Suka and Miya savored each bite as if it were a feast rediscovered after days of deprivation.
"They really know how to cook here, damn it, it's so good," Miya murmured, closing her eyes in pleasure.
"Yeah, you can say that," Suka replied, rinsing her mouth with a satisfied chuckle.
They continued eating and laughing for a good ten minutes, momentarily forgetting the dangerous nature of the place. Suddenly, a sharp knock sounded on the storeroom door.
"Hey, boss, the door won't open! Did you lock it?" a voice outside shouted in a hurry.
In the distance, another voice could be heard replying wearily, "Yes, I did, come get it."
A moment later, the boss exclaimed in panic, "I don't have the key on me anymore!"
The voice near the door then called out nervously:
"You must have dropped it somewhere! We have to find it, supplies are running low."
"All right, come help me look!" the chef growled, leaving in a hurry.
Miya placed her hand on the edge, frowning.
"We had a close call," she whispered. "It's time to go."
Suka calmly replaced her plate, her gaze hardened with necessity.
"Yeah, let's go. Come on, let's get moving."
Suka and Miya contracted and shrank again, sliding like two silent shadows through the lock's groove. Once on the other side, they flew between the legs and under the aprons of the frantic cooks, who rummaged everywhere, cursing and knocking over pots and trays. The air vibrated with the shouts of impatient and angry soldiers—their muffled voices could be heard beyond the doors, like a roaring sea demanding its food.
Suka, his heart pounding, slipped his hand into his pocket and felt under his fingers the small metallic dust that was none other than the shrunken key. He slipped with Miya to the canteen reception area, where the line of soldiers was gathering, angry and hungry. With a calculated gesture, he threw the dust-key in front of them and, contracting his power, instantly returned it to its normal size.
A metallic boom sounded as the key hit the countertop; the sound cracked through the mess hall, cutting through conversations like a blade. The soldiers stiffened in surprise; some looked around, searching for the source of this miracle that had fallen from the sky.
One of them, red with anger and fatigue, leaned forward and called out in a harsh voice, "The key you're looking for is right here! Come get it and give us our fucking meals! We're fucking hungry!"
All around, murmurs of excitement and disbelief circulated—while Suka and Miya, still hidden at the scale of an ant, exchanged glances filled with a mixture of triumph and adrenaline. Mission accomplished, for now.
Suka and Miya left the mess hall, their stomachs full but their minds focused. They resumed their advance down the dark, scarlet corridor of the floating unit, weaving between hissing pipes and flashing panels. After a few silent minutes, they finally emerged in front of a locked room: the control room.
The massive door opened onto a space teeming with bluish light—rows of consoles, surveillance screens, and bundles of cables snaking like arteries. Monitors displayed video feeds, heatmaps, and system logs; in the center, a large holographic table projected a complete model of a section of the unit. Five soldiers were hunched over the screens, concentrating intently, one frantically tapping a keyboard, another changing camera angles. The air vibrated with technological tension.
Miya whispered, her voice low but urgent:
"If we can access these consoles, we can divert their signal, contact our comrades… and map this damn machine. We'd finally see the whole thing." Suka nodded, calculating:
"I know. But there's no chance of going in head-on: there are five of them, and the door is protected by network surveillance. We have to distract them first." Miya closed her eyes, thinking. Her fingers brushed the digital tube of her lipstick, as if to reassure herself.
"Hmm… let's think," she murmured, her gaze scanning the systems. Suka took a deep breath and, without hesitation, articulated:
"We don't really have a choice. It's the only alternative." With a swift movement, he contracted his symbiosis and concentrated a thin column of plasma energy in his palm. His hand was extended toward a visible conduit in the adjacent wall. The plasma erupted, compact and concentrated; It found its target and triggered a sharp explosion in a neighboring room. The wall gave way with a crash—sparks, ripped metal—and thick black smoke billowed into the corridor. The alarms blared instantly: shrill sirens, flashing red lights, the control room turned a riot of alert. Voices shouted orders, hurried footsteps pounded the floorboards. Seconds later, the fire suppression systems activated: high-pressure jets of water gushed forth, flooding the galleries and hissing metallicly. The soldiers, bound by emergency protocols, rose hastily. One of them yelled:
"Extinction on deck B! Let's go!" They stormed out of the control room, keys in hand, abandoning consoles and monitors to the general panic. This was the opening Suka and Miya had been waiting for. Without wasting a second, they slipped into the sparsely furnished room. The air was humid, the smell of burnt cables lingered. Miya activated her mini-screen and scanned the interfaces from the blind spot of a console. Suka, his eyes shining with adrenaline, climbed onto the central table, analyzing the holographic projection; he ran his fingertips over the layers of the model as if reading a sacred map.
