The night was dead at the southern border, and the tension in the thick air of the wilderness was as silent as it was loud. A girl walked the winding solitary path with immense fields surrounding her view, naked eyes encompassing everything till infinity. She held a bag full of grains to her chest as she dragged forward restlessly, with her eyes twisting and turning restlessly. The cries of wolves, howling in the distance to the breaking of some cricket's chirp, broke now and then the silence of the night. Now and again, there was that disconcerting rustle of something moving out within the fields.

Her heart raced, pounding, and she moved toward the dim light of a few houses appearing on the horizon—that was her destination. Safety that was so close it hurt. There was this eerie feeling that she would turn around and half-expect to see something—or someone—coming from the shadows. And then, in the blink of an eye, the tip of her shoe met an exposed root at a turn in the path. She tumbled forward, the bag flying from her hand down to the earth. It spilled open, its contents scattering everywhere over the ground.

"Shit, shit, shit," she whispered, voice quaking, and beads of sweat broke from her forehead.

She dropped to her knees and tried to scoop the grains into the bag she held open with her shaking hands. All the sounds around her grew louder, the rustling in the fields closer. She froze, straining to listen for a hitch in her breath, indicating that she may have been discovered; for a moment, everything was still. Then, there was the soft, almost inaudible whisper on the breeze. She hadn't gotten the words, but the tone was chilling, and she felt shivers running up her spine.

Again, she turned her head toward the distant houses, lights flickering like tiny beacons of hope. Her fingers fumbled with the bag, the urgency of her task pressing in on her like a weight. She only had a sense that somebody was watching her, that hidden eyes followed her every step, every movement. But with oppressive stillness around, which made the girl's whispers and the soft patter of the grains hitting the ground stand out, she could feel nothing but those immediate sensations.

She forced herself to swallow hard, to try to stay calm, but the feeling of dread was growing into a knot in her stomach. With a deep breath, she willed herself to move on. With the last, final scoop, she gathered up the remainder of the grains and clutched the bag to her chest again. Her legs felt feeble, but she pushed herself forward, her eyes fixed on the distant lights. Each step was heavier than the last, with the oppressive darkness closing around her more and more. She had to reach the houses, to safety, away from whatever waited for her in the fields. She couldn't afford to fall again and let her fear paralyze her.

As Sasha rushed towards the houses, the rustling across the fields seemed to have quickened in pace, having turned more agitated and quicker. Panic ran through her as she registered in her mind that whatever it was, it was quickly closing in on her. She yelped and ran, leaving the bag of grains behind to ease her burden. Her heart hammered in her chest, adrenaline her energy source for this desperate running.

All at once, the rustling ceased. The silence that followed was even more terrifying. Sasha suddenly stopped in her tracks, breath coming out in gasps. Then, carried by the wind, there was a voice:

"Sa. Sasha. he-help me."

She froze, blood turning to ice. That voice—it was undoubtedly his. What could he be doing at night here in the fields? It didn't make any sense. Fear gripped her heart, and for a moment, she stood still, paralyzed by the instinct to flee and the desperate hope that perhaps her brother needed her. Sasha snapped out of it and turned to run; her legs shook with fear. But it was too late.

Looming before her was a monstrous, night-mare figure. Glinting in the moonlight as its back created a long foreboding shadow around her. Sasha's breath caught in her throat, and a tear slipped down her cheek. She knew it was over. The beast towered immobile, like some grotesque statue suddenly endued with life. Its dark, matted fur that covered his hulking figure glistened with an oily sheen. Wriggling tendrils slithered from his gaping, foul maw, writhing and curling as if tasting the air in search of her scent. Its eyes were but hollow, black pits, with one glowing white orb each that seemed to bore through the dark, fixing themselves with an unholy intensity on her.

The sight of the beast was incomprehensible, a nightmarish blend of the unnatural and the demonic. Sasha knew she was in a situation of life or death. Her mind screamed at her to move, to flee, yet she was numb, and her body felt stuck. She slowly started to back away, never taking her eyes off the horror. The beast detected her movement; its head snapped towards her, and a guttural growl radiated from deep within its chest, reverberating through the still night air. The feelers flared out, sensing her fear, and then the beast belted out a bone-chilling roar before charging.

