The dressing room still vibrated with the remnants of the show. Spaced-out laughter, forgotten glasses in improvised corners, bodies sprawled on cushions that already knew too many secrets. But there was something in the air. A thick silence, as if the world were breathing through a slower filter.
Shun stopped swinging his leg. His eyes, previously distracted, now fixed on no particular point. Riku slowly took off his headphones, frowning as if losing the beat of a melody no one else heard. Hiroito rubbed his arms, cracking his knuckles impatiently — it wasn't cold, it was something else. Something that sent shivers without touching.
Kazuki stopped drumming his fingers on his thigh. The atmosphere seemed enveloped by a dense blanket, muffling even the sounds from the speaker. Ayumi approached the wall, her eyes lost as if searching for a sound that didn't exist. Her hand lightly squeezed his shoulder, a gesture of contained discomfort. "Did you feel that too?"
Jin, half-expecting no answer, pulled his cell phone from his pocket. The screen's glow reflected on his face, but brought no comfort. No signal. No time. No network. Others did the same. The gesture spread like contagion. Screens blinking in silence. Dead signals. Yumi approached Hiroito, cell phone in hand, frowning. "Mine also froze."
The two girls accompanying Riku, his number one fan, Masako, and her friend, exchanged uneasy glances. Masako squeezed Riku's arm, pulling him by the sleeve as if wanting to whisper something soundlessly — eyes wide, full of questions no one there could answer. In the corner, almost invisible under the low light, Ayaka hunched her shoulders. She said nothing — her eyes, however, were fixed on the dark sky, as if searching for a star that promised to return and didn't.
Shun pulled the curtain aside with a single tug. The city... didn't respond. No lights. No movement. No sky. A dark mantle, without stars, without a moon. As if the world had forgotten how to shine. A hum settled deep in their minds. And then, the world... gave way. It wasn't a fall. Not a dream. It was suspension, a feeling of emptiness. As if they had been torn from reality and placed in an interval between heartbeats.
Three thrones appeared before them. Immense forms, erect like pillars forgotten by the gods. In the center, a figure stood out — its long tail snaked through the air, and even motionless, there was something about it that held their breath, as if the universe hesitated under its weight. To the right, a figure of feminine proportions, six arms open as if in eternal choreography, and a curved horn that gleamed like wet metal. To the left, a grotesque mass, twin horns and a drooping belly, its contours pulsing like living flesh. No face. No sound. Only the presence, dense, inevitable.
Then a voice. Cold. Rigid. Cutting like code. It didn't come from a throat or lungs. It arose directly in thought.
"Universe 01. Registration confirmed. Species insertion: Homo sapiens. Selection test initiated."
"NODUS activated."
"Function: adaptation stimulation, potential observation, collection of moral and evolutionary responses."
The being in the center moved. Slowly. Its steps — if they were steps — made no sound, but reshaped space. The thrones around it seemed to shrink. The tail floated in a gentle curve, molding the air. Light did not illuminate it; it bent around it. When it spoke, the sound did not fill. It directed. The other two tilted their heads. No doubt where the authority came from.
"Every conscious race is called to the challenge. To survive is the condition. To evolve, the proof. To adapt, the path. To demonstrate value... is all that remains."
Time hesitated. The figure remained motionless, but something around it swayed — as if the entire universe awaited the next verb. The pause was more than silence. It was concentrated tension.
"You have been isolated to be observed. Every choice, every loss, every conquest. ORION now flows among you. And the NODUS... it will observe. It will aid your evolution, if you are capable. Every step, every reaction, every fall. You will decide if you deserve to remain in this universe... or disappear, for another race to try in your place."
The being raised its arm. No dramatic gesture. No threat. Just the implacable simplicity of one who dictates the next scene. When it clenched its fist, an invisible wave crossed the space. Time did not return. It was given back. As if a piece had been taken from a shelf where it didn't belong.
Jin fell back, seated. Riku grabbed the wall. Ayumi put her hands to her shoulders, trying to muffle the shiver that stubbornly remained. On their wrists, something new: bracelets of living texture. In the center, a screen. Just one word: NODUS. Kazuki touched his own. The hologram rose — spirals, data, symbols. Only he saw. The others, in silent synchrony, activated theirs.
