|Location: Wasteland, Outside & Clear sky|
-OMNISCIENCE-
Settled along the harsh border of the wasteland was a rugged encampment—a mix of people hardened by survival. Most wore worn leather jackets and tight pants, and these clothes bore the marks of countless skirmishes and long days under the sun. Among them, a select few stood out in full mechanical battle suits, sleek armor covering them from neck to toe, humming quietly with hidden power. Around the camp, large tents rose like sentinels, and stalls showcased an array of meticulously arranged artillery and mechanical blades, all silent but ready, waiting for the call to action.
Beneath the relentless blaze of the midday sun, a man in his thirties emerged from the largest tent. His own battle suit gleamed faintly despite the dust and heat, the weight of responsibility visible in his steady gaze. He paused and scanned the busy camp, the air thick with anticipation and the faint hum of machinery. After several moments, relief softened his tense features as his eyes settled on a familiar figure—a woman with fiery red hair pulled back sharply, her slender yet toned frame emphasized by the tight-fitting battle suit she wore. A broadsword rested securely by her side, a symbol of both strength and readiness.
Clutching a holographic glass file in one hand and a small, sealed envelope in the other, he quickened his pace toward her. The urgency in his step betrayed the uneasy weight of the moment. Handing over the envelope, his voice carried a note of doubt tinged with concern. "Boss, are you sure we can trust this letter?"
His question hung in the air, heavy with the implications of their precarious situation. The letter was a rare piece of communication—an unexpected message in a world where trust was as scarce as water. The man's worry wasn't just about the letter's authenticity but the lives that could hinge on its truth.
The woman, however, responded with calm assurance, a slight smile playing on her lips as if to steady the fragile hope. She shrugged lightly, the gesture simple but firm. "We just need to wait."
Her words carried more than patience—it hinted at a confident tone implying that waiting was the best weapon they had right now. Around them, the camp buzzed softly with people trying their best to prepare, but beneath their composed surface was a tense silence.
The man can't help but shiver along with his lingering doubt, yet her composed resolve paints a picture of reassurance that immediately calms his worries down.
"I'll convey it to our men." The men exhaled.
The woman's attention then snapped to the growing sound of heavy, staggering footsteps pounding closer and closer. She immediately knew who it was and rolled her eyes in exasperation. Glancing around, she spotted a fit, broad shoulder young man approaching—blonde hair tousled, striking turquoise eyes shadowed by dark circles. Despite wearing a battle suit equipped with a natural cooling system, sweat streamed down his face. With a sigh, she confirmed her suspicion—it was her brother.
"But we've been waiting since dawn yesterday!" he shouted in protest as he felt a strong breeze stir the air atop the boulder where his sister sat. He clumsily scuttled over to her side.
Several others clad in leather jackets voiced their agreement, gulping down large quantities of cold water. "Joshua's right, boss. It's boiling out here."
The woman's irritation flared at their complaints. Without hesitation, she delivered a swift kick, sending Joshua tumbling several meters away. He rolled across the dusty ground before landing hard, wincing as he massaged the ache in his back. Standing up, he stared at her in disbelief.
"Stop yapping! All of you are acting right now like a princess ever since you got a taste of that 'sheltered' life," she snapped, clenching her fist as a silent warning that she wouldn't hesitate to knock some sense into him if he continued. Joshua could only pout, avoiding eye contact.
She sighed in relief, then waved the envelope in her hand toward him. "This letter's from Leila."
Joshua's eyes widened. Without hesitation, he lunged forward and snatched the letter from her hands. He examined the envelope and recognized the familiar signature on the back.
"You mean from our siblings—the Sidhe tribe?" He looked at his sister, confusion flickering across his face. A distant memory surfaced—one he might have long forgotten if not for this moment. "Do you communicate with him too?"
He recalled a harsh chapter of his childhood: locked in a dark room for five days without food or water, surviving only through sheer will and a robust constitution. It was all because he helped his half-brother escape.
"Just Leila," the woman replied, shaking her head. She was about to say more when she suddenly felt her brother snuggling against her back as he continued inspecting the letter.
"She… what are you doing?" she asked, half amused, half annoyed.
"What? I'm curious. Handwritten letters are rare nowadays," Joshua said, though disappointment lingered in his expression.
Without warning, she smacked him on the head. "Keep your face away if you don't want it to melt."
Joshua quickly stood up, dodging her playful strike. He wasn't willing to bet that she wouldn't follow through on her threat—she was known for standing by her word. He dusted off his clothes and moved away, seeking shelter from the scorching sun. Spotting the shadow cast by the boulder where his sister sat, he hurried behind it and took refuge.
"Okay, okay, geez," he muttered, settling down as he stared at the letter. After a moment of silence, curiosity got the better of him. "So, what's written on this letter?"