Sasha spun and ran, her feet pounding the ground with the hope that she could run from this monster surrounding her. There was no other option but to hide in the fields surrounding her and the beast. She exploded into the dense undergrowth and high grain stalks, wishing she could lose it among the maze of crops. Its growls had grown more audible, closer. The fields afforded her some cover, but she could still make out the heavy, thudding steps the thing made in pursuit of her. Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears, and she was breathless from gasping, desperately trying to remain silent and unseen.

She just squatted as much as she could among the stalks, which made herself tiny, and silently hoped the monster would pass without noticing her. The sound of its growls and the sight of those terrible orbs appeared to chase her every thought—deeper into the fields, farther from the safety of the far-away houses.

Sasha continued crawling through the fields in silence, her heart pounding in her chest—echoing each beat in her ears. Now and then, she caught a sound of barely audible rustling, which seemed to be getting louder as seconds passed. Panic surged over, but she fought to keep herself quiet and held under control. Up ahead, she spotted a stack of hay. Summoning her last reserves of strength and stealth, she made a desperate dash for it, silent, dived into the stack, and buried herself within the dry, prickly hay.

Then it growled again, low and menacing, and she shivered. There was no more rustling, and she could hear the heavy footsteps of the beast pacing around the haystack. Her breath hitched as a grotesque clicking sound from its mouth, one so unnatural she felt her skin crawl. Then there was silence. She dared to sigh in relief, the adrenaline present in her body evident by the tremors. But just as she began to believe she might be safe, a cold, slimy substance dripped onto her shoulder. She felt her blood turning to ice as she slowly raised her head—her worst fears came true. The beast's head was poking through the haystack, its glowing orbs fixed directly on her.

She screamed to the top of her voice, piercing through the night, but the beast answered with a roar; tentacles shot out from his mouth, latching onto her arms with a vice-like grip. She fought for her life, her desperate cries shattering the night, yet she fought in vain. The beast was too powerful. It pulled her from the haystack, and her fingernails clawed at the ground as it fought her away. Her body ached where the tendrils drew tighter, biting into her flesh. it felt like the tendrils were eating away at her flesh every second in contact, the beast dragged her closer to its maw, before biting down on her arm. The terror in her voice called for dear life and echoed across the fields.

Into the deep crops did the beast dragged her away, leaving a line of blood to mark the pathway—all too salient an indicator of the horror being wrought. At length, the moonlight streamed a nipping light upon the place, revealing to the day's ocular perception the thorough ruin in which she was involved. Her shrieks died away into the night, nothing being left of them save that uncanny stillness.

...

The sun rose, a new dawn arose, and Rayne woke to birds chirping outside her window and the scent of breakfast wafting through the air. She sniffed, clearly identifying the familiar scent.

"Bacon stew!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. She sprang out of bed when the door to her room opened. Her mom stared back in surprise, seeing her daughter up so early.

"Wow! Somebody's excited to go to school today," her mother laughed and reached out to pat Rayne's head.

She hugged her tightly, her face beaming. "Mommy, are we going to have bacon stew for breakfast?" she would inquire, her eyes wide open with eagerness.

"Yes, darling. First, let's get you prepared for your school," the gently voiced mom filled with love.

"Your dad has left already for his lumber work, so I'll be the one to bring you to school this morning."

"Yay!" Rayne exclaimed with joy and jumped high on her feet.

She ran to her bathroom and brushed her teeth until they shone clean, making sure every corner of them was reached. She splashed her face with cold water, which was refreshing and prepared her for the day. With the well-rehearsed movements, she quickly had on her uniform with creases like glass.

Her mother bustled in the kitchen, ladling a smoking bowl of bacon stew. The pungent smell of onions, bacon, potatoes, and carrots wafted through the room, promising an equally solid and filling beginning to the day. She moved down to the table in the kitchen, and before her eyes, a crock of it appeared.

She sat down, her legs swinging beneath the table as she took her first spoonful.

"Mmm, just as yummy as ever! Your cooking rocks, Mom!" she said, a whole note of real enjoyment in her voice as she took another spoonful.

Her mom smiled warmly, her heart swelling with affection. "Everything for my little Rayne," she said, wiping her hands on a towel and cleaning the kitchen.

