John sat slumped in his commander's room at the outpost, surrounded by the clutter of mission reports, empty coffee cups, and the lingering antiseptic scent from his recent hospital stay. His desk was a mess, reflecting the state of his mind—scattered, frustrated, and running on fumes. He rubbed his temples, trying to focus on the latest report, but his eyes kept drifting to the monitor displaying his bank account. The balance was still zero. No payments. No acknowledgment of the work he had put in.
John clenched his jaw, a flicker of genuine anger breaking through his usual facade. He had risked his life, and now the bureaucratic nonsense was holding up his pay. The outpost's bills were piling up, and the stress of it all gnawed at him like a constant itch he couldn't scratch.
With a sigh, he tapped his comms. "Rapi, can you come in here for a second?"
Rapi entered promptly, her professional demeanor a stark contrast to the disarray of John's office. She carried herself with a quiet authority, her rifle slung neatly over her shoulder. "What's the issue, Commander?" she asked, her tone polite but edged with a hint of expectation—The short amount of time she had spent with John left her knowing well enough to brace for something irritating.
John pointed to the screen, his frustration bubbling over. "I've submitted all the mission reports, but nothing's come through. No payments. What's the holdup?"
Rapi moved closer, pulling up her own device and typing swiftly as she checked the system. After a moment, she sighed, her expression shifting to one of resigned annoyance. "The central government hasn't accepted the reports because our team hasn't been assigned a squad name."
John blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "You've got to be kidding me. I assigned a name—what's the problem?"
Rapi scrolled through the logs, her face contorting in exasperation as she found the issue. "Your suggested name was… 42069-bo0tyslayrZ," she said, her voice flat with disbelief.
John leaned back in his chair, grinning despite himself. "What? It's catchy. Memorable. Rolls off the tongue."
Rapi's glare was sharp enough to cut steel. "It's juvenile, inappropriate, and it was rejected. Along with all your other suggestions."
John's grin only widened, using humor to mask his growing irritation. "Alright, alright. How about 'Thund3rTh1gh5-R-Us'?"
Rapi's face remained impassive, her patience visibly wearing thin. "No."
Undeterred, John continued, throwing out names like they were half-baked jokes: "AssaultF4rts? BigPimp1n69? SmokersOfTheDevilsLettuce?"
Rapi's eyes narrowed with each absurd suggestion, her fingers tightening around her device. She took a deep breath, clearly restraining herself from letting her full annoyance show. "Commander, these names are not only ridiculous, but they're also the reason we're stuck in this bureaucratic mess. You're making this harder than it needs to be."
John's smile faltered, a brief flash of frustration crossing his face. The reality of the situation—the unpaid missions, the mounting pressure—cut through his usual bravado. He looked down at his cluttered desk, feeling the weight of his own recklessness pressing in. For a moment, he considered arguing, pushing back against the stupid rules and pointless delays. But Rapi's unwavering stare told him she wasn't in the mood for games.
Rapi rubbed her temples, exhaling slowly as she steadied her tone. "I'm just going to enter 'Counters' as the squad name. It's simple, professional, and won't get us flagged by the system. We need to get this sorted and move on."
John shrugged, masking his frustration with a lopsided grin. "Fine. Go ahead. But for the record, 'Bo0tyslayrZ' was destined for greatness."
As Rapi finished entering the new squad name, John let out a weary sigh, the tension in his shoulders barely easing. He glanced back at his crutches leaning against the desk and the mess of reports that still demanded his attention. But right now, all he wanted was to get out of this room and clear his head. His ribs still slightly ached with every breath, and the thought of sitting here any longer was unbearable.
John looked at Rapi, who was already organizing her next steps with characteristic efficiency. "Rapi, since I'm still not exactly up to running around, can you handle collecting the payments and sorting out the supplies we need for the outpost? I'd do it, but…" he gestured vaguely at his bandaged legs and crutches.
Rapi nodded, professional as ever, though a faint hint of concern flickered in her eyes as she glanced at his injuries. "Of course, Commander. I'll get everything in order. I'll bring back the receipts so you can see exactly how the funds are being used."