The dressing room door opened with contained violence.
"Did you see it too?" Oliver appeared as if pushed from another world. His shirt half-open, his hair disheveled. His eyes still fixed on another dimension. "That... was that real?"
Daisuke appeared right behind him, bumping Oliver's shoulder naturally. "Excuse me, prince of post-sex. Some people are trying to understand the apocalypse here." He stopped in the middle of the room, his eyes scanning the environment with more seriousness than his tone suggested. "So it wasn't just me...?"
Kazuki looked around, still breathing heavily. "That... was real, right? Did you see the thrones?"
Ayumi, arms crossed, stared at the floor. "And that voice... it seemed to know everything. Not like a threat, but as if it was already written."
Jin rubbed his eyes, his forehead furrowed. "I don't know... it felt like someone turned off the world and turned on another, you know?"
Leaning against the wall, Ayaka hugged her own elbows. "That wasn't a presentation. It was a filter. They were just observing who would break first."
Hiroito stared at the bracelet in silence. Then he let out, almost in a whisper: "This thing... it seems to be listening to me."
Oliver, who was still adjusting his shirt collar with automatic gestures, stared into the void for a second before speaking: "They weren't asking if we want to play. They've already decided we're in. This thing" — he raised his wrist, where the bracelet pulsed lightly — "is just the board. And we... we're the pieces trying to find out if we're the kind that becomes king, or the kind that leaves the box and never comes back."
Mayra entered behind them, throwing Daisuke's clothes in his direction. "Get dressed, idiot."
Right behind her entered Mayu, her hair still messy, her cheeks unmistakably flushed.
Jin opened his mouth with a ready smile: "Well, well, well... Final..."
Before he could finish, Kazuki turned sharply: "Now is not the time for jokes." He was already crossing the door when he completed: "I'm going to check what's happening. I'll wait for you downstairs."
The lobby was abandoned. Everyone was outside. Eyes glued to the horizon. Their silent mouths said more than any scream. And then... the sound cut through the air. An explosion. Then, muffled noises. Dry cracks that echoed like timid thunder in the distance. No one dared to name them. Eyes widened, bodies flinched, and collective breathing seemed to catch in a single lung. People pressed against each other in silence, as if proximity could stop whatever was coming. Fear didn't run. It infiltrated. It slowly climbed the mountain, like dense fog around the young people's feet, wrapping around their ankles, rising into their stomachs, settling in their chests.
It was then that Kazuki advanced. Without raising his voice. Without puffing out his chest. He simply walked to the highest step of the Palace entrance. And stopped. The simple decision to move separated him from the others. His gaze met their faces. He didn't judge them. He just wanted them to see that he was still whole. And going. Kazuki took a deep breath, as if pulling into himself all that was left of courage in that place. He took one more step, but didn't raise his arms. He didn't need to. His presence, surrounded by his friends who now lined up beside him — Oliver to the left, Daisuke to the right, Hiroito and Jin just behind — was enough. He didn't make a speech. He just spoke like someone who always knew he would end up speaking.
"I know. Everyone's scared. I am too. But we need to understand what's happening." He paused, and his eyes swept over the faces before him. Ordinary people. People from Oshima. "The Palace is safe. So whoever feels they can't... stay. There's no shame in that. We're going down. To see with our own eyes. And we'll come back. For you. For us."
Oliver crossed his arms, and completed in a calm tone, but full of conviction: "Fear is not the end. It's just what comes before the choice."
Daisuke grunted and took a step forward. "If there's shit down there, it better find us first."
Kazuki nodded, serious. "We protect each other. As we always have. As Oshima always has."
And without another word... they went down. Doubt squeezing hands, biting lips. Then, timid applause. Enough to decide.
As they descended through the side corridor towards the garage, a gap between the buildings revealed what should have been the sea. But there was no sea. The darkness was absolute, dense, like an ebony wall where the water should have been. Neither the light from the few buildings nor the limited view of the horizon revealed any glimmer or movement. It was an abyss, a soundless, tideless void, impossible to distinguish.