As they finish eating, Rayne and her mother walk out of the house. The smell of outside is refreshing—very much familiar and soothing to the soul. Their home sat among miles of trees, the front yard filled with vines and lively flowers. A small path led to a lonely road that twisted around and led toward the town square. Rayne was holding her mother's hand as they set out to walk.

From the distance, there was the sound of birds chirping, the leaves rustling, and the whistling of wind passing through the grass; it was causing a silent atmosphere between the two, though lovely but tensed. Rayne broke the ice in the quiet atmosphere.

"Mommy, how did you and Daddy meet?" she asked; it had caught her interest.

Her mother smiled warmly.

"Well, your daddy was a traveling merchant. He sold trinkets and medicines all over the southern region here. One day, he came to our town, and I was his first customer. It was love at first sight between us. There was something about the way he spoke and held himself that just fascinated me. I began helping him with his business, and as we spent more and more time together, we confessed our love for each other... Then he settled down here with me," she recounted as her eyes sparkled with nostalgic memories.

"Wow. Daddy never told me about him being a merchant," Rayne replied, scratching her head. Her mother could only chuckle at that.

Before either of them knew it, they had reached the entrance to town.

"Just a few minutes more, and we're walking," Rayne sighed, feeling the weight her legs had carried in the name of that journey. She dropped on a nearby bench.

"Lighten up, sweetheart. I'll make you something special once you get home!" her mother encouraged her. Rayne smiled and got up. It was finally time to proceed.

Just then, they heard the sound of horses galloping. A carriage in a dark gothic design stopped next to them. Rayne turned to her mother with nervous eyes. The carriage honestly looked like something out of a horror film. Rayne's mother examined the carriage some more.

"Wait, a royal carriage?" she said to herself.

"What's this doing here?" Her eyes bugged out at a crest built into the carriage door.

"The Vimezulte crest. The Northern ambassadors?" she gasped, her hand instinctively reaching behind her to pull Rayne back.

The carriage window opened, a familiar face peering out at her.

"Oh, hey! Rayne! Morning!" a girl greeted with bright sunshine on her face.

"Hey, Regna," answered Rayne, not as enthusiastic as she had wished to be.

Regna unlatched the carriage door, and the man driving it looked at her. "Lady Regna, you shouldn't leave you—" he began. Regna's smile faltered as she turned his way, giving him a look that was meant to be both stern and casual at the same time as she pressed a finger to her lips. The man shut up immediately; his eyes were expressive of quite evident fear.

Regna smiled again and approached Rayne's mother.

"Good morning, ma'am," she greeted respectfully with a nod. "My name is Regna. I'm a friend of Rayne's from school."

Rayne's mother still looked at her suspiciously but managed a polite smile; "Good morning, Regna. Nice to meet you. I'm Rayne's mother."

"I'm assuming you and Rayne walked from town?" Regna asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"Rayne looks tired, and the school bell will ring in a few minutes." She reached out and gently grasped Rayne's arm.

"Rayne, why don't you come with me? There's plenty of room in the carriage!" she said excitedly, holding Rayne's hand with both of hers.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Rayne's mother intervened gently. "Regna, can I have a word with Rayne for a second?"

Regna laughed slightly and stepped back. "Why, sure, Mrs. Hart! You're the mother! Take all the time you need; I'll just be standing right here waiting!"

Rayne's mother directed her daughter over to a nearby shade. She kneeled to be at eye level with Rayne, concern written all over her face.

"Are you sure you're all right with this? You're looking rather nervous, aren't you?", she asked Rayne, concern visible on her face.

Rayne hesitated but then put on a brave smile, "I'm fine, Mom. I'm just a little shy around new people."

Her mother scrutinized her face a moment more before nodding.

"All right, sweetie. Just be careful, okay?" She petted Rayne's head lovingly.

They returned to the carriage, where Regna sat on the steps, twirling a flower between her fingers. Seeing them approach, she sprang to her feet.

"So... will you join me?" she asked, her eyes wide and pleading like a puppy's.

Rayne paused, glancing at her mother for reassurance, and seeing the gentle nod, turned back to Regna and nodded. Regna's face lit up with joy.

"Yeah!" she clapped her hands before she assisted Rayne into the carriage.

Rayne's mother watched them enter the carriage with mixed emotions, her heart heavy. The carriage rode away, and as the distance slowly grew between them, she sighed, fighting the smile that was creeping on her face.

