I inhaled sharply, feeling my consciousness snap back into my real body.

It felt like reality had just rushed back to me. My hands trembled, and my heart raced. It was as if I was waking up from a bad dream. Or rather, a nightmare.

I tumbled out of the booth Spencer had set up in the hideout, landing in a heap on the floor. I felt like throwing up, and my hands trembled uncontrollably. Even though I had been in an artificial magitech body, the brush with death was a little bit too real. It felt like it genuinely happened to me just a couple of moments ago.

My entire body felt like it was shaking from head to toe, and I frantically clawed at my head, throwing the headset off me. Then, I fell on my back as I ripped off the gloves and other peripherals.

I took steady breaths to calm myself down. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before I sat up to compose myself.

The searing golden light tore through my body and incinerated me in an instant. Even though I felt no actual physical pain, there was a strange phantom agony there. Every moment of my demise felt like an eternity, and I knew it was happening to me despite the fake body. The image of Dior's searing light danced around my mind, followed by an absolute sense of oblivion before I was yanked back. I shivered as I flashed back to the last image before the end - Dior's face contorted in conflict and struggle.

"Hey. You okay?" someone asked, kneeling beside me to help me up. Her silhouette appeared blurry as tears started to form in my eyes, and her voice was barely audible in my ringing ears.

Midori. Yes. It was Midori.

"I," I started to say, but I couldn't finish. I opened my mouth and tried to speak, but I couldn't. The words wouldn't come out. I gave up and tried to focus on breathing instead.

"I- I'm okay," I sputtered. "I just need a second to... put myself back together?"

I had pins and needles all over my body, and I could feel blood returning to my limbs. I took another deep breath and tried to calm myself. I could still feel a bit of an adrenaline high my shaking was getting worse instead of better.

Part of me wanted to curl up into a ball and cry my eyes out, but I knew that wouldn't solve anything. It wouldn't bring Dior and Morada back from danger. I had to keep going. Figure something out. I took a moment to steady myself before slumping down against the workshop wall for support.

"Deep breaths, you're gonna be okay Ikki," Midori said soothingly, patting me on the back. "You're just a little shaken up. You're going to be fine. Shh."

I listened to her, taking deep breaths and trying to calm down.

That's when I noticed a strange acrid smell that wasn't there before. I looked towards the corner of the room right as I heard a strained, heaving noise. Spencer was bent over a bucket, vomiting profusely.

"Oh," I commented flatly. "Guess I'm not the only one."

"It's... erk. Gonna be okay," Spencer replied, kneeling over the bucket. He was drenched in sweat, and his ashen-black skin had a sickly green pallor.

"Well," Midori said, looking around the room. "I gather that warrant went to shit?"

"Yeah," I replied. "You could say that."

"So... if the two of you can get composed enough to talk. What exactly happened back there?" Midori asked with a frown.

Spencer walked over and sat at a table. He let out a dry heave before centering himself, dabbing at his mouth with a handkerchief.

The two of us looked at each other and then back at Midori.

We were silent for a moment and then we both spoke at the same time.

"It was..."

"Dior..."

I swallowed hard and shut my mouth, letting Spencer continue.

"Yeah, let's take this back a few steps first," Spencer said, rubbing his forehead. "Ikki, why don't you go? You saw more of what happened before things went to absolute hell."

I cleared my throat and tried to find the words. Part of me was still in disbelief that it had happened and how quickly the day had moved. I wanted to convince myself that things were okay, that the whole experience was just a bad dream. But the truth was, it had happened.

"Well... don't freak out, but we just had our proxy bodies incinerated by Dior. I think it's safe to say she was under the influence of some kind of spell, and none of us could do anything about it."

I paused briefly, shuddering at the nauseating memory of Dior's empty eyes before continuing.

"Oh, and apparently we ran into her mother. I think, at least. I'm still not sure what their relationship is. She called herself Bathala and surrendered to us after we disabled their convoy. Then the next thing I knew, Dior put Morada through a fucking crater and took our proxy bodies out."

I traced the sequence of events backward, giving her a full recap of everything I could remember.

Midori winced, palming her head as she listened to me. "I... I definitely had reservations about the job you guys wanted to take up, but you know she was adamant about taking it."

Her eyes darkened, and she sighed.

"There's... a lot of history there and she was riding a lot of turbulent emotions. I definitely didn't expect that her adopted mother would be here with that team, nor did I think that she would be able to seize control of a magical girl with as much raw power as Dior."

Midori shook her head, rubbing her temples.

I grimaced. The more I thought about it all, the more I realized just how fucked the situation was.

"So, Ranjika had a bad run-in during the Chaos Event. We have no idea how Morada's doing," Spencer counted off. "...And, the last we heard of Dior, she was all glassy-eyed and mind controlled. That sound about right, Ikki?

I nodded. "Yup. That's about the gist of it."

Well then. I let out a heavy sigh, putting my face in my hands.

"Hey, hey," Midori said, patting me on the back. "We'll find them. I promise."

I smiled at her. That was a lie, but I knew Midori was trying to encourage us. I could appreciate that.

I closed my eyes and tried to wrap my head around the situation. I was still a bit dizzy from waking up the way I did.

"I think I need a minute alone," I said.

Spencer grimaced. "Yeah, we all do. We should probably take a bit to regroup and figure out how to rescue the girls. Desync sickness is also no joke either. I don't even feel like I have a body right now, and I imagine Ikki's feeling something similar."

Midori bit her lips. "Absolutely. You two should rest up and we'll come up with a plan, okay? Take it easy for a bit. I'll see if I can rally up some help. Let me get you two some water while I'm at it."

"Yeah, sounds good," I mumbled, looking downtrodden.

The last two weeks had been a whirlwind of experiences. Rather, it'd been a storm of crazy shit. Between this chase, losing Dior and Morada, school, Chaos Events, Magical Girls, and everything else going on, I felt like my head would pop. I just... needed a minute.

I needed to rest.

I needed to think.

I needed to breathe.

I sat there, back up against a wall, head draped down into my arms, waiting for my head to clear. So much had happened in a couple of weeks. I couldn't believe it; I was just a normal kid starting high school a month ago. Well, as normal as I could be crossing a portal to a world that Aberrations hadn't ravaged to hell and back.

