The surface above the destroyed lab was no paradise — just dirt, concrete, and makeshift tents flapping against the wind.
One of them, larger than the rest, buzzed with tension.
Inside, Alia stood silently beside Kai, her arms protectively close to her brother, who sat motionless on a medical cot. His feet didn't even touch the ground.
The tent flap burst open with a gust of wind — and a mountain of a man stormed in.
Taural.
Broad-shouldered, wrapped in a form-fitting black top, and sporting a thick beard that merged into his powerful jawline. A single gold monocle gleamed over his right eye like a badge of rank. The floor almost trembled with his footsteps.
"ALIA!!"
His voice was thunder. The tent canvas quivered.
Alia stood straighter — though tall for a woman, she still looked small under Taural's towering frame.
"What the hell were you thinking teleporting without command?! AGAIN?!"
He wasn't just yelling — he was fuming. Each word landed like a hammer.
"You don't just use up precious charge like that on a whim — we had protocols! Backup timing! Tether ranges!"
She didn't reply. Not at first. She just held her ground.
Taural's beard twitched as he gritted his teeth. The officers nearby dared not even breathe.
After a tense, boiling silence, Alia finally answered — voice quiet, but firm:
"It was for the safety… of my brother."
Her words hung in the air.
Taural blinked. His monocle fogged for a second. He straightened, arms folding, the fury draining slowly from his face — replaced by a heavy sigh.
"You're lucky we didn't all get scrambled mid-jump," he muttered, rubbing his forehead. "Don't do it again, Alia. Ever."
Then, his sharp eyes turned toward Kai.
"And this… is the boy?"
Kai didn't even look up. He stared blankly at the floor, eyes dull — like cracked glass that never reflected light.
"Hey, kid," Taural said, crouching a little to meet him. "What's your name?"
A slow moment passed before Kai finally spoke, voice dry and flat.
"Subject 12."
Taural flinched slightly. His jaw clenched, but he held his composure.
He took out a paper — a simple white card with four large letters written in black marker.
"Alright, can you read this for me?"
Kai stared.
And then, after a pause:
"…Something."
Taural nodded, trying not to show too much reaction. But something in his eyes darkened with concern.
Because the card said: "Ball."
A basic, round object.
Something every child should know.
Behind him, Alia dropped to her knees, covering her mouth with both hands, trying not to make a sound. Her body trembled. Her breath hitched.
"He's not the same…" she whispered into her palms. "He's not my brother…"
Tears streaked down her cheeks. The soldier, the warrior — now just a broken sister watching a ghost sit in her brother's skin.
Taural glanced between the two. His thick brows furrowed.
Then, with a slow exhale, he pressed his finger to the earpiece in his right ear.
"Alright. Time to wrap it up. Get the remaining survivors gathered at the designated area. Full headcount."
He looked one last time at Kai, who hadn't moved at all.
"Let's hope it's not too late for him."
The flap of the tent rustled.
Boots stepped into the temporary command space. Calm, deliberate. Ice still lingered at the edge of Ruki's heels — faint frost on the ground from where she had come up from the lab's underground depths.
Her long pink hair shifted as she tilted her head, taking in the scene.
Alia sat on a bench near the cot, her eyes swollen red, fingers still trembling faintly.
Taural stood by a table, scanning reports with a hardened face, the gold monocle catching flickers of light from the overhead lamp.
Ruki narrowed her eye, crossing her arms.
"What the hell did you do, Taural? Did you make her cry again?"
Her tone was sharp — accusatory. Ice laced every word, even though her voice was soft.
Taural didn't flinch. He looked over at her, his deep voice rumbling low:
"Not me. That's her brother."
He gestured subtly to Kai, who still sat unmoving on the cot, staring blankly at the floor like he wasn't really there.
Ruki's face softened — just a little — before she returned her focus to Taural.
"She used her teleport for him. You're mad."
"I'm mad about the risk. But I understand why she did it," Taural said simply. "Don't look at me like I'm the villain here. You want details? Ask her yourself. I've got cleanup to do."
With that, he grabbed his coat and walked out, heavy boots thudding as the tent flap swung shut behind him.
Ruki stood still for a second. Then turned.
She found Alia outside, standing near the side of the tent under the gray overcast sky, arms wrapped around herself. Wind teased her short blonde hair. Her back was to Ruki, but her quiet sniffles betrayed everything.
Ruki approached slowly.
"Hey," she said softly.
Alia turned just slightly, then looked away again, trying to wipe her face. Her voice cracked as she spoke:
"He's not the same, Ruki. That boy… it's like… it's like I found a stranger."
Her voice broke. Her shoulders shook.
"What did they do to him…?"
Ruki didn't reply. She simply stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her.
Alia hesitated for a moment — and then sank into the embrace.
She cried, quietly now. Trembling hands gripping Ruki's sleeves, her body trying to hold together even as her heart splintered.
"He didn't even remember the word 'ball,'" she whispered. "He used to laugh. He used to smile. Now there's just… nothing."
Ruki didn't speak. She just held her — her usual cold demeanor melting in this moment of grief. Her breath was warm against Alia's shoulder. A silent reassurance.
Eventually, Alia's breathing steadied. The tears slowed. She was still trembling, but her body relaxed just enough to stand again.
Ruki pulled back, brushing away the last of the tears from Alia's cheek.
"We got him out. That's the first step."
"But what if… what if he never comes back?" Alia whispered.
Ruki looked at her, eye serious and calm.
"Then we find a way. One piece at a time."