"The way back is blocked," Riku shouted, pointing towards the collapsed tunnel they had come from, where new cracks were spiderwebbing across the ceiling. "We're trapped!"
"We're not going back the way we came," Haruto's voice cut through the rising panic. He was already consulting the holographic map projected from his wrist. He pointed to a small, grated maintenance shaft on the far side of the chamber. "That's our exit. It leads up to a surface-level drainage canal in the north alley. Akane, what's your status?"
**
"New extraction point," Haruto announced to the group, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "We're going out hard and fast. Follow me. Sakura, take point. Kaito, Riku, you have the Princess. Let nothing touch her."
Sakura, her face grim but her movements precise, took the lead, her pistol raised. They scrambled towards the maintenance shaft, Haruto taking up the rear. With a single, powerful kick, he shattered the rusted grate, and they plunged into another narrow, dark tunnel, this one rising steeply upwards.
They emerged through a grate into a narrow, refuse-strewn alleyway, gasping the cool night air. The sounds of the city-wide search were deafeningly close—shouts, whistles, and the thunder of armored boots on cobblestone. At both ends of the alley, squads of Black Guards appeared, sealing their escape.
But then, the sky ripped open.
With a sound that was less a hum and more a tearing of the air itself, the Ghost descended into the alley. Its stealth field disengaged, and the alien, angular lines of the assault skiff materialized from thin air, its dark hull blocking out the sliver of night sky above. Landing struts deployed with pneumatic hisses, and the rear hatch slammed down, bathing the alley in the soft, white light of its interior.
For Himari, Kaito, and Riku, it was a moment of pure, paradigm-shattering shock. They had seen Haruto's "magic," his armor, his weapons. But this… this was a chariot of the gods. A vessel from another world.
"Get in! Now!" Haruto yelled, shoving them towards the ramp.
The Black Guards, their own shock momentarily overriding their discipline, opened fire. Crossbow bolts clattered harmlessly against the Ghost's hull. A few lucky shots from primitive black-powder rifles sparked and ricocheted off. It was like throwing stones at a fortress.
From twin turrets that deployed from the skiff's wings, Akane unleashed hell. The plasma cannons fired, not with explosive force, but with surgical precision. Lances of white energy stitched across the alley, superheating the cobblestones, melting rifles, and forcing the guards back in a panicked, screaming wave. It was not a battle; it was a statement. An overwhelming, terrifying declaration of technological superiority.
The team scrambled up the ramp. Haruto was the last one in, turning to fire a final, suppressing burst down the alley before the hatch sealed behind them. Inside, the world became quiet and calm. The Ghost lifted, the vibrations barely noticeable. Through the cockpit's canopy, they saw the alley, the city, the entire world fall away beneath them as they ascended into the silent, welcoming darkness of the night sky. They were safe. They were free. And nothing would ever be the same again.