Now, here I was. A guest in a world that hadn't seen the widespread desolation that mine had in a generation. A world where the first rumblings of a storm seemed to be on the horizon. A world that had quietly, desperately needed someone to stick a metaphorical boot into its face.

Hey, not everyone here was terrible, but still.

Every instinct in my gut told me this wasn't the end of it. Even with a moment to reflect on it, I had a golden opportunity now to help out in what little way I could, and I wouldn't back off even if I could.

I'd stepped up.

Kind of.

Sort of.

IhopeIcanhelp.

I just...

I just wanted things to be okay. I wanted to help make things a little better.

I rubbed my temples. I hated this feeling. The empty feeling. The sense of uncertainty.

"Ikki? You okay?" Spencer asked, walking over to slump down next to me.

"Just need a moment," I replied with a raspy voice.

"No no, I get it. We were just burned like a crispy roast. The tech is designed with ejection protocols for a reason. It's not an easy thing to get over."

"Heh, yeah," I muttered. "Don't care why. Just felt like I died for a moment."

The two of us looked over simultaneously as Midori returned with water bottles.

Spencer took one and passed it to me. I downed it in one go; the icy chill felt oddly invigorating.

"Here you are!"

"Thanks, Midori," Spencer said, gently taking the glass of water in his massive hands. He quickly downed the whole thing. "C-cold," he mumbled, before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, his body beginning to relax.

Midori stood there with a smile, putting one hand on her hip.

"Look, I... do you guys need a bit more time? I can-'"

"Nah, I'm good," Spencer replied, quickly sitting up. He turned to me and gave me a hand.

"Yeah, me too," I acknowledged, taking his hand to pull myself up.

We moved back into the hideout proper, making our way down to the living room.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"So what do we do now?" I asked, settling back down.

"Well," Spencer said, his face hardening. "We've got a few options. I have an idea or two on how we might be able to track down Dior and make some preparations along the way. In the meantime, we... we might have to assume Violet Tempest is as good as dead."

My eyes went wide as I heard that. That actually stung.

"You don't know that," I said, clenching my teeth. "She might be fine."

"She might be, and it's likely that she is, but we have to prepare ourselves for the worst," he said.

I bit my lips. Yeah, I knew that, but...

"So what do we do? We can't just leave them to rot or to whatever the fuck that psychotic chica wants, right?" I countered. "We have to at least try, right?"

I looked over to see Midori listening intently as she returned across the hideout.

"Hey, knock it off boys," she said, crossing her arms and sporting a frown. "We're not going to leave anyone to rot."

Spencer raised his hands in a placating manner. "Hey, I'm not saying that's what're going to do. I'm just saying we have to be prepared for a worst case scenario."

"And we will be," she said in a stern voice. "No one's running from this. No one's hiding from reality. But, we're going to save everyone. Am I clear?"

"Hey, I'm not saying-"

"No," she cut him off. "We're going to do something about this. We're going to save everyone. And you're going to help us."

Spencer stared back at her for a moment, then nodded. "...Alright."

Sheesh, Midori could be scary sometimes. I could give her some credit for having a spine, though.

I stared for a second, watching as Midori shook her head and let out a breath.

Heh, it was good to have a leader with some gumption.

Midori turned to me after that, giving me a sharp look. "Like I said. Ikki and Spencer — you guys don't have to make any decisions right now. You've been through a lot, and you're not thinking straight. Just take a breather, and once your heads are cleared we can talk about things."

I didn't know what to say. She was right, and honestly? The more I thought about what was happening, the more I felt I was already up against it. I was beaten. I was tired. The whole world felt like it was crashing down on me, and the weight of it all made it hard to even think straight.

That, and the head-splitting migraine that, was slowly getting worse. Fuck, I was so tired. I couldn't even think straight.

"Alright..." I muttered, leaning back on the couch.

I let out a breath, closing my eyes for a second.

Let's just take a breather for now.

We'll... we'll figure this out.

"Thanks... Midori," I said to her.

"Don't sweat it," she replied, giving me a small smile. "Just... just get some rest. You're going to need it."

I nodded and rested my eyes for just a moment.

Just a second.

I'm okay.

I can rest. I can just relax.

Just a second...

...

...

...

I ran.

I ran, and I ran.

I ran faster and faster, my breaths coming out in ragged gasps as I felt my heart pounding in my chest. The hallway seemed to go on forever, stretching out like a long tunnel with no sign of ending. Everything around me was cloaked in darkness, and all I could hear was my heavy breathing as I desperately hoped for something — anything — that would tell me where I should be going.

"Ikazuchi... Ikazuchi... my sweet, beautiful child, where are you? Come to me, my darling..."

A woman's silhouette appeared in the distance; her soft smile and gentle voice made my heart twinge in longing. Did I know her? Did I love her? For some reason, I felt like I did.

But something was wrong.

Run away.

Run.

RUN.

RUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUNRUN.

"Where are you, my child? Come to me, oh, come to me."

I kept running. I kept running as fast as I could, but it didn't feel like it was enough. I could feel the presence behind me, slowly trailing behind with each passing second, slowly closing in on me like a snake ready to pounce. I knew it was there, and the anticipation — the dread — made it harder to focus.

I turned a corner, my body making the sharp turn into another hallway. The strange thing was... I couldn't feel my legs moving, but I was still moving. Was I running? Was I even moving? I tried to run faster; I needed to keep moving. I needed to get to safety. I needed to get somewhere safe. Where could I go? What could I do? I couldn't fight it.

I had to get away.

I had to get away.

I had to get away.

"Come to me, my precious boy. Let me hold you in my arms. I want to protect you, my baby, my dear, beloved son."

It isn't her. Don't believe her.

I needed to get away.

I needed to run.

I had to run.

I needed to escape.

I needed to escape that thing.

I saw the light ahead of me, a flickering orange glow. It was like a fire, but it was too far. I wasn't going to make it in time. I wasn't going to make it.

"Please be mine. I will cherish you. I promise. I swear. I won't ever hurt you. I will protect you from everything. I promise."

The fire grew larger and larger, the light growing brighter and brighter. I was approaching it, reaching for it, but I couldn't reach it. I stretched out my arm, and I could feel the warmth of the light, but every time I reached for it, I just couldn't touch it.

"I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you."