John waved a dismissive hand, a tired smile tugging at his lips. "No need for that. I trust you. Get what we need, and make sure we're stocked up on everything—ammo, medical supplies, whatever we're running low on. And hey, get yourself something nice while you're at it. Consider it a bonus for dealing with my nonsense."
Rapi's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the uncharacteristic gesture. She hesitated, her professional instincts clashing with the unexpected kindness. "I appreciate that, Commander, but I'd rather keep things transparent."
John chuckled softly, the sound rough around the edges but genuine. "Rapi, if there's anyone here I don't have to worry about misusing funds, it's you. Besides, after all the headaches I've given you today, it's the least I can do. That's an order"
Rapi gave a small, appreciative nod, still maintaining her composed demeanor. "Thank you, Commander. I'll make sure everything's sorted."
John grabbed his crutches, wincing slightly as he pulled himself upright. The pain flared briefly, but he gritted his teeth, determined to push through. "I'm gonna take a walk around the base, work on this whole recovery thing. Sitting around all day's not doing me any favors."
Rapi watched him carefully, her expression softening as she saw him struggle to move. "Take it easy out there. The last thing we need is you pushing yourself too hard."
John flashed her a lopsided grin, determined not to let his injuries define him. "Don't worry about me. I've got plenty of stubbornness to keep me going." He gave her a half-hearted salute with one crutch and hobbled toward the door.
John gritted his teeth as he stepped outside into the open area of the outpost, the cold air biting at his skin. He was determined to push himself today, crutches be damned. The sunlight felt good on his face, a stark contrast to the harsh, sterile lights of the hospital and his cluttered office. He took a few shaky steps, feeling the strain in his legs with each movement, but the stubbornness in him refused to quit. He had to rebuild his strength, one painful step at a time.
Every part of his body protested, but he forced himself to keep moving, testing the limits of his endurance. He did light exercises—small lunges, squats, anything to get his blood flowing and remind himself he was still in control. The pain was sharp and constant, but it grounded him, kept him focused. He breathed through it, pushing forward with every wobbly step.
As he made his way around the perimeter, John found himself near the massive elevator that led to the Ark below. As he stared at it, another memory pushed its way to the surface—of his second meeting with Rapi and Anis. He stopped and leaned against the rail, his mind slipping back to the day he first met Rapi and Anis at this very spot.
The doors slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing the vast, dimly lit space of the elevator. John stepped in on crutches, moving with a confident stride despite the injuries. He entered the room, his eyes landing on Rapi and Anis, waiting near the other end of the elevator. Rapi stood at attention, her posture immaculate, while Anis leaned casually against the wall, her arms crossed and her expression somewhere between boredom and mild annoyance.
John approached them, his demeanor calm but his mind already calculating how to handle this delicate introduction. He'd been briefed by Andersen, but now it was time to tell his new team the truth.
"Rapi, Anis," John greeted, his tone level but tinged with an underlying seriousness that caught their attention.
Rapi nodded, her expression respectful but guarded. "Commander," she acknowledged, eyes sharp and assessing.
John spoke "there's something important you both need to know before we head up to the outpost."
Rapi and Anis exchanged glances, Rapi's face stoic while Anis's showed a spark of curiosity mixed with impatience.
John took a breath, his expression hardening as he decided to cut straight to the point. "I'm a sorcerer. Andersen's assigned you to work with me for the foreseeable future, and this information stays between us. You're not to mention it to anyone, not even among yourselves unless we're alone. Understood?"
Anis stared at him, blinking in disbelief before breaking into a laugh. "Oh, come on. That's got to be a joke, right? A sorcerer? You? Did Andersen put you up to this?"
John's face remained serious, and Rapi's expression didn't change. The room's tension thickened as Anis's laughter faded, realizing they weren't playing around. She turned to Rapi, searching for some hint of the joke, but Rapi's calm, accepting demeanor only deepened her confusion.
"You're serious?" Anis asked, her voice edged with disbelief. "Rapi, you're buying this? Are you two in on some kind of prank?"
Rapi's gaze remained steady, her posture unwavering. "It's no prank, Anis. I've encountered sorcerers before."
Anis's brow furrowed, her skepticism turning to outright doubt. "Sorcerers are just stories. You're telling me he's… what, some kind of magic user? And you expect me to just believe it because you say so?"