The woman paused, her eyes flickering with hesitation as she turned away from Joshua. She wrestled internally with whether to share the letter's contents. Though the letter held no secrets or dangerous information, she knew all too well her brother's impulsive nature. His eagerness could easily unravel their careful plans, jeopardizing everything they had worked for. After a moment of contemplation, she chose caution, deciding it would be wiser to wait until their mission was complete before revealing any details.
So, she kept her words deliberately vague. Clasping the letter, she glanced back at Joshua and said, "She's just asking for a favor—a payment for the help I requested from her." Her tone was calm but firm, leaving no room for further questions. Without hesitation, she snatched the envelope back, preventing him from sneaking another glance.
Joshua's face fell in disappointment, but he wisely decided not to press the matter. He had learned through many bruised moments that pushing his sister now was a losing battle. Though stubborn by nature, he recognized the safer path was to let this one go—for now.
"You mean from when we overthrew that old man?" Joshua asked, his voice low but filled with the weight of memory. He gestured vaguely, as if painting a mental picture of the past—the bitter conflict with their father for control of the shelter. The very shelter they had stormed years ago. That confrontation, the fight they had to win, and the lives of their fallen friends still lingered vividly in his mind, despite it happening years ago.
"That's right," she replied without hesitation, her voice steady and commanding. "So keep your mouth shut and stand there."
Joshua nodded, sealing his lips with a zipping gesture—a silent vow of allegiance to her command. Without further argument, he turned and made his way toward his post.
Days passed as Joshua held his position, expecting another uneventful watch. But then, without warning, a sudden surge of energy rippled through the air. A powerful gust of wind crashed from behind him, threatening to knock him off his feet. Reacting quickly, he anchored himself firmly to the ground just in time.
Squinting against the sunlight, he tried to make sense of the shifting atmosphere. The thick fog that usually cloaked the wasteland was swirling now, moving in tight circles as if stirred by an unseen force. Uncertain what was happening, he felt a chill of anticipation—something momentous was about to unfold.
Without hesitation, Joshua sprinted back toward the tents, searching for his sister. He scanned the boulder where she usually rested but found it empty. Pushing aside the flap of one of the larger tents, he sighed in relief when he spotted her inside.
"Ha~!" he exclaimed, placing his hands on her shoulders as he caught his breath. "Um, sister!"
She turned to him, her expression tightening into one of frustration. Her fists clenched tightly, and she raised one hand in a warning gesture. "Didn't I tell you to do your job?"
Joshua, though irritated by her rebuke, knew she was right. Without hesitation, he grabbed her hand, activating his ability to teleport. In an instant, they both vanished and reappeared back at his post.
A fierce gust of wind that whipped around them greeted them, carrying with it a strange, bright red light emanating from the dissipating fog of the wasteland. Earlier, when Joshua had left, the wind had been mild and the impenetrable—but now, the dark, twisted trees inside the wasteland came clearly into view.
"But, sister, look!" Joshua pointed toward the unfolding scene.
Her eyes widened in shock at the strange phenomenon. Panic flashed across her features as she swiftly brought up the communication device on her wrist. Her fingers moved rapidly, sending out an urgent call for everyone on site to prepare for whatever was coming.
Having sent the alert, she turned sharply toward Joshua and smacked him hard on the head.
"If this was happening, why didn't you use your wristband?" she scolded him sharply.
Rubbing the sore spot on his head, Joshua could only grimace in defeat. He had no room to argue—she was right.
"Now get ready and make sure everyone's on their way here," she ordered, her voice resolute and commanding.
"Yes, sister." Joshua replied promptly before rushing back to the site, leaving his sister standing alone, her gaze fixed on the strange phenomena unfolding before her.
As soon as Joshua teleported away, the woman stepped forward to investigate. The wind picked up, tangling her hair repeatedly until she hastily tied it into a messy bun. She watched intently as the fog that usually cloaked the entire area of the wasteland was starting to dissipate and gradually revealing more of the eerie landscape beneath.
The sight stirred memories she had tried to bury—the last time she had seen Leila. It was the day after their rebellion against their father, the former leader of the scavengers. Back then, she had desperately needed someone skilled to tend to her wounded subordinates, and Leila had appeared as if fate had summoned her. From that day forward, they had maintained contact, their bond forged in the fires of conflict. That connection persisted until the recent letter.
She recalled the message clearly:
"This might come across as blunt, but please take care of my brother and his 'friend.' Something significant will happen in the wasteland. On the back of this letter tells the week it may occur. Consider this a payment for saving your men after you killed our father. Thank you —Leila."
Clutching the envelope tightly, the woman's expression hardened with resolve. Without a moment's hesitation, she stepped into the wasteland, her mind focused on one question: "Leila, just what in the hell did you see?"
••••••••