Kazuishi and Taro walked side by side, leaving the dust-kicked chaos of Mexus's squad yards behind them. Taro lagged just a step or two, his hands shoved in his pockets, a teasing smile creeping across his face as he glanced at her back. The nexus paths wound through towering crystal structures that cast long, shimmering shadows, the air thick with the faint hum of distant Dremapol chatter and the occasional clang of Reibones clashing in practice. Taro couldn't resist breaking the silence. "So, Miss Kazuishi, I guess I did pretty good back there, didn't I? Come on, admit it—that one-punch on Brian was clean."
Kazuishi didn't slow her pace, her glasses glinting in the diffused light of the Dream World's eternal dawn. She let out a short, almost reluctant sigh. "You did good."
Taro's smile widened, his chest puffing up a bit as he caught up to her side. *Finally, some damn recognition,* he thought, his mind replaying the crater he'd left in the ground.
"...For a scum," Kazuishi added, her voice dripping with that familiar edge, like a knife twisting just a little deeper.
Taro's grin faltered, his shoulders slumping as he shot her a side-eye. "When the hell are you ever going to stop calling me scum? I'm out here busting my ass, proving myself left and right."
Kazuishi adjusted her glasses with a flick of her finger, her expression unchanging, as if she were discussing the weather. "When you've proved to me that you aren't one, you scum." She said it so matter-of-factly, like it was an undeniable truth etched into the Dream World's core.
"Ngh," Taro grunted, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. The word stung more than he'd admit, echoing in his head like a bad memory from the wake world, but he shook it off, not wanting to let her see it get to him. The path ahead cleared a bit, revealing more of those grand statues lining the way—tall, imposing figures of Dremapols locked in eternal battle against Nightdax hordes. These ones were different, though, the carvings sharper, the poses more desperate, with the Nightdax depicted as swarming shadows rather than the monstrous titans from the earlier ones he'd seen.
Taro turned his head, his curiosity piqued despite the lingering annoyance. "More statues?" he asked, slowing his steps to get a better look. The figures seemed alive in the shifting light, their Reibones raised high, faces twisted in defiance.
"Yes," Kazuishi replied, her tone shifting to something more instructional, like she was reciting from an old scroll. She stopped briefly, gesturing to the carvings with a sweep of her hand. "But these are from a different weave. After the great First Weave era, the Second Weave began. The Nightdax during this period were more violent and persistent, swarming in endless waves, but they weren't nearly as powerful as the ones from the First Weave—those were true nightmares, colossal beasts that could shatter dreamscapes with a single strike. The Dremapols countered them, fought till the bitter end, adapting their strategies, forging new alliances, and pushing back the darkness step by bloody step. But even then, the Dremapols of the Second Weave couldn't compare to the legends of the First—their power was raw, but not as refined, their battles more desperate survival than glorious conquest."
Taro's eyes widened, absorbing the details as he traced the carvings with his gaze. The statues captured the chaos perfectly—the Dremapols' faces etched with determination, their bodies scarred and battered, the Nightdax clawing at them like a relentless tide. "Woahhh, pretty interesting stuff... Quick question, which weave are we in currently?"
"Currently, this is the Fifth Weave," Kazuishi explained, her voice steady as she resumed walking, the dust swirling around her feet. "It's a far more peaceful time than the previous weaves. The Nightdax incursions are fewer, the Dream World more stable, with squads like ours maintaining the balance rather than fighting for survival. But peace comes at a cost—it's made us softer in some ways."
"Oh... I see," Taro said, his voice trailing off as he processed it. "That also means we aren't as powerful as the previous weaves, like the First."
Kazuishi nodded, her expression serious, almost somber. "You'd be easily crushed by someone from the Fourth Weave—it'd be like a fish trying to fight a bear. Same goes for the Third and Second; their battles honed them into weapons we can only read about. But as for the First... that wouldn't even be a fight. It's just terrifying bullying, pure dominance. Those Dremapols were legends, shaping the very foundations of this world with their will alone."
Taro's shoulders slumped a bit, disappointment flickering across his face as the weight of it sank in. The idea of being so far removed from that level of power hit him harder than expected, stirring up memories of his own defeats. "You know how to define 'discouraging'? Just talk to Kazuishi for five minutes."He tried to play it off with a weak laugh, but there was an edge to it, like the words had landed a little too close to home.
Kazuishi's face darkened, her hand twitching slightly as she touched her glasses, a subtle tell that he'd struck a nerve. "I'll pretend as if I didn't hear that," she said, her voice low and warning, the air around her seeming to grow colder for a moment.
"Ahhh, my bad," Taro muttered, raising his hands in surrender, not wanting to push her further. The last thing he needed was another verbal beatdown—or worse—from her.
But suddenly, Kazuishi stopped in her tracks, her posture straightening as she gazed ahead. "We're here."