The words repeated over and over in the hallway, like a broken record, stuck on a single song. The voice sounded sweet, like a lullaby, yet as I heard it, I felt myself start to go numb. I was losing myself. I was losing myself, and the light was too far away. I just couldn't keep running. Just one more step. I just needed to make one more step.

Just one more step.

Another light had appeared.

"I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you."

It was right in front of me now.

It was burning brightly this time.

It was burning brightly with a sinister orange light.

Wait, no...

Panic swelled within me.

No.

I knew what this was.

I knew it.

And as I stared into the light, I watched as the alien orb danced and crackled, and as it burned bright and bright, it made a sound. It made a song. No, they did. They hummed a tune. A melody that was coming at me from all sides, humming and muttering and whispering in my ears. It was beautiful yet cacophonic and maddening.

̚͝͝,̷̡̨̢̢̭̝̰͕̻̖͙̬͆

̴̠͙͈̗͙̹̺̜̍̍̌̇͜͝͠ͅA̶͙̤̼̭̩̺̔͑̿͋̾̓̂̍̉̏̓͋̄ ̵̛͉̺̣̱̾̈́̈́͋̽̃͛͘ͅt̵͚̺̻̟͔͓̺̖̅͒̐̍̈̃̈́̍̋́͘̚å̴̧̱̙̦̥̣̙̭͈̒l̷̛̙̪̑͂̀̑͆̉̚̕̕͝e̷̦̭͈̱͍̳͋̅̓̿̆͐͗͋̽̈́̿͝͠ ̴̬̭͚̺̙̿̑͒ͅo̶̰̺͙̜̣͈̠͔̔̍̐̏͜͜͜͜͜ͅf̶̧̛̹͍̙̮̫̬̱̤̤͕͕̭͆͋̏͛̋͘͜͝ͅ ̵̧̨̞̦̫̪͉̲̟̻̩͇̬̺̮̌̈́̾̋̓̾́̉̇̐͝͠s̸͔̟̠̽̔̂̈̋̿ȍ̸̦̺͎͈̥̫͔͙͉͖̹̦͚͈̍̀̔̾r̸̥̻̤͎̙͍̒̈͐͆̈̃͂́̇͜r̸̙͖̪͙͔̥̰̱̣̐o̷̹̰̹͈̯͎̳̰͈̳̜͕̻̣̺͋̈̄͋̑́̍̍̈́̃͋͌͋͝͝w̶̨̰̫͉̘͉͌̉͆͠ ̶̢̧̮͔̥̻͍͚̯̤͔͕̂̍̀́́̎͘͜͝ä̴̫̰̮̗̜̘̣́̌́̋́̄͛̀̇̚͘ͅǹ̸̦͚̘̭͖̯̜̬͋̈̈́d̸̨̧̤̰͈̘̬̯͋̉͛̀̈̈̈́̈̓͛͛͝ͅͅ ̶̗̟̋̂̈́̿͛̋̔͘͘w̶̡͍̩͔̩̆̒̿̐̓̆̎ơ̷̮̜̱͔̎̎͂̌̓̆̂̅̐̐e̴̜̿̒,̶̡̛͚̖̗̼̦͍̫͙̎͌̎̓͘ͅͅ

̴̧̻̮̹̞̃͊̇̄̽̃̔͠O̶̡͍͚̦̼͓͙̱̓͆̈̎͋̊̀̿̅͒͝͝͝ͅf̴̫̑͆̀̎ ̶̢̢̤͕̩̳̩̗͎͉̳͓̦̣͛͛̐̇̈̽̕͜t̵̨̮͇̀̍̀̓̏̄̊̀̓͝h̸͈̘͛̚ơ̵͍̬͆͌͋̄͌̃̋̎̏̋̉̚̕s̸̤̦̹̘̪̰͕̮̜͋̈̕͠ͅȩ̸͕̲͔̜̺̮̼͖͈̓̈́̑͗̀̊́̍̈́͜͝͝ ̷͇͗͒͋̄ẁ̷̟̫͇͠ḧ̵̰̳́͌͛̑̍̔̃́͗̕ó̵̡̫͉͙͔͕̯̱̮͜ͅ ̶̼̼̺͙͚͍̭̬͇̭̯͔͎̘̱͝f̴̲̰͇̬̫͈͇͖̜̀͑̐̄͛͊̇͛͑͗͂̚͘͠ȩ̵̘͖̗̞̈́̓l̴̢̞̼̱̣̃̏̐͂́͋̽̒̈̃̈́̚͝l̸͍̮͉̮̦̦̥͉̄͑̓̆̏͛̊̊͘ ̴̘̖̂̽́ṱ̵̙̩̩̟̩̣̳̟̙͇̟͂̐̉̍͌̎̈̕͘ó̷̧̢̲̯̾̊̈̈́̃̈͝ ̵͈̱̔͋̾͘ȁ̴͚̫̺̄ ̵̻̟̹̫͓͉̘̣͔͍̭͊̅d̸̝̗̙̞͇̞̣͔͙̩̺͎͖̄̃̿͐͘̕a̵̡̧̡̗̹͈̭̮̣̘̺̤͖̍̋̓͌̆̑̎́̽̓̄̎̌ͅr̵̡̜̖̩̪̳̼̝̩̅̾͑͂̈́̌͜k̵̮͗̽̊͛͘ ̴̡̨̲͕͙̘͓͍̝͖̫͇̗͕̞̆͑̈f̵̘̫̙͚͙̊̈́̇̂́̎̉̃̔̊̋͐̓̕͝o̷̦̱͕̤̗̖̼̰̯͒̋̊̂͒̉͆͋̕͠͠e̵̡̻͔̰̫̞̰͍̺̊͂͒̀͊͝.̵̳̠̿̽́̑̔̊̏̓́̽͠

