The dusk spread like ash across the Glassen Belt sky, casting everything in an orange haze. Jazz and Elena were still holding hands — not out of affection, but something more fragile. Understanding. Shared breath. Unspoken conversation passed through their eyes like a silent truce carved in stone.
Then—
"Hey! Jazz, there you are! And—oh wow, is that the straining beast you took down?"
Tank came barreling down the broken track rails like a thunderclap of energy, his heavy boots thudding against gravel and iron. The moment his voice broke the air, both Jazz and Elena jolted apart like magnets snapped from each other. It wasn't embarrassment. It was instinct. Survival.
Jazz shoved his hands into his coat pockets, eyes rolling.
Tank skidded to a halt in front of them. "Yo, I'm starving. I was thinking tacos—wait, wait… Who's she?" His gaze landed on Elena, confused at first—until it clicked.
"Hold up. I know you… You're that transfer girl from Tachibana. Elena, right?"
Elena gave a wary nod, her breath still shallow from earlier. The bruises across her knees and arms had darkened into blotches of purple-blue beneath the dim light.
Tank blinked. "Damn. What the hell were you doing out on the outskirts of District 3 looking like that?"
He tilted his head, now grinning wide. "Wait a minute… I get it now."
He jabbed a playful finger at Jazz's chest. "You sly bastard. Jazz has a girlfriend!"
Lisa, who'd been quietly trailing behind Tank, gasped in delight. "Jazz has a girlfriend! Jazz has a girlfriend! When do we get to meet her?"
Jazz flinched like he'd been slapped. "I don't have a damn girlfriend! She's just a girl I saved from a straining beast!"
Elena stood stiffly, unsure whether to be insulted or relieved. "That's… mostly accurate," she said, her voice low.
Tank narrowed his eyes, noticing the way Elena winced and shifted her weight to one leg.
"Hey, Elena, was it? Don't move—your ankle's definitely shot. You're flinching every step."
He offered a hand and gave her a look too kind to ignore.
"Let me carry you. My granny, Marla, can patch you up. She's better than any med clinic in District 3."
Elena hesitated. The pride to decline clashed against the pain in her bones. In the end, she nodded.
Tank grinned. "Alright, squad. Let's head out before the sun goes down."
Jazz groaned. "Jesus, what a pain."
They walked the long path home together, each step echoing through the cracked concrete and broken glass of the city's forgotten edge. Abandoned vending machines sparked weakly in the corner of alleys. Hologram billboards flickered out protest slogans from twenty years ago. The sour smell of iron and ozone hung in the air.
Elena broke the silence. "So, Tank… what do you think of your friend Jazz here?"
Tank glanced at her sideways. "Hmm… Rude, antisocial, borderline lunatic. Definitely weird."
Elena laughed softly — her first real laugh that day.
Jazz walked a few steps behind, silent. Not because of the insult, but because the hairs on the back of his neck had begun to rise. Something was off.
The world had gone too quiet.
No scavenger birds. No wind. No clicking insects.
Just… nothing.
He stopped abruptly.
"Tank."
"Yeah?"
"Jump to that rooftop. Now."
Tank blinked. "Huh? Why?"
"Just do it."
Without question, Tank bent his knees, shatterkinesis humming through his bones. The ground beneath him cracked with a burst of pressure as he vaulted up, the shockwave rumbling in a wave of force. Elena clutched his back tightly, startled by the lift.
Jazz took two steps forward.
"Angel Swords."
From the dirt, long spears of jagged stone erupted — precisely measured, rising in a two-meter radius like the teeth of a giant trap. Jazz's hands trembled subtly, not from fear… from control. Precision.
"Alright. That's enough. Come out," he shouted into the silence. "You're starting to piss me off."
Nothing.
Then — a sound.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Polite. Deliberate. Mocking.
"Well," came a voice, smooth as silk dipped in venom. "You're sharper than you were back then."
Jazz narrowed his eyes. The figure that stepped out was dapper, refined. A long charcoal trench coat flared behind a tailored black suit. Gloves, polished boots, a subtle silver ring around his neck. His hair — obsidian, neatly swept back — shimmered slightly in the dying light.
Jazz blinked. "I don't know you."
"Understandable. It's been years," the man said, stepping forward. Every motion was art — posture straight, stride even, voice never above a conversational murmur. "But I know you. It's me, Levi."
Jazz froze.
And now he saw it — the boy from Ashen. Levi. Older. Colder. Still alive.
"Levi…" Jazz whispered. His guard dropped for half a heartbeat.
Tank jumped down from the roof with Elena still clinging to him.