"What a strange friend you've made, Rayne," she said, sighing and shaking her head with a smile.

On the inside of the carriage, Rayne sat stiffly, trying to make herself comfortable. Smelling her discomfort, Regna leaned over with a warm smile.

"Oh, you're going to love the ride. Ten times faster, ten times softer on the feet."

Rayne nodded, forcing a smile. "Thanks, Regna. It's very kind of you to offer."

Regna waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, don't be silly! I enjoy the company, especially yours. It's more fun on the ride this way."

With that, Regna began talking rapidly about her morning, the school, and various insignificant details that somehow put Rayne at more discomfort. The carriage wound its way through the town. She talked on, and Rayne listened with the occasional nod of the head or quieted answers. She couldn't shake the unease in her stomach, but she tried to hide it for Regna's sake, and for her own.

"Rayne, have you thought about joining any clubs at school?" Regna asked suddenly, her eyes bright with interest.

"Oh! There are so many fun ones! I'm thinking of joining the drama club. You should join too! It would be so much fun together. I heard they're starting their first ever show with 'The Adventures Of Raiile' play!"

"I haven't thought about it," Rayne admitted, feeling overwhelmed by Regna's enthusiasm.

"Well, think about it! We could have so much fun together if you joined my club!" Regna's excitement was infectious, and Rayne smiled despite her nerves.

They were soon passing through the school gates, and Rayne felt a combination of relief and apprehension. She was glad that the journey had finished but nervous about what she would have to face once off the carriage. As she stepped out of the carriage, Rayne tripped on the entrance step, her heart sinking as she braced herself for the fall. But instead of falling to the ground, something caught her backpack and suspended her mid-air.

"Huh?" Rayne gasped, looking towards where the tentacle had come from.

Standing there was a man cloaked in darkness. The cloak billowed slightly in the morning breeze, revealing a multitude of tentacles emerging from its base. He wore sunglasses and had a cane in one hand, like some weird kind of intergalactic tough guy.

"Careful stepping out of there, kiddo," the man spoke with a deep, resonant voice. The tentacle slowly lowered her down, retracting back into the folds of his cloak in a serpentine, mesmerizing manner.

Rayne's eyes widened in horror and fascination. She saw the man—the weird, old-style outfit with a high-collared coat, along with his cravat, tied to perfection, which made the bizarre appendages that jutted out from under it juxtaposed all the more horribly. The skin was translucent—alabaster pale, almost luminescent—the tentacles twisted and moved with an uncanny grace.

"T-Thanks. sir?" Rayne blurted out, still slightly dazed at what exactly had just taken place.

The man inclined his head slightly.

"Next time, there wouldn't be anyone to catch you. Mind where you're stepping," he said with the barest hint of amusement, and a second later, he turned to start slithering away from them, tentacles making a soft, squelching sound where they met the ground.

"That's Professor Pulpo from Science Class," Regna hooted at her, playfully slapping Rayne's back gently with a wide grin.

"Professor. Pulpo?" Rayne repeated, as if confused and slightly shaken by the experience. She had followed him into the building after the strange, unknown figure spoke to her, seeing how his tentacles moved and how he did so clearly in her mind.

"Yeah! He's half-octopus, half-man, and old, though looking young. They say he is a brilliant scientist and marine biologist expert. Some find him a little disconcerting, crotchety at times, but he's a nice guy once you get to know him.", Regna nodded enthusiastically.

Rayne and Regna continued walking towards the school building, each of them noting a mechanical carriage that was positioned near the field. Its shining, polished metal gave off morning light reflections and hummed quietly.

"Oh, a bus! I wonder what it's doing here?" Regna stated with enthusiasm, her eyes open wide in curiosity.

"What is a bus?" Rayne said, genuinely clueless.

Regna turned, giving a knowing smile.

"Oh, they're the new automatic carriages. They're usually kept for members of Veritas, but sometimes they sponsor schools for special events." Regna replied, not breaking her sight from the bus.

Rayne was impressed, "And how exactly do you know that?" she asked, interested in Regna's knowledge.

Regna laughed, her eyes twinkling with some mischief.

"Oh, just say I have my ways," she replied, winking mischievously at Rayne.