̶̹̻̅

̵̣̬͕̹̞̱̈́́̌̐̊̿̆̿̍̚̚Í̷̢̡̲̗͓͕̯̻̾̇̽͐m̶̺̥͉̲̝͋̆͗̑̆́͝p̸̻̮̙̦̓̾̽̅̑͐̍͠e̷̝̝̱̋́̂̏̆͑̎̇͛̒̋͆̚̚͝r̵̠̐̒̇̈́͘͠a̸̛̗̰̺̫̫͎̟̼̳͙̅͒͊̏̀͆͂̒͐̍͐̈̑t̶͇̄̈́̓̆̑̋ŏ̶̢̹̱̠̮͇̰͎̦r̶̻̥̈͑̐̀͗͑̌͌̿̉͝e̴̛̞̙̗͛̐͑̈́̔̕͘͜͠,̵̜̯̥̬͓̼̱̩̹̠̙̖͍͊̊͒͐͊̈́̅̕͜͝ͅ ̷̛̛͓̆̑͌̈̆̈́͋̎̚Ì̴̹͚̥̥̝͇̺̠̉̽̌̀͊͌̋͂̈́͆͑͌͜͝͝ṁ̵̙̟̼̈́͒̌̅̾͐̅̿́̏̏͊͘p̴̡̛̹͕̯̣͚̫̺̮͎̗̞̯͍͂̈͌̅̓̎͊̎ẹ̵̡̤͖̦̭̜̙͕̙̲̝͆̀̇̐̿̒̈́ř̵̡̺̙̯̼̃͌͗a̸̡̘̱̓̀͐͋̀ṱ̴̢̲̀̇͊̍o̸̝̿̃̊̏̅̂͛̿̾͝͝͝r̵̡̩̭̮̲̝̤̊͒̓̿̆̉͂̏͆̚͜e̸̳̭͔͈͎̘̮͓̙̣̗͆̓̃̊̑̾̂̎͜,̶̧̝͇̱̮͚̪̲̈́̀̏̈͊̌̀̅̈́͐̀ ̶̨̛̮̞̥͍̞̻̲̫̩̆̃̊̉̆̋͆͛͛͘͠͝ẗ̴͖́̿͊͐͑̔̈́̋̊̑̉̂̕͝h̸̪̞̞̬̯̜͈͙͖̪̲̽̐́̓͊̉͘͜ē̶͚̣͚̳̳̠̪̭̳͜͠ͅ ̵̧̡̞̱͙̙̩̫̤͒͜t̸̨̨̼̠̜͉́̎̉̀̑̐̓̉̌̎̋̾͠͝i̵̧̻̤̬͇̱̬̪͎͇̳̱̲̹̐̈́̿̌̀̋̾̑̌̚ͅt̸̟̯͎̖͐̋̑̄̔͜ͅl̷̤͖̪̯̽̎̆̌̏͐̏̕e̸̟̳͎̔̈̆͆͐̇͑̕͘͠ ̵̯̻̆͊̑̒͘ẅ̵̨̘̱̮̳̤̰̪̣̘͆̅͗͗̒̇͊̒̾̎̉̆h̷̡̡̡̭̘͍̦͎̥̠̻̠̻͉̪̀̆̈̎͗̑͘͠͠͝ǐ̶̢̨͎̹̘̗̫̿̇̚͜ͅͅş̴̰̻̣̣̦̖̥̣͔̜͉̦͗̒̓̉̿͆̒̇̋͒͋̕͝ͅp̸̢̯̘̤̼͓͂͒̇̈́͠͝͠è̴̱̰̼̇̇͋͒̐̊́̃̀̔͆̽͝ͅr̷̨̛̪͙̖̹̖̱͊̎̋́͂͂͗̀͠͝͝͝͝ę̴̼͖̟͓̻̤͙̖̣͎͕̗͙͙̾̐̌̈͆͠d̸̫̬̭̆̀̓͛͗̒̏͑̓̚͘͠ ̷̧̛̛̦̯̖̱̤͎͍̬̘̀́̃̽͝ĩ̸̡̢͚̹̣̲͖̥̓̿̔̈́̿̆̌͐̆̔͜͠͠n̶̨̼̘͙̫̱͎̳̦̩͓̘̠̤̿̅̑̕͜ ̴̨̱̇̎̽̎̀͗f̶̧͈̝̦͍̲̼͎̲͙̖͕̫͖̟́̋̋̀̎̅͠e̷̢̞͋̍̅̈́̍̾̽̎a̴͉̙̦͉̱̥̱͙̩͓̙̩͚͕̩̎̏̃̊̎͋͒͌͆͆͝ŕ̸̨̛̼̥̖̳͈͍̱̘̯̘͕͇͎̃̈̆̋̃͆͑͊̎́̕,̵͇͍̟̲͕̟́̿̀͒̉̀͠

̷̢̨̡̱̘̞͍͕͆̅̏̿̊́͋͆ͅͅẠ̷͕̠̲͋̀́͋̇̓͒̑ ̵̱̰̜̳͈̣̫̱̱̹̪̠̟͎͊̆̏̌̐̋̊̈̎̾̃̍̕ṕ̵͚̠o̴̡̢̧̢̠̬̞̙̠̼̱͇̣͕̝͐́w̸̟͙͓̉̌̈̿̇̕ẹ̸͒̃̆́̑̾̌͗̾̕͠͝r̷̨͍̯͓̙͖̀͋͂ ̷̬̮̱̟̻͈̱̿̀̑͒̃̂̾͊̒̋̂͋͝s̶̢͉̪̻̹͖̣͇̹̤̲̖̪̬͉͛̅͠ơ̴̰̦̮̦̙̥̳̞̎̈͛̽͑̇̑̿̓͛̕͜͠͝ ̷͚̹̤̫̪̫̦͔͖̫̦̖̈́͑́ͅg̴̝͈̈́̀͊̋́͝r̷̢̧̞͈̦͓̙̬̣̦̐͂̂̈́̀̇̊̐̒͒̀̽̾͝ẻ̸̗̬͕̩̺͓͓͐̀̂̈́̑͑͌̔̉̆́̈̈̉a̷͎͇̻̍̌̍͂̏́t̴̬͕̮̲̩̲͖̹̥̺̹̹̚,̶̛̤̬̖͖̟̞̘͍͙̯͍̭͊̈́̓́̿͜͝ ̷̛̮̞̈͋̎͌̈͌͘b̷̨͉̟̯̲͍̝̺̮̂̈́̈́͌͐͌̾ų̵̗͖̤͖̬̳̹̞̗̼͒͒̐̈́̏̅̇̎̈̑́̀t̶̬̺̞̞̪͉͐̇̀̊̂̌͛̅͝͝ ̸͉̲́̆͛ȏ̷̡̄̑͋͌̚͠h̷̳͆̓̈̍̆̃͒̈̈́̓̚̚̕ ̸̧͖̗̈́̿̊͌͌s̴̢̺͙̝̪̾̋͂o̵̧̜̦̠͖̯̲̐̕ ̵̡̘̞̱̘͕͕̰̟̘̥̟͌̐͑̈́͆̒̔͝͝͝d̷̡̧͈̤̰̣͚̲̥̺͚̯͂̍́̒͌̊́͊̂͒͝e̸̢̛̛̺͍̠͖̲̍̐͊͆̓̊͋͂̀͑̐̈́̀ä̶̗̝̳͚͙́͗̉̊͌͆́̅̊̂͑͛̍̈́̕ŕ̴̢̡̲̘̦̼͎͚̪̯͓̣̿̇̅̀̈͌͆͐̿̄̄̚,̵̧̢͍̜͇̩̐͂̍̇̏̆̃͘

