"Wake up, sleepyhead!" Celine's voice cut through the haze of Archer's slumber, sharp and urgent. He'd been out cold since last night, lost in a dreamless void.
"Huh…?" Archer mumbled, rubbing his eyes groggily. Confusion clouded his mind as he blinked at the unfamiliar room, his heart giving a slight jolt of unease. Where am I?
"I said, wake up!" Celine snapped, yanking on her boots with practiced efficiency. "Captain Ryuto's summoning us. Move it!" Her tone was clipped, but a flicker of worry danced in her eyes as she glanced at him.
"Ryuto? Captain?" Archer's voice cracked, his brow furrowing. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and nothing about this made sense. Captain? Who's that?
Celine froze, her hands pausing on her laces. "Did you hit your head in your sleep or something? This is no time for jokes, Archer. Captain's orders: assemble at the Muster Station in ten minutes. We're heading out." She tossed his uniform at him, the fabric landing in a heap across his lap. Her impatience masked a growing unease.
Archer clutched the uniform, his fingers trembling slightly. "Sorry, but… who are you?" His voice wavered, laced with a quiet panic that made his chest tighten.
Celine's eyes widened, her face paling. "Archer, did you drink last night? You know that's forbidden, especially with us shipping out to the war zone tomorrow!" Her voice rose, a mix of frustration and fear. "What are we going to do if you're not yourself?"
"Drink? War zone?" Archer's pulse quickened, his mind spiraling. "Where's that guy I saw—the one in the alley?" His words tumbled out, frantic and disjointed, as flashes of a vague memory—a shadowy figure in a narrow street—flickered in his mind.
"An alley?" Celine's voice sharpened, her hands on her hips. "We're on a ship, Archer. What alley are you talking about? Quit messing around and get dressed. Why are you acting so strange?" She hurled his boots at him, her worry now unmistakable, her eyes searching his face for answers.
"We'll sort this out when we reach camp. For now, just put on your uniform." Her voice softened, tinged with concern, as she turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind her.
Archer stumbled to his feet, clutching the uniform. "Is this… a soldier's uniform? Am I a soldier?" His voice trembled with disbelief as he rushed to a mirror hanging on the wall. The reflection staring back was unfamiliar—taller, older, with sharp features and haunted eyes. "Why do I look like this? I look… nineteen?" Shock coursed through him, his breath hitching as he touched his face, searching for the boy he remembered being.
Not knowing where to go, Archer stepped out of the room, his heart pounding. She said something about a muster station… mustard? Spotting a soldier in a uniform matching his own, he called out, "Hey, where are you headed?"
The soldier turned, his face lighting up with recognition. "Archer? You haven't gone to the Muster Station yet? You were so eager yesterday. What's with the nerves?" Kaito, a close friend, studied him with a mix of surprise and concern, his brow creasing.
"Oh, uh, I forgot where it is. Could you remind me?" Archer forced a smile, deciding to play along despite the knot in his stomach.
Kaito's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering. "It's not like you to forget things. Follow me—we were both selected, after all." He gestured for Archer to follow, his tone cautious but kind.
"Thanks," Archer said, falling into step. "Quick question… could you remind me what this place is we're going to?" His voice was tentative, hoping Kaito would fill in the blanks of this strange new reality.
Kaito shot him a sidelong glance, his concern deepening. "You're acting really strange today, Archer. We're heading to the Badlands to raid the laboratory that's been producing the viruses."
"Viruses?" Archer's eyes widened, a spark of excitement cutting through his confusion. "Isn't that something the FBI would handle? Are we… the FBI?" His voice lifted with boyish enthusiasm, a dream of working for a secret government agency flashing through his mind.
Kaito chuckled, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. "No, we're not the FBI." The spark in Archer's eyes dimmed, disappointment settling in. "We're V.I.P.E.R.—Viral Infection Purge and Eradication Response. The military handles evacuating the uninfected. We're tasked with the heavy stuff: liquidating the infected."
"V.I.P.E.R.?" Archer's voice lit up again, his eyes gleaming like a child discovering a new adventure. "What does this virus do, exactly?" Curiosity burned through his confusion, his heart racing with intrigue.
Kaito's expression grew grim, his voice low. "I'm not entirely sure, but it turns most people into… wild animals. We call them zombies. Some seem unaffected at first, but it's only a matter of time. We're ordered to eliminate all infected, regardless of their state."
Archer's excitement faltered, replaced by a cold dread. "Why kill the ones who seem okay? Why not try to cure them?" His voice trembled, a mix of confusion and moral outrage.
Kaito sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I wonder that too, sometimes. But this virus isn't normal. Once it's in you, it's like… it's still there, even if your body seems fine. Experts say it changes your soul. Those with weak wills turn into monsters. The others… they're just ticking time bombs."
"But why kill them if they're not monsters yet?" Archer pressed, his voice thick with frustration and a growing sense of injustice.
Kaito's eyes darkened, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know, Archer. Sometimes I wonder if there's more to this virus than they're telling us." His tone carried a heavy sadness, a weight that seemed to age him.
They reached the Muster Station, only two minutes late. Kaito grabbed Archer's arm, his grip firm but gentle. "Please, Archer, don't ask those questions here. I don't know what's going on with you, but don't let Captain Ryuto get suspicious." His eyes were wide with worry, pleading.
Before them stood Captain Ryuto, commander of the 8th Division, a man whose reputation as the most feared leader in V.I.P.E.R. preceded him. Rumored to have single-handedly fought off fifty infected with nothing but his wits and a wraithcraver blade, he was a legend. Yet today, his face was etched with an unfamiliar sadness, his piercing eyes dulled by an unspoken burden. The men in the assembly exchanged uneasy glances, sensing something was terribly wrong.
Ryuto took a deep breath, his voice hoarse as he addressed the group. "My men…" He faltered, his usual smooth cadence fractured by emotion. "The millions whose lives have been stolen by this virus, the thousands of families torn apart, left stranded in despair, the endless bloodshed… it all ends today. We may lose some of you in this fight, but your sacrifice will pave the way for change. We entered this organization as mere tools of the government, but when we walk out—and we will walk out—we'll be heroes, victors, the men who ended a decade of war."
His words ignited a fire in the men, their cheers echoing through the station, though Archer felt a chill. War? Celine mentioned that. I thought we were just exterminating infected…
The selected men disembarked from the ship onto the desolate shores of the Badlands, the air thick with the stench of decay. Captain Ryuto assured them the ship would return in twelve hours, once their mission was complete. But as the vessel vanished over the horizon, a sinking feeling settled in Archer's gut.
The ship never returned. And what unfolded in the Badlands that day would alter the fate of the world forever.