"Whoa. You got tall," Tank said, trying to sound casual.
Levi smiled. "And you… less bratty, though your style is still loud."
Jazz stepped forward. "Okay, cut the reunion. Why have you been following us?"
Levi's eyes gleamed. "I've been watching you for a month. Not out of malice. I had… reasons."
"You better have a damn good one," Jazz growled.
"I do. But not here," Levi said, turning away. "We'll talk. Privately."
Jazz narrowed his eyes. "Fine. But at least show your real body."
Levi paused — genuinely impressed. "Ah. So you noticed."
Jazz smirked. "The devil's in the details. My V-Iris detects thermal signatures. You're not emitting anything. That's a projection. The real you is somewhere nearby."
Levi chuckled softly. "Remarkable. You were always perceptive, but now? Razor sharp."
He began to dissolve — the illusion of his body peeling away like dust in wind.
Then, with no sound, he reappeared behind Jazz. No teleportation burst. No flash.
Just there.
His voice was a whisper, meant only for Jazz.
"It's time to let go of this little fantasy, Jazz. The world's ending… and you're wasting time pretending it isn't."
And then — gone again.
Elena clutched Tank's shoulder. "W-What the hell was that?"
Jazz exhaled slowly, eyes wide but grounded. "That… was Levi. One of us. Another Vector. And he's been watching."
They stood there in silence. Jazz's mind raced, every calculation unraveling in spirals.
"Tank," he said.
"Yeah?"
"We need to get home. Now. Elena needs help… and we need answers."
10 Minutes Later – Marla's House, Glassen Belt]
Tank kicked open the gate. "We're home! And we brought a guest!"
Jazz shouted into the living room. "Hey, old hag—we need your help."
"Is that any way to ask for a favor, you damn brat?" Marla's voice barked from the kitchen.
"Granny," Tank said, entering with Elena in his arms. "She's hurt. Sprained ankle, we think."
Marla took one long drag from her cigarette, exhaled through her nose, and squinted at Elena.
"Alright. Set her down."
Elena winced as she was gently placed on a tatami mat. Marla knelt, fingers surprisingly gentle as she examined the swelling.
Then her face changed. That look—the terrifying one—like she was about to declare a battlefield surgery.
"Oh no," she said gravely. "We might have to amputate. Better take off your socks so they don't get ruined."
Elena turned pale. "N-no, please—don't cut it off!"
Marla burst into a cackle. "Relax. You'll live. I'll wrap it tight. Keep off it, use ice. You'll be fine."
Elena sighed in relief. "Thank you… I really appreciate it."
Marla stood, hands on hips. "That'll be 7,000 yen."
Elena blinked. "For what?!"
"Bandages aren't free, sweetheart. Not in this economy."
Elena pulled out her wallet with trembling hands. "I've only got 3,000…"
Marla snatched it eagerly. "Deal!"
Elena sulked. "There goes my food budget for the month…"
"You didn't have to pay her," Jazz muttered.
"It's fine," Elena said. "I'll just… be broke. See you guys at school."
She limped out into the night.
[Later That Night]
Jazz stood in the living room, watching static flicker on an old television. Marla was nursing a drink and pretending not to be worried.
"Granny," Jazz finally said. "We need to talk. About Levi."
He told her everything.
Marla sat still. Then she exhaled.
"Yeah, kid. It's true. The Vireborn speak now. And they've got leaders. Real monsters. But that's not the worst part."
She looked him dead in the eye.
"Ashen's plan was never to let you go."
Jazz froze.
"What?"
"You think they'd let two of their top bio-engineered kids walk free? Hell no. They wanted you out here. Wanted you to see how bad the world is. So you'd come crawling back. Out of the nine that escaped… three already did. The rest, they'll drag back by force. You and Tank were supposed to be next. Until I found you."
"You… what?"
"I'm ex-military. Had clearance. When I found you two… you became my mission. I trained you. Protected you. Because of orders.
Jazz's lips parted, but no words came.
From the hallway, a quiet gasp—Tank.
He'd heard everything.
Without a word, he turned and ran.
"Tank! Wait!" Lisa called after him.
Jazz stood frozen, hand on the doorknob. The house was quiet now. Too quiet.
He opened the door.
"You told me your mission, old hag," he said softly. "Now it's time for me to do mine."
He stepped outside.
Collapsed.
His heart pounded. Sweat poured. He dropped to his knees, vomiting in the grass where he fell in distraught. Tears followed—silent, fierce.
The truth hurt worse than anything the Vireborn ever could.
"If Levi's right… then freedom was never real. And I'm done pretending it was."