̴̧̨̳̮̫̯̺͎̞̯̪̓̍̐͛͊̃̂́̅̕F̵̢̧̡̨͉̠̮͚͖̥͇̝̼̌̅̂̾̃͊̌̏̌̄̀̄̊͠o̸̪̥̲̪͑͐́̽͗̋͝r̴̠͋ ̴̳̮̾̆͆̅́̈́̔͗͋̒͠͝î̴͕͙͚̥͉̽̌̈́͑̊̊̂͊͌̊̉͠ͅņ̸̟̩͕̘̰̀͋͒̾͑̇͜ ̶̛͔̯̗̯͎̼̝͇͔͗̏̓̈́̊́͜͠ͅͅę̵̡̡̨̘̹̺̦̰̫̞̙̣̑͒̉̄̏͛̈́͝ẍ̴̧͔͖̝̹̼̖͓̹̩̮̭̮̦̫́̌̍̈̐͋̐̑͊͂͝͝ç̸̛̳̹̙͚͎͍̰̖̮̀͂͘ͅh̶̦̙̺̫̦͚̫̲̝̋̃͝a̶̧̨̞̩̺̹͈͔̣̱͆̒̽͛̈́n̴̜͔͙̣̬͙̰̬̆͑̒̄̈́̆̑͐͠g̵̙͈̺̹̻̘̳̰͎̍͂̊͒͆͋̍́̏̈́ę̷̖̙͙̪͕͙̥̱̒͗̏̐̈̑͐̿̾̇̎̕ ̸̛̞͙͎̮̝̘̺̦̖̃͊̄͊̈́͗̄̅̚̕̚̕͝f̶̨̯̥̹͍͋͂̐̋̀͊̒̆ȯ̶̙̼͖̟͔͝r̵̡̞̣̟̝̝̰̜̫͔͆̄̿͊͒̕̕͜͜͜͠ ̵̨̡͖̜̜̥̦͎̟͓̭͕̻̟̿́̓͗͆͛̃̍͌̌̏̋̔̀ͅt̸̯͕͈̅̓̀̉̊̀͋̕͠h̸͍̠̑e̸̢̢̛̖̰͓͉̙̦̩̥̘̦̥͌́͌̎̀̇̀̀̾͋͊͑ỉ̸̼͔͓̠̬̬̬̤̟͍͔̖͈̮̯̒̈̏̊́͗̎͘͘̚̕r̴̛̤͆͛͊̈́̆͝ ̴̩̠̖̝͔̺̯̰̓̇̽̂̐̊̍̓̒͝ͅş̵̩̗̜͈͖̪͚̺̘̖̔͐͐̔́̀͐̊͜͜͠͠ͅo̶̢̻̺̻̐̈́̅̀̿̊̕ứ̶̥̖̥̰̭̟̭͓͖̀́́̽̐̀̌̂͛͛̊͝͝ͅḷ̴̛͉̟̼̻̭͔͖̫͉͕̳̤̥̐̉̃̆̾̒̈̃́̾͐̈̂ś̷̢̺̹͕̞̖͈̼̤͇͈̟͐̑̋̌̃́̌̓́̕͝ͅ ̸͈͙̻̮̣̺̫̭̼̫̀͊͝ͅͅs̷͎̻̹͓̻̈́̉̀͘͜ò̷̦̫͈̤̹̪̭̙̟̘̳̗̒̀͗ ̷̡̧̢̖̺̖͓̦̼͕̈́̄̽͛͒̈́̿̽ç̷͉̝̖̭̣̗͖̥͚̬͚̬͌̉́̂͛̒̆͛͛̾͐͐͘͘l̷̻̭̰̯̱̱͕̑͒̓͌̇̏́̈́̒́̒̋́͠ẹ̶̡̛̝͍̞̝̗̫̩̖̫͙͓̼̭̑̄̇̒̈́͋͊̊͊͒̋̎̍a̵̤̳̓͗͗r̸͚̟͉̳̝̠̞̟̹͚̉́͌̌̀̉͜͝ͅͅ,̵̛̙̥̣̺̹̜̍̋̾́͂͂̀̅͐́