Oliver walked further back, his eyes fixed on what seemed to be the absence of everything. He murmured, more to himself: "No stars, no satellites... the sea is gone, no tide. The weather is colder. No network signal... This can only be a dome. A mass test. Some organization, or even the government, has closed Oshima."
"Or in hell," grumbled Jin, his voice low, almost contained.
No one responded. There was no room for it. Urgency screamed louder than fear.
The group began to move, but without haste, as if their bodies were waiting for their souls to catch up. Daisuke tossed the Kibo van keys up and caught them in the air, spinning on his heels with the certainty of knowing it would be him. "I'll drive. It's better than standing around waiting for the worst."
Riku was already leaning against the band's van, with Shun beside him. "Let's go, brother. We'll provide sound cover if needed," said Riku, trying to keep the tone light. Shun just nodded, serious. Kazuki, Oliver, Hiroito, and Jin headed for the Kibo van together. Jin stopped at the door, huffing. "Oh no, I have to sit next to Hiroito again? This guy thinks air conditioning is punishment."
"You can walk, if you want," retorted Hiroito, already getting in.
Meanwhile, Mayra approached, subtly pulling her bra strap through her shirt. "I'm going too. If things go wrong, I know people who can help," she said, already climbing into the band's van.
Ayumi approached Kazuki, holding him by the collar for an instant. Without saying anything, she kissed him lightly, firmly. "Don't turn this reunion into a goodbye, okay?"
"Never," Kazuki replied, without hesitation.
Yumi, Ayaka, and Mayu approached Ayumi. "We'll try to keep everyone calm here. If things get worse, we'll accommodate everyone in the hall," said Yumi, firm as a promise.
Mayu and Oliver exchanged a last look. Nothing said. But there was an entire song in that silence.
The group gathered before the van as if it were more than a vehicle — as if it were a portal. The pre-dawn wind descended from the mountain carrying the distant sound of sirens and the metallic smell of tension. None of them spoke for an instant. Just doors opening, bodies entering, engines starting. Brake lights came on. The damp asphalt reflected the decision to leave. And then they left. The road, once familiar, now seemed like a path to another world.
The tires sang softly over the wet asphalt, while the Kibo van's engine vibrated at a constant rhythm that only made the tense silence among the occupants clearer. Kazuki looked out the window, his eyes fixed on the shadows that seemed to move on the deserted sidewalks.
"I've never seen Oshima like this..." murmured Hiroito, his face intermittently illuminated by distant red warning lights.
"As if the city had held its breath," completed Oliver, almost in a whisper, without taking his eyes off the bracelet on his wrist.
Jin, with an improvised baseball bat between his knees, swung his foot impatiently. "I'm just saying, if this van breaks down, I'm pushing us downhill myself."
"Relax," said Daisuke, with a dry smile at the wheel. "If something gets us here, at least it'll have a soundtrack of an engine seizing up."
Inside the band's van, Riku kept his hand firm on the dashboard, his eyes alternating between the road and the rearview mirror. Shun, silent beside him, held his cell phone as if waiting for a signal that wouldn't come. Mayra, in the back seat, crossed her arms, her legs moving nervously.
"This is far from just a blackout," said Mayu, crossing her arms, her gaze fixed on the road. "Someone pulled the rug out from under us and we're still falling. And honestly? I'm ready to bite whoever tries to step on us."
The Old Quarter appeared like an old scar: the lampposts motionless, the balconies silent, windows dark like empty eye sockets. The car lights invaded the void with hesitation, and the squeal of tires echoed too loudly in streets that seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.
In the Kibo van, Oliver observed each building as if searching for signs of life in an abandoned battlefield. "Have you ever thought that maybe... no one's left?" he said quietly, but the others' silence answered for itself.
Jin tried to lighten the mood: "Well, at least it's easy to find a parking spot, right?"
Kazuki didn't take his eyes off the road. "Stay alert. If anything happens, we act fast. No one separates."
The band's van followed close behind. The radio still silent. Inside, only the sound of the engine and the heavy breathing of the occupants. Mayra drummed her fingers on her knee, and Shun adjusted his jacket as if preparing his body for a fight.
Riku finally spoke, staring at the neighborhood through the side window. "It's like driving inside a poorly told secret."