About them, the morning bustle inside the school did not stop. Students ran past them into classes, teachers greeted each other, and sounds of lockers being opened and shut came from around them. Rayne kept on trying to take everything in; she felt like her senses were on an overload of noises.

Finally, they reached their classroom. Rayne looked at the clock, and her heart almost fell.

"Let's hope we're not late," she said woefully.

"You're five minutes late," a voice came from the other side of the door before they could even open it. The door slid open by itself, revealing Miss Hearth standing with her arms crossed, staring down at them; her eyes serious, but not unkind.

"Apologies, Miss Hearth!" Regna yelled, casually walking in and taking her seat. Rayne, however, reddened before quickly shrugging it off and making her way to the desk.

Heathrine sighed before she clapped, and the sound brought everybody's heads towards her.

"All right, children, since I had the impromptu lecture about the Dasayama Fields yesterday, we're going on a field trip today, courtesy of the House of Veritas accepting my request," she said. This got the class excited as it made field trips sound like fun.

"It is just a one-day trip, and we will get back by the evening," she went on.

A dark mist entered the room, gracefully carrying several backpacks and dropping them onto the tables of each student.

"Woah. magic." one child said in wonder, her pink eyes brimming with amazement.

"Get ready, we're going in 15 minutes," Heathrine bellowed with a no-nonsense but gentle voice as she stepped out of the class.

Rayne looked in front at the backpack on her desk, open-mouthed at how it looked.

"This place can't get more surprising..." she murmured as excitement and anxiety gushed within.

Mikhail bent over, his eyes beaming. "This is going to be so much fun! I heard the Dasayama Fields are beautiful this time of year."

Rayne started, a bit jumpy, as Mikhail suddenly appeared from nowhere.

"Yeah, sounds great. Can't wait to see it myself." she replied, still shaky from the jumpscare.

The students prepared for the trip, talking about what they could see and do there. Rayne began to feel a camaraderie developing amongst them all, and for the first time since she'd arrived at the school, she felt as though she was part of something extraordinary.

The children stuffed their things into the bags and then left the school. The bus revved its engines and hummed powerfully. Heathrine was in the driver's seat, wearing an oversized comical bus driver's hat as she waved to the students. Some of the children laughed when they saw this; it was not likely for a teacher who had seemed very stern to be funny at that time.

When they boarded the bus, Rayne looked around. The seats were all set and accessible on the eyes, seemingly comfortable. She selected a seat and felt how soft it was when she sat in one. Suddenly, Mikhail slid into the seat next to her—so sudden that it took her by surprise.

"H-heey. Mikhail," she stuttered as her red face expressed her shock.

Mikhail laughed while scratching his head. "Sorry for scaring you earlier. I thought you knew it was me," he apologized with an awkward laugh to dispel the tension.

"No, no! It's okay," Rayne replied with a shy smile.

"Hey! And what about me, guys?" came a voice from the back of Rayne's seat. She turned to see Regna pouting, irritated that she'd been ignored.

"Who is this next to you?" Regna asked, noticeably a bit jealous.

"Mikhail," he answered without blinking, looking straight into her eyes. "Any problem?"

A little surprised, Regna didn't know what to say. She huffed and sat back in her seat.

"Nothing else, just enjoy the trip," she said, her voice dripping with envy.

The girl sitting next to Regna had bright pink eyes and was munching from a bag of candies, her blonde hair tired up into a ponytail. She looked around the bus and then at Regna with a smirk.

"Jealous much?" she asked in a playful tone but laced with sarcasm. "You know, your tantrum is disturbing my sweets."

Regna turned toward her, a frown shadowing her face.

"Oh shut up, Kassie," she snapped back at her before returning to the window, where she watched out with a perplexed and speculative gaze.

Meanwhile, Rayne attempted to shake off the awkwardness.

"So, Mikhail, have you been to the Dasayama Fields before?" she asked, trying to make conversation.

"Once upon a time. It's beautiful this time of year," Mikhail assured him, his face lighting up at the memory. "You're going to love it."

Rayne smiled and felt a bit more relaxed. The bus jerked into motion, settling the students back into their seats with the chatter of excitement. Heathrine bobbed her hat slightly as she drove the car out of the school grounds, a small smile on her lips. The bus rumbled through town and then out into the countryside, taking in views from bustling townships to rolling meadows and acreage of emerald. Rayne looked out the window, marveling at the beauty of the landscape. There was a growing sense of anticipation in her, full of eagerness for the adventure that lay ahead.