̶̢̧̛̟̩͚͐͌̎̅̽̎͆͆̀̌̈́͘

̵̳̯̗̺̯̭̩̎͛͜T̵̝̲͙̋h̸̹̗̮̮̀̅̍̾̾̋ͅe̵̛͎̽̒̿̿̆͑͗̀̿̇͘̚͝į̴̫̬̬̼͇̩͉̜͙́̄̑́̀̿̐̔̏ȓ̵̰͉̗͎̝̑͑͛ ̷̛̟̹̦͍̣̥̦́̇͑̈́̒̉̅̽̈̍͝͝͝ͅó̴̡̟̪͖͓͍͇̟͉̼ņ̶̬̤̙̟̆c̸͙̩̜̼̫͙̋̔͋̿̃é̶̡̛̛̺̖̖͊̆̂̆̌͑̈́̀͜͝-̷̢̡̥̥̝͍̩͎̺̈́̆͐͗̏͌́͋̕͘ͅb̶͔̭̰͖̮̥̤̥̲̆̋͊̌͛͝e̸̠͂̈̿͑ă̵̢̧͔͇̥̣̱͈̹̞̮̝̞̈́̎̉̃̎͊̽́̊͘͠u̶͙̮̣̱͓̘̙̮͒̀͌̿̏͋͑͂͛̑͐̚͠ţ̷̨͕͍̮̪̳̙̟̤̙̲̻͕̱̑̒̎̍̇͒̆̌͑́̿̈́̇͠ĩ̵̧̳̘̫͖͓̥̾f̶̨̯͖̤̪̱̠̣̞̯̜͎͛͜u̴̧̗͉̘͇͍͈̺̓̔͆͝ͅl̸͍͛̚ ̶̡̡̛̗͎̭͆̓̋̽̀̍͛̏̂͘̕͝h̵̢̛̛͎̯͚̔̀̔͒͑̍͆̈̂̓̔͠͠e̷̢͍͚̮̣͔̪̪̰̣̖͇̞̭̎̇͛͊ą̴̛̟͖͉̠̘͆̐͒͛̍̽͌̆̚͝͠r̵̛̛̟̤̥̗͖̖̣̞͇̭̲͋͂̿̏́̾̏̈́̄̋͘ͅt̶̰̠̬̯͔̎̊s̴̨̮̮̮̻̮̀̈́͌́͗̔͘͘͠ ̶̡̨̧̧͉͍̱̝͈̩̜̅n̴͇͔̓͌̋̋̃͋̔̌̕͠o̶̪͊̈́̄̒̓̈́̋̐́̒̆̎͘w̷̤͖̣̠̣̖̩̓̓́̔̕ ̶̛̮̭͉̰̯̗̣̖̱́͐͒͐̑̇̌͑̅̾͋̓̃̕b̵͖̮̪̥̾̉͝͝l̶̛̹̦̼̻̃̎̈́̀͑͗̈̈́̇̋͂̽̕ą̷̨̮̻̖̦̦̪̜̤̜̃̾͊̅̋̚c̶̜̝̻̜̬͍͈̹̰̥͔̟͓̤̊̀̿͂̽͑͑͘ķ̵͍̰̝̘̯̺̦̩̦̻̱͉̥͋͗ ̶͚̺̰̃̈́̒̋̃̎ȧ̷͚̍́́s̴̛̯̖̩̦͓͖̙͒̂̐̚͝ ̵̺̱́͒͂͋̐̀̚ͅc̶̛̦͖͇͉͍͇̙̰̹̒̈́̅̔̎̇̐͒̆͐̕͘͜ͅő̶̯͖͈͋̊́̾̓̊́a̵̢̪̣͎̪̘̘͇̪̬̰̅͊̀̎̃̚͝l̷̢͉̮̹͙̋̓̊̽͝͝,̷̗͑̒̈́͋̈́̈́̅̆͗̍̽͌̕̕

̶̧̝̘̱͉̹̟̳͉͍͊͑̔̂͌̊̄̏̈͜͜Ṱ̴̛̛̛͎̍̓̽̏̓̌̉̚̚ẖ̵̢̦̱͓̺̻̱̜̭̽́̒̋͑̓̇̀̑͘͝e̸͔͌̾͝i̶̜̖̻̐̈́̀̊͝͝r̴̢̧̛̩̟̰̗̼͉̤̄̀̌̄̑̂̐̒͌͘̕͝ ̸̛̤̭̩̫͍̈̅̇̈́͛͊̄̀̀͐ͅȩ̶͕̭̲̬̙̮̼̞͚̈́y̴̡̨̛͙̺͍͎̱̮̘͚̮̗̙̲͊̍̀́̒̊̕̚̚e̸̝̬̲̖̘͖͈͕̯̽͆̌̐͋̕s̴͔̿͂͝ ̴̨̧̫̺̬̲̱͕͚̗̊͋̉̈̐͗͆̀̇͐̊̕͠͝g̵̢͔̅́̐͐̀̓͑͗̆̐̎͠l̷̜͎̤͎̯͉̮̒͐͆̆ͅé̷̢̟̜̖̭̦̥̳̼͙̊̑̔̈́̑̈́́͐̉̽͆a̶͇̹̖̖͓̙̾͗́̇̀͛͆̉͊́͘͘m̸͚̯̠̣̥̰̐̿̍͘i̶̮͚̜̭̰͕̤͙̳̥̘͌ņ̶̨̡̥̫͇͔̞̼̠̦̻̣̗̍̿͗͋̍͋̂̃̈́̈̉̽̈̿̕ͅģ̵͇͙̟̺͖͋̈́̂̉͊̈̍̎̊̃̍̆͋͜ ̷͍͎̱̼͗w̸͔̗̞̘̯̘͎̳̠̻͔̏̈́́̆̈́̊̿̃͊̈͠ͅī̶̧̫̮͍̭͕͔͇̬͓͕͈̟͕̩t̵̛̳̪̘̜̗͍͋̑̓̌̈͒̆̚͝ḩ̶̛̤̞̘̲̻̼̠̤̫͔̠̆̅̂̀̾͒̓̒̍̑͝ ̷̢̭͚̹̗̺̻͎̜̪͔͍̥̮̃̋̋͌̽̆̚̕͜ạ̶̢͕̱̱͙̻͕̄̐̍̏̾͋ņ̴̹͚͕̖͈̞͚̪̬͉̬͉̀̽͜ ̴̧̧̛̱̰̰͉̬̞̗̦̾̅͌̈́̀̈́͒̑ẹ̸̮̠͖̜̬̜̃̾̾̿̊̉͝e̶̢̠͖͔͔͓̐͆̈́̀̋̋̍͛͘r̶̢̦̱͕̬͕̤̔i̸̡͕̰̬̜̮̳̘̝̮̦͓̙̥͎͐͊̃́̽̽͗̽͆̎̉͠͝e̶̡̺̰̱͎͈̥̘͐̉̆̑̊̈͘͘ ̶̝̹͈͉͖͕̩̰̞̲͉̣͒͌͑̍͜͝͝g̸̨̮̣̤͍͎͚̫͍̅̀͝ͅơ̴̻̐͐͗̓̈́̅̾̓̈͊̕ͅa̵̛̛͎͌̄̓̃͊̊͊̓̎̄̒̕l̵̨̮̙̰̙̯̅̀̈́́̾̓͌̅̾͊̈́̈́̕̕,̵̟͔̞̳̜̽

