YEAR 2057
It all started with a beam of sunlight.
Just one annoying ray sneaking across my desk.
Ugh, it was Tuesday.
So, yeah, I'm Seraphina Valerius, the oh-so-important Student Council President of Yamashiro Institute. Being me isn't exactly a walk in the park! Seriously, I spend my days drowning in budgets, juggling projects, and making sure everyone's following the rules. My classmates think I'm this cold-hearted "Ice Maiden," but it's just how I handle my business. Not that I care what they call me!
Most of the time, I just brush off their gossip; it's like ants running around—totally not worth my time.
My silvery hair, which is usually cascading down my back. Today it's tied in a super neat bun—because I can't have any distractions!
I caught a glimpse of myself in the dull screen of my datapad: sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and those golden amber eyes—all perfectly in place, of course.
The Yamashiro Institute uniform, all white and gold, fits me perfectly like it was made for me—because it kind of was. It hugs my figure just right, crisp and fresh, showing off the kind of discipline I'm all about! Not that I'm trying to impress anyone… or anything!
"Councilor Tanaka," I said with a coolness that masked my irritation, observing him squirm—just like all the new councilors did. Even the veterans couldn't help but bend under my presence like obedient little puppies.
Ugh, why is it so impossible to find a guy who isn't completely worthless?
I sighed internally, fully aware of the answer. Cowards everywhere, as always.
"The proposal for the budget concerning 'swift snack delivery' simply lacks substantive academic value," he stammered, looking painfully small in that oversized chair. I couldn't help but chuckle; he probably felt intimidated just being in the room with me.
Outside, the city sparkled with energy. The sky was a perfect shade of blue, reminiscent of the ocean.
Sky-lanes shimmered with vehicles zipping by, and holographic newsfeeds flickered on the buildings all around.
Reports of expanding Martian colonies scrolled by alongside the latest fashion trends and market alerts. The future seemed so full of promise.
Sure, there were whispers of solar flares, end-of-the-world hysteria, or some flu spreading like wildfire, but I brushed them off. Humans are problem solvers after all; logic and reason always prevail in the end.
I tapped my stylus, ready to steer the conversation back. "Now, regarding the costs for the trophy design—"
Outside the enormous windows of Yamashiro Institute, the afternoon sun shone with an unsettling brightness, bathing the skyline in an eerie golden hue. Distracted, I glanced up from my datapad, my frown deepening. Something felt off… the light was too sharp, too intense—as if the sun itself were silently screaming behind a curtain.
Suddenly, my datapad buzzed violently.
Static lines danced across the screen, and a high-pitched screech sliced through the air. The interface glitched once before the system crashed, initiating a harsh reboot.
Then, a low, mechanical voice crackled through the speaker:
[Emergency Broadcast System]
"This is an emergency alert. A Class X solar flare has been detected. Estimated impact in T-minus 5 minutes. All unshielded electronics will fail. Seek underground shelter immediately. Repeat: this is not a drill."
A cold knot formed in my chest.
Outside the window, the sky darkened around the edges. Flickers of aurora danced across the horizon where no aurora should ever be.
The datapad stuttered again.
[Emergency Broadcast System:]
"Warning: radiation levels will spike beyond safe thresholds. Surface exposure is lethal."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Suddenly, every speaker embedded across the city, on street poles, in public terminals, and classroom intercoms, crackled to life in unison. The cold voice of the Civil Defense System overrode all frequencies.
> "ALL CITIZENS: EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY TO YOUR NEAREST NUCLEAR VAULTS."
A pause. Then it repeated louder, more urgent.
> "I REPEAT—ALL CITIZENS EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY TO YOUR NEAREST NUCLEAR VAULTS."
> "THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT—THIS IS NOT A DRILL."
Ugh, the air totally changed or whatever. My office was suddenly lit up with this creepy golden glow. Sunlight outside was, like, pulsing weirdly against the glass and then—poof!—it disappeared just like that.
I stepped outside to see what was going on, while Tanaka just, like, ran off like a complete chicken.
Students were screaming in the halls, and the sound of shoes pounding on the marble floor made it seem like the Yamashiro Institute was falling apart in an instant. Seriously, what a disaster!
I stood there for way too long, totally frozen. But, you know, my instincts as student president kicked in, and I had to do something.
"Form orderly lines!" I yelled. "Just head to the emergency exits, okay?!"
But, ugh, my voice got swallowed up by the rising sirens and all the panic around me.
The academy's, like, super advanced communication systems they were toast. All the electronics were completely fried, with no hope of coming back to life.
Everything I had worked for, everything I had mapped out...it was all just gone. My carefully planned life, my five-year academic roadmap, all that time I'd spent optimizing every little detail—I mean, come on! My strategies for the national debate championships? Those victory speeches? Ugh!
All of it... now it's just pointless. What's the point of my plans anymore?
For the very first time in my life, this overwhelming wave of helplessness crashed down on me.
Me, the one who always had all the answers and the one who managed to keep it all together—I was totally powerless now. Nobody seemed to care about listening to me during this mess. And honestly, that scared me more than anything else!
For just a moment, the chaos outside turned into a fuzzy blur of shouting and people running through the shattered glass. I could barely hear it over the pounding of my own heart.
Then I spotted a teacher clutching an old radio that they'd managed to grab from some backup cabinet.
And then it started... a low static noise. A bunch of us huddled around the device like it was a lifeline or something.
The voice that came through sounded so ragged, totally muffled by all the interference.
[Emergency Civil Defense Broadcast – Standby Override]
> "...This is the Emergency Civil Defense Network. Repeat: this is not a test."
Our blood froze.
> "A new pathogen that were researching by a government lab, unofficially dubbed the Crawler Plague, is spreading across multiple sectors at an alarming rate by the cause of solar flare."
> "Symptoms observe, begin within hours of exposure: fever, convulsions, and extreme joint dislocation... followed by severe neurological distortion. Infected individuals become highly aggressive and exhibit unnatural locomotion crawling or twisting toward uninfected targets."
Someone gasped behind me. Another teacher was pale and trembling and began to mutter a prayer under his breath.
> "Do not attempt to aid anyone or restrain infected persons. Avoid all contact as possible. They are no longer humans."
The broadcast crackled violently. The words blurred into static.
Students froze behind me. They're heads turned slowly toward the open windows.
Then sudden scream. An unnatural shriek ripping through the air.
[Static intensifies. A low growl or distant scream can be faintly heard in the background.]
"...If you are receiving this message, shelter in a safe place. Barricade all entrances. Destroy bridges or tunnels if possible to cut their route of exposure in other areas. We repeat—containment has failed. This is a full biological threat classification Omega."
"...May God help us all."
[Transmission cuts to static.]