John sighed, sensing that words alone wouldn't cut it. He needed to prove it, especially to Anis, whose brash nature wouldn't be satisfied without something tangible. Despite the lingering pain in his body and the still-healing injuries, he pushed himself forward, determination burning in his eyes.
He stepped up to Anis, whose expression was a mix of defiance and uncertainty. Without a word, John grabbed the back of her collar, lifting her off the ground effortlessly, despite the fact that she was a Nikke—a cyborg weighing far more than any ordinary human. The strain rippled through his muscles, but he didn't let it show. Anis's eyes went wide, her mouth opening in shock as she dangled, her feet hovering about a foot above the floor.
Rapi watched, her calm demeanor never wavering, while Anis's expression turned from disbelief to stunned realization. John held her there for a moment longer, his grip steady and unwavering, before setting her back down with a controlled release.
Anis stumbled slightly as her feet touched the ground, staring at John with a mix of awe and confusion. She had felt the raw, unnatural strength behind that lift—something no ordinary human could muster, especially not in his condition.
"Believe me now?" John asked, his voice calm but firm, meeting Anis's wide-eyed gaze with unwavering confidence.
John continued his slow, painful laps around the perimeter of the outpost, each step a small victory against the agony pulsing through his legs. The exercises were grueling, but they were necessary—he needed to feel some semblance of control, no matter how fleeting. He was lost in his thoughts, replaying the flashback of his first meeting with Rapi and Anis, when a familiar figure caught his eye in the distance.
Anis was leaning casually against a railing, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she watched him struggle through his exercises. She waved, her usual cheeky grin plastered on her face. John waved back, though his movements were slower, more labored. As he approached, she sauntered over, her expression a mix of amusement and curiosity.
"Hey there, Commander. Didn't think I'd catch you out here doing rehab" Anis teased, her eyes scanning him with a mixture of skepticism and subtle concern. "You look like you're about to keel over."
John chuckled, though it was strained. "Gotta get back on my feet somehow. Can't let Rapi have all the fun ordering you around."
Anis laughed, but there was still that lingering doubt in her eyes—one that had been there since he'd first told her he was a sorcerer. She leaned in closer, folding her arms with a mischievous smirk. "You know, I've been thinking… about that whole 'sorcerer' thing you keep claiming. I'm still not buying it, John. You could just be some male version of a Nikke, right? Who's to say you're not loaded up with cybernetics or something?"
John sighed, leaning against a nearby wall to catch his breath, his body still aching from the exertion. He knew this conversation was coming—Anis wasn't the type to just accept something without proof. "You and I both know that's not possible. Male Nikkes don't exist because of brain compatibility issues"
Anis shrugged, still not fully convinced. "Then maybe you're just some high-tech trickster. I mean, I've seen some crazy mods out there."
John shook his head, his expression softening as he met her gaze. "Sorcery isn't what you think. It's not like the movies, Anis. I'm not about to pull a rabbit out of a hat or start flying around the outpost. It's… different. And I get why you're skeptical. But I can show you a cool little demonstration to prove it."
Anis raised an eyebrow, curious but still wary. "Show me what, exactly? Some magic trick?"
John smiled faintly, then took a few steps back, wincing as he steadied himself. "No tricks. I'm going to demonstrate a barrier technique. It's simple, but it'll get the point across."
"Merge from darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."
Before Anis could respond or ask what he meant, John's form began to fade, vanishing from the top down as if he were sinking into an invisible pool. Anis's eyes widened in shock as she watched his head, shoulders, and finally his legs disappear into thin air, leaving nothing behind. She blinked, stunned, her mouth hanging open as she looked around, searching for any sign of him.
"John?" she called, her voice edged with a mix of awe and confusion. "Where the hell did you—?"
Suddenly, John's hand appeared mid-air, reaching out of nowhere and grabbing her wrist. Anis yelped as she was yanked forward, her entire body pulled into what felt like a tear in reality itself. She stumbled, her vision blurring for a moment as she was dragged into an invisible barrier that encased the space around them.