̸̼͕̇̏̈́̌̎͋̎̓̉̏́́̐̈́̕

̵̢̩̜͓̼̬̓̈̾̐́̕S̵̡͚̯̙̗̫͔̾͛́̈́̽͒̄͐̏̀̈́͠ȫ̷͉̯̐̃̕̕ ̶̛̤̪͓̜͙̣̦̽͆̀̑͐͊̊͂̒͒̄̂́͠ḇ̴̧̦̜͈͎̩͖̖̅̎̈́̇̋͊̈́̓ͅe̸̲͓͖̩͉̗̊̈̓̈̏̓̕ͅw̴̡̼̒̑̾̐̽̽̓͆̒̓̚̚͝ȁ̸͎͙͒̎̈́̅͛́͑̽̑̏ŗ̴̘̘̺̠̠̥̲͓̮̬̮̠͊̊̾̃̈́ȩ̴̛̜̘̞̥̥̰̜̳͇̾̽̋̌̇͠,̶̛̛̫̭͎̝͈̻̩̭͉̩̞͖͕̰͑͆̏̄͂̐ͅ ̶̨̳͕̠͎̹͖̝̰̤͈͒̊̆̆͘̚͝͠d̷̢̨̧̠̰͚͚̗̯͉̫̯͊̑̏͠e̸͔̪͎̝̞̜̞͚̙͖̱̽̓͛̈̇͌̾̐̔̿̕̚͜͜ḁ̶͈̝̦̣̮̲̞̖̫̦̋͛͌̈́̓̈́̕͝͝ͅŗ̵̍ ̵̡̛̰̯͓̞̲̬͖͔̞͔̏̃̇̋̎͘͝͠c̶̛̣̥̠̼̞̗̻͙̩̣̻͎̱̠͛̂̀̄̉h̷̨̥̩͕̅i̸̱̘̳̰͐̀͆́̋͆̊̾̋̑̋͠͝l̴̡̪͎̑̄̀͂̋͋̊̾̑̽̈́͘͝͝d̷̝̩̘͖͓̗͔̪̪̻̘̻̈́̓̒̂͒,̸̢̙̮̞̺͔͔̗̪͕̣̽̒͌̈̐͒͜͜ͅ ̵͔͆͑̒͂̉͋͌̈́̌͘ơ̷̧̨̧̱͇̭͓̳̞̻̱̞̓̂́̿̈́̀͗̽͆̾̊̕̕͜f̴̖̺̬̼̼̞̻͙̟̔̃̉͛̈́̇ ̴̧̻̣̲̝͚͍̖̦͔̜̰̌͗̒t̵̟̪̝͚̖̲̩̀̐́̇͐̃̔̾͋̒̇͒̕͘͝ͅh̶̜̀ẹ̸̢̞͙͓̦̃̈̈́͘͜͠ ̴̡̡̲͇̹͖̜̪͌̇͐͆̓̕͜I̶̩̪͎̪̿̌͝m̷̛̗̤̥̬̰͔̱͇̾͌͑́̅̔͊̑p̵̯͚͉̟͔̲͖͎̳̬̺̖͎̝̜͆͒̔̐̃̏̒̂͠͠͠e̴̠̭̮͋͐r̶͖̖͚̄̈͐͑̓̈͐́̈̅̑́̐̓̚ả̵̗͈͚͇̲͓̑̈́ṱ̸̻͔͚̹͖̦̞̀̎̒̄̅́̃̅̚͘̕͘͠ó̷͕̦̃̀̿̋̄̐͗̓̚ͅr̸̛̯̺͖̭̯̝̪̪̆̔̋̏̕̚e̴̞̘̮̖̋̈́̋́͋̍̏̕͘'̷̤̝̯̉͂͛̽̈́̏̂̕s̸̺͖͊̎̒̃̀͊̋̈̿̌̊͐̚̚͠ ̸̧̮̖͍̲̳͚̫̥͚̬͔̲͈̇́͗̀̈́̒͜c̵̨̡̥̗̹͕̤̣̺͓̟͎̓̔̈́͑̊̈̆̄̐̄̆̓́̋͘a̷̱͕̼̘̝͙͍͋̄͛̊͐͑͋̄͘͜l̵̥̗̝̭̹͎̔͐̔͆̈̿͂͘͠ḷ̸͈̦̾̄͐̀͘̚͘͠,̴͖̦̙͖͔̜͖̼̗̻̔