Miya whispered, focused:
"Give me thirty seconds to bypass their local firewall. I'll hack the I/O bus and redirect the transmission channels."
Suka smiled slightly, the tension still there but the glimmer of hope stronger:
"Hurry. We don't have long before a soldier returns." Miya's fingers flew across her scanner; the algorithms bent to her will. The monitors reacted gradually: the video feeds froze, then switched—camera 03 moved to a dummy window, camera 07 was drowned out by artificial white noise. The instant Miya activated the redirection, a small message appeared on one of the screens: LINK ESTABLISHED — EXTERNAL COMMUNICATION OPEN.
Suka felt his heart leap: this was it. The control room, despite the smoke and water, had just become their stronghold. They had just opened the door that could connect the resistance to the world—but also, potentially, trigger the unit's full attention.
Miya breathed, a mixture of excitement and apprehension in her voice:
"It's online. Send the signal." Suka placed his hand on the console, focused his energy, and, with a precise movement, transmitted the beacon code. On the other side of the unit, somewhere in the night, their comrades could now pick up the signal—if they were still alive. Around them, the alarm blared, the water continued to flow, and the mechanical fortress was reorganizing itself. They had just entered a dangerous game: one where hope and risk were intertwined.
Meanwhile, in Aika's headquarters, the silence was heavy. The atmosphere was tense, almost suffocating, as holographic screens projected world maps dotted with flashing red points. Yamero, Maki, Daru, and Aika continued to debate, desperately searching for a way out of the impending Armageddon.
Yamero slammed his fist on the table:
"We've been sitting here twiddling our thumbs for three days. Every second that passes is working against us. We should already be taking action."
Maki replied, calm but firm:
"Yamero, acting without a plan would be suicide. We can't just go out and cause a massacre. We need a solid strategy, otherwise we'll become exactly what we're fighting against."
Daru folded his arms, lost in thought:
"What worries me most is this silence." The members of the extremist organization and their henchmen have remained strangely calm these past few days. When they stay silent for too long… it means they're planning something big.
Aika nodded slowly:
"Exactly. I'm not detecting any suspicious activity in our territory. No massacres, no kidnappings, no unusual unrest. Everything seems… normal. And that's precisely what's abnormal."
Suddenly, a shrill signal sounded. On the giant screen in front of Aika, a red icon flashed frantically: emergency call—incoming video conference. Aika didn't hesitate and immediately opened the call.
The image of a man in his thirties appeared. He had short gray hair, a hard look, and wore a military uniform marked with several insignia.
"Commander of the Chinese Resistance Unit speaking," he announced in a deep voice.
Aika sat up straight immediately.
"Fung. What's new around here?"
Yamero murmured quietly.
"Damn... she's even allied with Chinese resistance units. This little girl is really strange."
Fung continued, his face grim.
"According to our research, the extremist organization has launched an attack. Several cargo ships carrying genetically modified beings have been spotted and intercepted here... and elsewhere in the world. Well, 'intercepted' isn't really the right word."
He paused.
"We've engaged them in combat. Despite heavy losses, we managed to neutralize several of their waste products."
Daru approached the screen, worried.
"What exactly do you mean?"
Fung gritted his teeth.
"The genetically modified beings are already in operation. Every cargo ship that reaches a country triggers a massacre. These things are wreaking havoc on anything that breathes." Men, women, children… no distinction.
