—twisted freakshows wired together like some sick joke. A walking chorus of poison and pain, humming their damn death tune like they were proud of it.

It was hell—real, tangible, and scripted in static and rust.A pincer ambush, perfect in its cruelty. Ground and sky working together like old lovers on a killing spree.

We weren't ready. Hell, we were never ready. And maybe that's the part that stings the most. I should've seen it coming. Should've read the signs. But no—We stepped in, wide-eyed and hopeful. Like idiots. Like ghosts who hadn't realized they were already dead.

One of those flying abominations smashed straight through the rooftop, tearing the building—and us—apart. I saw Shella fall, her silhouette vanishing into the chasm of rubble and dust. Rissa lunged forward, her fingers just a breath away, screaming Shella's name into the void—but then came the explosion. And just like that, even the scream was gone.

I tried to run. I tried to reach Virly and Vanny—but the world didn't care. Barbed wires, like serpents born of hatred, coiled around my limbs and dragged me back into the dark, carving pain into my skin, into my mind.

Now all that's left are the screams. Screams I can't forget. My girls—my family—ripped from me. And their voices still haunt me, like ghosts clawing at my ears. Like guilt soaked in blood.

I bit my lip, holding back the tears.

I have to find them.

I quickened my pace, even as every step felt like it tore open wounds that had never fully healed.

But soon… my steps came to a halt.

Three figures hovered above the ruins, their bodies gleaming like shattered fragments of a broken mirror. Their torn metal wings stretched wide, and the air trembled under the pressure of their arcane presence. Once again, the machine angels—Seraph Null—stood in my path.

I tightened my grip on Shinkōzan. There was no other choice. I couldn't die here—not yet.

The first Seraph Null dove toward me, a black spear of light shooting from its hand. I dodged to the side, leapt onto the rubble, and slid down with a powerful slash. My blade carved through one of its wings. The HOLO let out a gut-wrenching mechanical shriek before crashing into the ground, its body erupting in a burst of sparks and electricity.

The second came from behind. I twisted my body, raised Shinkōzan, blocked its spear, and retaliated with a furious thrust.

"ALL OF YOU!!!" I screamed, slashing through the creature's chest with everything I had.

The Seraph Null exploded into pieces, its shattered frame scattered among the debris. The third was more cautious, hovering around the rubble, gathering arcane energy in its hands. I swung Shinkōzan and unleashed a burst of crystal energy in its direction. The blast struck its body, severing one of its metal arms—but it didn't fall. With a snarl, I sprinted, launched myself into the air, and drove Shinkōzan straight into its core.

In an instant, the HOLO erupted in a storm of fire and steel. I collapsed onto the rubble, gasping for breath, but refused to let the pain take control. With trembling hands, I gathered the scraps from the three Seraph Nulls, storing them inside my personal storage magic.

Slowly, I stood, my gaze sweeping over the destruction around me.

"SHELLA!!!" My scream echoed into the grey sky.

"RISSA!!!" I gripped Shinkōzan tightly, my vision blurring with tears.

"VIRLY!!! VANNY!!!"

The wind replied with a hollow whisper.

I dropped to my knees, teeth clenched.

"I'M HERE!! I'M STILL HERE!!!"

I turned in every direction, hoping—praying—that someone would answer. But all I received in return was silence. A soft sob escaped me, but I forced myself to stand once more. I couldn't give up. I wouldn't stop until I found them. I walked through the ruined streets, shouting their names again and again, letting my hoarse voice carry one truth—I'm still alive. I'm still fighting.

And I will find All of you.

No matter what it takes.

~~DHHOLO~~

Night slowly fell, wrapping the Western District in a shroud of darkness and biting cold. I sat atop the roof of an abandoned building, knees drawn close, my back resting against a crumbling, flaked wall.

My wounded hands clutched tightly at a small, blue-metallic handheld console—the only relic from the old world I still carried wherever I went. Once a symbol of laughter, it had now become the last reason I kept my eyes open each morning.

The screen glowed faintly in the dark, displaying a simple, old-school adventure game. Soft beeps echoed through the silent air, their rhythm oddly comforting amidst the desolation.

I mashed the buttons with rough, careless fingers. No strategy. No thrill. Just... mechanical motions—reflexive, aimless—meant only to chase away the drowsiness and the fear that kept gnawing at the corners of my mind.

Between the flickers of gameplay, I chewed on my last piece of gum. It tasted like nothing—bland and barely there—but I forced my jaw to keep moving. The rhythm of chewing, paired with the soft beeps of the console, were the only things keeping me conscious.

I tried my damned hardest not to think.

But the memories never needed permission.

Shella's laugh came first—light, fleeting, like a ghost brushing past my shoulder.

"You play like some kind of arcade god, Yoichi."

That crooked smile of hers, half-mocking, half-affection.Gone. I clenched my jaw. The sting in my eyes returned like an old wound reopening.

Rissa's voice followed, smooth and sly as always."Teach me sometime, Yoichi. I wanna be strong enough to beat you. Or… at least tie." I could almost feel her shoulder leaning into mine again.

Almost.

Then Virly and Vanny. Both loud, both stubborn, both alive.Cramming beside me on the couch, shouting over the same cheap console—

"My turn!""No, mine!"

It echoed now, like sound trapped in a dying hallway. My jaw moved, chewing the last stick of gum like it was the last ritual of the living. No flavor. Just motion.

Pop.

That tiny sound cracked the silence like a fragile truth. I shut off the console. The dim screen faded to black—and something in me dimmed with it. I tucked it into my jacket—oversized, frayed, charcoal-black. The zipper hung open, inviting the cold to remind me that I wasn't dead yet.

I tilted my head back.

Above the ruins of West District, the sky crawled with heavy clouds, slow and grey like dying beasts.But somewhere between them, the moon hung low and bone-pale, watching everything without mercy.

I reached out.

My fingers—cut, bruised, trembling—grasped nothing.Just air. Just cold.

"Shella... Rissa... Virly... Vanny…"Their names slipped from my lips like prayers no god would hear.

Silence.

I sat there for a moment longer, listening. Waiting for the world to say something back. It didn't. So I stood. Tomorrow, I'll search again. Through ash and echoes. Through wreckage and ruin. Even if I find nothing but more ghosts, I'll keep walking.

Because I'm Asagiri Yoichi.

And hell hasn't chewed me up completely—not yet.