̶̲̟̬̝̲̥͔͖̎́Ą̶̤̣͈̩̖̋͊͑́͒͜͝͝n̸͙͕̹͎̜̬̼̘̘͇̩͇̎̇͛̚d̸̡̡̠̠͕̳̟̭͍͔̀ ̴̨̣̦̏́͂̑̉̀͒̃̒ȏ̶̮̊̿͊͛̂̉̀̒͑̚͠n̶̻̘̮͔̪̤͖̞͙̩̮͇̽c̴̪̥̜̣̯̞̬̺̮͔̹̗̱̼̒̉̿ȩ̷̧̢̢̛̮͈͖͕̞̻̭͉̠͊̄́̋͒̅͘͠ ̸̡̤̜̬̤͌̌̋͒͂̉̅̇̿̊͜ȳ̸̛̪̦̜̺͇̘̥̜̮̫̺̝͕̓̄͛̃͋͒̃̔͂̽̐̕͜͝o̸̡̨͈̘̠͈͉̙̎̇̈́̊̌͛̚̚͜͝u̸̡̡͉̟͍̻͇̠̩̮͎̙̦͖͑̐̊́ͅ ̴̼̻̫̗̱͍̫̋̇̽͐̚͝f̵̭͍̼͙̳̜̦̞̣͕͛̓̄̐́͗͆̂ȧ̷̢͔̯͊̌͌̀͌̒͛͗̀͊͒̚͝͝l̷̡̻̱̭͉͕͖̙̈́̀̌́̆͒̌͑̆̀̎ļ̵̨̨͕̥̠͇̼̖̼͈̽̋͜,̷̧̯̼͉͙͙͎͓̮̃̃̌͋̇̊̕ ̸̨̞̪̱͕̾̏̔͑͑̆͗͐̉͆͒̋̂̓̋y̸̠̍͊́̏̂̀̉̒̈́̈́̒̂͒̚̕ͅǫ̸̡̞̻͍̜͉͔̳̖̹͐̇̐̐̌͗u̷̢̡̹̝̝͚͈̯͉̹̾̌̀̓̄ ̸̡̞̮̣̘̮̩͉̰̭̮̤̬̿̐́̇̉̀̋̐̅̅͘m̵̡̩̠̮̼̖͙̙̣͚̱͍̮͝â̸̻̭̘͍̌͋̒́̇̍̓̾͐̈́y̷̧̡͙̗̰̠̻̬̪͚͚̽͌̎̃͝ ̸̖̼̠̪̣̹͚̞̏͋̈́̆̿̔͂n̸͉̻͔͇̪̩̑ͅȩ̸̞̼͎͎̱̘͂͊̊̐͌̕͠v̷̢̧͓̝̯͇̥̥͓͎̬̲̰͋̆̓̈̏͐̇͋͘͝͝e̷̜̠͓̜͗́͆̅̇͋̚̚r̷̭̩̥͊͑̆͌̿̄̈́̃̆̽̍̂̃͆̚ ̸̢̛̭̞̼̪͉̈́̔̓͌̂́̽͆͘ͅb̷̧̤͕̼̰̜̼͔̗̻͈̻͈͙́͆̃̃̓͋̏͆͆̑e̷̻̭͖̎̿͂̋͊̽́̃̆̉͛ ̵̢͠a̸̧̝͉͇̠͍̰̖̹̯̰̿́̐̀̅̍̏̓̔̚̕͝͝ͅḃ̶͈̃̅͋͌̿́͂̈͗́͒̎̒̐l̷͍͈͋̓͐̋̔e̴̡͚̟̖̜̻̠̘͎̣̙̺͔̳̔̊̿̈͑̆̾͛̍́͘̕͝͝ͅ ̸̦̣̘̪̹̦͔̰̺̊͑̕͜ẗ̵̡̡̧̡̧͉̮͚͙̭̰͉̠̬̪́͌́̓͗̋͐̽ơ̸͇͖̅̔̏̎́̈́͘ ̸̨͉̲̤̖͈̈͜c̷̛̛͈͚͛̈́͒̓r̶̜͖̫͓͔̾̒́͊̚͜͝a̶̲͉͇̭̥̝̪͕̝̖̮̗̬̐̏̃́̐̕̚w̸̞̜̻̻̲͙͙̩̦̉́̈́̋͋͌͗͂̈́͗͝ͅͅl̷̛̛̲͑̋̌̾̂̈́́̍̏̎,̴̧̛͇̈̿͑̾͠ľ̴̛̮̙͉͓̪͙̘̣̙͋̉,̸̡̦̂́̎͜

"I... I... I... I..."

The sound was maddening. Just one more step and I could make it. I could escape, I could run away... I just need-

"IkazuchiI!"

The walls of the hallway shattered as a familiar voice screamed my name. That was the most comprehensible way I could put it, at least. The walls cracked apart like the screen of a TV or computer monitor. The expanse beyond the tear was alien and almost incomprehensible — I saw colors that didn't exist in reality and shapes that looked like nothing I'd ever seen. It was like the most beautiful painting I'd ever seen and the most terrible nightmare I'd ever had had a child together. It almost seemed to be moving, as if a million tiny particles of light were in the air.

Then, reality itself seemed to break apart as a glowing, kimono-clad woman who looked like she was in her 20s broke through the wall.

She had a long, red, white kimono in a pattern I had only seen once. Where did I see it before? Why was it so familiar and comforting?

Her eyes were closed, and she had long, black hair tied up into a ponytail. On her feet were black sandals. Her right hand was raised over her head in a fist. On the back of her hand was the kanji for Ame-no: 'Heavenly.'

In her left hand was a long, black naginata encrusted with jewels.

I barely had time to react as she flashed me a sad smile before picking me up by my shirt with one hand. Then, she unceremoniously tossed me out the tear in reality.

...

...

...

I woke up to the sound of car alarms and screeching tires, followed by a crash. I groaned and rolled off Midori's couch before sitting up and rubbing my head.

"Ugh. Did... did I black out?" I groaned. It felt like I'd gotten run over by a truck.

And that dream. What the fuck was that?

"Meow!"

Kuromaru jumped to the windowsill and yowled again, trying to get my attention. I looked around the room to see if something was wrong. I didn't see anything. Then I rushed over to the window.

"MROW!" Kuromaru exclaimed in annoyance.

"Oh! Hey... Kuromaru."

The cat meowed back at me once again with a disapproving look before I turned to look out the window.

The front fence of the house was totaled entirely, but I couldn't see what caused it.

A realization struck me.

The alarms were blaring directly in front of the house. One of the cars in front of the hideout had been visibly dented and scuffed by something.

I immediately scrambled to open the front door.

A hi-tech motorcycle with painted lightning streaks had slammed directly into the wall. Only the very front of the vehicle had been destroyed, and the back of it was still in perfect condition. It was as if the impulse generated from the crash had somehow been negated immediately after it'd begun. It was a bizarre and alien sight to behold.

The motorcycle itself was a thing of beauty. It had a sleek, navy blue coat of paint and a light and durable armored chassis that could repel almost any small arms fire. The wheels were compact and thin, and an elegant jet of plasma-like energy emanated from the rear.

"Erm. Oops!"

My eyes slowly traced their way to the rider's seat.

I couldn't believe what I saw. There, holding onto the handles, was Morada.

She was no longer in the perfect lolita dress I had seen her wearing earlier as Violet Tempest. Her clothing was wet, torn, and tattered as if she had been through a tornado. Her long, brown hair was matted and tangled around her face. Her face was covered in cuts and bruises, and any makeup she had on was smeared beyond belief due to rain, tears, and sweat.

But the most shocking thing was that she wasn't alone.

An unconscious Dior was slumped over in the passenger's seat, holding onto her for support. The petite little girl also looked like she had been through hell, to say the least.

Morada looked completely worn out and fragile, as if she had been through something horrific beyond words.

Nevertheless, she grinned at me while rubbing her head sheepishly.

"Hey there, Sparky. Didja miss me this time?"

My eyes softened as I returned her smile.

"Yeah."

...I felt myself getting just a bit teary-eyed.

"...Yeah I did."