Inside, everything looked normal at first glance—the familiar layout of the outpost, the same railings, the same sky—but the colors were muted, as if the world had been dipped in shadow. It was as if nighttime had fallen abruptly, casting an eerie, surreal glow over everything. The air felt different too, thicker, and her senses were heightened to the point where she could almost hear her own heartbeat echoing in the silence.
Anis spun around, disoriented, but the outpost beyond the barrier remained in broad daylight. It was like they were caught in a pocket of time that existed separately from the rest of the world. She turned back to John, who was standing calmly, watching her reaction with a knowing look.
"This," John said, his voice echoing slightly in the strange space, "is a barrier. It's a basic technique. Here we are invisible to non-sorcerers. We can see them, but nobody outside can see us."
Anis's mouth opened and closed as she tried to process what she was experiencing. She reached out, her hand brushing against an invisible wall that rippled like water. The realization hit her hard.
John watched her closely, reading every shift in her expression. "Believe me now?" he asked, his tone gentle but firm, knowing he had proven his point.
Anis turned to him, her earlier doubts evaporating as she stared at the impossible reality surrounding them. "Point proven," she admitted, her voice hushed and full of grudging respect. "You weren't kidding."
John dismissed the barrier with a simple gesture, and the world around them snapped back to normal—sunlight flooding the space, the muted tones vanishing in an instant. Anis blinked, adjusting to the sudden brightness, still trying to wrap her head around what she had just witnessed.
John smiled faintly, the strain of the demonstration catching up to him as he leaned back against the wall for support. "Sorcery isn't just tricks or parlor games, Anis. It's real, and it's dangerous. That's why we have to keep this between us."
Anis nodded slowly, finally beginning to understand the weight of what John had been saying all along.
"Yeah," Anis said, still slightly dazed but more convinced than ever. "I get it now."
Rapi stepped out of the elevator with a focused stride, her arms loaded with supplies. She had just returned from her supply run, bringing back everything the outpost needed to keep running smoothly. As she left the elevator, her eyes were immediately drawn to John, who was on the ground doing pushups, each movement a visible strain on his still-recovering body. Anis was perched on a nearby ledge, sipping on a soda and shouting encouragements as if she were watching the finals of a sporting event.
"Come on, Commander! Push through! You've got this!" Anis cheered, her voice echoing through the training area. She watched with a grin as John powered through each rep, his determination evident despite the pain etched on his face.
Rapi shook her head slightly, both amused and mildly exasperated by the scene. But before she could say anything, a new voice piped up from behind her, bright and chipper.
"Wow! Look at you go, Commander! I didn't expect a workout session right out of the gate!"
Rapi turned to see the source of the voice—Neon, a Nikke with striking silver hair tied with a blue ribbon, bright green eyes framed by round glasses and red eyeliner, and an outfit that was a mix of military chic and sailor schoolgirl uniform. Her hat sat jauntily on her head, and her demeanor was bubbly and enthusiastic, a stark contrast to the serious tone of the outpost. Neon was practically bouncing on her feet, her shotgun slung across her back like it was just another fashion accessory.
"Neon, meet Commander John and Anis," Rapi introduced, setting the supplies down and stepping aside. "Neon's joining us as the newest member of the Counters."
John pushed himself up, still catching his breath, and gave Neon a once-over. "Welcome aboard, Neon. We could always use another set of hands—especially one that's good with firepower."
Neon's face lit up with a delighted smile. "Oh, you betcha! Firepower's my specialty! The bigger, the better!" She giggled, her eyes sparkling as she spoke. She paused, looking around conspiratorially before leaning in with a mischievous grin. "I'm also a spy, sent by Elysion's CEO, Ingrid. She instructed me to assist you and the commander, after which I am to report back on everything, especially if sorcery is used. That is what a spy does, no?"
Anis nearly choked on her drink, sputtering as she stared at Neon with wide eyes. "Wait, did you just say you're a spy? You're not supposed to just… announce that, you know!"
Rapi's eyes narrowed slightly, though she remained composed. "You realize that being a spy is generally something you keep to yourself, right? Discretion is… important."
Neon just laughed, a carefree sound that echoed around the room. "Oh, don't worry! I won't tell anyone anything too important. Besides, I'm really just here for the guns. All the secrets and spying stuff is just a bonus!"