Taro halted beside her, blinking through the dust to take in the view. It looked like an industrial area, a cluster of sturdy buildings humming with activity, machines whirring and sparks flying from open doors. The ground was littered with scraps of metal and glowing circuits, the air filled with the sharp scent of ozone and heated steel. "Um, where exactly is here?" Taro asked, scratching his head.
"Drenor Satomi's squad," Kazuishi replied, stepping forward with purpose. "They handle lots of tech stuff and manufacturing—building the tools and mods that keep the weaves intact."
Kazuishi pushed open the door to one of the buildings, and Taro followed, his eyes adjusting to the brighter, more organized interior. Inside, Dremapols in lab coats bustled around, some operating complex computers with holographic displays flickering to life, others running experiments on strange, glowing specimens trapped in containment fields. Equations scrolled across screens, calculations humming in the background, and the occasional spark of energy lit up the room like a mini fireworks show. The place was alive with innovation, a stark contrast to the raw combat of Mexus's squad.
"Ugh... Kazuishi," Taro pondered aloud, his voice laced with doubt as he watched a Dremapol adjust a machine that spat out a stream of data. "I'm not sure this might be the best place for my smarts. My report card is a strong reminder—numbers and I don't mix."
"Oh, be quiet," Kazuishi shot back, waving him off. "You haven't even chosen yet. You still haven't seen all the places, and looking around here, I'm not sure your brain can handle all this either—but that's why we're touring. My report card is a strong reminder/sound."
"But I—" Taro started, but he was cut off by a voice calling out from across the room.
"Hey, Kazuishi—" A Dremapol in a crisp lab coat with dark combed hair and matching eyes strode forward, a friendly smile breaking through the focused atmosphere. "What brings you here today?"
Kazuishi's expression softened just a fraction, her usual sharpness easing. "Long time no see, Special Assistant Kuro."
"Haha, long time indeed, Kazuishi," Kuro replied, his voice warm and genuine. "I've never seen you around lately these days. How've you been?"
"Ha, well, you know I have been quite busy with work and all I am an assistant after all," Kazuishi said, a hint of exhaustion creeping into her tone, like the weight of her duties was a constant companion.
"Ha far too relatable," Kuro chuckled, nodding in understanding. But then his eyes caught Taro's, curiosity sparking. "Mhm? Who's the lad behind you, Kazuishi?"
"Oh, he's just a rookie looking for a new squad," Kazuishi explained, gesturing dismissively.
Kuro's smile extended further, and he stepped forward, giving Taro's hand a firm, sound shake that rattled Taro's arm. "Oh," he said, his grip like iron. "And I trust you've come here to join us?"
"Hehe... well, I haven't really chosen yet," Taro replied, wincing a bit from the handshake but playing it cool. "I still haven't seen all the places yet, and looking around here, I'm not sure my brain can handle all this. My report card is a strong reminder—numbers and I don't mix."
"Nonsense, it's not that complicated," Kuro assured him, his enthusiasm building. "Once you join us, we'll put you under special training, and you'll be one of us in no time. It's super easy and all... so what do you say?"
".....Uhhh," Taro stammered, caught off guard by the hard sell, his mind racing as he glanced around at the whirring machines and complex setups.
Suddenly, a voice cut through like a whip. "Enough."
And like that, a woman who was in a professional laboratory suit stepped forward, her figure commanding attention. Her body had good curves—far more noticeable than Kazuishi's, which were already impressive—paired with pink hair that fell in controlled waves and light dark eyes that pierced like lasers. The suit hugged her form, blending authority with an undeniable allure that made Taro do a double-take. "Stop doing that, Kuro," she said, her tone firm but not unkind.
"Ugh, Miss Satomi," Kuro quickly dropped to his knees, bowing his head in deference. "I'm sorry. It was not my intent to offend you. I will take any punishment you wish to dish out to me, Miss Satomi."
"Satomi... huh? So she's the Drenor here. Damn, she's hot, but this looks a bit unconventional," Taro thought to himself, his eyes lingering just a second too long before he averted his gaze.
"That's enough, Kuro. Go do something else. I'll talk to the recruit," Satomi ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument.
"Yes, ma'am," Kuro said, immediately rising and hurrying off, disappearing into the bustle of the lab.
Satomi turned to Taro and Kazuishi, her expression softening slightly. "I'm sorry you had to witness that," she said, stepping closer with a graceful confidence. "I'm the Drenor of this squad—Drenor Satomi."
Taro blinked, still processing the shift from Kuro's enthusiasm to Satomi's poised authority. The lab around them seemed to hum in sync with her presence, the Dremapols working with renewed focus as if her mere arrival had tightened the reins. "No worries," Taro replied, trying to play it cool. "Nice to meet you, Drenor Satomi."
Satomi nodded, her light dark eyes assessing him with a keen intelligence. "The pleasure's mine. Now, let's talk about why you're here—and what our squad can offer a rookie like you."