He lowered his head slightly before concluding:
"It's a true Trojan horse. They infiltrate nations from within and let the monsters do the work." A glacial silence fell over the room. Yamero felt a dull anger rising within him, Maki remained frozen, her gaze hard, while Daru clenched his fists. Aika, for her part, stared unblinkingly at the screen, her eyes shining with a disturbing determination.
"So," she finally murmured, "the war has already begun."
Suddenly, a shrill sound rang out in Daru's pocket. A brief, insistent vibration. He frowned, reached into his jacket, and pulled out his phone. The screen flashed with a signal he would recognize anywhere.
Daru's eyes widened.
"Hey... guys..." he exclaimed, his voice thick with excitement. "Suka and Miya are in contact!" At these words, Maki jumped to his feet. His eyes lit up instantly, sparks of relief and joy flashing across his gaze, as if a tremendous weight had just been lifted.
Yamero let out a nervous laugh, tinged with suppressed anger:
"Damn it... those bastards are finally showing signs of life." Daru put the phone on speakerphone and placed it on the table. A faint crackling sound filled the room, followed by a familiar voice. "So, guys? How are you all doing?" Suka asked, his tone feigning nonchalance.
Yamero immediately leaned toward the phone:
"Fuck off, buddy. And you guys? Are you alright, or what?" A small, crystalline laugh came through the phone.
"Still as rude as ever, eh, Yamero," Miya replied, laughing. Daru smiled despite the tension:
"We're doing fine. We even made a new ally. A… pseudo-sister to Merphis."
A short silence followed, then Suka's voice, suddenly more serious:
"Wait… Is Merphis with you?" Before Daru could answer, Aika stepped forward and declared clearly:
"Merphis isn't anywhere in Japan. It's as if he's vanished off the face of the Earth." The silence became heavy.
Daru quickly continued:
"Where are you, Suka?" Where exactly are you two?
The answer came like a thunderbolt.
"We're on a flying unit of the extremist organization," Suka replied. "It's currently stationed… in the Sahara Desert."
No one spoke again.
Face by face froze. Shock, stupefaction, disbelief. The Sahara. A flying unit. Right in the heart of enemy territory.
Aika frowned, visibly troubled. Her gaze flicked across the screens as if searching for an invisible error.
"A flying unit… in the Sahara Desert?" she repeated slowly. "My radar didn't detect any anomalies. This is… abnormal." A slight crackling sound accompanied Miya's voice through the loudspeaker, deeper and more focused.
"They possess extremely advanced technology. Not to mention the relic they have. It undoubtedly allows them to completely camouflage their position, both energetically and spatially." Daru crossed his arms, his expression tense.
"Which of the organization's trio is on this unit?" Suka's answer was immediate, without the slightest hesitation.
"All three of them. They're all there. It's their main headquarters. The flying unit is gigantic… it's not just a ship, it's an entire island, armored to the teeth." Weapons, attack systems, technologies you've never seen before. Just by looking at it, you can tell this thing is built for total war.
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Aika rested a hand on her chin, thinking at lightning speed.
"The Sahara Desert…" she murmured. "It's over eleven, maybe twelve thousand kilometers from Japan. Why choose such an isolated place to launch a global invasion?"
Suddenly, her eyes lit up. As if struck by a revelation, she sat bolt upright and began typing on her virtual keyboard. The screens changed instantly, displaying a vast map of the Sahara Desert. In the middle of the sandy expanse, a small black dot blinked.
Yamero narrowed his eyes.
"What's that black dot?" Aika took a deep breath before answering, as if she were measuring the gravity of what she was about to say. "An abandoned Horizon project portal. Officially out of service for decades… but it seems to have been restored. The extremist organization chose this location to stay under the radar. Between their unknown technologies, their relics, and the total isolation of the desert… who would suspect that a project of this magnitude would begin in a desolate wasteland?" She gave a wry smile.
"That's clever. Very clever." Daru gritted his teeth.
"So, thanks to this portal, they can appear anywhere in the world. And if they're renovating others in parallel…" He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"They can sow chaos across multiple continents simultaneously, in coordination with their followers." The silence fell again, even heavier. Everyone felt the same thing: an invisible pressure, the feeling that the whole world was on the edge of an abyss, and that the next step would decide everything.