The ground was trembling violently beneath his feet.
Nael ran without thinking, carried by the raw, primal instinct to survive. Around him, the city was quickly sinking into an infernal chaos. It was like hell on Earth. He followed the human tide, this panicked flood that surged through the streets screaming, pushing, and stumbling. The noise was indescribable: screams, sirens, shattering glass, cracking and exploding concrete...
Even the sky seemed to be screaming, torn apart by an ancient, primal anguish.
A tower collapsed just a few blocks away, sending a shockwave that made the windows, the walls, and even Nael's bones tremble. He felt the vibration crawl up through his ankles and dissipated in his body. Shards of glass sliced through the air like blades. A pungent smell of dust, scorched metal, and melted cables filled his nostrils.
It was truly overwhelming.
Nael certainly hadn't expected this when he landed on the ground only moments earlier.
The street beneath him was cracked, geysers of dust erupted from gaping holes, as if the Earth itself was rejecting the buildings that had pierced it. A deep, guttural rumble echoed, and the walls began to crack all at once. Until then, the shockwaves had only brought down one building at a time, but that didn't last long. A few steps away from Nael, a neon sign flickered one last time before shutting off abruptly.
A man screamed beside him, arms raised — a power cable had fallen from the sky and was thrashing violently against the pavement, crackling, scorching the asphalt. Nael dodged just in time, feeling the leftover static electricity raise the hairs on his skin.
He kept running, eyes wide, breath short, shocked at how close he'd come to death.
'That was way too close...'
He narrowly avoided falling debris, leapt over blocks of concrete, slipped on puddles of water...and blood. A metallic taste filled his mouth. His legs ached, his heart pounded in his chest.
He hadn't yet understood the true nature of this world, but that didn't matter right now. The only thing that did was escaping. Escaping...far from here.
Children cried around him as he ran, a woman screamed the name of her daughter, a dog ran in circles, panicked, its leash trailing behind.
Scanning the chaos, something suddenly caught his eye.
To his right, a building — immense, majestic just seconds earlier — was slowly tipping over, groaning with twisting metal.
Nael turned his head, terrified it would fall on him. He then shifted his gaze slightly.
A child, young, was standing directly beneath the building, alone and paralyzed.
Nael thought, he was about to do something completely against everything his instincts screamed at him. A lifetime of caution and calculated decisions had always ruled his actions. But now, none of this would help him to survive.
But before he could move, someone beat him to it.
Another man dashed forward, full speed toward the boy. He yelled something, but Nael couldn't make out the words. He only saw the adult throw himself over the child, arms wide — just seconds before the structure crashed down in a thunderous roar like the end of the world.
A storm of debris rose into the air, followed by a dense cloud of dust.
Nael screamed without realizing it and ran faster, changing direction without thinking. His breath was ragged, his body aching, but he kept going.
He stumbled, nearly fell, got back up — knees bloodied, hands scraped. He couldn't hear anything anymore. Or maybe the world was just screaming so loud that silence no longer existed.
When he reached the place where the child had been, he saw only a mound of concrete, dust, and twisted beams. Panting, Nael dropped to his knees and began to dig through the debris, stone by stone, hands trembling and clumsy.
His fingers bled, dust clung to his skin, but he didn't stop.
Finally, he saw a hand. An adult arm protruded, bloodied and clenched.
Relieved, Nael pushed harder, lifted a rock twice his size, driven by a strength he hadn't known he possessed. The adrenaline was consuming him. He growled, strained, and screamed like a beast — the slab gave way.
Beneath it lay a body. Or rather, two bodies : one sprawled protectively over the other.
The man lay there, broken, his chest pierced by a jagged piece of metal. His face was frozen in an expression both of agony and peace.
But the child...
The child was also there. Motionless, covered in dust, face smudged, with only a few scratches. Somehow alive.
Nael let out a shaky sigh of relief.
He gently moved the man's body aside, almost with reverence, then took the child in his arms. His weight might've been light under normal circumstances, but in the middle of a catastrophe, Nael felt like he was lifting a mountain.
The sirens, which had been deafening, suddenly fell silent. A voice then rang out:
"Proceed to the nearest shelter. I repeat, proceed to the nearest shelter."
Nael looked up. He understood what the voice commanded, even if he had no idea how. But he had no clue where to go. After all, he wasn't even from this world.
But he had no choice. If he wanted to survive, he had to figure it out. Adjusting the unconscious child on his back, he followed the few people still running through the streets, dragging their wounds and fears like he was.
A long moment passed.
Nael kept running. His muscles burned, his mouth was dry. He tasted blood on his tongue, felt sweat stinging his eyes. The people around him were all heading in the same direction — a building still standing at the end of a devastated avenue. Smaller than the towers, but somehow more imposing simply because it was still there.
Dozens of people were rushing inside. Some shouted while others pushed.
Nael yelled:
"Hey! HEY! I've got a kid with me!"
Heads turned. A woman waved him over.
"Hurry!"
He ran faster. Even faster than before. The world was crumbling around him.
Literally.
A building behind him cracked in two, spewing debris. Bodies lay on the ground — some motionless, dead, others moaning, not far behind.
Out of breath, Nael crossed the threshold seconds later. He gently laid the boy on the ground and collapsed beside him, back against the wall, gasping, lungs on fire.
The heavy steel door slammed shut behind them with a thud, plunging them into darkness.
Just before the blast door closed completely, sealing them inside, Nael caught a glimpse of a furious man outside. He was pointing at Nael, shouting, face contorted with rage. Beside him stood a little girl, disoriented, eyes lost in the chaos.
Still panting, adrenaline leaving his body, Nael let out a loud, exhausted sigh.
The people inside — probably a hundred or so — whispered to one another. Some were crying, probably because of the loss of a loved one.
Someone whispered, and a light came on. Then another. Small lamps, timidly, lit up the shelter. The ceiling was low, the walls thick and reinforced. Metal benches lined the sides. Dozens of pale faces sat in silence.
Still stunned, Nael turned toward the child. He watched the poor boy for a moment — his face pale and marked with cuts. It was a miracle he'd survived this long.
Finally, he moved slightly. A finger at first, then an entire arm.
Bit by bit, he sat up slowly, heavy eyelids blinking, eyes still lost.
He looked around, dazed, then stared at Nael.
His eyebrows furrowed slightly.
Nael forced a smile meant to be reassuring. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.
"Finally awake? What's your name?"
The child hesitated. Then answered, voice weak:
"Kim Takashi."
Nael froze.
Kim Takashi...
'Could it really be…'