And then... screams. High-pitched, trembling. It sounded like a woman. Screaming for help, for rescue, for something no one there could see. The sound came from somewhere ahead, reverberating between the buildings as if the very concrete were crying for help.
But it was another voice that cut the tension. A beam of light appeared from a third-floor balcony. A white circle crossing the street and illuminating the vans for brief seconds. The flashlight trembled in the hands of the old woman who wielded it — Obasan Komachi, wrapped in a gray kimono that reflected the light like fog. Her hair tied up, her forehead damp with sweat.
"Children! Don't go that way!" she shouted, her voice hoarse as if she hadn't spoken for hours. "Death... evil is on Earth!" She stared at the young people for an eternal instant. Then the window slammed shut. A silence heavier than before took its place.
The group stood motionless for an instant.
"That was pretty specific..." murmured Jin, a little awkwardly.
Kazuki moved forward, his eyes returning to the street ahead. "Those screams didn't come from her. They're close."
Daisuke was already opening the door. "I'm not letting anyone scream alone. Let's go."
Oliver followed with quick steps. Hiroito right behind.
"If death is here," said Jin, sighing and gripping the bat firmly, "then let it see who it's messing with."
They continued. Pulse racing. Eyes alert. And without looking back.
Turning the corner, the Kibo van's headlights cut through the darkness and found the trail. Blood, fresh and scattered, marked the wall and trickled from the sidewalk into a narrow alley. A strange silence hung in the air. The screams had ceased, but left a phantom echo in their memory.
The van braked. Before the engine silenced, Kazuki, Daisuke, Oliver, Hiroito, and Jin had already gotten out. None of them spoke loudly, but their eyes exchanged questions they didn't yet dare to voice.
"This is too strange..." murmured Jin, pressing the improvised bat against his palm.
"Let's go," Kazuki led the way, with Daisuke already at his side.
A few meters away, turning into the alley, one could only see a woman's legs, stretched out, wearing light jeans. The image seemed frozen, as if the world had pressed pause.
Right behind, the band's van screeched its brakes. Riku was the first to jump out. "What the hell is this...?" he said, running to join the group.
Mayra got out right after, her eyes wide. "Did you hear that too? Someone was screaming for help!"
Shun said nothing. He just followed Riku, his body already tense like a spring about to break. But before they could get closer, the legs were pulled into the alley as if by invisible hands. A dry, abrupt drag, as if the world regretted letting them see that.
Kazuki and Daisuke ran without hesitation. Daisuke growled like a dog unleashed. "NOW!"
Kazuki only said one word. "Fast."
Right behind came Hiroito, Oliver, and Jin, their eyes wide, their steps quick. None of them thought twice. They were entering the unknown. The alley swallowed the five of them like a hungry mouth. The light from the vans no longer reached, and the sound of their own footsteps seemed muffled, swallowed by something beyond silence. The shadow inside had movement, but no direction — like living smoke.
Kazuki felt it first. A metallic, old, almost acidic smell. Daisuke stopped walking. The sound of something damp... scratching. Hiroito pulled Jin by the shoulder. "Look at that..."
The alley seemed to narrow with each step. The walls, previously cold, exuded moisture and rust, as if breathing. Then, a sound — not a roar, but something lower. A grinding from within the flesh, as if something was being dragged inside itself. Oliver froze in place. Jin too.
The darkness was not just an absence of light. It was active. It moved. And in the middle of it... something stared at them. Not with eyes. With slits. As if the shadow itself opened holes to see. There was no clear form, but movement. A broken outline that oscillated between legs and claws. Short bristles vibrated in the air, as if feeling the space.
Hiroito swallowed hard. "That... is it alive?"
The answer came in sound. A scream — or what most closely resembled one. It didn't seem to come from a throat, but from the concrete itself, from the walls, from within the bones. A sound that seemed to gnaw at the spine, like glass cracking inside the soul.
Kazuki took a step forward instinctively, but his body hesitated. Oliver held his arm, his eyes fixed on the form that distorted in the darkness. The shadow rose, or stretched. Its shape wasn't clear, but it was real. It pulsed with a palpable hunger. Its eyes fixed on them with a chilling intensity, and a bubbling sound emerged from its outline. And then... it advanced.