...

Inside the dingy bar, whiskey, and cigar smoke filled the air thick enough to cut with a knife. In front of the bar, a man was nursing a whiskey and flipping through the pages of a book—a "Sirus Adam's Manuals: Monster Hunting," filled with detailed sketches of monsters and notes on how to track them down, each one more gruesome than the last.

There was a bartender with the burly man's weather-beaten face, polishing a glass and sighing loudly.

"There's a funeral going down a few houses away," his voice was laced with acidic bitterness. "Poor Sasha. We told her not to go out at night, and look what happened. A damn closed casket." He spat on the floor, eyes openly angry.

A group of men at a nearby roundtable burst out laughing.

"Ha! People die daily!" one said, holding his mug up in a toast.

The man at the bar put a cigar in his mouth and lit it with an expert snap of his lighter. He inhaled deeply, and the ember at the end of the cigar flared brightly. The men immediately rose to their feet and swaggered over to the bar, looking belligerent and cocky. They pulled up chairs and sat beside the man, who made no effort to acknowledge their presence but sat there still reading his book.

"And it's an indifferent day," one of the men sneered as he pulled a revolver from inside his coat and leveled it at the man's head. A sort of 'whoosh' filled the bar with tension; everyone watched what was happening. That guy at the bar only smiled, reading the book page for page. All at once, he flicked with his hand back, the revolver off its course, sent it skittering across the top of the bar. The aggressor barely had time to react when he was given a solid punch by the man, knocking him out of his feet to fall on the floor.

The rest of the group exploded into action, with the bar erupting into chaos. One of the thugs swung a chair at the man, who ducked effortlessly, the chair shattering against the bar. He reached for a bottle of whiskey, smashing it over the head of another attacker, who crumpled to the ground in a heap. A third man came after him with a broken bottle, but the man avoided it gracefully and took the attacker's arm, wrenching it behind his back. The thug let out a howl as the man kicked him in the back, and he crashed into a table.

The bartender, half-amusingly but mostly irritated, watched on. "Keep it clean, boys," he muttered, shaking his head.

One, bigger than the rest and with a meaner look, came charging in toward him with a bellow. The remarkable man stepped sideward with one foot, tripping up the big brute. As the thug staggered forward, the man drilled his elbow on the nape of his neck, and he was down cold.

The last in line, the last thug raised his hands in surrender and backed away slowly.

"All right, all right, we get the message," he stammered, fear evident in his eyes. The man took a puff of his cigar, lifting his arm to aim a revolver at the thug.

The thug puts his hands up, "Wait... we can talk about this," he tries to plead. Suddenly, turning around and ran out of the bar. As he ran outside onto the road, a bus suddenly appears and hits the thug, throwing him several meters away and instantly dropping dead, and a cacophony of horrified screams came out of the bus.

The man came out of the bar. He chuckled to himself as the door of the bus opened and Heathrine came out. She snaps her fingers, and suddenly, a dark shadow swooshes in on the dead thug and starts dragging him with great speed off the ground and throws him into a bush. She started walking toward the man, her face going red from anger and annoyance; he could see a vein pop up on her forehead.

The man looked surprised at Heathrine. "Oh hey! Long time no se-," but before he could finish, Heathrine lands a hard punch on his face, and he falls to the ground.

"Things can't go smooth for once! God damn it!" Heathrine shouted to the man, "Kogel!" she shouted.

"You got it right!" the man replied, dusting himself and smiling.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked, and Kogel pulled out a poster, "You're hunting a beast here?" she asked.

"Right again! You're sharp as you always have been before!" Kogel complimented Heathrine.

"Cut the bullshit," Heathrine replied before she turned back towards the bus, "All of this is your shit; clean it up," she pointed at the bush she threw the dead thug into before climbing back into the bus. The children looked at her in fear and some in admiration. She starts the engine again and drives off into the distance.

image [https://i.postimg.cc/ZK5VtPyg/image-2024-07-01-022704682.png]

VTAB MARK-05

(Veritas Technology Armored Bus, Model: MARK-05)