John exchanged a glance with Anis, who was still recovering from her shock, and then looked back at Neon, unsure whether to laugh or be concerned. He finally settled on a bemused smile. "Well, at least you're honest about it."
Rapi crossed her arms, watching Neon carefully but unable to suppress a faint smile. "Just keep your enthusiasm focused, alright?"
Neon winked, spinning on her heel with a bounce in her step. "You got it! This is going to be so much fun!"
John leaned back, shaking his head as he looked at his ragtag team. "Guess we're going to have our hands full, huh?"
The sun was setting over the ruined landscape, casting long, jagged shadows across the desolate battlefield. The air was thick with the stench of dust and decay, mingled with the faint scent of charred metal and scorched earth. Amidst the wreckage of twisted steel and crumbling concrete, the white-haired Nikke knelt alone, her pale blue eyes wide with frustration and desperation. She was trying, once again, to activate her cursed technique—her fingers trembling as she willed the energy to manifest, to bend space to her command.
Nothing happened.
Her brow furrowed, beads of sweat trickling down her forehead as she focused harder, pouring every ounce of her fractured will into the attempt. She could feel the faintest flicker of cursed energy, a dim, sputtering light in her mind, but it was like trying to grasp smoke. Her right prefrontal cortex—the very core of her powers—had been damaged in the brutal clash with John, and now her once-unbreakable techniques were slipping through her fingers, beyond her control.
She let out a sharp, angry breath, slamming her fist against the ground, sending a small cloud of dust into the air. Her body ached from the wounds she had sustained, but the deeper pain was the loss of her power, the very thing that had made her feel invincible. She tried again, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the spot before her, willing space itself to fold and bend to her will.
Still, nothing.
She gritted her teeth, the frustration boiling over as she tried again and again, her energy flickering weakly before sputtering out. Every attempt was weaker than the last, her technique slipping further and further away from her grasp. She was trapped in a cycle of desperation and failure, her mind racing with fear and anger.
She didn't notice the sound of footsteps crunching softly against the gravel behind her.
A robed figure approached, moving silently through the debris with an eerie, unhurried grace. The figure was shrouded in a dark cloak that obscured their form, the fabric trailing slightly on the ground, whispering against the dust. Traditional Japanese sandals peeked out from beneath the hem of the robe, the wooden soles clacking softly with each measured step. The figure's face was hidden beneath the hood, their features lost in shadow, leaving only the faint outline of a chin and a subtle gleam of eyes that watched the struggling Nikke with quiet interest.
The robed figure moved closer, seemingly unnoticed by the Nikke, whose attention was consumed by her futile efforts to reclaim her powers. She was too focused on the flickering, unreliable energy in her mind, her senses dulled by frustration and pain.
When the figure was just a few feet away, they paused, standing still for a moment, as if observing the Nikke's fruitless attempts. Then, in a voice that was calm, soft, and unsettlingly gentle, they spoke.
"Do you need help?"
The words cut through the air like a knife, sharp and sudden. The Nikke flinched, her head snapping around, her eyes widening in terror as she finally registered the presence behind her. She scrambled back, her breath hitching in her throat, her heart pounding with sudden, overwhelming fear. She had been too caught up in her own anguish to notice anyone approaching, and now, the robed figure stood before her, an enigma cloaked in darkness.
"I only wish to help," the figure said, their voice remaining calm, almost kind, but carrying a subtle undercurrent that sent a chill through the Nikke's veins. "You seem… troubled."
The Nikke's breath came in ragged gasps, her eyes darting between the figure and the path behind her, calculating her chances of escape. But she knew, instinctively, that running would do no good. There was something about this stranger—something that made the air feel heavier, more oppressive. She could feel it pressing down on her, a cold weight that stifled her every thought.
She tried to speak, to demand who they were, what they wanted, but the words caught in her throat, choked off by her own fear. The robed figure didn't move closer, but their presence was suffocating, as if they were standing right beside her, whispering in her ear.
"Why struggle alone?" the figure continued, their tone almost soothing, but with an edge that made the Nikke's skin crawl. "I can see your pain. I can see what you've lost. Let me help you… reclaim it."