The countdown glowed in Ren's vision like a particularly aggressive game UI that wouldn't dismiss: 46:52
"I've had nightmares that started better than this," Ren muttered, shoving the last of his possessions into a bag that looked like it had been crafted by someone who'd heard descriptions of backpacks third-hand. "And most of those involved showing up to class naked."
Elanil burst through his door—because knocking was apparently against her religion—already in full combat gear. "Stop talking to yourself and move. We leave in five minutes."
"Five minutes? I haven't even had my existential crisis about cosmic responsibility yet. That's scheduled for at least ten."
She grabbed his half-packed bag, dumped its contents on the bed, and began repacking with military efficiency. "Clothes, no. Clothes, no. Why do you have four of the same shirt?"
"They're different! This one has a stain shaped like disappointment, this one like regret—"
"They're all disappointments. Take these instead." She tossed him gear that actually looked functional. "Reinforced fabric. Won't help against a void beast, but might stop you bleeding out from minor stupidity."
"My stupidity is never minor. I commit to catastrophic or go home."
Despite the banter, his hands shook as he changed. The countdown ticked relentlessly: 46:51
. Less than two days before reality gave up and went home. The crack in the sky had widened during the night, purple light bleeding through like the universe's worst mood lighting.
Rating: 2/10 for apocalypse preparedness, 8/10 for having a beautiful elf pack my underwear.
The courtyard looked like organized chaos had invited its drunk cousin over. Elves rushed everywhere, securing the tree-city against dimensional collapse. Children were being evacuated to lower levels, goods moved to reinforced vaults, and everyone kept glancing at the broken sky with expressions ranging from terror to grim determination.
Their traveling party had assembled near the main platform: Mayfell in traveling robes that somehow made her look even younger, four elite guards in armor that screamed 'we've killed things you can't pronounce,' and Elanil, who'd added extra weapons to her usual loadout.
"Subtle," Ren observed. "Nothing says 'stealth mission' like enough sharp objects to arm a small country."
"We're not being stealthy," Guard Captain Varos said. He looked like someone had carved an action figure from disapproval and taught it to hold a sword. "We're being fast."
The other guards stared at Ren with expressions he'd seen before—usually in documentaries about people encountering extinct animals. Guard Two (tall, scarred, looked like she benchpressed trees for fun) actually reached out like she might touch him before catching herself.
"Is it true?" she whispered. "You're really human? The last one?"
"Unless there's another idiot who survived dissolving reality by pure cosmic comedy, yes."
"My grandmother's grandmother spoke of humans," Guard Three said, younger than the others but trying to hide it with extra grimness. "I thought they were fairy tales. Like dragons or reasonable tax policy."
"We're about as real as reasonable tax policy," Ren agreed. "So mostly mythical with disappointing reality."
Guard Four, who hadn't spoken yet, just stared with the intensity of someone trying to memorize every detail. It was deeply uncomfortable, like being a zoo exhibit that could talk back.
"Enough gawking," Elanil snapped, stepping between them and Ren. "He's not a museum piece."
"Protective already?" Mayfell observed with a small smile. "How sweet. You're like a hawk deciding whether to eat its prey or make it a pet."
Elanil's face flushed. "I'm doing my duty as assigned guardian—"
"Of course you are." Mayfell's ancient eyes sparkled with mischief despite the world ending around them. "That's why you've checked his travel pack three times and adjusted his armor twice. Pure professional concern."
"The straps were wrong!"
"The straps were fine. But it's endearing watching you fuss. She's only two hundred thirty years old, Ren. Practically your generation by our standards."
Rating: 10/10 for wingman princess, 0/10 for my burning face.
"Can we focus on the apocalypse instead of my love life?" Ren pleaded. "Priorities?"
"Multi-tasking is a valuable skill," Mayfell said serenely. "Varos, are we ready?"
The captain nodded. "The pathway is clear to the forest edge. From there..." He grimaced. "The Mist is advancing faster than predicted. We'll have maybe six hours in the safe zones between surges."
"Then we move." Mayfell stood, and despite her child-like height, authority radiated from her. "Remember—our mission is to reach the coordinates Ren translated. Everything else is secondary."
"Even our lives?" Guard Two asked.
"Especially our lives." Mayfell's expression hardened. "If we fail, there won't be lives left to save."
They moved out in formation: Varos leading, two guards flanking, Mayfell protected in the center with Ren, Elanil at his shoulder like a particularly attractive shadow, and the final guard watching their backs. The bio-luminescent paths through the Great Tree pulsed with urgency, as if the tree itself knew time was running out.
Mission Start: Prevent reality from having a mental breakdown. Party: One child-like princess, one tsundere elf, four guards treating me like a cryptid, and one NEET pretending he knows what he's doing. Rating: 3/10 for survival odds, 10/10 for dramatic irony.